Chapter 22 When Fantasy Becomes Reality
Calder
My eyes are on Dakota’s ass as she climbs the giant staircase. It took her all of five minutes to ditch me for some other
dude, and I’m equal parts horrified and impressed. And as the young girl who sits in front of me natters on about how her
husband loves to share her, my mind races over everything Dakota has revealed to me in the past week.
I knew Randal wasn’t a good guy. I only ever saw him in passing when I was in and out of Dakota’s house during the reno, but
there was a feeling about him that I could never shake, and having her confirm that feeling shrouds me in shame.
I should have said something to her.
Instead, I stood back and let them get married. Whatever he did, whatever he said, or didn’t say, to her in the bedroom and
during their marriage... I feel responsible somehow. Which is ridiculous because she’s a grown-ass woman, but seven years
is a long time to be with somebody who treats you like shit. Is this really the best place for her to rediscover herself?
The woman beside me slides her hand up my thigh, and my dick has zero reaction, which is honestly fucking ridiculous. She’s
beautiful. She’s obviously experienced. She’s the perfect choice. But I can’t stop thinking about the annoying blonde who
just disappeared upstairs.
“What else is your husband into?” I cut the girl off midsentence.
Her brown eyes widen. “Are you into men? Do you want me to see if he—”
“No... just... what’s his thing? What do you think they’re doing up there?”
She smiles knowingly. “If I’d have to guess, he’s got her strapped up to a St. Andrew’s cross with duct tape on her mouth.
He loves the red mark tape leaves on a face when we’re done.”
My stool scrapes loudly on the floor when I stand up, drawing the eyes of several patrons around us. “She’s not ready for
that.”
The woman chuckles. “She seemed to go up there pretty willingly, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, but if she can’t talk, how will she use a safe word?”
She shrugs and slides her hands up my chest to pull me toward her. “I don’t have a safe word.” She peers up at me like that’s
going to be my go signal to take her upstairs, but it has the opposite effect.
Immediate fear courses through my body. If he’s used to a woman without a safe word, how will I know he’ll honor one from
Dakota? Dakota knows to advocate for one, right? Fuck.
I grab the gal’s hands and remove them from my chest. “I have to go.”
She sees me bolting for the steps, and I hear her gasp. “I’ll come with you!”
“Don’t bother,” I call back as I take the steps two at a time, flying to the upper level. I hang a right to go toward the
bondage hallway where I’ve seen the St. Andrew’s crosses before. Dakota never said she was into bondage. And I thought she
didn’t like BDSM. Why did she agree to come up here with this guy?
My heart rate spikes when I see them talking quietly in the hallway. Still both fully dressed, thank fuck. She’s leaned up
against the wall, and the man’s hand is splayed out on the wall by her face, his other sliding across her cheek as he leans
in to—
“We gotta go, Ace,” I state loudly, stopping him just before their lips connect.
Dakota turns half-hooded eyes to me, and my jaw clenches at the aroused look on her face. The sense of betrayal that slices through me makes no fucking sense, and I want to scream at her for some unknown fucking reason.
“We’re leaving.” I grab her wrist and pull her away from this dude, my chest vibrating with barely concealed rage.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s make sure she wants to leave.” The man moves closer to Dakota and touches her arm, which makes me
see red.
I step up into him and bump my chest against his. “You have a death wish, buddy?”
He lifts his hands up in surrender, his eyes dilated with desire as he stares up at me. “No death wish. Just wanting to make
sure the girl can advocate for herself. What is it you want, big boy? I’m open to ideas.”
“She can talk just fine,” I grind out, stopping myself from adding the fact that she usually never shuts up. I turn to look
at Dakota. “You ready to go?”
She frowns at me, and I see a million unanswered questions cross her face before she does the unexpected and nods. “Okay,
we can go.”
I slide a cocky grin to the suit and lace my fingers through Dakota’s, pulling her behind me at a pace she can barely keep
up with in her heels. Meanwhile I can barely keep up with the thoughts racing in my head. Thoughts I am really fucking confused
about.
We stop at the coat check, and I cover her up, exhaling slowly as I attempt to lower my blood pressure. We make our way out
into the cold darkness toward my truck, and I open the passenger door, waiting for her to jump in.
“Mind telling me what that was all about?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking up at me, refusing to get in the truck.
“What do you mean?” I roll my eyes and gesture to the vehicle. “Can you just get in the truck?.”
“No, I want to know what is going on.” She pushes her hair out of her face and pins me with a defiant look that is much more on-brand for the Dakota I know.
“Was there something wrong with that guy that you ripped me out of there like that? He didn’t ask me to shit on him, which felt like a step up from last time. ”
“Nice to know you have such high standards,” I scoff.
“Hey!” She pokes me in the chest. “What do you know that I don’t?”
My lips thin as I shake my head. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why? Did his wife say something bad about him?” She searches my face with anxiety before glancing back at the club.
“He likes to tape women’s mouths shut.”
She looks back at me, her lips twisting in confusion. “I already knew that.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “You did?”
“Yeah, that’s what we were discussing in the hallway.”
“How are you going to utter a safe word with your mouth taped shut?”
“That’s what we were discussing,” she replies, acting like she’s talking about a casual encounter. “He said there are other
ways to signal a safe word. A dropped item or blinking.”
“Blinking?” I roar, stepping closer to her until her back is pressed against my truck. I cage her in so she can feel the full
wrath of me as the steam of our breaths dances in the darkness. “You think when a guy has you naked and strapped to a fucking
cross he’s going to notice you blinking your safety notice? Goddammit, Dakota!”
“Why are you so mad?” she snaps, looking at me like I’ve got two heads.
I jerk away from her and shove my hands through my hair. “Was it so easy for you to jump to another guy? I was just inside
of you less than two weeks ago.” My voice is guttural and doesn’t even sound like me. I thought I ripped her out of there
because of what she told me at the bar... but clearly, my cock is doing all the talking for me right now.
She blinks back at me, her expression unreadable. “But you agreed to this. You said you would be my wingman.”
“I didn’t know you’d jump on the first dick you saw. Did you even like that guy?”
“Why do I have to like him? It’s just sex. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“I don’t.” My tone is acidic.
“You know what?” she snaps, poking me in the chest again until she backs me all the way up into the parked car beside us.
“It’s completely misogynistic for you think casual sex is okay for you but not for me. If I was a dude, you wouldn’t have
any issues with this.”
“Oh bullshit.”
“It’s true! You probably got laid the other night after we met up to look at your shelving designs. You were so stressed because
you had big plans you had to get to.”
“Plans?” I rack my brain to remember what it was I had going on that night last week.
“Yes, plans. You yelled at me to hurry up because you had to go somewhere. Tell me you didn’t hook up with someone later that
night.”
“You would think that.” I can barely restrain my anger. “That’s all you see in me is sex, isn’t it?”
Her mouth opens and closes before she shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“Well, you’re one to talk. You were all horned-up for that guy in there in within like two seconds.” I wince as I picture
her face in that hallway again.
Her lips part as she takes a step back. “I wasn’t horned-up . God, who speaks like that?”
“I saw your face right before he was about to kiss you. You looked like you were about to come.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” I shout like a psycho. “I know that look on you. I saw it in Mexico, and you just met the guy. How the hell—”
“I was thinking of you, okay?” she exclaims, stomping her heeled foot into the ground.
“What?”
“God, this is so embarrassing.” She waves her coat out and paces back and forth, like she’s boiling hot all of a sudden, and
the glimpse of her curves straining under that dress has my cock swelling in my jeans. “But you’re acting nuts, and I don’t
know how else to get you to shut up.” She stops by the bumper of my truck and turns back to look at me. “I was thinking of
you and our night together, when I was with that guy. That’s why I looked so turned on. I was...” she stutters, completely
helpless “...I was fantasizing about you. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and it’s annoyingly effective.”
I exhale heavily, my breath puffing a cloud of steam in front of me as I stare at her, watching her chest rise and fall in
that tight fucking dress that’s been driving me nuts since the moment she popped open her coat in my truck.
“I wasn’t in a hurry that night on the mountain because I was going to have sex with someone.”
She frowns back at me and rolls her eyes.
“I had old man’s hockey practice.” I flop my hands to my side in blatant surrender.
Her head snaps up to look at me. “What?”
“I play on an over-forty league where men who are old enough to be my father fucking humble me on the ice every goddamn week.
I tried out for the over-thirty league, but I was too damn slow.”
Dakota stares back at me, her brows twitching with shock, then bemusement, then disbelief, then humor. Unfortunately for me,
humor is the one that sticks.