CHAPTER 1 #2
“You have no idea what goes on in those clubs.”
She huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, I know. That’s why I want to go.” She narrowed her eyes. “So I can find out.”
“No, you don’t.” This was a stupid conversation. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed her to drag me into it.
She frowned. “So, why’s it okay for you but not me, huh?” It was obvious she was pissed. “Have you ever thought that maybe I have the same cravings you do?”
I shook my head, thoroughly dislodging every one of those words before they could take root. My kid sister wasn’t allowed to have sexual cravings. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not like mine.
“It’s not like I’m a virgin, Zeke.”
I slammed my hand down on the table, causing the silverware to bounce and drawing attention from several people sitting around us.
One man cast a concerned glance my way. I didn’t necessarily blame him.
While Jamie might’ve gotten some of the height genes from our father’s side of the family, I still towered over her, dwarfing her with my bulk.
“We’re not talking about this, Jamie. The answer’s no. And don’t you dare go to that … that brothel down the road.”
My sister watched me, and I knew without a doubt she was considering doing something stupid.
“I mean it, Jamie.”
“Fine,” she said, grabbing her fork. “Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
After thinking about my kid sister in a kink club, I wasn’t sure I could ever eat again.
Brax (the cowboy)
Moving sucked. Like, seriously fucking sucked.
It was made all the worse when you were moving damn near across the country.
Granted, this wasn’t the first time I’d been uprooted only to move several states away from the place I’d called home.
My parents had left North Carolina when I was twelve.
I never understood why they opted for the blistering heat of Texas, but that was where we ended up, and I hadn’t had a say in the matter back then.
This move was different. For one, I got to make the decision. Well, not only me, but Case hadn’t put up a fight when we received the offer to relocate our lives from Texas to Illinois.
Did you know that the driving distance from Dallas to Chicago was roughly nine hundred sixty miles? Well, it was. And of those miles, I’d just driven all of them.
Yes.
All.
Of.
Them.
Because Case was a diva, and somewhere during our years of friendship and routine sexual encounters, the diva had come to the conclusion that I was his chauffeur.
And his chef, and his maid. And his… Well, you get the idea.
Having spent the past twenty-six months with Case, in the most passionate relationship of my entire life, I’d gotten used to doing things for him.
And yes, he returned the favor because that was how we made it work.
Not that I minded driving. I’d seen Case’s skills behind the wheel, or lack thereof. Unless you were a NASCAR fan or one of those people who drove the Autobahn on a daily basis, I didn’t recommend it. Since my desire to actually make it to the Windy City was rather great, I hadn’t argued too much.
“How much longer?” Case grumbled from the passenger seat as he wiped his eyes and peered up through the window, his thick neck straining to hold his head up.
And why couldn’t he sleep for the last ten miles of the trip?
“Depends,” I told him as I set my now cold coffee in the cup holder.
He frowned, his dark eyebrows darting down toward his nose. “On?”
All right. I had to admit the man was ridiculously appealing to the human eye.
All those sleek muscles and the enormous dragon tattoo that somehow defined the beautiful planes and angles were definitely my cup of tea.
I’d spent my fair share of time trying to memorize every inch of his six-foot-three-inch frame with my tongue.
And perhaps the reason I tolerated his inner diva was because I happened to be in love with the guy.
Love or not, he still irritated the shit out of me at times. Especially after I’d spent the better part of the past two days sealed in a car with him.
“Whether or not I kick your ass out and make you walk the rest of the way,” I told him, my drawl thicker than usual due to my exhausted state.
His head jerked toward me, and I could see the concern there. He was trying to determine how close to the rocky edge of sanity I was hovering.
I could admit it. I was cranky. I was tired. And I was damn sick of being in this damn car. I needed to stretch my legs, and more coffee certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Case chuckled as he pressed the button to lift his seat. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” His hand slid over and patted my thigh. “I’ll keep you company the rest of the way.”
If you knew Case, you’d understand the threat those words implied.
“It’s twelve thirty,” he noted. “I thought you said we’d be there by now.”
I cast a quick look his way. His dark hair was as pristine as it always was. No bedhead for him. Then again, Case didn’t have any hair to muss because he kept it military short for whatever reason. His iridescent green eyes were filled with amusement, as always.
“You know, if it weren’t for the exquisite blow jobs, I would’ve kicked your ass to the curb a long time ago,” I huffed even as I grinned. His blow jobs were exquisite, and the rest of him wasn’t too bad, either.
He leaned his head back and turned it my direction, those hooded eyes fixed on me. “I do give good blow jobs, huh?”
My cock certainly thought so, proven by the way it was hardening in my jeans. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Or yours?” He slid his hand up my thigh, his fingers brushing my cock through the denim. “Never mind.” He chuckled. “Too late.”
I instantly thought of the ruthless Sadist who had become a fixture in my head for the past …
month? Two? Ever since that damn flight from Dallas to Chicago when Zeke Lautner commanded us to strip and kneel before him, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head.
He was taking up too damn much space, taunting me with that evil smirk and those Prince of Darkness black eyes.
Perhaps some people might consider my fascination with the six-foot-eight-inch beast of a man a form of cheating. Technically, Case and I were in an exclusive relationship, so I could understand how it appeared from someone else’s viewpoint.
However, I wasn’t cheating. Nor was my brain.
Did I mention my boyfriend was quite taken by the giant Sadist as well?
Well, he was. As much as I was, in fact.
And neither of us was jealous, because there was nothing to be jealous of.
Zeke Lautner was a man who could give Case and me something we couldn’t give each other.
He was also one of the reasons we were eager to get to Chicago.
“When’s the moving truck gonna be here?” Case asked, arching his back as he stretched that damn T-shirt in a manner that had my cock stirring again.
“Not till next Thursday. Hope you brought your toothbrush.”
Case scrubbed a hand over his face, the rasp of his stubble loud in the car. “I only used yours because I couldn’t find mine. I told you, it’s in my bag somewhere. But I didn’t pack a razor.” He glanced my way again. “Gonna need to go to the store.”
“Not until we’re in the apartment. You can go wherever you need to after that.”
As for me, I was going to sleep for a couple of days. Screw shaving.
Our belongings were being brought via the boys with the big trucks.
They had everything we owned, including Case’s Ford F250.
It had taken some finagling, but I’d finally convinced him we couldn’t drive the gas guzzler across the country.
He didn’t like that I was right, but he’d finally accepted it.
At that point, Case and I had packed up the necessities, loaded everything into my Chevy Traverse, and hit the open road.
After one night in a cheap motel with a crappy mattress and an equally crappy continental breakfast of stale biscuits, overcooked bacon, and green bananas, we were on the final leg of this journey.
I could see the Chicago skyline in the distance.
“I really don’t want to live in a damn apartment,” Case griped, not for the first time. “When we checked it out, I felt like the walls were closing in.”
“Not much of a choice. They offered us free rent.” Who could pass that up? More importantly, who would pass that up?
“I know. But I’m claustrophobic, Brax. I need air.”
He always did have a flair for the dramatic.
“There’s air in an apartment. And you are not claustrophobic.”
“Stale air, maybe. And I’ve got an aversion to concrete. I’ll lose my shit living in the city.”
“Which is it? You can’t have both.”
“Sure I can,” he said firmly. “I hate the city.”
I sighed heavily, gripping the wheel with both hands as we slowed to a snail’s pace in the thick traffic.
We’d had this conversation a dozen times since we were offered this opportunity.
Honestly, I’d thought being Trent Ramsey’s personal chef was quite an accomplishment.
Cooking for an A-list actor wasn’t exactly my dream job, but I didn’t have any complaints.
The guy paid me handsomely, and he was easy to work for, not to mention easy on the eyes.
On top of that, he valued what I had to offer him.
He wasn’t the bologna-and-cheese kind of guy; that was for damn sure.
And because of all the time I’d spent with him, he’d become a good friend to both Case and me over the years.
Needless to say, it had come as quite a shock when the partners of Chatter PR Global informed me they wanted me to be the head chef at a new restaurant they were opening.
Apparently, owning one of the biggest public relations firms in the world wasn’t enough for these guys.
They were venturing off in many different directions, and somewhere along the way, they’d come up with the idea of opening a restaurant in downtown Chicago, cuisine to be determined by me.
Who the fuck would turn that down? This was what I’d spent most of my adult life dreaming about. A restaurant of my own.
And to sweeten the pot, they’d offered Case—who happened to be Trent Ramsey’s personal trainer/nutritionist—a job managing the gym they were installing on the second and third floors, in the same building where Chatter PR Global resided.
It was supposed to be some fancy place that served protein smoothies to go along with bicep curls, sprinting on the treadmill, and pruning in the sauna.
They would be open to the public, and the hundreds of residents of that building would get free memberships.
Of course, accepting a couple of dream jobs had been easier, considering Trent was the one who set it all up in the first place.
With Trent officially bringing his latest business venture—his own talent agency—to Chi-Town, the man wouldn’t be far away.
I seriously doubted the partners would’ve pilfered us otherwise.
While Trent insisted we’d gotten the opportunities based on our own merit, I knew it didn’t hurt that Trent had gone into business with the firm.
And until the day the restaurant opened, I would continue my role as Trent’s personal chef while I gave my two cents on what needed to go into the elaborate kitchen of the new restaurant.
Just the thought made some of the exhaustion evaporate, filling me with a sense of genuine excitement. I was ready for the next phase of our lives. I looked forward to the idea of exploring a new city with the man I loved.
And maybe, if we were lucky, we’d get to explore a few other things as well.