Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“No worries.”
The server scribbles a quick note. “I’ll have that for you as soon as I can.”
My stomach growls. This place doesn’t serve food, and I’m pretty sure I forgot to eat dinner.
“We’ve been flirting with that table of guys over there.” Frankie gestures.
“Flirting? When you’re engaged?” I point to the ring on Mandy’s finger—
Only to find she’s not wearing it.
“Frankie! Where’s your ring?”
“I couldn’t wear it. What if I got mugged?”
“You’ve never been mugged in your life.”
She huffs. “No one’s going to ask me to dance if I’m wearing a rock on my left hand.”
Then I get it. She’s having her last hurrah. “Okay.”
“It’s not like I’m looking to go home with anyone,” Frankie continues. “I just want to do some dancing. Have a nice time. Feel attractive.”
“Frank, you’ve always been attractive.”
True that. I was the ugly duckling of the two of us.
“Still…I just want to have some fun.”
“Are you going to be doing girls’ night a lot, then?” I ask.
“Whenever I can. Even after I’m married, for that matter. Marriage doesn’t mean you have to stop having fun.” She giggles. “It just means you have to stop having sex with other guys.”
Sure. I nod, and then I look over to Gigi…who’s staring at me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. You look…different.”
Frankie turns her stare on me then. “You do. It’s your eyes. You’re wearing eye makeup.”
“Guilty.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Gigi says. “Something else is different. I can’t quite put my finger on— Oh my God. You had sex!”
Thank God my natural flush is being covered up by the cheek rouge I applied rather liberally. I somehow keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.
“Mandy?” Frankie says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m so warm, I think my sweat glands may explode.
“Gigi has sex radar,” Frankie says. “If she says you had sex, you had sex.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this, Gigi, but your radar has failed you.”
Except her radar hasn’t failed her. Not only did I have sex, I had the most amazing panty-melting sex with the unrequited love of my life.
“Seriously?” Gigi shakes her head. “I’m never wrong.”
“You are this ti—”
“Excuse me?” Someone taps my shoulder.
I turn to see a tall and handsome man standing next to me.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
“Sure.” I rise, secretly thanking this guy for putting an end to a conversation I did not want to have.
He leads me to the dance floor, which is crowded but not unbearable. It’s a fast song playing, so I don’t have to get close to him or anything.
He’s nice-looking. Blond hair, some scruffy brown stubble, and dark-blue eyes.
“I’m Michael,” he yells over the music.
“Mandy,” I yell back.
“Brandy?”
“Mandy!”
“Mandy, nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
And…we’ve effectively run out of things to talk about. Good thing we’re dancing, and we can pretend to be really into the music.
When the song ends, I hold out my hand. “Thanks, Michael. Nice meeting you.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
“I should have one. The waitress should’ve brought it by now.”
“No problem. I get it.”
He’s a nice guy, and I think I just hurt his feelings. God, I’m so bad at this.
I smile at him. “Tell you what. Why don’t I get you a drink?”
He brightens then. “I’m a gentleman. I don’t let a lady buy my drinks. But would you like to join me at my table?”
“Sure.”
We walk back to the table where Frankie and Gigi are sitting. Sure enough, my sidecar is at my space. “This is Michael,” I say. “Michael, my sister, Frankie, and her friend Gigi.”
“Nice to meet you ladies,” he says.
“Would you like to join us?” Frankie asks.
Michael beams. “If you don’t mind.” He waves to a table where a couple of guys are sitting and then takes the empty seat at our table.
“Are those your friends?” Frankie asks.
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you invite them over here?”
“Because this is a four-top table,” I say to Frankie.
“We can all scoot,” she says.
Gigi agrees. “Absolutely. We’ll scoot.”
“Okay.” Michael heads to his original table, and soon the two other guys are bringing chairs over.
Now we’re squeezed, six people—including three pretty large men—at a table meant for four.
“This is Ryan and Morgan,” Michael says. “Mandy, Frankie, and Gigi, is it?”
Gigi blushes. “Short for Gianna.”
I take a sip of my sidecar. One good thing about having three men at the table with Gigi and Frankie…I don’t have to talk at all.
Which turns out not to be a blessing…because Jackson invades my thoughts.
He’s probably at his club…doing things to someone who isn’t me.
Chapter Eighteen
Jackson
Mariah Sandusky—known as Blossom—practically lives at Black Rose Underground. She’s always ready for a scene, and she especially loves being bound in leather, which happens to be my binding of choice as well.
I meet her outside the club, give her a temporary collar for the evening, and then lead her to my reserved suite. She sheds her black trench coat and is wearing nothing but some candy-apple-red panties. She walks to the bed in the corner and lies down on her side—a seductive pose of hers that I know well. Her hair settles on her milky-white shoulders.