Natalie Acres (26 page)

“But you said…”

Trixie’s appearance then sent a sharp pang of regret into his gut. “I said what?”

“Never mind,” she grumbled.

Mitch lurched forward and grabbed her arms. “I said what?”

“You implied.” She thinned her lips and shook her head.

“What did I imply, Trixie?”

“I know you want a child!” she bellowed. “I know you do.”

“You’re right. And who knows? Maybe one day it will happen, but not right now. I need to be here. I need to be my own man and make my own way again. I can’t go back and live off your family’s money.”

“Is that what you think Brock and Rory do? Is it?” She shook loose of his grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mitch. They have their own businesses.”

“I know they do. We’ve discussed it. I know they make their own way, but I can’t live off them. This camp is the only way I have to make a living.”

“You could sell this place,” Trixie suggested. “You could live well off what you’d earn off the real estate if you just sold out.”

“Then what? Have a contractor come in here and subdivide it? No thank you. Cow Camp won’t be sold and the only way I can pay the taxes here is to open it back up into a profit-producing camp.”

“Then do that,” she grated out. “Reopen as a summer camp for children.”

“There’s more money in selling sex.”

“Oh,” she drawled. “I get it now. So you’ll what—hire women—and maybe even a few strippers, cater to men, and all the Doms you know? Right? I’m sure that’s where you’re headed with all this.” A sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Why am I not surprised in the least?” She stood. “You don’t change. You’ll never change. Will you?”

“Sit down, Trix,” Rory said.

“Stay out of this,” she bit out, glaring at Mitch and ignoring Rory and Brock.

“You will sit, sub. Or I will fuck you until you can’t sit for a week,” Mitch said, finding he was more aroused then than he had been when he’d been locked between her legs earlier.

Trixie jerked. “I have the option of free will and I’ll stand, thank you very much.”

Mitch turned sharply on Brock. “Is that all right with you?”

“Sit, sub,” Brock snapped. “Now.”

Trixie’s eyes filled with rage. She flopped down on the ottoman and crossed her arms. “Why an adult club?”

“Why not?” Brock asked her. “He’s right. There’s more money in sex industries.”

Trixie grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch and wrapped the coverlet around her slumped shoulders. Mitch felt a stabbing sensation in the center of his chest. The poor thing appeared petrified instead of furious.

“Trixie, we have several factors to consider here. I don’t belong in Fletcher, North Carolina.”

“Then we’ll move here with you,” she suggested.

Brock quickly spoke up and said, “No we won’t. Not right now. Mitch is trying to think of the kids. Maybe you should do that, too. Winter and Cazeron are your children.”

Trixie turned that notorious quick temper on him. “Don’t you dare do that! Don’t you even go there! I’m a good mother. I take care of my children. I live for them. They’re my whole world and you know it.” She turned her attention to Rory. “You both know it.”

“No one is doubting your parenting skills, Trix,” Rory said. “But what Mitch is saying here makes sense. I understand. I wouldn’t want to be in his position. He has the property taxes and insurance to consider. There was a lot of money to be made with this place years ago.”

“And there could be again,” Mitch said. “I believe that.”

“I do, too,” Trixie said, her spunk returning. “And I believe if you want me then you need to make a little arrangement that suits me as well as yourself. You’ll live with us in North Carolina and you’ll vacation here in the summertime while playing camp administrator to kids who are between the ages of seven and seventeen.

“What you won’t do is play host to the sexy seductresses posing as Dommes and subs. You won’t entertain the Doms of this world while encouraging them to bring their submissive women here.

“You must think I’m some kind of blonde bimbo if you think I’d go for that.”

“The paperwork has already been filed, Trixie,” Mitch said. “Cow Camp will soon reopen as an exclusive sex retreat for men and women frequenting lifestyle clubs. I’m sorry you aren’t happy about my professional choices but there’s already a lot of money invested in the camp. I can’t change my mind just because you have a few insecurities.”

“How dare you?” She jumped to her feet. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“Mitch Colony,” he said proudly through gritted teeth. “Maybe I should remind you why you once found the man I am practically irresistible.”

“I have to hand you credit where credit is due,” Rory said. “You know how to slip a broken condom over a hard dick.”

“I’ll second that,” Brock grumbled.

Mitch frowned. “I had no idea she would be so opposed to the idea. Her sisters own Clink for crying out loud.”

“I don’t think she gives a damn about who her sisters see fucking until dawn,” Brock pointed out. “You just reentered her life. The way Trixie sees it, you are already deserting her.”

“And she’s gonna run now. Isn’t she?”

Brock shrugged. He thought about that possibility for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I think she will, Mitch.”

“You guys have spoiled her as much as her fathers have. She wants something, you give it to her. She disagrees with you, you say, ‘That’s all right, baby, we’ll do it your way’ and if she isn’t happy, you’ll move hell and high water to make sure she is thrilled beyond words before the end of the day.”

“It’s called love,” Rory told him.

“No,” Mitch objected. “It’s called ridiculous and she needs to be taught—trained—for a better way.”

Brock placed his fingertips over his lips and tiptoed into the living room to double-check on her. Once he confirmed she was still sound asleep on the couch and piled under a mountain of blankets, he returned to the back deck overlooking the lake.

“Maybe we could compromise.”

Mitch grinned. “Oh sure, that’s always an option, too. Let’s compromise so we can fuck our way through the night. If we don’t give in, Trixie won’t open those gorgeous legs. She owns you, Brock. Through and through, she owns you.”

“And what the hell is wrong with that?” Brock asked, realizing Mitch was working him for his own self-serving purposes.

“Nothing if that’s what you like,” Mitch replied. “Me? I want her to know who’s boss. I want respect.”

“Try deserving some first,” Rory suggested, kicking his feet up before leaning back in a lounger.

“I have.”

“Like hell,” Brock said. “You haven’t earned your place between those talented legs—as you called them earlier—she just missed you and let you visit for a minute.”

“‘Minute’ being the choice word there,” Rory said, grinning. “I haven’t seen Trixie this mad since…well, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her this bent out of shape since the last time she spent a bit of time in Mitch’s bed. Maybe the two of you just need to face facts.”

“What might those be?”

Brock held his breath. Rory was on a roll and nothing would stop him now.

“You and Trixie are like two separate brands of cola. You have all of the right components to make for a great product when you’re first thrown together but in the end, when you’re side by side, one always fizzles out before the other.” Rory averted his eyes. “This time, man, I hate to tell you but Trixie is done. She is as flat as flat can be where you’re concerned.”

Brock sipped his beer. “Why don’t you consider going back to North Carolina with us for a while?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Rory asked.

“No,” Brock replied. “Trixie needs him right now.”

“She doesn’t need me when she has the two of you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Brock said. “Until I watched her with you earlier today, I would’ve sworn she only needed me and Rory. Not anymore. You’re the missing link for her.”

“And if I go back with you, then what?”

“There are a lot of absentee club owners, Mitch,” Brock said. “You have to learn to manage from afar. Hell, ask Kimberly to help you. Maybe even make her a partner. She doesn’t have any ties in Fletcher. In fact, she needs to get out of there if you ask me.”

“Why?” Mitch asked, lifting a brow.

“She’s in a destructive relationship with an overpowering Dom,” Rory explained. “And Brock may be on to something. That could work. Kimberly has the brains.”

“Ansley has the brains,” Brock said, his heart lifting as he thought of the sister-in-law who had been like his kid sister from the start. “But Kimberly is free to explore her options.”

“I might consider a partner,” Mitch said, stroking his chin. “But don’t say anything to Trixie about it until I sleep on it.”

“You should do that,” Brock said, slapping his back. “Me? I’m going inside and curling up to my woman.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” Mitch said.

Brock chuckled. “Oh please. Take your time.”

He shut the door and walked inside the apartment, flipping on the lights as he passed by the receptacles. “Rise and shine, beautiful. We have a few ideas about how we want to entertain you tonight.”

Brock grinned to himself and stared down at the high heel shoes sticking out from under the quilt. God love her heart. She was bound and determined to show them she had what it took to be a sexy seductress, too.

She was probably dressed to the nines, wearing one of those tight laced-up bodices, and fishnet stockings.

His cock twitched.
Good Lord have mercy!
He couldn’t wait to see what she held in store for them.

He sat beside her and stared at those fire-engine red shoes. He remembered the day he’d purchased them for her. They’d been in New York and happened by a fetish shop. In the window, those shoes had looked appealing enough, but on Trixie’s small feet? They’d looked like a standing invitation for sex. In fact, that’s precisely what had happened after he’d purchased them—he’d fucked her in the dressing room.

Lifting the covers, he peered underneath. He had to know if she’d thought to bring those fishnet stockings.

If she had those damn stockings on, he would probably forego the training activities and fuck her right out of her dreams. Stretching his neck, he was a little stunned when he found only the shoes.

After a moment, he realized Trixie’s feet weren’t attached to the hooker heels! He clutched the blanket tighter and slowly peeled the quilt away from the couch.

“Fuck!” he screamed, scrambling to his feet. “Mitch! Rory! Get in here!”

“Damn it to hell, Trixie!” He marched across the room and flung open the closet. Sure enough her clothes and bags were gone.

“Rory! Mitch!” Brock screamed again, pacing like an enraged lion just held in captivity for the very first time.

“She’s gone. Isn’t she?” Rory was accustomed to her capers, too.

“Yeah,” Brock replied, swinging his bag from the closet and grabbing his shirts from the hangers.

“Damn,” Mitch grumbled, picking up his cell phone from the bar.

“That won’t work,” Rory told him.

Brock lifted his arm and slapped his hand against his thigh. “You know what? Neither will this.” He slammed his bag to the floor and stomped outside. When Rory and Mitch followed him, he swung his gaze to them and said, “I’m done, boys. I’m not playing these games anymore. If she’s hell-bent on worrying us sick, then let her run home to her momma and her daddies.

“This time, I’m not following her home from Cow Camp. In fact, I vote we stay here for a few days and let her sulk. It might do her some good.”

Trixie was about to pee her pants. She’d taken several exit ramps toward gas stations advertised on interstate billboards only to discover the mom-and-pop service stations were closed.

Finally, she opted for a rest stop. She could almost hear Daddy Kane scolding her now. He’d always told his girls to avoid rest stops after dark.

She stared through the windshield. It was a lighted area. There were a few eighteen-wheelers parked near the exit but otherwise the place looked deserted.

Grabbing her purse, she darted up the sidewalk and hurried into the little girl’s room. At least the facilities were clean. She chose her stall and took care of business, quickly reassembling her pants when she heard the door open and close.

Her gut immediately clenched when she didn’t hear footsteps. Pushing her hand into her purse, she reached for her cell phone. When her fingertips didn’t connect with the device, she peered in her bag and frantically searched for her phone.

Damn
. It only took her another minute to realize she’d left her phone on the front seat of the SUV.

She suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, as if someone had knocked the wind out of her lungs. She cocked her head and listened, certain she could hear someone breathing on the other side of the door.