The Exposure (The Submissive 9)

Damn, but he had anticipated a much quieter evening. Between the man who obviously had eyes for Meagan to the petite woman who’d made no doubt about how much she wanted him, the night was shaping up to be interesting.

“What time are we actual

ly eating?” he asked.

There were tables set up in the back of the restaurant. From where he stood, it appeared there were name cards at each seat. He never understood why people thought name cards were necessary. Weren’t they all adults? Couldn’t they be trusted to pick out their own seats?

Meagan looked at her watch. “Probably in about thirty minutes.”

“Did you tell anyone I was coming as your guest?”

“No.”

He groaned inwardly. “Great.”

“What?”

“The tables have name cards. If you didn’t tell anyone I was coming, I either don’t have a seat or I’m seated next to her.” He smiled over at Robin, who was watching them. She lifted her hand and waved.

“Truly a fate worse than death,” Meagan said in a deadpan voice.

“Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to sit next to you at dinner, I wouldn’t have agreed to come tonight.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week—don’t pawn me off.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He told himself it was probably the alcohol, though really, she’d had only the one glass.

“I have an idea,” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Let’s leave.”

“Before dinner?” At her nod, he replied, “Scandalous.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m game if you are.”

“Think anyone will miss us?”

“Robin.”

“Let’s go.”

She giggled and he took her hand as they made their way to pick up her coat.

“You aren’t really allergic to shellfish, are you?” she asked.

They stepped outside and he helped her slip her arms into the sleeves. “No, it just seemed to be the quickest way to get rid of her. Most people aren’t going to argue with a food allergy.”

“Quick thinking on your part.”

“Speaking of quick thinking, we need to eat. Let’s grab something quick and eat it in the park.”

“A picnic in Central Park?” She raised her eyebrow. “Dressed like this?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He knew that’d get her. She threw him an I know what you’re doing look, but replied, “Let’s do it.”

“Excellent. I know just the place. It’s right off West Fifty-seventh, not far from here.”

Tucking her arm against him, they started off. But, of course, she was full of questions.

“Are we going to sit on the ground? I really don’t want to get all dirty. Should we get a blanket? Where can we find one? Maybe we just skip the picnic and go back to your place. You still wanted to fit a session in today, right?”

He pulled her out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and brought them both to a halt. “Meagan. This is supposed to be fun. Stop stressing out about it and leave the details to me. All the details. To me.” She started to say something, but he hushed her by bringing a finger up to her lips. “I mean it. I’ll take you over my knee right here.”

And though her eyes darkened with desire, she only nodded. But he wanted more.

“Say, ‘Yes, Sir.’”

Her entire countenance dissolved into sweet submission. “Yes, Sir.”

Fuck, what those two words did to him when they came out of her mouth. He wanted to take her in his arms and crush his lips against hers. He wanted her lips and her kiss so badly he could taste it. And he wondered, not for the first time, if her lips still tasted the same.

Damn it all to hell, he was going to find out. Not right this second. Maybe not even tonight, but soon. Soon, he’d taste her kiss again.

Using all the self-discipline and self-control he could muster, he lowered his head, bypassed her lips, and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Meagan. I’ve never heard sweeter words.”

Was it his imagination or did she look disappointed that he hadn’t kissed her?

Regardless, it wasn’t the time or the place to give her the type of kiss he wanted, so he took her hand once again and started walking toward his favorite pizzeria. It wasn’t a long walk, but he was thankful it was long enough to cool his blood and keep him from doing something he wasn’t quite ready to do.

Meagan didn’t say anything while they walked. More than likely she was fuming over his threat to take her over his knee, but he really didn’t care. She might identify as a switch, but she needed to understand she wasn’t going to Top him.

The owner of the pizzeria hurried to the front of the restaurant as soon as he saw Luke enter. He gave only a passing glance to their finery before punching Luke on the shoulder.

“Good to see you, DeVaan. What can I do for you tonight?”

“Good to see you, too, Angeleno.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Meagan?”

“Thin crust. All the veggies.”

“Give us a large thin with all the veggies, a bottle of your house red, and a tablecloth. To go.”

Angeleno snapped his fingers. “It is done. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Luke turned back to Meagan. Fifteen minutes was long enough for her to decide she didn’t want an impromptu picnic in Central Park. But she was watching him with curious eyes that held a hint of laughter and Luke couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you do this often?”

“First time, actually.”

He was going to tell her she could ask Angeleno when he came back, but she seemed satisfied with his answer.

“I’ve walked by this place, but never stopped,” she said, looking around.

Luke tried to imagine it was his first time entering. It was difficult; he’d been to the tiny restaurant often over the years and the owners were like a second family. To him, the entire space gave a warm and comforting vibe. Soft candlelight, crisp tablecloths, and the inviting aroma of brick oven–baked pizza. “If you haven’t eaten the pizza here, you haven’t had real pizza yet.”

“I’ll hold off on making that decision until I’ve tasted it.”

“You’ll be singing its praises by the time the night’s over.”

A large family came in and they were all so packed in the small area, there wasn’t much opportunity to talk anymore. Right as the group was seated, Angeleno appeared with the pizza and two bags.

“I have everything you need in the bags,” he told Luke while he rang him up. “And Teresa insisted on sending cannoli. On the house.”

“You truly married an angel. Be sure to tell her thank you for me.”

The older man grinned. “I certainly will. Now you two go and have fun.”

“He seems really nice,” Meagan said once they were outside again and headed toward the park.

“I swear he’s half saint. He and Teresa have always been there for me. They’re great when you just need someone to listen.”

He didn’t mean to say that; it just spilled out. Hopefully, she