Except her. Her beauty. Those tawny eyes that were never cold, always so fucking warm, when she looked at him it was like a touch on his skin. Her soft voice with that very soft accent, a pretty accent, like a lilt. An accent he couldn’t place until she’d called him chevalier. What she’d done to him, barely touching him … no, the fact that she did barely touch him being part of what centered his focus. Nothing else got in but what was happening between them.
Nothing but what he was feeling.
Nothing but needing her to fucking touch him.
Nothing but unease that was mixed with a liberal dose of thrill at what she might do next.
Nothing but how hard his dick got, how heavy his balls became, how he got off on how tight the harness was, the bite of the straps running up the crack of his ass.
Nothing but how bad he needed to blow.
Nothing.
All his life, sexually, his mind had been cluttered. And because of those channels to the dark places in his brain that black box in his parents’ closet opened up, this leaked into life. Women he’d banged, girlfriends—he got off. Like anything, he figured, if you were going to do it, you not only did it right but you gave the best you could give, so he was good at it.
But always in the back of his head, in those dark places, he knew those women would go because he’d send them away, never having the balls to tell them he wanted them to tie him up. To blindfold him. To play with his cock and not let him come until he thought it would explode.
Even with seeing as many people who’d been at both clubs he’d attended, everyone knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be a part of him.
Especially not him.
He was a guy. A big guy. A big guy who liked women exclusively. He liked the taste of pussy, the feel of it. He fought fires for a living. He liked football and basketball and finding a stretch of road where he could ride his motorcycle fast.
That kind of guy did not like his ass strapped open. He did not ride the paddle that just spanked that ass like it was a woman’s hand.
But he was the kind of guy who got off on that and there was no denying it.
Except the part he needed to find a way to fucking deny it.
“Uh … hello?” Chad called.
Olly shook his head and refocused.
“Sorry, bud,” he muttered.
“You good?” Chad asked, studying him closely.
“Yeah,” Olly answered. “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Chad grinned. “Hit the scene?”
More like the scene hit him.
“No, just had trouble sleeping,” Olly replied.
“Dude, you need to find a woman,” Chad advised, and he would advise that.
He’d been married to Annie for five years. They had two kids and one on the way. And Chad was one of those assholes who was an asshole because he got it all and got it early. Annie was a knockout. She was funny. She could be one of the guys and she still kicked ass in a dress and heels. She loved her husband like crazy. Was a good mom. And she got the life.
“Maybe, me bein’ in a mood, we cannot go there,” Olly returned.
“Annie’s got a friend,” Chad shared.
Olly felt his eyes narrow. “And, bud, been there, done that, twice, and your woman is the shit. But her friends are fucked way the hell up.”
“Mandy just liked you,” Chad declared.
“Mandy called me five times from the minute I dropped her at her house to the minute I got to mine and I live ten minutes away from her, which is about ten hours too close,” Olly shot back.
Chad grinned again. “Okay, Mandy liked you a lot.”
“She was a stalker, Chad. I had to change phones.”
“Sorry ’bout that,” Chad muttered, not looking sorry. He’d always found the whole thing funny.
And luckily, Mandy had been so embarrassed by it (this being after a party at Chad and Annie’s that they’d both attended, and she’d made her approach, which included a fucking plea for another shot), he now knew she always asked Annie if he was coming. If he was, she didn’t show.
Which was a relief.
“Shannon was just psycho,” Olly pointed out.
“Yeah, even Annie doesn’t talk to her anymore. She’s a little self-involved.”
“She didn’t tear her eyes off her reflection in the car window the whole time I drove her to dinner,” Olly shared. “Bitch was gorgeous but no one is that gorgeous.”
Except Amélie.
Fuck.
“Two strikes. This time, Annie says she’s got a good one lined up for you,” Chad wheedled.
“In this game, man, there is no strike three.”
Chad kept grinning. “Just think about it. We’ll have a big party. You two can circle each other. See if you wanna give it a go.”
Circle each other.
Olly had far more interest in Amélie taking her sweet fucking time circling him again, looking hot and gorgeous and classy and in command, than he did whatever whackjob Annie had picked out for him.
“I think I’ve hit my quota of parties for this year,” Olly announced.
Chad started laughing and through it said, “Bro, it’s football season. That’s sacrilege.”
“Whatever,” Olly muttered.
Chad lifted a hand and slapped him on the arm. “Shake off your mood. Pull your shit together. Come up to the kitchen and have lunch. Stare down the recruits and scare the shit of them. But don’t stand out here any longer. Don’t gotta remind you we live in the Valley of the Sun. Your eyes’ll get burned out.”