He really hoped for Hartley’s sake that wasn’t the case.
Thinking of her had him smiling. The way her eyes had flared when he’d leaned in and issued his playful threat. The way her mouth had dropped open, sweet and kissable. The way Cruz had slowly but surely warmed to Hartley. Jonathan had been able to see it in his friend’s eyes, hear it in his words, and read it in his body language. Twenty years of friendship gave you that ability.
“Any chance you’re gonna stop daydreaming?” Cruz said, amusement plain in his tone.
“Some people can walk and chew gum at the same damn time, asshole,” Jonathan shot back with a smirk as he tossed a section of warped wood out the hole.
Cruz rolled his eyes.
“Don’t tell me your mind isn’t on her, too.” Jonathan nailed the other man with a stare.
Cruz pulled another section of wood free and for a long moment didn’t reply. Then he stood upright and returned that stare. “What is it you want with Hartley, man?”
“It’s damn early to want anything, specifically.”
Arching a dark brow that called him on his shit all by itself, Cruz didn’t let it go at that. “Yeah, it is. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have an idea.”
Jonathan dropped the tool he’d been using and braced his hands on his hips. “Okay, fine. I want to get to know her enough to see if she might be as great as she seems. To see if she might share even more interests in common.”
“You’re that into her already?”
“Maybe. Okay, probably.” It was crazy fast to be admitting that, let alone feeling it. Jonathan knew it was. But there was just something about her that had its hooks in him—just from the couple days they’d spent together. She was funny and interesting and smart, and all of that was in addition to their shared love of being out on the water. That had been fundamental to who Jonathan was going back to his childhood. More than a decade in the military taught him to listen to his instincts and trust his gut, and his gut was telling him there could be something worth exploring. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You interested, too?” he asked. Because though they hadn’t always shared sexual partners, they’d been doing it more and more. The first time it’d happened, it’d been totally organic. They’d met a woman at a club. Had great conversation. Danced with her. And then she’d invited them to come home with her. Both of them.
It had been a night that’d blown their minds. The thrill of it. The intensity. The courage it took to bare yourself in front of not just one lover, but two. In those early years, they’d both had plenty of solo dates and relationships, but they’d met more and more women who were open to sharing, and a few who introduced them to the BDSM lifestyle, where ménage scenarios were more accepted, common, and available.
It had cracked something open inside of Jonathan, something that needed to please, to take care, to love, and that felt too big to share with just one person. It was hard to articulate, and that was the closest he’d ever been able to come to explaining it—even to himself. Cruz was more private about what it meant to him—which Jonathan got given how religious his family was—but one thing was clear: they’d been through so much together by the time they’d found the lifestyle that they could trust each other, implicitly, in being themselves, both in and out of the bedroom. No questions, no judgment.
And then they’d met Hale O’Keeffe, Isaac Marten, Quinton Ross, and the other men who, with them, would become co-owners and the Master Dominants of Blasphemy, Baltimore’s most exclusive BDSM club.
That was when not just playing at this lifestyle, but truly living it, first became more than a possibility.
Cruz released a deep breath. “You…you don’t want her just for yourself?” His voice was quiet in the confined space of the ruined cabin. And Jonathan didn’t think he was imagining almost a…regret in his tone.
He stepped closer and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve talked about this before, yeah? If the right woman, the right situation, presented itself…” Jonathan let the words hang there. “I’m thinking, maybe we’ve found her. Especially now that we know she’s long-time friends with a woman who’s a submissive at the club. That shit didn’t feel like a coincidence.”
His friend’s gaze was dark and intense, and suddenly flared with a heat Jonathan had seen in the other man’s eyes many times. The heat of interest. Hell, yeah. Jonathan smiled, because Cruz was on board. This wasn’t just him getting caught up all on his own.
Cruz swallowed hard, and the sound was thick and a little tortured. “Maybe we have found the right woman.”
“Then you’re in on seeing where this might go?”
“I’m in, Jonathan.”
Satisfaction stirred in his gut. “Good.”
“But the fact that Hartley knows Scarlett doesn’t mean she also knows Scarlett’s a submissive. Or even what that fully means.” Cruz arched a dark brow.
Jonathan nodded, allowing him that much. “True. But maybe she does. And if so, that could be useful.”
Cruz’s expression went thoughtful, his gaze distant. “It would certainly make broaching the whole topic of BDSM easier if she already knew about the lifestyle.”
“Damn straight,” Jonathan said, grinning.
“Then I say we find out from Scarlett exactly what Hartley knows.” His friend’s dark brown eyes narrowed as his mind turned the situation over and looked at it from all angles. That methodical, analytical mind made Cruz an excellent sailor, a fantastic business partner, and an intriguing lover. Many times, Jonathan had witnessed Cruz drive a partner crazy with the workings of his mind as much as with the touch of his hands.
“Now you’re thinking,” Jonathan said. “That’s exactly where we start.”
***
Hartley found Scarlett sitting in the late September sunshine at an outdoor table of a cafe where they’d planned to meet for lunch. “I took the liberty of ordering us some wine. Mind sitting outside?” Scarlett asked, rising to give Hartley a hug. Her friend wore a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a royal blue wrap shirt—all of which highlighted her hourglass shape.
“Not at all. It’s gorgeous today.” She slipped into her seat and smoothed the white linen napkin over her own jeans. “It’s been too long since we did this. I’m glad I ran into you the other night.”
“I agree,” Scarlett said, adjusting the twist of her long, black hair over her shoulder. She had the most gorgeous hair of anyone Hartley knew. Like black silk. “To you, sister.”
“Right back atcha,” Hartley said.
Smiling, they toasted and then made small talk as they decided and finally ordered a bread-and-fresh-mozzarella appetizer and salads for lunch. And then Scarlett leaned forward. “Okay, I literally don’t know where to start.” The big smile she wore encouraged Hartley that Scarlett’s news was good.
“Well, start at the beginning, woman. What’s your news?” She sipped at her chardonnay, crisp and bright.
Scarlett waved her hands. “No, no. We’re not starting there. We’re starting with Jonathan and Cruz.”
Hartley blinked. She’d absolutely planned to ask more about how Scarlett knew the heroes saving her life by taking on her boat repair so quickly, but that hadn’t been why her friend had asked her to lunch. “Uh. Well…” She chuckled, because Scarlett looked like she might burst with excitement. What the heck was that about? “I hired them to repair the Far ‘n Away. It got damaged in the hurricane last week and my friend, Linda, introduced me to Jonathan. He agreed to take a look when no one else was available. Which was a lifesaver because I have commitments lined up in a few weeks that would kill me to miss.”
Now Scarlett was the one blinking as she swallowed a drink of wine. “And?”
“And what?”
“You guys looked very flirtatious.” Scarlett arched a brow.
“Flirtatious? With which one?” Hartley asked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about when she’d noticed Scarlett at
the restaurant.
“Hon, with both of them.”
“Oh, my God, no!” Hartley laughed, nearly choking on the drink she’d just taken. “We’re just friends. New friends, at that. I don’t even know them that well.”
“Well, I guessed that much,” she said, her tone full of innuendo.
She sat forward in her seat. “Okay, what does that mean? What is this club where you’re all members?”
“We’re gonna need another round of wine for this conversation,” Scarlett said, holding up her hand and gesturing to their half-full glasses when she caught the waiter’s eye.
“Oh, God,” Hartley said, putting her hand to her head. “Do I even want to know?”
“Trust me,” Scarlett said. “You do.”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay, hit me.”
Scarlett’s expression was alive with amusement. “Do you remember the club I talked to you about? The, um—” Her voice dropped into a whisper. “—BDSM club? The one you encouraged me to go for it and join?”
One beat passed, then another. “That’s the club you all belong to?” She took a long gulp of her chardonnay as her friend nodded.
Scarlett had told her about the club after her divorce had been finalized. Her husband hadn’t been happy at all when Scarlett had expressed a desire to explore the more risqué sides of her sexuality, and he’d become so cruel to her for revealing what truly interested her that she’d been forced to leave him. Hartley had been only too happy to cheer her friend on when she’d discovered the existence of this club and tell her she had nothing to lose by giving it a try. As far as Hartley was concerned, anything two consenting adults agreed to do was no one else’s business.
Scarlett gave her a long moment to process that news before she continued. “Yup. That’s the club. Blasphemy. You know that dance club called Club Diablo over in the warehouse district?”
“Yeah.”
“You actually go through that club to get to Blasphemy. It’s located in a restored church behind that building. You wouldn’t know it’s there without knowing about the club, which is kinda the point. They’re very private and exclusive, for obvious reasons.” The waiter arrived and filled Hartley’s now much less full glass.
Hartley took another big sip and tried to make sense of her thoughts. “Okay, so, what? Are they like you?”
“A submissive, you mean?” When Hartley nodded, Scarlett said, “No. They’re Dominants. They like to control the scenes and their partners’ pleasure. Master Jonathan and Master Cruz are alphas through and through.” Scarlett gave her a teasing smirk.
“Master…” Hartley murmured, trying out the word. Aided by her friend’s commentary, her brain offered up all kinds of unhelpful imaginings. Her, on her knees, Jonathan standing over her. Or would it be Cruz? Being pulled over one of their laps, her ass in the air, hands stroking her. But whose hand? Gah. This was a full-on trip to crazytown. “Um, okay.”
Just then, the waiter arrived with their appetizer, but Hartley was too gobsmacked to think about food. As Scarlett forked a piece of mozzarella onto her plate, she looked like the cat that ate the canary. “There’s more.”
“How can there be more?” She almost didn’t want to know. No, scratch that, she really wanted to know. “What kind of more?”
“Take another sip,” Scarlett said, chuckling and tapping at the rim of her wine glass.
Hartley didn’t resist. She took a big drink, her heart racing, her head spinning, just a little, because she’d skipped breakfast this morning.
“Hartley, Jonathan and Cruz do scenes together.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell. “So they’re a couple?” Man, that was…kinda disappointing. She totally got it, though. They were beautiful men. Best friends. Had served in the military together and now were business partners. It made sense that they could be together romantically. But, damn, she’d read that flirtation all wrong, hadn’t she?
And hell if that disappointment she was feeling didn’t reveal a thing or two…
Scarlett shook her head. “No, well, maybe. I don’t know. There’s some speculation around the club that there might be something romantic between them. But what I mean is, they do scenes together. Both of them with the same submissive. At one time. You know, like, ménage à trois.”
It was a good thing Hartley had just swallowed, because otherwise she might’ve done a cartoon-like spit take. Heat roared through her body. Because those imaginings she’d just done…that question she’d just asked herself about which one would be starring in those fantasies with her…now she had her answer. They might not make her choose.
“That is the…hottest, craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Hartley managed, her brain possibly shorting out at the thought. Both of them. Together. At the same time. Jonathan’s golden-boy good looks. Cruz’s dark, intensity. At. The. Same. Time.
Scarlett burst out laughing. “Hot, for sure. I’ve seen them do a scene together, and trust me when I say, no one complains afterward.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But it’s not as crazy as you think. After the last year of exploring things in my own life, I can tell you that there’s a whole culture out there—both within the BDSM lifestyle and outside of it—that’s a lot more open-minded and fluid.”
For a long moment, they sat quietly and enjoyed bites of the warm, smooth mozzarella, tangy tomatoes, and flavorful pieces of basil atop crostini.
“But…I don’t think I’m submissive,” Hartley said. “I mean, how do you even know?” And then she shook her head, peered around at the other diners to see if anyone was eavesdropping, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “And that’s all beside the fact that I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to try being with two men at once.”
Scarlett gave her an appraising look. “First of all, you’re not ruling it out, and that already tells me you’re more open-minded than the average bear.” She winked. “And, second, and you don’t have to tell me the answer, but imagine being with them both and ask yourself if the idea turns you on.”
Hartley swallowed hard as goosebumps raced across her skin. The attention of two men at once. Two pairs of hands. Two mouths. Two…other things. Had it gotten warmer outside?
“Actually, you really don’t have to tell me, my friend, because I just saw it in your eyes.” There was a little teasing in her tone, but mostly Scarlett’s expression was full of understanding.
Blowing out a long breath, Hartley chuckled. “Okay, well, I have no idea what to do with any of that. Especially since it’s not like they’ve asked me for anything. So maybe we should talk about your news now.”
Scarlett grinned. “Okay, I won’t push. But let me just say this one last thing. If you decide you might be curious, there’s a masquerade party at the club in a few weeks. Masks required. You could just observe if you wanted. You wouldn’t have to participate. I could get you in on my membership. All you’d have to do is fill out a few forms.”
Actually attend a BDSM club? Hartley’s racing heart told her that, at the very least, the idea excited her. Even if some of that excitement was fear. “I’ll think about it.”
Scarlett nodded. “Okay. So, then, my news is that I’ve gotten a job offer. And I’m not sure whether to take it.”
“Wow!” Hartley said. Scarlett worked as a statistician and was beyond brilliant. The sexiest math nerd on the planet, probably. “Congratulations. Where’s the job?”
“That’s the thing,” she said. “It’s in Vegas.”
Hartley blinked, instantly torn between happiness for her friend and regret for herself. “Vegas, how exciting. I imagine there’s a lot of opportunity in the casinos for people who can work numbers the way you can.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And I’m thinking…maybe a move would be a way to put the pain of everything that happened with my ex behind me.”
The very idea of Scarlett moving felt like another in a long line of losses. Not having a mother. Her dad’s heart attack. Her grandmother’s
dementia. But this wasn’t about Hartley, and her friend deserved every iota of happiness she could find. “I don’t think it sounds like you’re undecided, Scarlett. To me it sounds like you just want confirmation that this is the right thing to do. And your voice and face are telling me that it is. You deserve a fresh start after what he put you through.” And Hartley meant it. She really did. Even though Scarlett’s absence would leave another hole in her life.
“Really? You don’t think it’s, I don’t know, rash to just pick up and move across the country?”
“Not in the least,” Hartley said. “And not for nothing, but you just got done encouraging me to consider a relationship with two men at the same time. Who, by the way, may or may not be interested in me in the first place.”
They laughed.
“I think…I think this could be good for me, you know?” Scarlett said, just barely holding back her excitement. “I’m still thinking it through, though.”
Hartley hoped Scarlett wasn’t restraining her enthusiasm for her sake, though Hartley wouldn’t put it past her. Scarlett was one of the few people with whom Hartley had ever shared her loneliness. After Scarlett’s divorce, it was something they’d had in common. So Hartley made sure her voice bubbled over with encouragement. “Well, it sounds like a great opportunity. I’m so proud of you, Scarlett. And I promise I’ll come visit.”
The waiter delivered their salads, which they ate around one of the liveliest, most animated lunches Hartley had had in a long time. And even though a part of her was already missing her friend, she had to respect the courage it took Scarlett to identify the kind of life she really wanted and go after it, no matter what anyone else thought.
Right at that moment, Hartley wished she could be more like that.
Chapter Five
Hartley woke up surrounded by skin. Miles of warm, smooth skin. Hard muscles as far as her hands could reach.
It was freaking delicious.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Jonathan said, kissing her ear, her neck, her shoulder. His hand slid around low on her belly, his long fingers tantalizingly close to where she knew he could drive her wild.