Tina Takes a Tumble [Reunion Series Book II] Read online

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  Amber Quill Press

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  Copyright ©2007 by Mimi Riser

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  TINA TAKES A TUMBLE

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  TINA TAKES A TUMBLE

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  ISBN 978-1-60272-163-0

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

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  Also By Mimi Riser

  Dungeons & Dirty Dreams

  Romeo's Revenge

  Samantha White and the Seven Dwarves

  Sherwood Charade

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  TINA TAKES A TUMBLE

  "Giorgio! Giorgio Lorenza!"

  Ouch.

  Either someone had just shoved twin ice picks through his eardrums, or...

  Dave Hammer grinned. It had been ages since he'd heard it, but he'd recognize that screech anywhere.

  Tina Molina was back in town.

  Mission accomplished.

  If Tina was here that meant Angel Madison was, too, since the first would never have come without the latter. That was the deal he'd made with Tina via the magical communications of the Internet, that she would ensure Angel's presence today if he'd guarantee Giorgio's. No mean feat for either of them, but she'd managed it—obviously—and so had he. Life was good.

  He glanced to the side, squinting through the summer sun's glare, to see his best friend striding away from a sleek, black Jaguar toward the sound of the screech, and looking a lot like a jaguar, himself—a hungry one—a wildcat on the prowl, nostrils flared with the scent of prey and a deadly, hot gleam in his eye.

  Yeah, man.

  "The Lean Mean Sex Machine,” as Giorgio had once been known, was back in action.

  'Bout friggin’ time.

  If Dave had been a woman, or of a more democratic sexual persuasion, he'd have creamed his pants at the sight. If he'd been the nostalgic sort, he might have wiped a tear from his eye. As it was, he let out a low chuckle.

  Go get ‘er, Romeo. You can thank me for this later.

  Feeling inordinately pleased with himself—aw, hell, feeling damned smug—Dave crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the solar-warmed bricks of the south wall of his old high school, the side facing the large parking lot, which banged and buzzed with activity. Tires crunched through gravel and braked to halts. Car doors swung open and shut, the slam of metal mixing with laughter and greetings as people climbed out to join those milling about in ever-shifting clusters before him—a kaleidoscope of faces and forms, wearing plastic smiles and posh suits, and reeking of designer cologne.

  It looked like not only Tina and Angel were back in town, but everyone else from his graduating class, too. A big turnout for their big twenty-year reunion.

  Big fucking deal.

  School had bored the shit out of him, and so had most of those with whom he'd attended it. Didn't appear many of them had improved much with age, either. It would be nice to see Angel again, but Giorgio neither needed, nor would welcome an intrusion in that quarter, and there was only one other in this crowd who stirred Dave's interest. One whose mere memory stirred him more than he cared to admit.

  The small, sassy girl with the big mouth—or so Tina had been at eighteen. Sassy and brassy, as he recalled. And she still was, gauging by the trouble he'd had getting her here. Once he'd tracked her down, through her company's website—T&A Jewels, which she co-owned with Angel—it had taken him two weeks worth of craftily worded emails to set up this reunion within a reunion.

  Well, actually, it had been less craft and more the electronic equivalent of groveling on his hands and knees. A position of which he was none too fond—not for himself, anyway. He owed her one for making him beg.

  If she's even half as cute she used to be, I might give it to her, too. Lucky girl.

  And, nope, that's not egotism talking, he thought. It just meant that, as the owner of Devil Dave's Cave, which catered to an exclusive and somewhat kinky—okay, very kinky—clientele, he knew his business, and knew he was good at it. He had to know. A confident attitude was a large part of a Master's power. A sense of humor helped, too, of course. So many people took bondage games, the whole dominance-submission thing, way too seriously.

  Speaking of which...

  He reached out, caught a well-muscled arm, and pulled Giorgio to a stop as he stalked past. “Whoa. I can hear the energy crackles and smell the smoke clear across the parking lot. Lighten up, will you? Turn down the juju wattage. You're gonna electrocute the poor girl before you even get close."

  Giorgio shot him a black glare. “Just shut up and stay out of my way, and maybe I won't break your knees for not warning me Angel would be here."

  "What makes you think I knew she'd be here?” Dave blinked, all innocence, all clean-cut good looks. (Could he help it if he'd been born handsome?)

  He stood nose to chin with Giorgio, being half a head shorter, but still a respectable height—even if it had taken him till college to reach it. Five-nine wasn't so bad, especially when one coupled it with an athletic build from regular work-outs, and topped it with blond hair, blue eyes, and a super tan—the picture of health, the classic golden boy. He knew exactly how he seemed on the surface. He'd cultivated his appearance on purpose. It was part of his power, too—the power of surprise. His club's patrons never expected such delicious wickedness as he could mete out from someone who looked like an advertisement for fresh air and granola.

  Unfortunately, Giorgio and he had been friends too long for the former to be fooled.

  With a low growl, he shook off Dave's hold and turned to continue his way across the crowded lot. “You knew. In fact, I'd bet my balls you arranged it. You're a control freak—always trying to manage everything and everyone."

  "Hey, what can I say? ‘Control’ is my job.” Dave chuckled as he fell into step alongside of him. “But I consider myself more of a therapist, really. Life's responsibilities weigh so heavily on most people. They're glad to turn over the reins occasionally to someone ... masterful. It's a great stress reliever, I'm told, giving up control."

  "Then why don't you try it sometime?"

  "Me? Because I don't have that kind of stress. I know who I am, what I'm capable of, and I'm not afraid to take responsibility for any of it."

  Giorgio paused in mid-step to stare down his nose at him. “And you think I am afraid?"

  Dave chuckled again. “No, man. You're the one who thinks you've been afraid. I think you just got caught in a rut and needed a little shove to help you break free."

  Their eyes locked for a tense moment, then Giorgio's expression relaxed into a wry grin. “Yeah, well, I'm scared shitless now. It's been a long, dry spell without any rain, y’ know?"

  "You'll do fine.” Dave returned the grin. “Sex is like riding a bicycle. Once you've learned it, you never forget."

  "I wasn't talking about sex, you pervert. I meant the emotions of the situation. Angel and I have some deep wounds to deal with. She's going to want explanations—for what happened before and what's happened since. And I ... I'm not sure what to tell her."<
br />
  Dave wasn't sure either. The emotional part of a relationship had never been his forte. Emotions were too unpredictable, too difficult to control if you let them loose. He kept a tight rein on his own. “I'd just concentrate on the sex, if I were you, and forget the rest. Trust me, where women are concerned, a good hard-on explains a lot."

  "You're hopeless, you know that?"

  "Nope. Just practical."

  Together, they resumed walking—or, in Giorgio's case, stalking. He moved with a fluid, feline grace, once more the predator, staring straight ahead at his prey. Dave followed the gaze.

  And almost swallowed his tongue.

  Angel still looked remarkably the same, a tall, willowy, strawberry-blonde, but...

  Whoa, Mama! That's Tina? “Tiny Tina"?

  God, she'd grown up. And out. He had a profile view, so he could simultaneously admire the jut of tits and ass. And he did. Breasts like big, juicy melons, ripe and ready for sucking, and an equally delectable derriere strained the confines of a tight, black leather halter-top and matching miniskirt that sported a small beaded and fringed purse attached to its waistband as a piece of practical adornment. The swish of the purse's fringe accentuated the sexy sway of her hips as she shifted weight from one luscious leg to the other. The mane of brown hair she'd inherited from her Hispanic father, with auburn highlights from an Anglo mother, tumbled in wild waves down a bared back and over naked shoulders.

  His fingers itched to rake through those curls and explore the soft skin beneath. His mouth watered for a taste of those sweet melons. He licked his lips. The cute little pixie he remembered had blossomed into Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.

  "I'll tell you what I'll do,” he whispered as they neared the two women. “I'll lure Tina away for the afternoon, so you can have Angel all to yourself, without any interference."

  "Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped out with the gratitude. “Very altruistic of you, I'm sure."

  "Hey, man, anything to help a friend. My pleasure.” Or it will be.

  What Giorgio did now, Dave no longer noticed and didn't much care. He'd done his part by arranging this meeting. The Lean Mean Sex Machine could handle things from here, he was sure. As for himself ... Well, he deserved a reward for his good deed, didn't he? With the day's work over, it was playtime.

  In unison, he and Giorgio came to a halt.

  Tina's lush red lips curled into a grin as she eyed them—seductive, but smug—the grin of a woman used to her power over men. Good. That would make it so much more fun to prove his power over her.

  And prove it he would. Before this day was out, he'd have her naked and trembling on her knees in front of him, have her bent over and bound to a bench, her luxurious bottom hot and rosy from a spanking, and her clit swollen and aching for his touch. He'd make her beg for the release of orgasm the way she'd made him beg for her help in bringing Angel here.

  Still smiling, still smug, still sassy to the core, she extended a hand in greeting. “Well, ‘Hiho, Silver.’ If it ain't the Lone Stranger and his faithful companion, Frodo."

  Cute. The lady was really asking for it, wasn't she? Dave added a vibrating dildo—a large one—and nipple clamps to his plans for her.

  But he played it cool for the moment, keeping his gaze on her face, giving her no hint of the danger she was in. “Don't you mean Tonto? I thought Frodo was the dude in Tolkien's Ring Trilogy."

  Tina shrugged. “Whatever. He was short, anyway, I remember that. So were you."

  Very funny. Just for that he ought to let some of his club's top performers enjoy her, too. Adolph the Apeman would love to plow his thick dick into her rear passage while Crazy Carlos fucked her front.

  Or maybe not. The image of her with other men shot a sudden hot surge through him, and not the good kind of surge. He recognized the telltale tingle of his temper heating, and gave himself a mental smack to cool it. He hated getting angry. In that direction danger lurked. It was far better to envision himself—just me—enjoying her ass and her cunt.

  His cock burned at the thought, and he had to fight down an erection as her gaze raked over him from head to toe. Even with her in stilettos, he stood an inch taller—a surprise for her, he knew, since they'd once been the same height. But she liked what she saw; he guessed that from the sultry gleam in her hazel eyes and the way her voice went husky when she spoke.

  "What happened, Dave? Either you've grown, or I've shrunk."

  "Gotta be the first.” He took her outstretched hand, but not to shake it. He wanted more than a handshake from this lady—way more. He bent over it for a cavalier kiss. Mmm, those graceful fingers tasted and smelled delicious. Besides which, the gesture gave him the chance to ogle her boobs. “I'll bet no one calls you ‘Tiny Tina’ these days."

  Electricity crackled between them as his gaze returned to hers.

  How soon can we get outta here?

  Tina gave a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, well, I guess that makes both of us late bloomers then, huh? Can I have my hand back, please?"

  "Only if you'll replace it with this.” Hanging on to her fingers, he threaded her arm through the crook of his. “Shall we?"

  "Shall we what?” Her brows rose, but she didn't pull away.

  He took that as a positive sign. “Find the registration table and sign in. I'll help you pin on your name tag if you help me with mine."

  So, okay, he lied. They were going to Devil Dave's Cave, but she didn't need to know that. Yet.

  He nodded to Angel. “Nice to see you, Red. Glad you could make the reunion. We'll have to talk later, but right now you and Giorgio must have ... um, a lot to catch up on. I know Tina and I do.” He winked. “So we'll leave you two alone."

  Without giving anyone a chance to respond, he pulled Tina close to his side and ushered her away.

  Let the games begin.

  * * * *

  Devil Dave's Cave, huh?

  Boy, she had been gone from this town a long time, hadn't she? That Dave still lived here she'd known, but not everything he'd been up to these past years. Whoever would have guessed that sweet, shy boy on whom she'd once had a fierce crush, the one she'd dubbed “Davy the Dickhead” because he'd never caught the hints she threw him, never treated her as anything more than a study-partner, would end up the owner of an exclusive sex-club? And one that catered primarily to women, at that.

  She'd just had to see the place, of course, when he'd suggested they grab a quick drink before signing in at the reunion. His “cave” was only a short drive away, he'd assured her. They'd be gone thirty minutes, tops. And, considering how they'd both hated that school and their snobby classmates, God knew a stiff drink could only improve the event. Right?

  It had sounded quite reasonable put like that. Now she wasn't so sure.

  Tina Molina stood in the doorway and stared. The large front room of the club was empty of customers, because the place wouldn't be open for business for another hour, but there was still plenty to look at. Two eye-candy waiters lounged against the bar at the back, one wearing a toga, the other in bare-chested pirate garb.

  Hey, handsome, can I walk your plank?

  A third busied himself behind the bar, restocking bottles and wiping glasses. He wore nothing but bronzed muscles and a few fig leaves.

  Whew, warm day, isn't it?

  Crimson carpet covered the floor, crystal chandeliers hung above, and the walls were frescoed with naked nymphs and satyrs doing naughty things. In between squatted long, low tables of carved, gilded wood, with brocade-upholstered chaises pulled near instead of chairs, and centerpieces of brass bowls filled with flowers and fruit. Soft, sensual music filtered out the sound system, and spicy incense perfumed the air. A little too spicy. The scent of arousal seemed to be a subtle part of the fragrance.

  Tina coughed.

  "Well? What do you think?” Dave had stepped up so close behind her, his breath feathered her hair when he spoke—so close she felt the heat emanating off his hard body.

  I think I'm in trou
ble.

  She moved forward several paces to put some distance between them, then turned to face him, her feet planted wide for balance and her hands on her hips. I'm in control, the pose said. She hoped. She was damned if she'd let him rattle her. “It looks like a cross between a Roman orgy and a nineteenth-century French cathouse—on acid."

  "Thank you. That's exactly the sort of ambiance I was aiming for."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. It wasn't meant as a compliment. I'm an artist, remember? I design jewelry.” She raised a hand and jingled the diamond-studded bangles that covered her wrist. Her chin tilted up and her breasts thrust out as she inhaled—teasing, taunting. Defiant. Like her mother always said, the best defense was a good offense. She'd brought bigger men than him to their knees.

  "But I know something about interior design, as well, and this décor is too busy. You should pick just one theme and stick with it. I could help you redo it ... if you like.” She smiled, slowly. A skilled temptress, sure of her power and effect—at least until Dave smiled back.

  With a lithe, panther-like move, he turned and closed the door behind him. It shut with an ominous click. Then he walked toward her, his hips swinging with masculine grace, his gaze flowing over her like molten lava. God, the guy was sex-on-a-stick. He sizzled.

  So did she. Sparks tingled her skin and her pulse jumped. Liquid heat flooded her veins.

  He stopped a scant hair's breadth away, so near her breasts brushed his chest. In reaction, her nipples puckered into tight peaks, and she felt the burn of a blush on her cheeks, but she held her ground. If this was a battle for sexual dominance, he'd met his match—she told herself. Tina Molina was no submissive. No easy target.

  "Oh, I like,” he whispered. And she knew he wasn't referring to her offer to help with the décor. “But you have to remember I'm an artist, too ... in my way. And this club does focus on one theme. Everything here is designed for but one purpose. Do you know what that purpose is?"

  Um ... she had a good idea, but he was obviously going to tell her, anyway.