Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Sam
Emma:
Wanna meet for lunch?
Sam grinned down at her phone and tapped the screen to open the message from one of her closest friends.
Sam:
Yes. Somewhere with cocktails.
Emma:
Oooh, man trouble or work trouble? Or both? I bet it’s both, you slut.
Sam:
Just pick a restaurant, would you?
Emma:
Fine, fine. Ahhh, how about the Wild Peach? They have an excellent bellini.
Sam:
Works for me. 12?
Emma:
Make it 12:15
Sam:
Perfect. See you then!
Thankfully, her morning so far was going a hell of a lot better than the day before.
Other than being even more confused about Dylan than she had been, not to mention the lingering embarrassment of asking him to fuck her and then acting like a bratty Little girl when he’d denied her, that was.
Then there was the ‘talk’ he’d promised her tonight.
If anyone was entitled to a lunchtime breakdown, Sam figured it was her.
At noon on the dot, she ducked out of the office, narrowly missing her asshole of a boss on her way out the door.
She was just sliding into a booth at the Wild Peach when Emma came hurrying up, all gorgeous curves and perfect hair, as usual.
Normally, Sam felt put together and professional, but next to Emma she often felt downright frumpy.
“Oh my god, you look amazing. Is that a new outfit?” Beaming, Emma shimmied into the booth across from Sam and gestured at the baby blue top she’d dug out of her closet that morning.
“This? I have no idea, actually. I’m pretty sure I’ve had it in my closet forever.”
“Well, you should wear that color more often. Makes your eyes pop. I’m starving, have you ordered yet?”
“No, I just got here.”
“Oh, good!”
A young, fresh-faced brunette stopped by their table, all smiles and bouncing hair. The kind of woman Dylan should be interested in. Not a woman literally old enough to be his mother.
Sam hated her on the spot. And then immediately felt like a bitch about it.
“Hi! I’m Kelsey, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with a cocktail? They’re half price for our lunchtime happy hour.”
“Perfect. Two peach bellinis and a glass of water for each of us. And, ah…” Emma scanned the menu in front of her. “The peach and goat cheese bruschetta appetizer, please.”
“Coming right up!”
Perky Kelsey spun on her heel and bounced over to the bar to put their order in. Folding her hands on top of the table, Emma somehow managed to grin even wider as she leaned in toward Sam. “Time to spill the tea. Man or job?”
“Man. Barely.”
“Barely as in, he’s a total neanderthal who doesn’t truly qualify as a human being?”
“No, barely as in barely legal.”
Emma’s eyes widened and for the first time in Sam’s memory, her friend was speechless. For about five seconds.
“I’ll be damned. Somebody call the forest service, we’ve had a cougar sighting.”
It took effort, but Sam managed not to laugh. “Shut up. Bitch.”
Throwing her head back, Emma let out a long peal of laughter. “You love me. So, who’s the lucky guy?”
Kelsey popped up seemingly out of nowhere carrying a tray with two champagne flutes. “Here you go, ladies. And that bruschetta should be out shortly!”
“Thank you, Kelsey.” Picking up her flute, Emma held it aloft, raising an eyebrow when Sam didn’t move.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sam muttered, but she couldn’t quite hide her smile as she lifted her glass to clink against Emma’s.
“To younger men with stamina who can hopefully find the clitoris without a roadmap.”
“Oh my god. But also, fucking cheers.”
Emma snorted out a laugh and took a sip of her drink, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the taste. “These are just as amazing as I remember. It’s a shame we can only have one.”
“Says who?”
Pausing with the flute still at her lips, Emma raised an eyebrow. “Says common sense, since neither of us can afford to go back to work drunk.”
“Well, you’re the boss, so you can do whatever you want.”
“You’d think so, right? Unfortunately, being in charge just means being more responsible. Which means one lunchtime bellini and no more.”
“Fine. I’ll be a good girl.” With a quiet huff, Sam sipped her own drink. And then sighed as the sweet, tart flavor danced over her tongue. “Oh, that is lovely. This was an excellent choice, Em. We should do this more often.”
“Uh-huh. So, what’s going on at work that’s got you all mopey? The Sam I know would never risk even a single drink at lunch.”
“My boss is an asshole. Yesterday I was late because of that wreck on the interstate. Called him, left him a voicemail letting him know what was up, and the motherfucker still had the nerve to try and dress me down. I’m just over it.”
“Then quit.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “I can’t quit my job. I have a mortgage and a car payment and a million other responsibilities.”
“Okay, well obviously I didn’t mean just quit. But start putting out feelers. Find something new. Something better. You’re way too fucking smart and talented to be trapped in a job you hate.”
“I didn’t used to hate it. But, ugh, ever since that merger a couple years ago, the whole culture has changed.”
“Then it’s time for you to change. When you get home tonight, put on some comfy clothes, pour a glass of wine, update your LinkedIn, and start looking for a new job. Text me with at least three leads before you go to bed.”
With her Bellini halfway to her lips, Sam blinked. “Has anyone ever told you that you’d make an excellent Domme?”
Emma’s smile was quick and fierce. “You’ve mentioned it a time or two.”
As Sam’s oldest and closest friend, Emma was the only person on Earth who knew anything about Sam’s secret desires. And even Emma only knew part of the truth. While she’d opened up about wanting a Dom in her life, she’d never quite had the nerve to tell Emma what she really wanted.
A Daddy.
“Speaking of Doms…” Eyes sparkling with mischief, Emma leaned in. “Tell me about this guy.”
“What makes you think he’s a Dom?”
“Ummm, because after that last asshole you dated a couple years back, you swore off any guy who wasn’t a Dom and couldn’t give you what you wanted.
You made a whole speech about not settling for less than what you deserved.
It was quite moving, really.” Sniffling dramatically, Emma wiped under her eyes, swiping away nonexistent tears.
“I did? Jesus, I really need to cut back on the drinking.”
“Well, maybe Mr. Barely Legal can help with that. Is he old enough to drink?”
“Yes.” Sam’s lips twitched as she brought her flute back to her lips. “Barely.”
“I hate you. Tell me everything.”
“You’re right about the Dom thing. At least, he wants to be. Supposedly trained under some guys up in Baltimore, learned the ropes.”
Emma’s sigh was filled with longing. “You gotta love a guy who puts in the work.”
“I suppose. Anyway, even if he learned everything there is to know and he’s literally the greatest Dominant to ever walk the face of the Earth, it’ll never work out.”
“Why not?”
“It’s Dylan. Ethan’s best friend. The one staying with me over the summer while he works an internship in Atlanta.”
Eyes widening, Emma let out a low whistle. “That does complicate things a smidge.”
“A smidge? It feels like a hell of a lot more than a smidge, Em.”
“Hmmm.” Settling back against her sit, Emma sipped her drink before locking her too-seeing gaze on Sam. “All right. Give me the worst-case scenario.”
“Uh, we get involved and when we inevitably break up, he hates me or I hate him, and either way Ethan is forced to choose between his mother and his best friend.”
“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t say breaking up is inevitable.”
Hope sprang to life in Sam’s chest, but she ruthlessly squashed it. “Of course it is. He’s nearly half my age! We have nothing in common.”
Mouth twisting up in a smirk, Emma swirled what was left of her Bellini in her glass. “Uh-huh And you know this from all of the time you’ve spent with him and the hours upon hours of in-depth conversations y’all have had about your lives and values and interests?”
Sam opened her mouth then snapped it closed again and glared at her friend’s smug smile. “Shut up.”
“I love you too. Anyway, it doesn’t have to be as dramatic as all that even if you guys don’t live happily ever after. Both of you just decide going in that no matter what, you don’t put Ethan in the middle.”
“You really think it could be that simple?”
“Simple, yes. Easy…” Emma shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how things go. But he does have one thing going for him.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s Ethan’s best friend. And the man you raised would never be friends with someone who wouldn’t treat his mama right.”
Sam
Emma’s words played over in her mind all afternoon. But even after hours of worrying and obsessing over the issue, she was no closer to a solution when she pulled into her driveway that evening than she had been at lunch.
Sitting in her car with her favorite drive-home playlist still blasting from the speakers, Sam stared at her front door.
Dylan’s car was already in the driveway, meaning he was probably inside.
Was he waiting for her the way he had been the night before?
The thought of coming home to someone who was actually eager to see her definitely wasn’t off-putting.
Ugh. Emma had made it all sound so simple at lunch. But how could it be simple when one wrong decision had the potential to hurt the person she loved most in the world?
A chime rang through the car, alerting her to an incoming message. Picking up her phone, she snorted out a laugh as she read Emma’s text.
Emma:
Get out of the damn car and go get your freak on.
The short command was followed by a hand emoji, then a peach, and finally an eggplant in a perfectly clear message. Get spanked and get fucked.
Sam:
I’m going, I’m going. Pushy bitch.
Emma:
Only with the people I love. Have a few orgasms for me!!
“Ridiculous,” Sam muttered as she killed the engine. But suddenly her huge problem didn’t seem quite so huge. Get spanked and get fucked. Why couldn’t it be that simple?
Maybe it could be. Maybe she just needed to set some ground rules with Dylan and they could both enjoy some no-strings-attached kinky sex for a few weeks before going their separate ways at the end of the summer.
He was exactly where she’d expected—but definitely not hoped—to find him, seated on her couch with his long legs stretched out in front of him, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
No man had any goddamned right to look that damn hot just sitting on a couch.
The front door slammed behind her and he looked up from his book, and the welcoming smile that spread across his face cranked him up from hot to fucking irresistible.
Dropping her bags unceremoniously by the door, she made a beeline straight for him, taking the wine from him and placing it on the coffee table before straddling his legs. “I’m not drunk.”
“That’s good news for your bottom since you were just behind the wheel.”
“I’m not drunk,” she repeated, grabbing his book and tossing it onto the couch beside them. “And I want you to fuck me. Now.”
“Thank god.”
When he leaned forward, she pressed a finger to his lips and put on the sternest expression she could manage with every fiber of her being humming with desire.
“We need some rules. Spanking and fucking are on the table. But no falling in love, and whatever happens between us, we don’t drag Ethan into the middle of it. Deal?”
Grabbing her wrist, he pressed a kiss to her finger before pulling it away. “Counteroffer.”
“Dylan—”
“You give me the summer. Let me prove to you that I can be the Daddy you need. Rules, punishments, sex—all of it. I want all of you, Samantha, and I’m not going to settle for table scraps.
But,” he pressed forward when she opened her mouth to protest, “if at any time between now and the end of the summer you genuinely believe this isn’t working, that we aren’t fucking made for each other the way I know we are, you can tell me and I promise to walk away.
And as far as Ethan, if you pull the plug, he never has to know.
Nothing has to change between the three of us if you call it off. Deal?”
“What about if you call it off? What then?”
“Sam, I promise you that if you let me get my hands on you, I’m never going to let go.”
It wasn’t the easy, no-strings-attached arrangement she’d had in mind.
But it was everything she’d ever dreamed of, being presented to her on a silver platter.
So the only real question was, did she trust Dylan to keep his word?
To not make things messy when he finally came to his senses and broke things off?
As she sat there, staring into those gilded green eyes, it hit her. If there was one person in the world she trusted to keep his word, it was the man staring up at her, waiting to give her everything.
“Okay.” Her voice only cracked a little on the word, which she considered a win. “It’s a deal.”
“Good girl. Come here.”
Cupping the back of her head in his free hand, he dragged her down to meet him. And if she’d thought being on top would give her any kind of leverage, it took only that one searing kiss to disabuse her of that notion.
She’d handed him the reins, and now Daddy was in charge.
And she’d never felt so fucking free.