A Daring Journey: The Dare Menage Series, Book 6 Page 4

  When Trevor spoke, his voice, a little deeper now if possible, sent lightning straight through him. “A few weeks. I’ve been looking for you. You haven’t made it easy.”

  He’d heard that voice too many times in his dreams. He also remembered that voice whispering Damon’s name as they kissed, crying out his name when Trevor was about to come or when urging Damon to fuck him harder and faster.

  Or the many times Trevor begged Damon to tie him up, whip him, beat him, bite him. Hurt him in some way.

  Damon didn’t understand the man’s need for it. He didn’t know where all of that stemmed from. And he always refused to hurt Trevor in any way.

  Rough sex was one thing. Causing pain and abuse was another. Damon didn’t get off on it and it concerned him that Trevor did.

  “Well, somehow you found me. Now you can live out the rest of your life satisfied you’ve achieved that goal.”

  “Damon.”

  Damon lifted a hand. “No, Trevor, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t waste your time. Don’t waste your breath. Don’t waste your energy. It’s been over for a very long time.”

  “Has it?”

  Damon’s blood pressure rose as he forced himself to remain seated. He fisted his hands in his lap. “Are you seriously pulling this bullshit right now? Trying to piss me off in public?”

  “I’m not trying to piss you off, Day. I only want to talk.”

  Day. No one but Trevor had ever called him that. Hearing it was like a knife to the heart. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you don’t always get what you want in life.”

  Trevor took a deep audible breath. “I know I fucked up.”

  That was putting it mildly. However, now was not the time to discuss it. Actually, the time was never. That dialogue should have occurred long before Trevor just up and disappeared out of his life.

  Without a word.

  Without a note.

  Without an explanation.

  Without anything.

  “I have a date, Trevor. You need to get lost.”

  Damon didn’t miss Trevor’s jaw get tight. Like he had any right to be jealous.

  Trevor took another loud breath, but it was sharp this time. “Who is he?”

  Why was he wasting his time allowing this conversation to continue? But if he told his former lover the answer, maybe it would appear that Damon had moved on. Appear being the crucial word. “Mac.”

  Trevor’s eyebrow rose quizzically. “You have a date with a guy named Mac? Like the truck? Bet he’s a big, burly bear. Which surprises me, since I didn’t think you were into that.”

  After you left, I was into anyone who didn’t remind me of you. “You don’t know what I’m into.”

  “You used to be into me.”

  That knife shoved into his heart twisted and he forced his hands to remain in his lap, so he wouldn’t rub at the sharp pain. Trevor should no longer affect him. He shouldn’t. “Before you packed your shit and disappeared. Didn’t even leave a fucking note.” He did his best to keep his voice level and under control and not let those emotions that he felt so long ago when he discovered Trevor gone roll over him, drown him. “I finally come home exhausted after being gone for days... missing you like crazy, couldn’t wait to see you and I walk into our apartment to find you gone. How the fuck do you think that made me feel?”

  Trevor’s mouth dropped open and Damon waited for some sort of bullshit to escape. But it didn’t. His eyes held everything the man had to say.

  Sorrow. Regret.

  Fuck. That was way worse than Trevor arguing with him.

  Way worse.

  Damon needed to stay strong. He’d been trying to move on for a long time and tonight was the first night in a while in which he looked forward to doing that.

  Until Trevor showed up.

  Damon’s cell phone lit up and vibrated on the table. He read the text that popped up on the screen: I’m here. Sorry I’m late. Where are you?

  Shit.

  He quickly texted MacKenzie back: I’m here. Stay where you are. I’ll escort you to our table.

  “You need to leave,” Damon growled as he pushed from his seat and moved around the table. “Now.” He went toe to toe with Trevor and met his eyes. In this light they looked more light silver than the gray he knew they were. “You went off to live your life because apparently the grass was greener elsewhere. Now let me live mine.”

  Trevor lifted his hand to place it on Damon’s chest, but he stepped back out of reach.

  “I’m not leaving until you agree to meet with me and talk.”

  “Blackmail. Fitting,” Damon muttered.

  “Well, I can get on my knees and beg right here, Damon, if that’s what you want. But we need to talk.”

  “You need to talk.”

  Trevor tipped his head. “Fine. I need to talk. And I need you to listen. It’s important.”

  “As important as our relationship was supposed to be?”

  Trevor’s eyes slowly shut, and Damon watched the blood leave the man’s face. “I’m sorry.”

  Why did those two whispered words make his heart clench?

  “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, so if that’s all you have to say, then you’ve said it. Goodbye, Trev. Have a good night and a good life.”

  “Day,” Trevor whispered.

  “Good night, Trevor,” Damon said more firmly, steeling himself against the pain that crossed Trevor’s face.

  He’d worked long and hard to try to heal the wound that remained behind when Trevor left. In only a few minutes, his former lover had ripped it all open again.

  He stepped around Trevor and saw his date standing by the front door looking in their direction. As Damon strode toward her, her eyes slid from him back to where Trevor still stood. When he got closer, he noticed a small wrinkle had formed in her brow.

  Shit.

  “Sorry I’m late,” MacKenzie said absently, still staring at Trevor. “I had a hard time finding a place to park.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve picked a location outside of the city.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not. I’m not liking the vibe of this bar tonight, we can go elsewhere.”

  She stared up at him for a moment. “But I just found a place to park.”

  “I know. I apologize.”

  “Was this a trick?”

  What? “No, I’m sorry you think that. The service here turns out to be horrible. We’ll have a better time somewhere else. We can take my vehicle and I can drop you off at yours after our evening.”

  “I—”

  “I valet parked. They can pull my car around in a couple minutes. Let’s step outside.” Just in case Trevor wasn’t done causing more heartache this evening.

  “But—”

  Damon hooked her by the elbow and steered her out of the double doors, hurrying to the valet stand and giving them his ticket.

  “I can follow you,” she insisted.

  “You don’t want to ride with me?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  Damon blinked and looked down. Mac was chewing on her bottom lip, her wide blue eyes staring back up at him. Damn. He wasn’t thinking. Trevor had rattled him. “I’m sorry again. I understand completely. How far is your car?”

  “Three blocks away.”

  Shit. “Why didn’t you valet park?”

  “I—”

  Even under the lights from the entrance of the lounge, he could see her face become flushed.

  Christ, he was batting a thousand already tonight. All he needed was Trevor to come outside and start up with him again in front of MacKenzie. Then he might as well throw in the towel.

  “If you don’t want to get in my car with me, then I can follow you in mine as you walk to yours. To make sure you’re safe.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I insist.”

  She tilted her head and studied him for a second. Finally,
she said, “Okay. I’ll start walking now.”

  As she turned, Damon grabbed her arm. “No, I want to be sure you’re safe. If you won’t ride with me, then please wait until I can follow you. Once you get to your car, follow me. I’ll pick a place with a parking lot this time.” And without ex-boyfriends. “Will that work?”

  She nodded, that bottom lip he wanted to taste now tucked between her teeth. He could see she was trying to hide a smile.

  He grinned. “Good.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Trevor wasn’t coming out of the building. He wasn’t.

  Through the large window, he could see the man now sitting at the bar with a drink in front of him. But his body was turned on the stool, staring in their direction.

  Regret pulled at Damon just enough to make him angry. Trevor didn’t deserve his time or attention. He shouldn’t regret not giving it to the man.

  His Lexus being pulled up to the curb drew his attention back to Mac. “That’s mine. I’ll follow you,” he said once more, assuring her that he was a man of his word.

  He gave the valet attendant a tip and as he went to move around the back of his car, Mac reached out and grabbed his arm. “I’ll ride with you.”

  Damon lifted a brow, but didn’t argue. He wanted to get them away from the bar as fast as possible. He opened the passenger door for her and she slipped inside. Shutting it, he rushed around to the driver’s side and got in.

  “To your car now? Or later?” he asked as he put it in drive.

  “Later.”

  He pulled away from the curb after taking a quick glance at her, but she was staring out of the windshield. “Why the change?”

  “Because you have been nothing but a gentleman so far. A lot of men no longer open the door for women. You not only did it back at the lounge, but you did it when I got into your car. But that wasn’t the main thing. It was the insistence that you follow me so you were assured I was safe. You could’ve just given me an address to meet you and left me to my own defenses. While I’m certainly not helpless, and can take care of myself, that was refreshing.”

  While Damon had manners his mother had instilled in him, his thoughts about what he wanted to do with MacKenzie certainly were not gentlemanly.

  “I’m sorry you’ve dealt with men in your past with no manners.”

  “Equal rights and all that is usually the excuse. But the smallest effort is appreciated. So,” out of the corner of his eye, he could see her studying his profile as she asked, “where are we going?”

  Chapter 4

  Their first “date” had gone well. Damon was charming and interesting. And he had impeccable manners. Mac liked him.

  Okay, she wasn’t going to lie. She liked him a lot.

  He was well-spoken, dressed nicely, but not fancy. Though his ride was a Lexus, it wasn’t brand-new or a high-end model.

  He was genuine and didn’t go over the top trying to impress her. Which was refreshing.

  At the end of their evening, he’d done exactly like he said, returned her to her car. He didn’t try to paw her or stick his tongue down her throat. Or even ask for a blow job, which one date asked her to do after buying her two drinks. That asshole insisted he should get something out of the money he spent since the date hadn’t gone well and Mac had no plans on ever seeing him again.

  Instead, Damon had kissed her lightly on the forehead, cupped her cheek, and said he wanted to see her again. Then he waited outside of his car as she got into hers and drove away with a wave. She had agreed to that second date without hesitation.

  For the past week his schedule had been busy, but they communicated by texts between his flights and he’d called her a couple of times at night. Mac had laid in bed letting his deliciously deep voice wash over her. Sometimes she caught herself sliding a hand into her panties and touching herself as they talked, wishing it was his fingers instead of hers.

  However, she’d wait until they disconnected before finishing herself off. Tonight when he called, things might end differently.

  Especially after her long day of work.

  Mac turned her bedroom lights down low, shucked off her pajama bottoms until she was only wearing an oversized, worn T-shirt and her panties. Should she ditch the panties, too?

  Hell yes.

  She dropped them to the floor and climbed on her bed, eyeing the digital clock on her nightstand. 9:59.

  He usually called at ten. On the dot.

  She settled in, grabbed her cell phone and rested it on her thigh as she waited. And, of course, even though she knew the call was coming, when it did, she jumped like a nervous Nellie.

  Her screen lit up with a photo of Damon in full pilot regalia. Unlike how he was dressed the first time they met. He had texted her a picture of himself with jacket, hat and all. Very professional, very hot, and very, very panty-melting. Much better than getting a dick pic. She, of course, had saved the photo to his contact information. Now, every time he called or texted, she got to see his handsome face light up the screen.

  She could be back in high school with the way her heart was dancing a jig. All she needed were clammy palms and sweaty pits.

  She shook herself out of her thoughts and slid her finger across the screen before the voicemail picked up.

  “Hey,” got caught in her throat and she cleared it to try again. “Hey.”

  “Hey, you,” came the warm, low voice in her ear, making her nipples pebble instantly.

  “How was your flight?”

  “A lot of turbulence. The attendants had their hands full with collecting barf bags.”

  Mac wrinkled her nose at that imagery. “Is that the official term for them? Barf bags?”

  “Mmm. Sickness bag. Airsickness bag. Same shit.”

  “Well, hopefully not shit.”

  His chuckle filled her ear. “No. Let’s talk about something else, please.”

  “Sure. So, how was your co-pilot, Captain?” She’d rather talk about his job than hers, since his was much more exciting.

  “She was great. I’ve flown with her before.”

  “She?”

  “Are you jealous?” he teased.

  “Ha ha. No. I just didn’t think there were a lot of female pilots.”

  “There aren’t, unfortunately. Only a small percentage are women. When it comes to minorities, I think there are more black pilots than women.”

  She pictured him again at the head of the plane the first time she saw him. He’d certainly been a sight. “To be truthful, before you, I’m not sure if I’ve seen a black or a woman pilot. Next time I fly, I’ll pay closer attention.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You only need to pay attention to one pilot.”

  “Ah, a certain captain?”

  “That would be him.”

  “You have my complete attention, Captain.”

  “I like it when you call me Captain.”

  His deep purr stirred all kinds of responses from her. Her hand slipped down to her mound and she squeezed lightly. Her lips parted and a puff of air escaped.

  “Are you panting?”

  “Not yet.”

  His soft, warm chuckle swept through her. “That sounds promising.”

  She glanced around her bedroom and wondered if he was in a bedroom as well, just very far away. “Where are you?”

  “In my hotel room.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to you,” came the teasing.

  “In bed?” Her question came out a bit breathlessly.

  “Mmm hmm. Are you?”

  “Every time you call,” she admitted.

  There was a long hesitation.

  “Hello?” she finally asked.

  “Sorry, I’m just preparing myself.”

  She heard a rustling. “For?”

  “For what you’re leading up to.”

  “And what’s that, Captain?”

  “Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

  “Is it too soon?” she asked co
yly, then teased, “Will you think I’m easy?”

  “Hell no,” came out roughly. “Will you think I’m easy if I encourage you to continue this vein of conversation?”

  Mac laughed. “No. I know we’ve only had one date, but we’ve been getting to know each other this past week. And I... like you.”

  “I like you, too,” he said softly. “I want to see you again.”

  “For a drink?”

  “You know what for.”

  Her heartbeat skipped like a stone across a pond. “When are you back in town?”

  “Tomorrow night. We can go to dinner...” She heard the first that went unsaid.

  “I’m not sure if I can sit through dinner...” She let the rest of it hang, hoping he’d pick up on her meaning.

  Another warm chuckle came through the phone, making goosebumps break out over every inch of her body. “Anticipation is sometimes heady foreplay. Keeping yourself from having something you really want just makes it all the more intense when you finally get what you’ve been craving.”

  Craving. She’s felt a few cravings when it came to the man on the other end of the phone. “Do you do that often, Captain? Resist taking what you want so the result is more intense?”

  “Yes, sometimes. Like with you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you on my plane. I haven’t stopped thinking of you. Meeting you for drinks last week only made my desire for you even stronger.”

  “Same here. But you mentioned anticipation... Do you want to hold off?”

  He made a noise of discouragement. “You mean skip the plan you had for this phone call?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hell no. Truth is, every time I’ve called... I’ve touched myself during our conversation. I imagined you next to me in my bed. Kissing you... sucking on you... fucking you... Hearing your voice call out my name as your body convulses around mine.”

  Mac released a shaky breath and closed her eyes as she imagined the same thing. Her middle finger slipped lower and she drew it through her slick folds.

  “And I’ve finished myself afterward,” he added, not sounding embarrassed one iota.

  Well, if he confessed... “I’ve done the same.”

  A long silence hung between them.

  “Jesus,” he finally whispered. “I haven’t been this drawn to a woman in a very long time.”