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Not much but some.
; “You thought so, hmm?”
She didn’t like his smile. It was too close to a leer. “For a woman,” she said with a sniff. “Anyway, what happened last night?”
“What do you mean? You saw what happened.” He flicked back the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I went to the dungeon. I used a crop on—”
“On?” she prompted when he fell silent. “Do you know her? And why the hell are you fidgeting if you’re Mr. Big Dom?”
“I said I was into stuff. I didn’t say I’d practiced it before in that setting. What I’ve done’s all been one-on-one with a woman who consented—hell, even asked for it—ahead of time. None of this public performing crap. I didn’t expect some guy to toss that crop at me but Jesus, she was making all those crazy sounds, begging, pleading. I couldn’t stop myself.” He balled his hand into a fist then opened up his fingers. “Usually I use a flogger. But that crop felt good in my hand. Right. And she wanted it.”
“I’ll say,” Marcia said drily. “She was one sneeze away from an orgasm the entire time.”
“It’s intense.”
“If you say so.”
“I know it’s not your scene.” He stroked her thigh almost absentmindedly. “Why do you think I went up there?”
It took her a minute to realize he wasn’t fully aware of what he’d said. His faraway expression was her first hint, his tense posture another. He was there, in that dungeon. With her. Not platonically cuddling with Marcia.
“You wanted to put distance between us?”
Cale’s snapback to the present was a visible, tangible thing. He blinked, squinting as if it took great effort to focus on her. “What?”
“You heard me, jerk.” She shook her head. It was all so plain now. God save her from chivalrous men. “You didn’t need to stage a scene to get me to back off. I was cool with the two nights. Actually I would’ve been fine with one. That was enough to satisfy my curiosity about what it’d be like with you.”
“Was it now?”
His slow, simmering smile made her roll her eyes. “It was amazing, just as I’d expected. But I also expected the threesome to only last one night.”
“You’re one-of-a-kind. With mind-blowing powers of self-restraint.”
Only the genuine affection in his tone saved him from yet another eye roll. “I enjoyed myself. Enjoyed you. Loving Tony doesn’t mean I’m blind or dumb. It just means I’ve decided that committing to him, all the way, is sexier than going for extra whipped cream and nuts. If you get me.”
“I do. And I’m glad. It was just extra insurance. Though once I got you there, I couldn’t resist going for the gold with you.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I’ll be walking stooped over for a week.”
Wolfishly, he licked his lips. Needless to say, he didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “You have one hell of an ass. I heard the angels sing. Or maybe Satan howled. Hard to say for sure, since I lost my hearing.”
Only Cale could talk about anal sex and manage to make it sound like a compliment of the highest order. “Thank you. May I quote you in the front flap of my book?” She grinned. “Will add weight that I know of what I speak. And speaking of in-depth knowledge, would you be willing to give me some insight on BDSM?”
He didn’t appear to hear her. “Nothing went as I planned last night,” he said, still idly stroking her thigh. “And I caught myself in my own trap.”
He stared off into the distance while she chewed on her lip and searched for something to say. She wasn’t used to Cale looking so unsure. Was it what had happened last night? That scene in the dungeon had been extreme, at least in her world if not his.
Maybe he could use a distraction. Interviewing him for her book would be perfect. He always enjoyed talking about sex and he clearly had more clue than she did on that particular area of expertise. Or she could interview his submissive.
Except the brunette wasn’t his submissive. They weren’t anyone to each other. Just strangers. So there was no reason to worry about him or his sexual practices. He was a big boy and could take care of himself.
What she should be doing was convincing him to add his valuable input to the Marcia Galvin Daly advice empire, rather than focusing on aspects he could handle just fine on his own. She knew damn well he’d do his own thing regardless of her fretting.
If she were a fretter. Which, of course, she wasn’t.
“What trap, Cale?” she asked gently.
