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Emma
Thursdaywasgirls’nightat the Irish Rover, a bar in downtown Denver. After wrapping up work at the airport for the day, I drove the work truck to my place in Green Valley Ranch near the airport. I loved the small ranch I’d bought a year ago. I fed Orion, the 14-year-old Maine Coon I’d adopted around the same time I’d closed on the house, and microwaved a box of frozen mac and cheese. I threw some frozen broccoli in the microwave, too. Vegetables and all that. I took my time eating while I devoured another book on my e-reader.
How come these book characters always just got what they wanted? They never had to deal with a jerk of a Dom telling them no, or that they weren’t a good fit when they wouldn’t even talk about it.
I’d known Drew for almost a year, since I’d first joined Blackstone. I’d tried some other clubs in the area, but none of the Doms there had ever given me what I needed.
Blackstone was supposed to be different.
I’d met Drew one of my first weeks there, at a singles’ mixer night. He was usually in charge of them, and so didn’t play, even though I was dying for the day I was paired with him. He took the time to pair up those who’d signed up and usually did a good job as matchmaker.
So far, though, not for me.
Was it that I was more of a masochist than most people could tell? Was it that I played with the wrong Doms? I tried to be honest about what I liked and what I needed, but no one had been willing to give me the intensity I needed.
I knew—knew—that Drew would be a great Dom for me. He was strict, stern, willing to play hard. I’d heard rumors about his scenes in the past, the few times he’d played publicly, and it was exactly what I needed. But he looked at me like a little kid.
I was 28, thank you very much.
Drew was older than me—I knew that much—but age was just a number. To me, anyway. And yeah, he was taller than me. Like everyone else in this world. 5’2 didn’t seem short, unless you went to school with mostly men, then worked with mostly men, and spent your free time with a bunch of Dominants, all of whom were physically tall, and made to seem taller by their dominant personalities.
Being short didn’t mean I was Little, though.
I took a ride share to the bar, planning my Irish car bombs. No sense in driving when I needed to have more than my fair share of drinks tonight. Guinness, Bailey’s, Irish whiskey—what wasn’t to love? And maybe it would help me forget the disappointment of last weekend at Blackstone.
At the Irish Rover, the girls were tucked into a booth, sipping on Guinness and Strongbow when I arrived. Kaylee poured another Guinness from the pitcher and pushed it across the table to me as I slid into the booth next to Avery.
“Hey girls! How are you all? What’s new? Who has a story?” My excitement bubbled over, fueled by caffeine.
Kaylee, Lexie, and Alex had work stories to share, and I listened intently to their drama. Savannah, quiet as usual, spoke up to share some steamy details from her scene with Sean last weekend. Paige and Kaylee added their own details from their times playing with Sean.
“He just reads you, like, SO well,” Kaylee added.
“And his tongue—OH my god.” Paige rolled her eyes back in her head.
Savannah blushed.
“So, are you going to play with him again?” I cut straight to the point as I lifted my glass of Guinness.
Savannah shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe. He was good, and I had fun, but there wasn’t that…connection, you know? Like Avery had with Brax.”
And like Savannah had had with Logan the two times they’d played, but no one mentioned that. One of these days, we were going to get all the dirty details there, though.
“Speaking of Avery and Brax…how are things in paradise, lover girl?” I turned to Avery, my voice teasing.
“Well…I have news.” Avery lifted her left hand to tuck her golden hair behind her ear.
There was a glittering rock on her finger. “WHAT is that?” I reached for her hand to get a better look. “Is that what I think it is?”
Avery nodded, smiling from ear to ear. “It is. Brax proposed. We’re getting married next summer. I need you all to be bridesmaids.”
Everyone spoke at once.
“How did he ask?”
“DID he ask? Or did he order you to marry him?”
“What kind of dress are you getting?”
