Clifftop Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Cassidy Browning Read Free Book Online

She was determined not to be indebted to him in any way.
    Fortunately, Brad didn’t seem to be paying attention. He turned to Jane. “So where do you live?”
    “In Los Angeles,” she told him.
    “And you’re a model?”
    She laughed, blushing. “Sometimes, but it’s not my main focus anymore. I run a modeling agency and give lessons in fetish photography.”
    “Fetish photography? What’s that?” He looked a little apprehensive, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know the answer.
    “Bondage, mostly,” she said casually, and Brad glanced around nervously to see if any nearby tables might be listening. “Some foot-fetish stuff, CBT. That kind of thing.”
    “CBT?” Brad was half whispering, leaning forward, apparently too fascinated to be able to resist.
    Jane looked amused. She leaned forward, too, and gave a stage whisper that must have been audible at least three tables away. “Cock and ball torture.”
    “Really? People actually do that?” Brad sat back, a horrified expression on his face. He looked as if she’d just told him she regularly kidnapped small children and sold them into slavery.
    Jane fished a business card out of her purse and handed it to him, saying, “Here you go, sweetie. Check out my website and you’ll see all kinds of things that people actually do.”
    He took it, slipping it hurriedly into a pocket as if he might be arrested for possessing it. Allie glanced at Karl, who was concentrating on his meal, seeming to want to distance himself from the conversation. She had a sudden desire to ask him if that’s what he and her father used to do. Maybe he had done some of it himself. That was a more intriguing thought, and Allie spent a little while in silent contemplation of whether she would want to see Karl’s work, or pictures that her father might have taken of him. But it came down to the same thing, she decided. She really had no desire to see it. At least, not much.
    The meal seemed to take forever. Jane and Charlie insistently brought up topics having to do with sex, or pornography, or kink, and laughed loudly at each other’s jokes. Brad would not stop asking questions, his eyes getting wider and wider at the answers. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Allie began to feel like the chaperone for a group of unruly teenagers, trying to come up with ways to change the subject whenever it strayed in unacceptable directions and to subtly hint that they should keep their voices down. They ignored her, except for Karl. He kept a determined silence, only speaking when someone asked him a question. When they were finally leaving the restaurant, Allie thought it had been the most exhausting night of her life.
    At home, she made coffee, mentally kicking herself for being such a pushover. But there never seemed to be the right opportunity to ask Jane and Charlie to leave without having to explain the reason to Brad. She would find a way tomorrow, she promised herself, resisting the urge to pour something nasty into their drinks. No point in going to jail over it. At ten o’clock, however, she pointedly took Brad’s cup and hers into the kitchen, ignoring his indignant protestations that he wasn’t finished.
    “Yes, you are,” she told him. “We’re going upstairs. Can you make sure the front door is locked, please? We don’t need any more surprise guests tonight.”
    He gave her a curious look but followed her obediently to their bedroom. When the door closed behind him, he sat down on the bed. “What was that about?”
    “I just couldn’t take them anymore,” Allie explained. “I needed some alone time. You don’t mind, do you?”
    “No, I guess not.” He didn’t look particularly excited by the idea but smiled good-naturedly.
    Allie smiled, too, sitting next to him on the bed. She was feeling a little more relaxed now that they were alone and there was no chance of Charlie saying something disastrous. “Did you have a good time tonight? I haven’t seen you