Baby Makes Three

9

CALEB

Broadway was a nightmare at night, but the thought of seeing Daisy lit up under the glittering lights as we strolled uptown was enough to make me stomach the trek after dinner.

I offered her my arm when we left the restaurant, and she didn’t protest. She tucked her hand into the crease of my elbow, and I felt a throb of hot excitement when she pressed her body against mine.

A few years ago, when I was still impatient and impulsive, I wouldn’t have made it through dinner with a girl like Daisy Wright. Especially not with her tits tempting me through that silk blouse. Especially not with her legs crossing and uncrossing eagerly under the table, shifting around in her soaking wet panties. Especially not the way she defied me, practically begging to be punished.

The old Caleb Preston would have thrown her over his shoulder, right there in the hotel dining room, and carried her all the way to the concierge desk to demand a room. The old Caleb Preston would have brought her upstairs, thrown her onto the bed, and teased and tantalized every inch of her body, until she cried out in defeat, admitting that I was right about sex and intimacy.

But not the new Caleb Preston. The new Caleb Preston took his time. The new Caleb Preston loved the challenge rather than the easy lay.

Daisy had made a fair point at dinner. Men and women do treat intimacy different. But it was not for the reason she thought.

The problem wasn’t that people have casual sex, it was that people have sex too casually. People settle for unfulfilling sex. Men have gotten lazy about pleasing women. And women have grown complacent in accepting mediocrity.

I could tell that Daisy was like me. She was a cynic. She had been burned enough times to put up her walls, and to convince herself that every man she met was the Big Bad Wolf. She had made up these rules for sex and love to try to rationalize something that could not be rationalized. Passion wasn’t a currency. It was not a regulated exchange.

The only thing preventing Daisy from having the kind of passionate, fulfilling, mind-melting sex that she considered impossible, was her own stubborn reluctance to demand it.

And that was why I was taking her to The Rose Club.

“Where are we?” Daisy asked, glancing up at the nondescript exterior of the club as we cross onto Fifth Avenue.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“This better not be some sort of creepy sex club,” she said dryly, and I flicked my eyes down at her.

“Come on, Miss Wright,” I whispered, leaning down so my lips brushed her neck. I already knew that she liked that. I was about to find out what else she liked. “Let your hair down, live a little. We all need a little kink in our lives.”

“Kink?” she gulped, and I gave her an encouraging nip on her neck.

“Relax. This isn’t about doing anything you’re not comfortable doing. It’s about opening your mind to new things.”

She looked up at me reluctantly, and I knew she was trying to find the last shred of willpower to resist. I snuck my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me.

“Just for tonight,” I suggested, “Why don’t you be the student instead of the teacher?”

We finally reached the doors to the club, and Jimmy eyed us both, then offered me a familiar nod.

“Evening, Mr. Preston,” he said, then he turned to inspect Daisy. “Hello, Beautiful.”

Daisy blushed, pressing up closer to me. Jimmy meant well, but he could be intimidating, especially when he was decked from head to toe in a leather biker’s jacket and riding chaps. This wasn’t boding well for Daisy’s perception of The Rose Club, and the last thing she needed right now is to feel even more on edge.

Luckily Jimmy could take a hint, and he lifted the black velvet rope and ushered us inside.

We were immediately met by the thumping of music playing from the main floor, but I directed Daisy towards the elevators.

“Is this the right way?” she asked, confused, pointing in the direction of the dance floor.

“Unless you want to writhe around on the dance floor,” I said flatly, knowing neither of us are the type to enjoy that sort of thing.

“No,” she confirmed. “But… what’s upstairs?”

“Something better,” I hinted vaguely. “Do you trust me?”

My hand was hovering over the ‘up’ arrow button that summoned the elevator, but I waited for her answer before pressing it.