15. Aubrey
Ispent too much of my day thinking about the encounter with Sylvie and Peter this morning. I heard from her one more time, in a brief text that said she wouldn’t be staying at my place tonight.
What was I going to say? Get your ass back here right now, young lady. She was an adult, and she could make her own choices.
I couldn’t push the questions out of my mind though. Why did she quit her job? Why the rush to get married? Here? Why was she engaged to such a raging dickwad?
Was I missing the obvious?
When Clint reached my place and he was alone, I didn’t question it. I also didn’t push when he was as distracted as me. We talked enough to agree on walking down the street to get pizza for dinner. Once there, we ordered the same thing we always did when it was only the two of us—meat lovers with extra cheese—and we both sat silently at the table, each of us fiddling with our straw wrappers.
I wasn’t going to spend the night like this. If Sylvie’s life wasn’t keeping her from living it, it didn’t get to take my fun away either. “What’s on your mind?” I asked Clint.
He looked startled. “Say again?”
“Where are you, and is it nice?” I gave him a rueful smile.
He shook his head. “It’s not bad. Not yet. You’re far better company than my thoughts.”
“Answer the question, smooth talker.” I wouldn’t call him on the overinflated compliment by asking why he wasn’t here, if I was better company. I was just as guilty.
Clint’s smile slipped in, and like that, some of my tension drained away. “Weird day. When Regina picked up Dee, she said we needed to talk, but not then.”
“Ugh.” Not quite like what Sylvie had done to me, but close. “Why couldn’t she just tell you?”
He shrugged. “She said it might not be necessary.”
“Uh-huh.” I leaned back to let the waitress set our pizza on the table between us. “Then why bring it up at all?”
“Not a clue.” Clint dished out a slice for each of us.
I should be tired of pizza two nights in a row, but really, why would I get bored with pizza? “Whatever she’s hiding, you’ll make it work. You always do.” I took a huge bite of food while it was still too hot, because extra cheese was the best.
“Not always.” Clint picked up a knife and fork, studied them for a moment, then sent them down again before picking up his pizza slice.
“Fine. You always make the best decision you can at the time.” I wouldn’t let either of us spiral into moping tonight. We needed to climb out for a few hours. “And you will this time, too. But you don’t have enough information yet.”
I needed to take my own advice. There was no reason to dwell on what was going on with Sylvie until I knew more.
“You’re right,” Clint said.
And conversation lulled again. We were stuffing our faces, so it made sense we couldn’t talk much, but I wanted to keep things rolling. “Brodie didn’t find you and convince you to bring him with you tonight?”
Clint almost smiled again, but this time the thoughtfulness lingered in his eyes. “He found me. He gave up his mission when he realized tonight was just you and me.”
“That matters because…?” I had the answer already—it lingered in the back of my mind, refusing to reveal itself.
“Because he didn’t want to crash our date.”
Date. There it was. The word was straightforward. Simple. Direct. Why was I struggling to wrap my brain around it?
“Before you say anything, I need to be direct with you.” Clint kept me from having to come up with an answer. “Hear me out.”
Was that supposed to be reassuring? “Okay?”
“I told myself I was putting this off because of Deacon or because of the way things ended with Regina or because Dee…”
I stared at him, waiting for more. None of those things had to do with tonight specifically. “You were going to be direct with me.”
“I am.” Clint pushed his plate aside, and locked his gaze on me. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Liked-like. There have always been excuses not to tell you, but if Brodie’s trying to win you over, he can’t have you without a fight from me.”
Oh. Oh.
How did I not know that?
Because after thinking for so long that Deacon and I had something, only to find out he had never seen me that way, it was easier for me to shut off every part of my brain that said I think this person is flirting with us. Besides, “I’m not looking for that kind of relationship right now.” Said the woman who got married and then engaged, to two separate people, in a week.
“Does Brodie know that?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” Clint grabbed his pizza and took another bite.
Did I shut down the conversation? Was that a mistake? I meant what I said—the last thing I needed to be doing right now was trying to figure out if I wanted a real relationship. With Clint. Or Brodie. Or anyone.
But one thing I wouldn’t mind, I could see myself enjoying it quite a bit in fact, was more sex like last night. “We can still have fun, though,” I said tentatively. “We promised each other we’d have a conversation about what we like.”
That got Clint’s attention, and he was instantly focused on me again. “What else do you like, Aubrey?”
The way he asked, the way he said my name, reminded me of the affection in his voice when he called me his favorite toy. It was a simple question, but it sent a thrill racing through me.
I wanted to play a little, though. “Strawberry ice cream, gummy worms, and a gorgeous poodle skirt.”
Clint quirked his mouth to the side and raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough. Maybe when we’re done here, we should go get strawberry ice cream with gummy worms.”
“Is that a euphemism?” And had I just had my brattiness turned back on me?
“I don’t know. Is it? I guess we can’t find out until we’re done.”
I waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Can we get a to-go box for this?” I pointed at the food, then shoved the rest of my slice into my mouth.”
“One of the things I like about you—you’re not afraid to do things like that.” Clint chuckled.
Things like shove half a piece of pizza in my face at once? I tried to say most women might be insulted by that, but it came out as, “Mmpfh mjjff hhhmffph.”
His smile grew. “You’re not most women.”
How the…?
He ate his food at a more reasonable pace, finishing about the same time our waitress returned to box up the rest of our food to go.
We wandered the few doors down to my shop, and I ran upstairs to put the food away, before joining Clint on the sidewalk again.
I was about to ask what now, when he knotted his fingers in my hair and pulled hard enough to make me gasp.
“You know that wasn’t what I meant, when I asked what you liked.” His voice was low, almost threatening.
And holy hell, I wanted to hear him say more in that tone. “Then you’ll have to be direct,” I teased.
He leaned against the side of his truck, yanking me closer in the process, and dipped his mouth near my ear. “I want to know what kind of fantasies you have. I want to know what turns you on and gets you off. I want to know that if I pull your hair and force you to your knees and tell you what a good girl you are when you’re choking on my cock, that you’re going to like it as much as I do.”
I couldn’t help my groan. “If you’re going to make me beg…”
“Sure, we can add that to the list.” Clint let go of me as if he had no clue he’d made my panties instantly damp. His smirk said otherwise, though.
I let out a laugh, as much to relieve the tension inside as anything. “Sure. Add begging to the list.”
“What else?”
I was pretty sure he’d covered a good bit of it, and it was impossible to ignore we were on the sidewalk of Main Street, at seven thirty on a weeknight, and this place was anything but private. “Do I have to say out here?”
“You don’t have to, no. But tell me you don’t like the thrill of that. Of wondering who might overhear. Who might want to hear more.”
I did. Clint fucking me in front of Brodie last night… I hadn’t realized how much I would like that before I did it. The big difference was, we’d all consented to that, and random people out here hadn’t agreed to be part of my filthy fantasies. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth.
Clint grasped one of my hands with his, and reached behind him with the other to open the truck door. “Let’s go somewhere else.” He waited until I was seated, then moved to the other side to take his place in the driver’s seat.
“Where?” I asked when he was next to me again.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re going to answer my question. Actually answer it.”
Heat crept up my neck. I’d said some of these things to Brodie, but that was over a headset, when he was a voice with no real name or face. When there was no personal connection.
But if I wanted more… “I want to be fucked and used.” Saying it out loud, while Clint watched me, and having him lick his lips instead of laugh, made me feel bolder. “Like you said before, treated like a toy. Played with. I want there to be anticipation, a little pain, and a lot of mess. And I want to be praised for it and cuddled after everyone comes.”
Clint let out a soft sigh and trailed his thumb along my bottom lip.
Did I just fuck up? Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“We should go to the dollar store,” Clint said.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“And find all the things we can use as sex toys.” He slipped his thumb past my lips and into my mouth. “I already told you, and I was serious, I’ll play with you as much as you want, and if you want me to be a little rough with my favorite toy, I can do that, too.”
I sucked on his thumb, and tried to quiet the way my pulse hammered in my ears.
There was one thing I needed us to be direct about, before we went any further. “No strings?”
“Only the ones I use to tie you up with.”
I grinned and pulled away from his touch as I twisted to face forward in my seat. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to the dollar store.”
Our destination was on the outskirts of town, grouped with a handful of other newer businesses, including a national chain grocery store and a Denny’s. When we walked into It’s All A Buck, some of my anticipation faded. Cluttered aisles full of misplaced and cheap baubles stretched in front of us.
What were we doing here?
“I swear this is a better idea than it seems right now.” Clint tugged me toward one end of the store.
“Have you done this before?” I couldn’t imagine Regina agreeing to something like this.
He shook his head and led me down an aisle of party goods. “Nope. But I did see it in a meme.”
The answer made me laugh. Why wouldn’t we base a night of exploratory sex on something someone said to be quippy and get clicks? “I have to wonder if they thought it through any more than you did.” I stopped in front of the crepe paper streamers, and grabbed a roll of purple. “Is this what you’re going tie me up with?”
“Could be.” He grabbed a plastic popper—the kind where someone pulls the string, and tiny paper streamers burst out. “Does this turn you on?”
“Mmm, yeah baby.” I let out an exaggerated moan, then grabbed a stack of plastic stemless wine glasses. I held them up to my breasts. “Yes? No?”
Clint shook his head. “You’ve done it. You’ve found my hard limit.”
We made it through three quarters of the story without any more luck. Mac and cheese wasn’t any sexier than it had been yesterday, and we both agreed electrical tape wasn’t the best way to bind me. Not for our purposes anyway.
My desire had all-but evaporated, and I was getting ready to suggest we call this experiment a failure, when my gaze landed on something black and satin. I grabbed the sleep mask. “This has potential.”
Clint tilted his head to one side, studying me and my discovery, then snatched the package from my hand. “Sold. What next?”
“I already did the thinking. Your turn.”
He spun in a circle in the middle of the aisle, once, then twice, then stopping and pressing his hand to his forehead.
“Did you make yourself dizzy?” I was amused.
“No. Yes. What’s that?” He walked away from me.
I followed him to a section of home decor goods so tiny, it only took up two columns of pegs.
Clint grabbed a package of soft rope from one of them and showed it to me.
Okay, so this might be a good idea after all. “Sold,” I mimicked his comment from earlier. “What about over there?” I pointed to the far wall, which was lined with kitchen utensils.
“I’ve always liked the way you think.”
A short while later, we were back in my apartment with our finds, which also included wooden spoons, a large spatula, and a personal body massager. Not the kind that was very obviously meant to be a vibrator, but an awkwardly shaped round thing that seemed to actually be for the neck and shoulders.
I had my doubts that it would even work, but like everything else it was only a dollar, so we’d decided to try it.
Clint and I stood in my bedroom, the bag of goodies on my desk, and our shoes resting by the open bedroom door.
My curiosity and want was slipping in again, spurred by a vivid imagination whispering about the types of naughtiness we could get up to. Except, “What now?”
“One more rule first,” Clint said.
“Such as?”
“Either one of us can stop any time. During. After. Some people get off on no, stop, and that’s fine for them if it’s consensual. That’s not me. If you tell me no, I’ll stop.”
Something I didn’t realize I needed to hear, that was a relief. “Okay. Agreed. What else?”
He raked his gaze over me, and kicked my bedroom door shut. “Take off your clothes.”