Dirty Little Tricks Read online

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “You mean you don’t know what you look like below the belt?”

  “Well, not at this angle, no! And you do?”

  “Sure,” she says like it’s no big deal.

  “And I’m the dirty girl?”

  “Let’s just say I got acquainted with my cha cha at an early age,” she explains.

  “Tia, you are seriously scaring me now.”

  “No, it’s not bad story. Just that I was in track as a kid and had to start wearing tampons really early. Like my first month. I had a track meet the day after I got my period and there was no way a bulky pad wouldn’t show in my little shorts, so Mom gave me a jar of Vaseline, a mirror, and the Tampax instructions and sent me to the bathroom. She told me not to come out until it was in.”

  “That’s terrible. Did it hurt?”

  “Like a bitch.” Tia crosses her legs. “But that’s because I left the cardboard in.”

  “Oww, you’re killing me here.” My legs involuntary cross as well. “Hey, not to burst your bubble or anything, but I’m sure it looks quite a bit different down under these days.”

  “Oh yeah, it does,” she agrees.

  “Do I want to know?” I ask, continuing to flip through the shots.

  “Remember Jeremy?”

  I give a reluctant nod, thinking back to that creepo.

  “Well,” she says. “He loved his mirrors.”

  “Okay, you’re an expert on vaginal art then. So tell me, is this a good shot to send to Gabe?”

  “Jesus, Stevie.” She takes the phone. “The things I do for you. Grab the tequila and let’s have a look at this portfolio of yours.”

  ***

  Tia and I spent the next hour drinking tequila, looking at vag shots, and laughing our asses off until Tia’s sister called with a guy emergency. She’d have to leave before we made a final decision on the pictures.

  “Okay,” Tia says, heading out. “Send Gabe number four or six. Those are her most flattering.” She giggles as she stumbles to the door; thankfully Tia always cabs it over. Then she gives me a little slap on the butt. “Go get ’em.”

  The apartment grows quiet, and I’m left by myself with my own version of Georgia O'Keeffe's Freudian abstracts. Although mine are anything but abstract. I select number four – a classic pose – and begin to text (or sext) Gabe.

  I pull up his contact and his gorgeous photo appears with his blue eyes burning. All of a sudden, my fingers refuse to cooperate. I honestly can’t press send.

  Come on, push the button.

  It’s no use. Yeah, we like a certain degree of kink, but this move just seems desperate to me.

  Or maybe I’m so used to him taking the lead that I’ve lost my mojo. Or hell, maybe I never had it to begin with.

  For the love of all that’s slutty.

  In the end, I decide to bag the photo idea and move on to item number two on my list: Role Play.

  Now this was more our style. So after I sober up from the tequila poppers and destroy all photographic evidence, I prepare to welcome Gabe home like never before.

  Get ready, Mr. Shannon. You’re in for a real treat.

  Chapter 5

  Gabe

  Shit. What did I do to deserve this?

  I don’t make it home until nearly eight that evening. Jameson and I had our work cut out for us at the brownstone and actually redesigned the main level into a workable space. Something that wouldn’t have happened if I’d known what was waiting for me.

  Stevie greets me at the door in her sexiest lingerie. Pale pink lace with garters, stockings, ribbons, and bows. A present I need to open this very second.

  She smells like apples and cinnamon, like she was baking all day, and damn if I don’t want to devour her. She is the epitome of contradiction: sweet and sinful; pristine and dirty; innocent and corrupt.

  I slide out of my coat and reach for her.

  “Baby, what did I do to deserve this?” I ask aloud this time.

  “I heard you needed a girl tonight,” she says in a voice I don’t quite recognize. “My boss sent me over straightaway to take care of your particular needs.” She stands still, but a tiny tremble has her legs shaking in those delicious skyscraper heels.

  What game are you playing, little one?

  This is different, we usually don’t scene. Not really. Even at the club, it was always just us – Stevie and Gabe. Stevie liked her kink with a wink and a smile. She didn’t take anything too seriously.

  A slight warning bell goes off in my head because she’s resorted to doing a scene rather than talking to me. It’s not a piercing red-light alarm, just a caution that I should tread lightly. In my experience, role play was often used to get past deep-seeded issues. Or ways to ease anxiety and get what you needed sexually without having to come out and ask for it.

  I can’t help that every one of these scenarios has me a little unnerved.

  I also can’t help the need I have to give her whatever she desires. So regardless of the reason for this, I happily join in.

  “I did,” I tell her, not missing a beat. “And I’m very, very hungry at the moment, so please assume the position. Your boss did tell you about this part, right?”

  Stevie’s mouth drops open and I want to chuckle. She wasn’t expecting me to acclimate to my role so quickly. I hold in my pleasure at her shocked expression until… well, until she assumes the position.

  I’m no longer amused, I’m mesmerized. Looks like she’s acclimating just fine as well.

  Climbing up on the dining room table, Stevie faces me and leans back, her weight resting on her hands. She places her heels on the arms of the end chair – my spot – and spreads her legs.

  Suddenly, it’s not a game. I am very, very hungry. Fucking famished, to tell the truth.

  “Is this what you mean?” she asks in wide-eyed innocence. It’s almost believable until I meet her blazing gaze.

  “That is exactly what I mean,” I praise. “You came to me well prepared and you’ll be rewarded for that.”

  “I just want to please you,” she says. “Now, will you take a seat?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Moving slowly, wanting to savor every second of this, I walk over to the table. She lifts one leg off the arm of the chair so I can take my seat. It’s been so long since she’s initiated something like this and it is the sexiest fucking thing. I’m worried that it’s not going to last long because I want to swallow her whole.

  Sitting down, level with my favorite part of this woman, I can see her arousal soaking through the pretty lace. I shift under the straining zipper in my pants and she smiles.

  “This is gorgeous,” I say, running one lonely finger from her lacy bra to the garter belt and down to her soaking panties. “But I’m ready to eat.”

  Her breath hitches at my crudeness and the evil bastard in me loves it.

  “These have snaps,” she says, running a shaking hand over her mound.

  “Mmm,” I appraise. “Well-prepared, indeed.”

  With a flick of the wrist, I open one snap. I slide a finger under the fabric because I need contact with her skin. She is so slick, so hot. I don’t move between her folds, I simply leave my finger on top, moving it in small circles to provide a bit friction. Her hips roll with it.

  I shake my head so she knows that’s not allowed. I’m in charge now – I’m the very bossy client and she’s my ever-compliant call girl.

  I undo the other two snaps in excruciatingly slow fashion. But after I’m done, I make no move to open the fabric any further. When I look up to meet her eyes, they are wild. Her chest is heaving. I bark out another demand.

  “Show me those magnificent tits of yours,” I say. “I want to start with those.”

  Stevie makes quick work of discarding her bra. I, conversely, take my gloriously sweet time.

  Admiring the scenery, I lean in and toy with her breasts. A gentle nuzzle. An aching ghost of a touch. The slightest flick
of my tongue.

  Stevie arches her back, releasing tiny whimpers that tell me she wants more.

  I comply with an attack.

  Sucking a tight nipple deep into my mouth, I palm the underside of her breast. Kneading and rubbing, I pull her in deeper. I give her right breast the same treatment until her breath is coming out so fast I worry she may hyperventilate. Yes, I might make her come just from this.

  I trail kisses down her stomach, inhaling her sweet scent, and then unwrap the prize. I flip open her panties to meet the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Pink and glistening, and so ready for me.

  “Thank you for bringing this,” I tell her. “It’s exactly what I wanted. I just hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

  With that, I take a long, lazy lick from the forbidden zone all the way up to her clit. Stevie’s hands grip the side of the table and I push her legs further apart. The faint scent of her arousal fills my head and I get lost for a minute, nipping and sucking.

  “Fucking fantastic,” I say when I finally come to. Then I slide my chair closer so I have better reach as I begin to feast.

  With each lap of my tongue, she surrenders and we both float in the same space where there’s only the two of us. And when I dip my tongue inside and use the stubble of my whiskers to torment her sensitive skin, she squirms.

  I don’t relent.

  “Gabe,” Stevie screams, coming out of character.

  I ignore it.

  My hands slide under her bottom and lift, bringing her even closer to my mouth. I continue my assault, pumping my tongue into her tight channel, slowing down only to pay attention to her throbbing clit.

  She moans her own commands.

  Harder.

  More.

  Please.

  It’s fast and frantic.

  Just a short moment later, she becomes silent and takes a deep breath. One of her many signals. That’s when I look up to catch her face as she comes apart. And within seconds, she’s shattering around my tongue.

  “That’s one,” I say as I ease her down on the table to recover.

  But before I can join her, the doorbell rings.

  “Don’t answer,” Stevie whispers.

  And I agree. But when the pounding starts and someone calls Stevie’s name from the other side of the door, it can’t be ignored.

  It will be a visit that changes our lives and puts everything we have at risk.

  But I don’t know that yet.

  So, like a dumbass, I open the door.

  On the other side are two women.

  Beautiful. Damaged. And in need of help.

  Chapter 6

  Stevie

  Well, item number two on the list goes swimmingly. Man, am I a greedy little wench. But from the look of Gabe’s face right now, he doesn’t mind a bit. You’d think he was the one who was screaming from on high.

  And then it all ends so quickly with the chaos at the door.

  On shaking legs, I run to the bedroom and snag a robe before Gabe answers the bell.

  He opens the door to find my best friend Tia and her little sister April looking terrified. Well, Tia is terrified or pissed, it’s hard to tell. April is sad or bored. The sisters don’t exactly wear their hearts on their sleeves.

  My thoughts immediately go into who died mode.

  I haven’t seen April in a year or so. She used to hang out at Tia’s place all the time. The three of us went to the bars together and always had hangover breakfast at our favorite greasy spoon.

  “I’m so sorry for busting in on you guys like this,” Tia says, wrapping me in a hug. “We just need some advice.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell Tia, and then look over to April, who seems to be frozen in the doorway. “Come here, April. It’s been forever.”

  April still looks like she’s eighteen instead of the twenty-five years I know she is. She has that baby face and that lithe frame that hasn’t quite filled out to a more womanly shape yet. But gosh, she’s gorgeous.

  April takes a step forward and winces. A wince with a smile plastered over it. A glance at Gabe tells me he sees the same thing.

  He also knows I won’t get anything out of her while he’s still here, so he makes an excuse to head out and give us privacy.

  My heart aches when he does.

  They walk in, and as they get closer I can see April’s been hurt.

  “Do you want to tell her or should I?” Tia asks her sister.

  “Why don’t you, since you seem to know everything,” April growls.

  “I’m sorry,” Tia says, forgetting that I’m standing next to her in my robe. “I’m upset, April. Look at what he did to you. I’m just so angry.”

  Tia moves behind her sister and slides April’s sweater over her shoulder to uncover the marks. April is purple and red all along her neck and there are lacerations on her shoulders and back. And when she shows me her wrists, the skin is torn and burned.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, trying to look into April’s eyes. She keeps hers pinned to the floor.

  I lead them to the couch and go to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea, but then I opt for the tequila instead.

  “What happened?” I finally ask, pouring three glasses.

  “Fucking Ben,” Tia says. “Ben happened.”

  That’s when April looks up – like just the sound of his name has some weird effect on her.

  “Stevie, maybe you can explain to her what’s it’s like,” April says, as if coaxing me to provide some great wisdom here.

  Too bad I have no effing idea what she’s talking about.

  “You know,” April goes on. “The lifestyle?”

  About a million questions begin swirling around in my head, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of me. First, April’s injuries have to do with the lifestyle? What the hell were they doing? And where were they doing it? And second, how does April know about my past? And why does she assume I’ve been beaten like this? And does she really think that’s part of it all?

  I’m so over my head here, but decide to ask those questions one at a time.

  Before I can, Tia answers one for me.

  “Sorry, Stevie,” she says. “I’ve never told anyone about Club Venus or Gabe’s past, but this is my baby sister and she needs some help.”

  I shake that off, because it really is the least of the issues on the table.

  “Please just start at the beginning, April,” I tell her. “I’m so confused right now.”

  “Well, about a year ago, I started dating Ben,” she says with a smile. “We met at school and he was just so gorgeous, and smart, and really together. So confident. Not like the other guys on campus.” She waves her hands like she’s seriously getting hot thinking about him. “Anyway, we started dating.”

  “Okay.” I take another drink.

  “About a month in, he came out to me.”

  “Came out to you?”

  “You know, that he was kinky,” she says matter-of-fact.

  “Okay, fine,” I say, not sure where she is going with this and more than a little pissed that she’s smiling when her body is peppered with marks and bruises. “So where did this happen?” I point to her neck.

  “We go to clubs sometimes, like Gabe’s old place, and things got carried away at one of them,” she says and it immediately has me burning.

  I take a deep breath because I don’t want to come off condescending or judgmental or old, but I know I need to set her straight.

  “Did Ben do this or did someone else at the club?”

  “Ben,” she says. “He’s been exploring the Dom role and sometimes he gets a little too excited.”

  Too excited, my ass.

  “Does he have a mentor who’s helping him?” I ask.

  “God, no.” She actually laughs. “It’s sex, Stevie, not a job.”

  “Hon.” I muster up all the strength I can to get this out without screaming. “He’s playing with dangerous stuff here, and obviously he doesn’t k
now what he’s doing. Gabe and I don’t do the Dom/sub thing, but I can tell you that nobody from his club ever left looking like this. Gashes and bruises are not what the lifestyle is about. You’ve been harmed in a bad way, April. Do you tell him to stop or use a safe word?”

  “No,” she admits. “I usually just try to get through it.”

  “Does it ever feel good to you?” I ask, wondering exactly what she’s getting out of the deal.

  “I like giving up control,” she says. “I like how it was in the beginning, when it wasn’t so intense. And now Ben wants to be in control all the time, even outside of sex.”

  “From what I’ve witnessed, the sub is in just as much bliss as the Dom, usually more so. And the sub generally holds the power in this type of exchange, because they are equal partners who agree to the act. They set up rules and limits. And though there are some who keep the arrangement in their lives, mostly it’s just during sex.”

  “That’s not what Ben says.”

  “Well, by the looks of these marks, I don’t give a shit what Ben says. He clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing. If that’s what you’re into, fine. But you need someone who’s in it for the right reasons and takes care of you in the process.”

  We spend the night with more talking, more convincing; in the end I’m not sure it matters.

  April is going to do what she wants, and that hurts me more than anything. I’m actually frightened for her.

  After they leave, I fall into a pile on the couch exhausted. The whole evening makes me realize how lucky I am with Gabe and how I’d do anything to protect what we have.

  And that means I can’t sit still for long.

  Chapter 7

  Gabe

  “Sometimes men use the lifestyle as an excuse to abuse,” I tell Stevie in bed that night.

  I knew it was bad when Tia and April came to the house, but had no idea just how bad it was. And from the vibe I got from April, she is truly a born submissive. She not only craves the power exchange, she needs it. Unfortunately, she found the absolute worst partner to do it with. I wish I could’ve been part of the conversation, but it was overstepping.