Outsider (2 page)

“Aren’t
you lucky?” Ethan asked, doing something to Trey under the covers that made him
gasp with excitement.

“Hey,
don’t wear him out,” Reagan said. “I get to be in the middle tonight.”

When
she begrudgingly left the suite, Trey and Ethan were laughing over some joke
that Sinners’ drummer, Eric Sticks, had told Trey the night before. Why had she
suggested a girls’ day on the town—why,
why
? Frowning slightly, she took
the hotel’s elevator down to the ground floor.

She
spotted Toni waiting in the lobby. Oh yeah, that was why Reagan had suggested a
shopping excursion.

Toni’s
long brown hair was fashioned into a braid. Her thick-rimmed glasses would have
been hipster if she had a defined style. Her entire wardrobe seemed to have
been purchased in a 1990’s thrift store. Today she wore an ankle-length beige
pencil skirt, never-seen-her-without-them brown riding boots, and a white
button-down blouse with a ruffle down the center. She was one hundred percent
too cute to dress the way she did. Reagan wasn’t sure why Logan was so fixated
on the woman. Reagan supposed it was because he’d seen Toni naked. Toni had the
kind of figure most women would have to purchase.

When
Toni spotted Reagan, she waved excitedly. “Logan wants to know if he can come
with us,” Toni said.

“Nope.
He’s going to have to let you out of his sight for a few hours. He’ll probably
die or something.”

Toni
giggled and slapped at her. “Oh, please. He’ll probably forget I exist by the
time we return.”

Not
a chance.

“You
can’t come,” Toni called to Logan, who was sitting on a lobby sofa hiding his
face behind an upside-down copy of a
Good Housekeeping
magazine.

“Or
follow us,” Reagan added.

“But
what if someone tries to touch her?” Logan protested, slapping his magazine
down on the end table beside him.

“I’m
sure she can take care of herself for one afternoon,” Reagan said.

“In
New Orleans? This place changes people.”

“I’ll
be fine,” Toni said. “Reagan knows karate.”

“She
does?” Logan looked at Reagan hopefully.

She
didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from lying. “Oh yeah. I’m a black belt and
three-time world champion. If any man so much as glances Toni’s way, I’ll
pulverize him into dust. Hi-yah!” She made a chopping motion with one hand. Was
he buying it? Would he ever let the poor woman out of his sight?

“Don’t
you trust me?” Toni asked, looking up at Logan in a way that visibly turned him
into a pile of mush. Reagan ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her laughing at
his expense. Man, the guy had it bad.

“I
do trust you,” he said, touching Toni’s cheek. “It’s all the douchebags walking
around this city that I don’t trust.”

“I
don’t think you have much to worry about with her dressed like that,” Reagan
said.

Toni
ran her hands over her blouse. The woman was in her midtwenties and wearing a
bona fide
blouse
. Didn’t she have friends or a decent female relative to
help her see the mistake that was her wardrobe?

“Is
it really that bad?” Toni asked.

“With
the exception of Logan, who seems to have built up an immunity to its harmful
side effects, this get-up you’re wearing here?” Reagan traced the outlines of
Toni’s clothes in the air. “I’m afraid it’s cock-withering attire, little one.”

“That’s
a good thing,” Logan insisted with his trademark sunny smile.

“Where’s
the rest of the crew?” Reagan searched the lobby for signs of the wives and
girlfriends of Sinners’ band members. In recent weeks, the ladies had become
some of her closest friends, and she was sure she’d need their help to get Toni
to discard her schoolmarm wardrobe. Especially since Logan seemed so keen on
her keeping it.

When
the elevator doors opened, Reagan heard several familiar voices.

Myrna
Sinclair was the first off the elevator. She always wore professional suits
with tight, midthigh-length skirts—today’s was a dove gray. It was what she
wore under them that brought her husband to his knees. And those three-inch
heels she wore probably didn’t hurt. Nor had her Ph.D. in sex. What man
wouldn’t fall for a woman like her?

Sed
Lionheart’s fiancée, Jessica, emerged from the elevator behind Myrna, looking
like she’d just stepped out of the pages of
Cosmo
. Strawberry blond and
blue eyed, she had heads turning as she passed. Those same heads swiveled back
to the elevator when Aggie stepped forward.

The
buxom woman rocked a pair of black leather pants and matching jacket—she’d
probably been out riding with Jace on his motorcycle—but though she was
gorgeous with her flawless alabaster skin, bright blue eyes, and long, straight
black hair that moved like a length of silk when she walked, it was her
self-confidence that couldn’t be ignored. She owned the space around her and
knew it. She offered no apologies. What Reagan wouldn’t give to possess that
much poise.

Bringing
up the rear was Rebekah—adorable and petite, with an infectious smile and lime-green
streaks in her platinum hair. Beautiful, colorful designs decorated Rebekah’s
exposed arms from wrist to shoulder. Reagan swore the woman had a new tattoo
every time she saw her.

“Ah,
here they come. Are you ready to go, Toni?”

Logan
squeezed Toni’s hand and leaned in close to whisper into her ear. She smiled
broadly, her cheeks going pink. “I love you too,” she whispered.

Too?

Reagan
grinned at the opportunity to torment her band’s bassist. “What’s that, Logan?”
Reagan said loudly. “Did you just tell Toni that you
love
her?”

Toni
stiffened, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Perhaps she was expecting him
to deny it.

“Yeah,
I love her. What’s it to ya?”

Toni
beamed at his declaration while the other women teased him about his newly
expressed feelings.

“Don’t
mess her up,” Logan called after them as the six chattering women made their
way to the exit. “I like her just the way she is.”

“We
won’t mess her up,” Aggie said, her ruby-red lips curling into a twisted smile.
“Much.”

Reagan
sniggered at the horrified look on Logan’s face. They all knew Aggie had a dark
streak; she’d used it frequently in her former trade as a professional
dominatrix. If anyone was going to twist Toni into an unrecognizable form, it
would be Aggie Martin.

“You
and Aggie have a lot in common,” Myrna said as she wrapped an arm around Toni’s
back and ushered her out onto the sidewalk. “You both have an inexplicable
attraction to bass players.”

“Oh,
you’re Jace Seymour’s girlfriend?” Toni asked, scrambling to catch up with Aggie.
“Is it true that you used to be a prostitute?”

Aggie
stopped walking—well, prowling, the woman never actually walked—and turned an
icy blue-eyed glare on Toni. “
Excuse
me?”

Toni
cringed. “I’m sorry. I read that somewhere. Was my source incorrect?”

Perhaps
inviting the journalist along for a girls’ day out had been a mistake. Toni did
tend to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.

“I
was never a prostitute,” Aggie said, her voice so cool, Reagan expected it to
frost the sultry New Orleans air.

“She
just charges men to be her slaves,” Myrna said. “Isn’t that right, Aggie?”

Toni
tilted her head to one side and then shook it after she’d had a moment to
internalize Myrna’s claim. “The very definition of slavery is when one human is
bought and owned by another, so why would anyone
pay
to be a slave?”

Reagan
snorted. “So, so sheltered,” she said. “Let me explain it to you.”

She
didn’t have to explain much. As the group of women walked down the street
together, men literally tripped over their own feet when they spotted Aggie.
Sure, there were those who were more likely to gawk at Jessica’s model-perfect
beauty, but Aggie exuded sexuality that not many men could ignore. One guy
walked directly into a light post as he watched her pass. Though no men noticed
Reagan when she was with this group of ladies, she was content in the knowledge
that she had two perfect men waiting for her back in her hotel room.

She
pictured them as she had left them, naked, luscious, and entwined. Damn, she
really shouldn’t have planned an outing on a rare day off.

“So
men pay you to hit them?” Toni asked Aggie.

“Some
do. Or
did
, rather,” Aggie said. “I’m finding new hobbies now that I’m
with Jace. Let’s go in here.”

Aggie
strutted into a sex shop, and the rest of the women followed. Toni’s feet
seemed to have rooted themselves to the sidewalk, so Reagan had to pull her
inside. She left her near the entrance, gawking at a leather hood and collar
displayed on a mannequin. Reagan could practically see the questions churning
through Toni’s thoughts. She was glad when Myrna took it upon herself to
provide explanations. Nothing embarrassed the woman, not with that doctorate in
human sexuality and her experiences teaching at a university. Reagan was sure
that Toni could use a course or two in the subject. Though she was from
Arkansas, Reagan had never in her life met a woman as sheltered as Toni. She
had to wonder if Toni knew how to use the Internet, because, well,
porn
.

Reagan
ventured farther into the store. She had a pair of cock cages to buy, and she
mustn’t forget the gallon of lube her lovers had requested.

“Are
you trying to keep those men of yours in line?” Aggie asked as she sidled up
next to Reagan at a display counter. A clerk was demonstrating how to fit a
cock cage around a flaccid penis and balls.

“Trying
to keep them from fucking each other when I’m not around,” Reagan said.

Aggie
smirked. “Why would you want to do that?”

She
shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid they’ll find enough satisfaction in
each other and leave me hanging.”

“Are
you really concerned about that?”

She
stared down at the counter, her heart thudding. Well, she was buying cock
cages, wasn’t she?

Aggie
brushed the hair out of Reagan’s eye and urged her to look up. “Kitten, you have
nothing to worry about. When you aren’t around, do you know what they talk
about?”

“Lube?”
she guessed.

Aggie
laughed. “Maybe a little. They talk about you, hon. They’re both completely in
love with you.”

“And
with each other.”

“That
too.” Aggie nodded. “Didn’t you want them to fall in love with each other?”

Reagan
cringed. “Yeah. I was glad when they decided they have feelings for each other.
It’s my issue, really. I still don’t feel like I’m enough for either of them.”

“I
thought that was the whole point of this arrangement,” Aggie said.

“It
is.” But Reagan didn’t like the way that arrangement made her feel. When all
three of them were together, she felt content. Loved. But when she was alone
with either of them or the two men were alone together, she felt somehow betrayed
or that she was betraying one or both of them. It didn’t make a lick of sense
to her. “I’ll get it sorted out,” she said. But in the meantime she was going
to try out a pair of cock cages.

“I
don’t mean to interrupt,” Toni said from behind them. Aggie turned to glare at
the poor woman who was only a year or two younger than they were but seemed
much less mature.

Toni
licked her lush lips and pushed her glasses up her nose with the back of her
wrist. “Um, Aggie, I’m really sorry I asked you if you were a prostitute. I
feel terrible about it.”

“And
how do you think your assumption made me feel?”

Toni
sucked her trembling lower lip into her mouth. Oh no, she was going to start
crying again.

Reagan
wrapped an arm around Toni’s shoulder. “Never cry in a sex shop,” she advised.
“It draws creeps.”

Reagan
glanced around the store and discovered a waifish ghost of a man, dressed in
all black, watching them closely. Reagan had no idea if he was interested in
Toni—not likely when the lush sexpot that was Agatha Martin was standing with
them—but she nodded toward the guy, and Toni’s eyes went dry and her lip
stopped trembling.

“I
am sorry,” Toni said to Aggie. “How can I make you forgive me?”

“Let’s
see . . .” Aggie said, tapping her lush lower lip with one
red-tipped finger. “Usually when one of my slaves displeases me, I make him
lick his cum off the floor.”

Reagan
couldn’t help but laugh at Toni’s wide-eyed, slack-faced expression.

“Actually,
that’s not entirely true.” Aggie shook her head, sending long, silky black hair
dancing about her shoulders. “I make them lick it up when I’m pleased with them
as well.”

Toni
resembled a gasping goldfish as she struggled to wrap her head around Aggie’s
claim.