THE WILDE TOUCH: Book Two of The Touch Series Read online

  She hesitated. “As well as can be expected.”

  After grabbing his bag, he headed toward the elevators. “I hope they make all the difference.” But he knew the truth and his chest ached. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  “Looking forward to it. Good night, dear.”

  Though he could see right through Kimberly’s scheming ways, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. As the elevator ascended, he wondered how Alexandra was adjusting to being back east. Though he’d never admit it to Kimberly, Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

  Once inside his spacious new penthouse, he dropped his karate and computer bags on one of the stacks of still-packed boxes. His old, outdated furniture looked out of place in the elegant space with the phenomenal views of downtown DC.

  After a hot shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist and styled his wet hair with a few finger swipes. Good enough. His cell phone rang. It was after eleven. Why was his realtor calling so late? Why is she calling at all? “Hey, Tammy, what’s up?”

  “I’ve made a special delivery.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Open your front door.”

  His realtor, Tammy Mackley, stood behind a giant houseplant, its outstretched leaves obstructing his view of her. She set the pot down in his foyer. “My housewarming gift,” she said before closing his front door.

  “Thanks. This could have waited until morning.” Or never.

  Licking her lips, she fixed her gaze on his bare chest. “Perfect timing. I love a man who’s freshly showered.” She untied the sash on her overcoat and dropped it on the floor.

  His eyebrows shot up. What the fuck?

  Wearing nothing but stilettos, she hitched her hands on her hips. “I earned a nice fat commission check because of you and wanted to express my thanks, Tammy style.”

  After picking up her coat, his gaze floated over her naked body. She stepped close enough to rub her breasts against his chest and he grew hard beneath the bath towel.

  Never mind that Tammy Mackley was Mrs. Mackley with a husband and two kids. He’d no intention of screwing his realtor, married or not. “No can do.” He stepped back.

  Her cheeks reddened. She yanked her coat out of his hand and shrugged it on, tied the sash. Clearly, she hadn’t expected rejection.

  Opening his front door, he said, “You want your plant back?”

  “You can shove it up your ass!” On a loud huff, Tammy stormed out.

  Crockett closed his front door and laughed out loud as he returned to his bedroom to pull on cotton pajama pants. He’d address his boner later. Padding into his kitchen, he wondered how many men would refuse a late night booty call with such a sexy, willing partner?

  Though his shiny, new refrigerator was filled with more than the essentials, he settled for the always-reliable breakfast for dinner. Rather than eat at the center island, he sat in his dining room admiring the twinkling city. The Kennedy Center, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol stood as beacons of strength and power in the nation’s capital.

  When finished, he checked work emails hoping Decker had stayed late to retest Moth and had determined the reason for her failure. But there were no new messages from his Chief Innovator. He shifted his gaze out the wall of windows that spanned the length of his living area.

  Since starting Wilde Innovations eight years ago, he’d never had surveillance equipment fail to operate. Is it possible I’d forgotten to turn the bug on? “No way,” he said, before turning his attention back to his laptop.

  Next, he checked personal emails. One, in particular, caught his eye. From Incognito, the subject line read: Your Connection Awaits.

  He opened it and the picture of an attractive woman popped on his screen. Electra, another new member, had invited him to join her in “The Teacher” suite tomorrow evening, nine thirty. Damn, she’s hot. She had shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, heavily made-up eyes framed in a black mask, and sultry lips made for kissing. He clicked on her name and up popped a sidebar.

  Name: Electra

  Stats: 5’9”, 35-24-34, blonde hair, brown eyes, 125 lbs.

  Age Range: 25-30

  Member Level: Elite

  Fetishes: Role Play, light BDSM. Men only.

  Restrictions: No oral of any kind. Always masked.

  His boner returned. The beautiful face of this sexy stranger was reason enough to accept her invitation. Two months earlier, he’d agreed to check out Incognito to placate Colton. But even after his best friend had purchased an elite membership for him, he’d forgotten about the erotic club. Sex with strangers wasn’t his thing. But as his hard-on strained against his pajama bottoms, he couldn’t resist the temptation. Could this alluring mystery woman be the perfect distraction for an hour or two? Before talking himself out of hooking up, he tapped Accept this Invitation. An auto-response email dropped into his inbox.

  “Congratulations, you’re confirmed in ‘The Teacher’ suite! Electra looks forward to your connection tomorrow at nine thirty. Check in using one of our new tablets in the greeting room, then relax on the sofa, enjoy a drink in the lounge, or wait in your private suite.”

  Embedded within that message, Electra’s private note said, “Hello, Professor. I failed the midterm, but need an ‘A’ in your course. I’ll be by during office hours to see what extra credit work I can do to get my grade up.”

  He replied to her personal message with one of his own. “You’ll have to work very, very hard if you want to earn an ‘A’ in my course, Electra.”

  4

  The Teacher

  At promptly nine o’clock, Alexandra sauntered into the busy greeting room at Incognito. Several couples cozied close on the red sofa while the flirty bar crowd spilled into the hallway. Pleased to see more activity than the previous evening, she was relieved everyone wore masks. And dressed to be noticed. She liked.

  Before she could check in, Francois scurried into the room. “Bonsoir, Ms. Electra. Mr. Payne is expecting you. Right this way, s'il vous plait.” He shot her a friendly smile before turning right out of reception. Midway down the hall he rapped on a door marked, “Management”. Without waiting, he opened it with a flourish and stepped into the room.

  Jase Payne, Incognito’s General Manager, slammed his laptop shut, then shot Francois a harsh stare. Alexandra froze in the doorway. Clearly, this was not a good time. When Jase glimpsed her, he broke into a broad grin that revealed a significant gap between his two front teeth.

  Pushing out of his chair, he rounded his desk, hands extended. His tight black shirt and snug black pants clung to his compact physique. “Welcome, Ms. Electra.” To thwart what she thought might be a bear hug, she stuck out her hand. With his gaze fixed on her, he kissed her knuckle.

  Alexandra startled when someone jumped up from the sofa to her right. She couldn’t help but gawk. Clothing hung on the young woman’s tall, slender frame and her thin hair dangled limply over one cheek. With her head down, she shuffled toward the door, the sudden movement revealing her bruised cheek. Her porcelain skin only magnified the large purple splotch.

  Adrenaline spiked through Alexandra. Physical abuse terrified her.

  “Sage, are we good?” Jase asked.

  After shooting him a furtive glance, Sage stared at the floor. “Of course.”

  Alexandra’s stomach knotted. Her gaunt appearance compelled Alexandra to engage her. “What do you do here?”

  Silence.

  Sage’s eyebrows jutted up. “I’m…I’m sorry. You were talking to me?”

  Her sad, gray eyes pierced Alexandra’s soul. “Yes, I’m curious about your job.”

  When Jase anchored his hand on Sage’s shoulder, she flinched and lowered her head. “Sage works in the kitchen,” Jase said. “I couldn’t run the club without her help.”

  “My goodness, that is great.” Alexandra’s strained smile accompanied her twang, but her skin crawled from the sugary tone of Jase’s voice.

  As the jumpy employee tied on her masquerade
mask, Jase removed his hand. “I worry about our little Sage. She walked smack into the swinging kitchen door.”

  Back in LA, Alexandra had earned a television Emmy for her six-part series about three women who’d escaped their abusers. Was Sage really accident-prone or had someone hit her? The signs are there. Her attention darted between Sage and Jase, but neither said anything more.

  “Sage, I’ll walk you to the kitchen,” Francois said. The two left, shutting the door behind them.

  Jase’s steady stare sent a shiver through her. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” After tapping the seat across from his desk, he eased into his executive leather chair.

  She folded into the plush seat.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” He tucked his shoulder-length dirty blond hair behind his ears.

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay. I’m meeting a connection.” And I prefer to screw them sober.

  “Excellent. I’m delighted when new members jump right in. I think you’ll be pleased with our diverse clientele. If you don’t like what you see or have a concern, let me know. I stay connected to my clientele, especially the elite ones.”

  Should I ask about rejuvenation? Her gut said no. Instead, she plucked the money order from her tiny clutch and slid it across his desk. “My transfer fee.”

  As Jase eyed the check, she glanced at the portrait hanging on the wall behind him. The dark-skinned woman’s haunting expression tore at Alexandra’s heartstrings. A sheer red scarf draped her nude back like a shawl as she glanced over her shoulder. Though the club boasted a generous art collection, this portrait seemed different. She’s so young.

  “Would you prefer a monthly payment plan or do quarterly installments better meet your needs?” he asked. “The interest rate is about the same for either—thirty-five percent.”

  What? “I’m not following.”

  “Unfortunately, this is half of what’s owed. Our prices are higher than Provocateur. To keep your elite status at Incognito, the transfer fee is $10,000.”

  Her stomach dropped. Though she wanted to scream, “That’s all I’ve got!” she folded her hands in her lap. “Monthly,” she uttered. What choice did she have? Life would be so much simpler—and affordable—if her tastes weren’t so eclectic or if she didn’t have intimacy issues and could handle being in a relationship.

  Jase pushed out of his chair. “I’ll get the paperwork in order. In the meantime, I hope our club provides you every pleasure.”

  Before leaving the office, Alexandra glanced over her shoulder at the pretty young girl in the portrait.

  Crockett set the black devil mask on the passenger seat of his gray Ford F-150 limited edition and started the engine. Pulling out of his underground garage, he punched speed dial. He’d never had masked stranger sex, so a brief conversation with his closest friend and one-time business partner would set him right.

  “Hey,” said Colton. “Still at work?”

  “I’m on my way to Incognito,” Crockett said.

  “First time?”

  He blew out a breath. “Yeah. Feels a little weird.”

  “Once you meet her, you’ll get over it. Even if she says she’s on the pill, use a condom. The club provides them, but you’ve got your own, right?”

  Crockett squeezed his front pants pocket. “Got ‘em.”

  “What are you doing about your accent?”

  “What accent?” Crockett turned onto the main road.

  “Your Texan one. It’s subtle, but you should hide it.”

  “Colton, I’m going to screw this woman, not chat her up.”

  After chuckling, Colton said, “Change your speech pattern, then.”

  “Is that the lengths you used to go to?”

  “Years ago, someone stalked me, so I made adjustments. When our Crockett Boxes roll out next month, you might find yourself in the spotlight. You don’t need your sex life overshadowing your career, especially if you’re trying to do business with the FBI.”

  He stopped at a red light. “It might be my name, but you’re the face of Crockett Boxes. Thanks for the pointers.”

  “I hope she works out.”

  Crockett ended the call and continued two blocks past his Crystal City office building, parking in the garage beneath the Silver Towers high-rise. After tying on the mask, he exited his truck.

  As the elevator whisked him to the twelfth floor, he buttoned his tweed sports jacket. I’m Hunter. Say the damn ‘r’. Hunterrr. Hunterrr. This is crazy.

  The doors slid open and Crockett entered the swanky club. First impressions were favorable. Dim lighting, while a sultry jazz musician crooned quietly from invisible speakers. Classy portraits of nudes hung on the walls. The club was busier than he’d expected on the Tuesday before Christmas. A few well-dressed masked members flirted on the horseshoe-shaped red sofa. None of them were Electra.

  After checking in on the tablet, a pop-up alerted him that his connection hadn’t yet arrived, but he could indicate where he’d be waiting. He selected the lounge, settling into an empty booth tucked in the back of the restaurant. Four giant candelabras anchored each corner while flickering candles adorned the black linen-covered tables.

  Within seconds, an unmasked waiter took his vodka martini order. He relaxed into the cushiony seat while singles, couples, and small groups mingled in the bar on the other side of the room.

  The server delivered his drink, collected the cash. The chilled cocktail slid easily down his throat and he enjoyed another sip before setting the glass down.

  A masked brunette in a low-cut dress slid into the booth. “You’re looking good.” She curled her fingers around the glass and sipped his martini. “I would love to get to know you better.”

  No small talk and no boundaries, either. “Maybe another time. I’m waiting for my connection.”

  “In the mood for a threesome?”

  “Can’t say that I am.” Freewheeling sex wasn’t his thing.

  Her smile faded as she slid out of the booth. “If you change your mind, I’m a good time,” she said and headed toward the bar.

  A statuesque woman sashayed into the lounge. Her elegance stole his breath. Jesus, it’s her. Electra wore skinny jeans, thigh-high brown suede boots and a white cardigan sweater that spotlighted her protruding nipples. His cock twitched. No bra.

  In those heels she had to be six feet tall. He loved a leggy woman. He pushed out of the booth, slipped a hand into his pocket and waited. She pivoted in his direction. As they eyed each other everything around him faded to black. The only thing that mattered was the sultry blonde gliding his way. Suddenly, the strangest feeling came over him. Like déjà vu. Here comes Lady Luck.

  Heads turned in her direction. The closer she got, the faster excitement coursed through his veins.

  Her hair swished against the top of her shoulders while her hips swayed back and forth. With her eyes pinned on his, she sauntered close enough for him to catch a whiff of her flowery fragrance.

  “Electra. I’m Hunter. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand.

  “Hello, Huntah. The pleasure’s all mine.” Her southern accent surprised him. When she pressed her hand into his, her chilly fingers cooled his internal inferno. Behind the mask, her whiskey-brown eyes twinkled.

  Damn, she’s hot. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No, thank you.” She stepped into his personal space as if she already knew him. “I’m meeting my professor and don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  He hardened.

  With a light grip on his bicep, she directed him down the corridor to a suite labeled, “The Teacher”. She flashed her Silver Towers keycard over the wall sensor. The light turned green and he pushed open the door. “After you.”

  “Office hours start shortly.” Her sultry voice sent another shock of adrenaline to his groin. “You get situated. I’ll be right in.”

  He appreciated Electra’s all-business attitude. Like him, she wasn’t interested in small talk or getting to know him
. That worked. He wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to fuck, plain and simple. One look at her and he was up to the task.

  When he stepped into the suite, she closed the door behind him. Bathed in flickering light, several faux candles had been placed around the room. The front half of the room resembled a college classroom. Professor’s desk and chair faced a row of student desks. The back half of the room housed a queen bed covered in taupe linens and four fluffed pillows. A microfiber loveseat stood flush against the far wall. The open night table drawer revealed a variety of condoms, neatly arranged in their boxes. In the corner were two bathrooms marked “Teacher” and “Student”.

  Behind the desk hung a variety of sex toys. Handcuffs, paddles, a flogger, a crop and nipple clamps. Before sinking into the chair, he placed the crop on the desk alongside the neat stack of copier paper and pens. Until now, sexual role-playing seemed absurd, but game-on based on his raging hard-on.

  Electra tapped on the door, stuck her head inside. “Hello, Professor.” Her smile flamed in his chest.

  “Electra, come in. Here to discuss your midterm?”

  “I am.” She closed the door, slipped into the student chair and crossed her legs. “My failing midterm grade makes getting an ‘A’ in your class impossible.”

  “You should have thought of that before you opted not to study. I don’t offer extra credit work.” Crockett pushed out of the chair and walked around the desk, then leaned his backside against the corner. His hungry gaze floated over her beautiful masked face, her full breasts, and down those amazing legs. “You should have come to me for help before the test.”

  “This is going to ruin my chances of getting into grad school.” She rose and sashayed toward the door. “I’d have done just about anything to improve my grade.”

  Crockett couldn’t wait to anchor those swaying hips and drive himself inside her. He marveled at how sincere she sounded. Was Electra an actress? “Wait.”

  As she slowly turned, the tips of her erect nipples stole his attention.