Home > Books > Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3)(108)

Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3)(108)

Author:Sara Cate

As Salacious’s resident Madame and the embodiment of female sexual prowess, Eden doesn’t shock easily. But as she stares at us for a few long seconds, I can’t help but notice the curiosity in her eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, Eden,” Hunter replies as he holds open the door for us.

“Oh, I’m not surprised. I’m actually a little relieved. I was waiting for this to happen.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to get that a lot,” Drake replies.

I feel her arm loop through mine as she smiles at me. With her dark black hair pulled into a ponytail, she smiles at me wickedly. “Seems only fair that you add another girl to the mix to even things out.”

“Get away from my wife, Eden,” Hunter says in warning.

“Why does everyone say that to me?” she asks, and we all laugh. I have no interest in being with a woman, but no one can resist the appeal of Madame Kink herself.

The four of us continue down the long hallway toward the exit. Eden is still clutching my arm as Hunter watches with annoyance and Drake with playful interest.

“You’re a lucky girl, Isabel,” she mumbles quietly before planting a sweet kiss on my cheek. Then she pulls away and heads in the opposite direction. “Have fun, guys.”

With a smile, I reach for Drake’s hand and loop my arm through Hunter’s.

“I personally think that is a fantastic idea,” Drake says, and a laugh slips through my lips. It feels ridiculous to be this happy, but I am. And even though I really don’t see myself taking Eden up on her offer, I know what she said is right.

I am one lucky girl.

Rule #40: Be flexible.

Hunter

“How can you listen to this crap?”

“Easy. I have taste,” I reply coolly as we pull into the studio’s parking lot. Drake switches the radio station, and I roll my eyes before turning it back, using the controls on the back of the steering wheel.

He scoffs. “Seriously, what kind of thirty-three-year-old man listens to Taylor Swift?”

“Thirty-four,” I correct him.

“Even worse, my friend.”

“She just gets me,” I reply, turning it up so loud he winces. “I mean…listen to these lyrics. Straight from the heart.”

As soon as I put the SUV into park, he jumps out, but I keep it running, singing the song loudly with the windows down. Pretty soon, I spot the door of the yoga studio open and see Isabel peek her head out, wondering what all the noise is about. Drake leaves me in the car to greet her.

I cut the engine in time to hear him say, “Fix your husband.”

“He’s a lost cause,” she replies as he leans down to plant a casual kiss on her mouth. I love the little thrill I still get from their affection, and just that little kiss gives me an idea.

It is my birthday, after all.

“I’ve got everything just about shut down. Where do you guys want to go to eat?” she asks.

“Birthday boy gets to pick,” Drake replies.

As I get out of the car, and see them clinging to each other, I suddenly can’t seem to think about food. I can only think about one thing.

I lock the car and approach them, stopping a few feet away. “I’m not hungry.”

Isabel’s eyes squint at me as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh really?”

“Really.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Drake asks.

We could go home, but I’m not ready to go home just yet. We could go to the club, but there are so many people there, and it being my birthday, they’re going to want to hang out, and I’d rather keep this just us.

“Inside, both of you,” I say in a command. Both of them perk up as if the tone of my voice says it all.

“In my studio?” Isabel asks.

“You heard the man.” Drake hoists her up with his arms around her waist and carries her into the studio. Following behind them, I lock the door and smile as I hear Drake gasp, because I know exactly what he must have found.

“Can we use these?” he begs, sounding like a kid in a toy store, instead of a grown man in an aerial yoga studio. As I enter the class space, I bite back my grin. But it’s hard not to laugh at the sight of him swinging in one of the silk loops draped from the ceiling.

“These are for my classes. They are not sex swings,” she states, trying to pull him from the fabric seat.

“We won’t get them dirty,” he whines.

I creep up behind her and press my lips to her ear. “It’s my birthday.”