AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can tell. Just be careful,” Eden says, leaning against the wall next to me.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” I reply with a tight-lipped expression, and when she touches my hand, I feel the sympathy in the gesture. Eden knows everything, so she knows how much it still hurts.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just find someone to play with up here? Might help you take your mind off of it.” Eden raises her eyebrows at me, and I smirk with a shake of my head.
“Not tonight,” I reply. I don’t know many friends who are willing to partake in kinky group sex to cheer me up, but I’m sure thankful for this one.
“Fine. Good luck with your cute little project out there.” With a wink, Eden steps away from the wall and presses her lips to my cheek.
Just then, the curtain opens again and Daisy walks in, her eyes finding me right away. I take a good deal of pride in just how jealous she looks as Eden runs her fingers through my hair.
RULE #9: THERE’S NO SHAME IN ASKING FOR HELP. EVERYONE ENDS UP ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR FROM TIME TO TIME
Daisy
“You fucked Ronan Kade?”
I nearly drop my tray of drinks and slam into a man passing by when I hear the table of women name drop the one guy who’s happened to infiltrate my entire life in the last twenty-four hours.
First, I walk in on him and Eden St. Claire getting cozy, just moments after I left him in the VIP room, and now this. He followed me out of the room after that, and he’s been like a shadow on my tail ever since, never letting me enter the VIP room alone. It’s a little over the top, if you ask me.
But at the same time…it’s almost sweet.
As I’m dropping off the cocktails to a nearby table, I try to listen in on the women nearby, but it’s so loud in here and they’re just out of earshot.
There are three of them. An older woman wearing a proud expression. A beautiful, young redhead, and a dark-skinned runway model (or so I assume) with a buzzed head and legs for days. I didn’t catch which one asked the question, but now I’m practically trying to read lips.
Once my tray is emptied, I make my way closer, pretending to wipe down a nearby table as they carry on their conversation.
“I came so many times I had to beg him to stop,” the runway model whispers, and I freeze.
“Older men always know what they’re doing,” the older woman replies.
“Well, not to mention, he’s a pleasure Dom,” one of them adds.
A pleasure Dom? What the hell is that?
Thankfully, the redhead is just as clueless. “What does that mean?”
“It means he forces you to enjoy yourself. He gets off on getting you off,” the woman replies.
“Sign me up.”
The three of them break out in laughter before raising their glasses to drink. I’ve run out of table to wipe down, but I’m not ready to leave this conversation. It’s a major invasion of privacy and probably grounds for firing, to be honest, but I’m too curious to walk away.
None of this is really what I wanted to know about the man, who may have had a romantic relationship with my mother, but I’m not thinking about that anymore. Now I’m just curious…for other reasons.
“Well, he’s here tonight. He’s right behind you, and he’s looking this way,” the runway model says with her drink to her lips.
My head practically snaps off my neck when I turn it so fast to find him, and sure enough, he’s staring right at me. And since I’m standing just on the other side of the women, it appears like he’s looking at them.
Grabbing my tray, I return to the bar, feeling his gaze on my back. I continue my eavesdropping on this table of women, who may or may not try to sleep with Ronan. Not that it’s any of my business.
“Should I go talk to him?” the older woman says, and suddenly, I’m detouring, no longer walking to the bar but heading straight toward him. He’s sitting alone at a low set table in one of the blue velvet chairs. His shirt isn’t unbuttoned tonight, but he is wearing a blue striped tie and his white shirt fits his arms so snug, it looks like the fabric might rip. How have I never noticed how buff Ronan is?
Thinking about Ronan in that way, considering he possibly dated my mother and I’m here on a mission to get answers, is wrong, but my mind ends up there anyway. Wondering what he looks like under those clothes. Imagining how he makes his submissive come so many times—with his tongue, his fingers, or a toy?
None of these thoughts are appropriate, but I think about them anyway.
