Page 132 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

Amy smiled. “Yeah. Be nice to me.”

He tossed the phone to the side. “Nice, huh?” He rose from the couch and went back into the hallway briefly. When he returned, he had something in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“Your homework assignment. Tonight we’re going to cover some new material.” He handed her the lube and butt plug.

She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t exactly new.”

“What happens after I pull the plug out will be.”

Though he’d used the toy on her numerous times over the past couple of days, Andrew still hadn’t fucked her arse. It sounded like that was going to change tonight.

She grinned. Lots of things were going to change. She didn’t intend to stay in the house, but she wasn’t about to ruin the surprise she had planned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait two hours and then put it in. I want your pretty ass nice and stretched out by the time I get home.”

“Dirty bastard,” she teased, taking the items from him. She stood and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll do my homework as long as you agree to play nice with the advertisers. You need them.”

“Yes ma’am.” He took her little peck on the cheek and returned it with interest, dragging his lips along her neck and teasing her earlobe with his teeth. His hands gripped her breasts and Amy could tell he was in danger of missing his dinner meeting. He was going to have to tackle rush-hour traffic.

Reluctantly, she pushed him away. “You better go now.”

He sighed. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She laughed and pushed him toward the door. “I’ll be ready for you with a surprise of my own.”

He tilted his head suspiciously, but didn’t bother to question her. Instead, he gave her another quick peck and left.

Amy didn’t even wait until his car was out of the driveway before she sprinted upstairs.

Nearly an hour later she was back downstairs, dressed in a tight, far-too-revealing shirt she’d bought in Chicago and the leather skirt she’d packed from home. She had no idea what the standard attire was for a sex club, but she felt sexy and daring, so she was just going with it. She propped up the note she’d written for Andrew on a table in the front foyer, grabbed her small purse to stow the butt plug and lube in, then glanced out the window in time to see the cab pull up in front of the house.

Time to mark another item off the list. She wasn’t sure if Andrew would be happy or angry when he arrived home to find her gone. The note was an invitation for him to join her. If he wouldn’t take her to the club, she’d simply have to take herself and hope he’d follow. She didn’t intend to play with anyone other than Andrew, so if he didn’t come, she’d take a look around, then return home with her curiosity satisfied.

When she emerged from the taxi forty-five minutes later—idiot man got them lost twice—she stood on the sidewalk for a minute studying the inconspicuous building with a small, tastefully done sign that declared she had indeed made it to Velvet Chains. No wonder the cabbie had struggled to find it. It certainly didn’t stand out in any way.

Taking a deep breath, she bolstered her courage and walked in the front door.

A man with a clipboard greeted her inside. “Name please.”

Amy hadn’t anticipated this. “Um, I’m Amy Wesson.”

The man consulted his list. She needed to act fast, so she added, “I’m a guest of Andrew Shaw.”

The man glanced up, taking in her attire. “Mr. Shaw isn’t here this evening.”

“I know. I’m meeting him here,” she lied. Hopefully Andrew would take her up on her invitation to continue their sex play at the club. After all, they’d already initiated his bed, the shower, several floors in different rooms, the kitchen table and the couch at his house. The change of scenery would be fun.

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t appear to have called ahead to give us your name. I’ll have to phone him to confirm.”

She didn’t want to interrupt—and potentially ruin—Andrew’s business dinner. “Um. He really is expecting me.”

The man nodded. “I understand. It won’t take me a moment to confirm this.”

She was about to tell him to forget it when there was a loud disturbance at the front entrance. The doorman’s face flushed with anger and a fair amount of annoyance.

“Master Turner. I told you earlier. You can’t come in here intoxicated.”