Playing His Way Read online

  Playing His Way

  Erika Wilde

  Copyright © Erika Wilde, March 2018

  Kindle Edition

  Cover design by Shanoff Designs

  Photo by: Eric Battershell Photography

  eBook Formatted by: BB eBooks

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the Author.

  HE’S READY TO PLAY . . . ARE YOU?

  As the new owner of The Players Club, Brent “Mac” MacMillan is all about dirty sex, wicked sin and carnal pleasure . . . served up his way. After being burned in the past, he’s always been careful to choose experienced females who enjoy submitting to his dark desires, and are willing to play by his demanding rules without expecting any emotional attachments in return.

  Hiring beautiful interior designer Stephanie Randall to create fantasy bedrooms within his club is his first mistake. She’s curious, flirtatious, and makes his blood run hotter than it ever has before. Innocent when it comes to all the debauchery his sinful world has to offer, she wants to take a walk on the wild side . . . with him.

  His second mistake? Saying yes. And his third? Falling for the one woman he knows he can never have.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon: Tall, Dark and Charming

  Other Books by Erika Wilde

  Chapter One

  “Here’s to your new venture as a sex club owner.”

  Brent “Mac” MacMillan smirked at the newest job title he was now qualified to add to his resume. What else was a guy to do with the thirty million plus at his disposal, he mused as he tapped his glass of Crown Royal against the two others raised in a toast at the restaurant where he was celebrating his newest acquisition. Sitting at the private table to his right was Dean Noble, his best friend since their Navy SEAL days and business partner at their security firm, and on the left was Rick Dunne, the head of their Cyber Security division.

  Both men were members of The Players Club, but then again, most of the guys who worked at Noble and Associates frequented the establishment to blow off, well, steam of the sexual variety. He knew from experience that military guys were mainly controlled and contained in real life, and the club was the one place they could work out their aggression in more productive, and pleasurable, ways.

  As for Mac, at the age of thirty-eight, and having served as an officer in the military, he’d grown accustomed to being a man in a position of power and authority—in all aspects of his life. As such, he demanded respect, trust, and obedience, in the men who worked for him and the women he fucked. And while he wasn’t about to paddle an employee’s ass for insubordination, he totally got off on serving up that pleasurable pain to an experienced sub willing to play by his rules and who enjoyed being dominated in the bedroom . . . or rather, at The Players Club.

  He never took those women he played with home, because fucking anywhere outside of the club set up expectations of something more than just a casual, sexual relationship—though he wasn’t opposed to taking a woman to dinner before restraining her to a leather bench and wielding a crop against her skin until she begged him to end the anguish. The least he could do was feed her before he fucked her to exhaustion.

  “So, does this now mean that we all have to address you as Master Brent?” Dean joked after taking a swallow of his drink.

  Rick rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a grin at Dean’s smartass remark, and Mac resisted the urge to flip off his good friend in a public place. Instead, he said, “That’ll be Sir to you, asshole.”

  Dean chuckled as he saluted Mac with two fingers—the middle one prominently displayed. “Yes, Sir.”

  Mac narrowed his gaze at his friend. “You know, you might not even be a member of The Players Club after I go through and clean up the current roster. I plan to impose stricter requirements to remain a member and I’m not sure you’re going to qualify.”

  “Why’s that?” Dean asked curiously.

  “Because you’re going to have to have at least an eight-inch dick to make it through the doors,” Mac replied, his expression deadpan.

  “It’s a good thing I’ve got nine inches,” Dean said, equally straight-faced.

  Mac laughed. “You are so full of shit. And I would know because I’ve been in enough locker room situations with you to judge. Your dick will pass. Barely,” Mac finished, just as their waitress arrived with the rib-eye steak dinners they’d each ordered.

  After a few bites of their meals, Rick glanced at Mac. “What kind of changes are you thinking of making to the club? I mean, other than the dick-measuring rule,” he joked.

  “I want to update the interior of the house—”

  “That is not a house,” Rick refuted as he started in on his baked potato. “It’s a fucking four-story, ten-thousand-square-foot mansion, and that’s not including the underground level.”

  “House . . . mansion.” Mac shrugged nonchalantly, but he did agree that the estate he’d purchased was impressive in size and stature. “A lot of the play areas need new equipment and furniture, and the entire place could use a bit of a general facelift to freshen things up. I’m thinking of going for a more modern black leather and chrome kind of look throughout the main rooms.”

  “That’ll look great,” Dean agreed between bites of his rib eye.

  “I figure those renovations can easily be done on the club’s down days if I hire a twenty-four-seven work crew.” The club had always been closed Sunday through Wednesday and open Thursday through Saturday, and Mac planned to keep that same schedule going forward. “I’m also going to completely renovate the east wing and remodel those six private suites located on that far side of the estate.”

  “What do you intend to do with the suites?” Rick asked.

  Mac had had two months to think about his plans for the place while going through the buying process, and while his ideas for the main part of the club had come easily, he hadn’t yet figured out what he wanted to do with those extra-large rooms that were available for a member’s use.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” he said, setting his fork and knife on his plate. “I’m actually thinking about hiring Jillian to come in and make suggestions for some fantasy-themed rooms I can offer members at a premium rate,” he said of Dean’s wife, who worked for Stephanie Randall’s interior design company that specialized in creating sexy bedrooms geared toward dramatic and luxurious fantasies, as well as fun, whimsical decor.

  “That’s a fantastic idea,” Dean said with a nod and the beginnings of a smirk. “Women love that fantasy bedroom crap.”

  Mac arched a brow, because he knew his macho friend had totally succumbed to a fantasy playroom in his own home. “Sounds like you love it just as much as your wife does.”

  “Do not underestimate the power of an adult-themed playroom, especially when it comes to appealing to a woman,” Dean shot back
, not bothering to deny Mac’s accusation. “Our redesigned basement sees more action than our bedroom does these days. I wouldn’t give a crap if Jillian decorated the room in pink tulle and princess decor, as long as it turned her on, which in turn only benefits me. As they say, happy wife, happy sex life.”

  The bastard grinned smugly, and Mac couldn’t deny the pang of envy that rolled through him. After twenty years of marriage, Dean and Jillian were still making it work, even after their sons had gone off to college and into the military. Now that it was just the two of them alone at home, they’d spent the past year rekindling the romance in their relationship—which had all started with Jillian surprising Dean at their security firm, where she’d slipped into his office, locked the door behind her, and proceeded to sex up her husband in a major way.

  Mac didn’t know all the details of that day, but he’d heard enough muted erotic groans and noises through the walls, along with the sound of a few things falling off of Dean’s desk and clattering to the floor, to come to the obvious conclusion that Jillian had come into the office with the sole purpose of seducing her man. Not to mention the fact that Dean had arrived at a scheduled meeting a short while later, his clothing and hair in a slight disarray, while being so out of sorts that Mac had had no choice but to step in to handle most of the contract details with the client they were attempting to sign on to their firm.

  Since that day, Mac had noticed a huge change in their marriage. With Jillian eager to explore the darker side of pleasure, Dean had finally opened up and shown his more dominant nature with his wife, which seemed to solidify their relationship more than ever. Whereas Mac’s sexually assertive tendencies had torn his own marriage apart in such a destructive, devastating way and now made him extremely cautious, and particular, about the women he slept with.

  Having come to terms with the fact that he much preferred being a bachelor, anyway, he mentally shook that thought from his mind and directed the conversation back to the renovations he wanted to make to the club.

  “So, about Jillian . . . Do you think she’d be interested in doing something with those suites?”

  Mac was careful not to mention Jillian’s boss and good friend, Stephanie, who he really should have consulted with instead, considering she was the owner of the company. But the last thing he needed was the distraction of a sexy, beautiful woman who made him itch to do filthy, dirty things to her. But he knew that wasn’t ever going to happen for numerous reasons. Not only was she eleven years younger than him, but most importantly there was no doubt in his mind that she was inexperienced and most likely naive when it came to sexual preferences like his. He didn’t touch women who weren’t already in the lifestyle, and he was better off avoiding the temptation of close proximity to her altogether.

  Dean swirled the ice in the last bit of his scotch before downing the rest of it, then replied. “She’s been incredibly busy lately, but I’ll pin her down tonight, literally and figuratively, and mention it to her so she can call you to discuss your options.”

  Mac ignored the unapologetically lascivious gleam in Dean’s eyes at the innuendo of pinning his wife down. “That would be great. The sooner I can get her in the club to generate some ideas and get them started, the better.”

  As they finished with their meals, their waitress came by and cleared their plates. They all declined dessert but opted for a glass of after-dinner brandy. Once their drinks were delivered, they discussed a bit of business. Mainly, the multimillion-dollar contract they’d just signed with a government agency to prevent any cyber breaches to their classified database. For the most part, Rick would set up a team of guys from their geek squad to monitor and protect the company’s infrastructure, along with strategizing to block any potential malware or ransomware attacks.

  Once they’d all agreed on the approach they’d take with the company’s network, Rick leaned back in his seat and glanced at Mac.

  “Hey, has Jillian’s boss, Stephanie, ever been to The Player’s Club?” he asked, having met her at a few of the dinners and barbecues Dean and Jillian hosted at their place for friends and co-workers.

  “No,” Mac said without hesitation. Yeah, he’d already checked the membership list to make sure Jillian hadn’t given Stephanie an invitation for a night at the club, like she had with a few of her other girlfriends before he’d purchased the place. “Why?”

  “Just curious,” Rick said with a casual shrug, but the spark of interest in his gaze was unmistakable. “I’ve talked to her a few times and I find her intriguing. I wouldn’t mind spending an evening with her at the club . . . if she’s into that kind of thing.”

  Mac’s jaw clenched imperceptibly, and his gut twisted with something dark and grudging, which was fucking ridiculous because he had no claim to the woman, and didn’t want one, either, he firmly reminded himself. Rick was a good-looking guy who was in tip-top shape, and he was much closer in age to Stephanie than Mac was, yet the thought of the other man taking her to the club and being the one to introduce her to all that sin and debauchery—while Mac looked on—made him feel way too surly.

  “I should ask her if she’d be interested in an invitation to the club, as my guest,” Rick went on, oblivious to the shift in Mac’s mood.

  “All invitations are on hold until I’m done culling the membership,” he said abruptly, and because he now had the authority to make any rules he wanted. That particular one he’d just made for the sole purpose of cock blocking Rick. At least when it came to Stephanie.

  Rick blinked at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  His mouth pressed into an irritable line. “Do I look like I’m dicking around?”

  “I guess not,” Rick said, a thread of confusion in his voice. “I was thinking I’d invite her to join me as my guest for the masquerade ball that’s still on schedule for the upcoming weekend.”

  Even though Mac had just rejected Rick’s request to extend an invitation to Stephanie, the other man still looked optimistic that he’d change his mind or make an exception. Rick clearly wanted her, but if Mac couldn’t have her at the club, he didn’t want anyone else to fuck her there, either. Jesus, how screwed up was that?

  “Sorry,” Mac said, shooting down any last hope Rick might have harbored. And for the record, he was so not sorry.

  Dean snickered, his eyes gleaming much too knowingly. “Now who’s being the asshole?”

  Mac glared at him, which only seemed to amuse his friend even more. “Fuck off.”

  “Sounds like that’s what you need to do,” Dean shot back, completely unoffended by Mac’s rude comment, especially since he’d seen for himself how Stephanie flirted with him, and how Mac refused to give in to their mutual attraction. Resisting her for the past year had certainly been a test of his willpower.

  “I get laid plenty,” Mac replied, which was the truth.

  “Maybe it’s who you want to lay that’s putting a burr up your ass,” Dean said, his tone droll.

  Rick frowned between the two of them, clearly lost in the conversation. “Am I missing something here?”

  “Yeah—”

  “No,” Mac said, cutting Dean off before he made him look like a jerk in front of Rick for denying the other man permission to bring Stephanie to the club. “Dean’s just being a wiseass.”

  Much to Mac’s relief, Dean eased off on his harassment. For now, anyway.

  * * *

  “Do you have a few minutes to talk business?”

  “Of course.” Stephanie leaned back in her chair, situated behind her new glass-top desk as Jillian walked into her office. “Actually, I’m pretty open at the moment, so you should take advantage, because we both know that could change with one phone call these days.”

  “So true,” Jillian agreed with a groan.

  The popularity of Stephanie’s small company, Fantasy Bedrooms and Interior Designs, had seemed to kick into high gear over the past few months. She had her satisfied clientele and their ecstatic word of mouth to thank for he
r work, along with the extra exposure. Her business was growing almost more quickly than she could keep up with, to the point that she’d leased more building space for her office, hired a new front-end girl to handle calls and scheduling, and was interviewing applicants to add another experienced designer to the roster.

  It was exhausting . . . and all so incredibly exciting.

  Jillian sat in one of the chairs in front of Stephanie’s desk, looking impeccably put together in a silk blouse, linen trousers, and designer heels. “I take it you finished the Jenna Starr LA penthouse deal?”

  “Yep. It’s a wrap,” Stephanie said with a happy sigh, because the whole redesign of the A-list actress’s bedroom had gone exceptionally well, even if she’d had to drive from San Diego to LA in that killer traffic nearly every day to get it done. “And the last of the photos for the article in the Beverly Hills Lifestyle Magazine about sexy bedroomscapes were taken yesterday, which will accompany the interview they did on me and the business.”

  Jillian arched an amused brow. “Is that what we’re calling the fantasy designs now? Bedroomscapes?”

  Stephanie grinned and shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, if that’s what the rich and famous are calling them, then I’m all for using the catchphrase, as well.”

  “Bedroomscapes it is,” Jillian said with a laugh.

  “So what’s on your mind?” Stephanie asked, since her friend had come into her office to discuss something business related.

  “I took a look at your schedule for the next few weeks,” Jillian said, crossing one leg over the other. “From what I can see, you have a few straightforward designs on the books, but nothing that is going to demand all your time like the Jenna Starr project, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I’m anticipating that will change once the magazine goes out next month.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Jillian agreed. “But until then, do you have time in your schedule to fit in another project? I’m juggling three redesigns right now, and I want to make sure this client has our complete focus.”