“You hungry?” I ask her. “I can have food brought up to my place. Come on.”

She glances over at JD and Amy, then follows me. We turn and head down the stairs, bumpy into Manny on the way.

“JD up there?” Manny asks. “Was hoping I could talk to him.”

“He’s with someone,” I answer.

“I’ll be quick.”

“You should wait. Or call him. That’ll be best.”

Taking Bridget by the elbow, I continue on our way. Finding a server, I tell him to have the chef send up a few dishes.

“Your chef must have a long day between making breakfast and serving food late at night,” Bridget remarks.

“I have a different chef for breakfast and lunch.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

We step into the elevator. She’s quiet in thought. Probably still processing what she saw.

I yank her to me as the doors close, cup the side of her face, and smother her mouth with mine. Energy surges between us. I devour her mouth. She doesn’t pull away. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t. The kiss is a test, and I’m encouraged that the BDSM hasn’t scared her off. Yet.

Watching Bridget taking in what went on in the other side of the club has strengthened my ardor. Soon, I’m working her mouth so hard, she couldn’t tear herself away if she wanted to. She gets a reprieve when the elevator doors open. But not for long. I hoist her over my shoulder.

“I can walk on my own two feet,” she says after I’ve stepped out of the elevator.

I walk up to the facial recognition device that unlocks my door. It’s an unnecessary precaution, but Marshall insisted if I didn’t want to have someone posted outside my door.

“I don’t need that much protection,” I had explained to Marshall.

The son of a US Army lieutenant who married an ethnic Chinese woman when he was stationed at Camp Humphreys in South Korea, Marshall looks more like his tall, dark father than his paler, more diminutive mother. At 6’4” and 245 pounds, he’s actually larger than his father.

“I’m not involved in any of the major triad businesses,” I had added.

“Your father was. And he had himself a few enemies,” Marshall had responded. “And your mother called me.”

I had stopped there. I’m sure Marshall didn’t want to be harassed any more than I did by my worry-prone mother.

Once inside my residence, I head straight for the bedroom and dump her on the bed, which has been turned down. My mouth is back on hers. How does she taste so good? And feel so good. The smallest motions of her body beneath mine send my desire skyrocketing. She wraps her arms about me, one hand running through my hair. As I plunge my tongue into her mouth, my hips press into her, seeking relief for my hard-on.

In the back of my head, I realize, not counting the foot massage, that this is the third time I’m having sex with Bridget. I don’t do it with anyone more than twice if it’s just for fun. Maybe I should make the rule three times instead of two. Because there’s no way I’m backing off with Bridget now. I’m dying to know if she would be willing to go beyond vanilla. We did some breath play back at her place, but it wasn’t something she had acquiesced to upfront. She had come good, though.