Page 27

A couple months later

Reese Tenley

“C an everyone come here and approve their profiles?” I hollered, repositioning the laptop across my lap. “West needs them so he can finalize the website. Oh, and pizza’s here!”

Since I was severely injured, I couldn’t move from the couch.

We’d bought said couch—and three others—at two yard sales, and they were currently positioned in the middle of our future club area.

River and I had spent a few nights here already.

But we had to get shit sorted before the fall.

We opened our doors on Halloween, and though the second and third floors would be restricted, we believed the downstairs would be enough to get us started.

Ivy was working the crowds all over DC, and Macklin was good at spreading the word too.

The most important thing was that our club area was finished. And the changing room and the hallway. The rest would come later—when we could fucking afford it. Man, was this house draining our bank account.

What were savings?

We needed members signing up. We needed the membership fees.

Our goal was for the whole house to be finished next year.

Lucian was first to trail into the club area, and I pointed at the pizza boxes on the old coffee table we’d bought too. He was bizarrely hot in holey jeans and a T-shirt.

“I can’t reach,” I grunted.

“If you remove your feet from the table and the laptop from your lap, you’ll reach the pizza, my friend.”

“Yeah, but you’re here now, and I’m hurt,” I explained. “Pity me, Leroux.”

“Oh, I do. I promise.” He chuckled and flipped open the top box, and he graciously extended a slice to me.

Awesome.

Macklin skidded in on his socks shortly after. “The floor is so freaking gorgeous and shiny here.”

Yeah, yeah, it was fabulous.

“Come read your profile, sweetheart,” I said, chewing.

Lucian was already behind the couch and reading over my shoulder. “Uh. Please change the part about my having to be convinced. I come off as a raging workaholic here.”

Oh, so we were removing facts. Got it.

I trapped the slice between my teeth and wrote the opposite. Lucian Leroux jumped right in without hesitation.

Macklin was pleased with his intro, probably because I hadn’t tinkered with his first draft much. I’d just fixed a typo.

Lucas and Colt joined us next, and they were happy with their profiles too. They gave me their green lights before joining Lucian and Macklin around the table and tearing into the pizza.

“Don’t forget we need to leave early tonight,” West said.

“I know, I know.” I chewed on another mouthful of pizza. “You need enough time to fuck twice before he returns to base. I’m not new here.”

“Why are you always so blunt?” he grated out. “Colt’s exactly the same.”

“And you love him, so that must mean you want me to continue,” I stated.

Penelope and Greer wandered in, sweaty and covered in paint.

“Before next summer, we need AC and the pool fixed,” Pen said. “I’m so over this heat.”

“Amen, girl,” I agreed. River was gonna pick up more fans tomorrow.

Greer hummed as he read his profile text. “Can you say we met up or somethin’ instead? I’d prefer to keep my service out of it.”

“No problem.” I crammed the last of my slice into my mouth, wiped the grease off my fingers somewhat, and tapped away on the keys, deleting the bit about my calling him on base. “We met up for a beer or two, I told you about my idea to start Mclean, and you were on board immediately.”

“And that part’s not untrue,” he said. “We’ll keep the nitty-gritty between just you and me.”

I grinned and looked up at him over my shoulder. “You mean the fact that you were actually on the shitter when I called you?”

“Between you, me…and the others here.”

Colt, Lucian, and Pen laughed, and Greer smacked me upside the head.

“Harsh!” I rubbed the spot. “I’m already injured, man.”

“You stubbed your fuckin’ toe,” he shot back. “I’d think a badass security guard such as yourself could handle a bit more.”

I flipped him off.

“He’s nervous.” Oh great, my brother had arrived with his endless wisdom. “That’s why he’s actin’ like a whiny baby.”

“Why are you nervous?” Lucas sat up straighter, instantly jumping to concern. That was how he was. “Is it… I mean, is it because of what we’re doing?”

Well.

Of-fucking-course it was!

What if nobody signed up?

Okay, that was a stretch. We had our initial twenty friends and acquaintances itching to become members, most of them because Ivy had raved about the “new, bold, wild community called Mclean House that has their own estate.” But twenty membership fees wouldn’t get us far.

My brother and I had a five-year plan. This place had to pay for itself by then. Five years. Lucian had done the math for us.

In the meantime, River and I didn’t mind shelling out the money. This was our dream. Okay, my dream. But he loved me, so it was his dream too. We weren’t retiring anytime soon, and money was good. And then…after those five years…?

It wasn’t all about the money either. Each and every one of us put in invaluable work here, from manual labor to making calls, from doing calculations to reading up on all the shit we had to learn. The list went on for days.

“This is gonna work, hon.” Greer sat down next to me and nodded firmly. “I’m not sayin’ it’s gonna be all sunshine and roses, but I believe in the concept. Most kinksters we run into wish something like this existed.”

West nodded. “Think about how many of us recommend BDSM cruises to our friends—kink-friendly vacation rentals, and clubs that are 100% about kink. And Mclean House will have all that and more—with the playrooms, the guest rooms…”

I nodded minutely.

Macklin chewed on his pizza and tilted his head. “Are we sure about the name?”

Excuse me?

“House Mclean sounds cool too,” he added.

I blanched. House Mclean? I hadn’t even considered that.

“We already bought our domain, and the website design is finished,” Lucas answered.

“Mclean House sounds better,” Colt said firmly.

I nodded again. Yeah. Mclean House sounded way better. Yeah.

“House Mclean…” River snorted quietly. “What kind of name is that?”

Macklin shook his head in amusement. “Forget I said anything.”

Yup, I was planning to.

So, yeah. Mclean House. Five years. We weren’t even halfway through the renovations, and we’d barely considered what needed to be done outside the house. We all wanted that swimming pool restored, and Colt was talking about a big deck out back and…

We had a lot to do.

Five years.

Holy shit.

Glancing around the room as we devoured the pizzas, I could tell that nobody was bullshitting about believing in the idea, but was that enough? I was fairly sure I detected at least a little nervousness in Lucian, West, and Macklin too.

We wanted this to work out. We wanted this to be our kinky future.

But little did we know just how much Mclean House would change our lives.