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I greet some people, and when a hot woman I know walks over and starts to flirt, I flirt right back.
“Mr. Vale,” she says, her voice a purr, her red hair lustrous, and hour-glass figure drawing eyes everywhere.
She’s just my type. Red’s not a sub, but she’s a pain junkie and likes things pushed.
Red.I can’t even remember her goddamn name.
Pollyanna stands in position, a quiet seethe bubbling beneath her surface. It’s like spatters of static electricity in that seethe.
It irritates me. She’s doing her job, but her being upset fits into the feel of a real relationship I’m trying to create, that thing where those involved pretend on the surface but everyone else can feel the burn.
But there’s something more to it. Something that twists it into a little too real, a little too invasive.
That’s the word.
It’s like Ivy’s waging her full-on invasion of me. Dragging my attention to her when I have a bombshell basically giving me a ticket to free access and no-strings fun, games and orgasms.
I hand Ivy my drink. “Just hold it.”
And then I turn back to Red.
“Is she your new pet, Mr. Vale?”
“Something like that. But I’m more interested in you and why we haven’t gotten together.”
Red runs a hand down the front of my tie. Ivy growls next to me. It makes me want to laugh.
I pick up Red’s hand to remove it.
“Permission only, but that can be arranged,” I say. “I’ve love to see all of you, naked and marked.”
Red hands me a card and I give it to Ivy to stick in her purse.
The woman walks away, but not before she flashes a seductive smile at me. Ivy’s tiny sound of distress cuts into my heart.
I turn to her, my jaw tight. “If you’re going to act like a jealous bitch, we’ll go.”
I hate the biting words as they pierce the air. Talk about feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. But mission accomplished. And maybe whatever soft fucking feelings Ivy’s developing for me can go die a lonely death somewhere. I don’t need that in my life.
We’re—
I grit my teeth.
I don’t know what the fuck we are anymore because I’m not sure I hate her.
Not anymore.
The moment we hit the pavement outside the club, she turns to me, her eyes spitting fire. “You asshole. You…bastard.”
Thank fuck the car’s waiting for us. I help her into the backseat, but she shoves my hands away.
“What’s your problem?” I ask, like I don’t know.
“You. And I want to get something straight. I’mhelpingyou, correct?”
“You like what we do. It gets you off.”
“No. You get me off. But that? In there? How you’ve been acting? No. Just fucking no!”
