Authors: Cooper McKenzie
Club Esoteria 11
A Club Esoteria Wedding
Two years ago, Whitney Elliott changed her life for the man she loves, hoping for a commitment from him. But her Master does not seem to be any closer to putting a full-time collar on her than he was two years earlier. Finally, Whitney has had enough and runs away from the club.
Taurus Green knows something is bothering his mouse but never expects her to run away without talking to him first. After tracking her to a hotel downtown, he joins her and they talk, where he realizes that while he’s been trying to figure out the perfect time and way to propose, she has been thinking he was going to kick her to the curb.
Will Whitney accept his proposal for marriage and more? Or will she walk away from him, the club, and the lifestyle she has come to love?
Club Esoteria 11
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
A CLUB ESOTERIA WEDDING
Copyright © 2013 by Cooper McKenzie
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-685-0
First E-book Publication: March 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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A Club Esoteria Wedding
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A CLUB ESOTERIA WEDDING
Club Esoteria 11
Copyright © 2013
Whitney Elliott had to turn away from the BDSM scene. Though it was just a demonstration, she felt sick to her stomach and angry in her heart and mind as
Master touched another woman.
It did not matter that the woman was a pain slut while Whitney was anything but.
It did not matter that they were on stage in the main room of the club in front of more than a hundred Dominants and submissives who were attending Club Esoteria’s first kink convention, and he was just helping the Woolphe brothers prepare for their demonstration, which would be beginning in a few minutes.
It did not matter that she and Taurus Green had been an exclusive couple since their first meeting more than two and a half years before.
The green-eyed jealous monster-bitch made her want to run onstage and rip the other woman’s heart out. Master Taurus was
It was a struggle, but she fought down the need to stake her claim, possibly embarrass her Master, and possibly earn herself a humongous punishment for such behavior.
As she walked toward the bar, her hand went to her throat, drawing little comfort from the leather there. The thin collar they used while at the club rested there, unlocked. Each night after they went upstairs to the apartment they shared, he took it off her neck until the next time she went to the club with him.
Two and half years of living together and still there was no real commitment between them. While she had moved in with him after her mother’s death and grown in the BDSM lifestyle, he still never mentioned what the future may hold for them as a couple.
Or maybe they weren’t a couple. Outside the club, he treated her as an acquaintance, not the woman he shared his life and his bed with. She had kept her mother’s house just in case something like this happened, but that would be the first place he would look. Or would he even notice if she left?
Yes, her cynical side answered. He would notice when there were no clean clothes in the closet. He would notice there was not dinner on the table at the end of the afternoon’s session. He would notice when her warm body was not in his bed beside him, responding so easily to his kisses, his touches, and his orders.
“Why would he want to marry you?”
her mother’s voice echoed through her thoughts.
“You’re giving him everything a man wants without any commitment on his part.
“Why buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free?” she muttered to herself as she approached the bar.
She wished she could sit down and drink until her mood changed, which would only take two glasses of wine, but all the club’s bartenders were under strict orders to give her nothing stronger than ginger ale unless he placed the order for her.
“Excuse me?” Jackson asked as he moved on the other side of the bar to stand in front of her.
“Nothing, Sir. Could I have a soda please?” Whitney tried to smile but found her lips refused to cooperate.
Jackson gave her a look she had seen more than once that day. The look all Doms used to question if there was something really wrong or if she was just being snotty so word would get back to Master Taurus and he would have to punish her. While she had done that on occasion in the past, today punishment was the last thing she wanted. She wanted, no needed, something she was not sure he would ever be capable of giving her.
Dropping her eyes to her hands resting on the bar, Whitney did not take a comfortable breath until Master Jackson set a glass of ginger ale in front of her. She released a sigh when he walked to the far end of the bar where his fiancée sat on her special barstool within the confines of the oval bar, crocheting something white and lacy. The fact that she only wore a lacy black chemise was not surprising.
As Whitney watched her hands, the other woman’s engagement ring flashed under the lights, sending small stabs of pain straight to Whitney’s heart. Looking away, she had to blink several times to clear the tears that blurred her vision.
Lifting the glass, she drank deeply, wishing it had a shot of Jack Daniels in it.
“Oh, good, I found you.” Mistress Jenna approached and slid onto the stool next to her.
“Something I can do for you, Mistress Jenna?” Sitting down her glass, she turned and slipped easily into the submissive mode that everyone in the club watched so closely.
“Go upstairs and get dressed. I need you to give Lace a ride home.”
“She’s leaving? What happened?” Whitney raised her gaze to the Domme’s, concerned that something had happened to their friend.
“She’s sold everything and wants to go home now. While they’re”—Jenna cocked her head toward the stage where Raven and Hawk were talking about leather care—“onstage and unable to stop her. I told her to meet you at the elevator in five minutes.”
“Yes, Mistress Jenna.” Whitney nodded then turned and hurried toward the back of the club.
As she entered their apartment and dressed in a pair of khakis and a dressy T-shirt over the teddy Master had chosen that morning for her to wear, an idea was born. Instead of just grabbing her wallet as she normally would for such an errand, she grabbed the carryall that doubled as her purse. Taking a deep breath, she packed a couple of shirts, panties, and her makeup kit in the bag. She then grabbed her netbook computer, stick drive, and cell phone as well as their charging cords and slipped them in the bag as well.
At the apartment door, she slipped on her sneakers. Sniffing back tears, Whitney walked out of the place she had called home for nearly two years. She had no idea where she was going, but would figure that out after she did the task Mistress Jenna had put before her.
Riding down in the elevator, she focused on taking deep breaths to push her sadness down. With luck, her lingerie designer friend would not notice her miserable mood.
When the elevator opened at the private entrance, Whitney looked around, thinking back to the first time she had stepped into this room. She had been a cub reporter, trying to get a scoop on the club selling sex slaves. Master had caught her, punished her for trespassing, and then took her under command as his submissive. He had taught her so much about the BDSM lifestyle, and her own needs, wants, and desires when it came to love and sex.
Over the last few weeks, she had come to a new conclusion. No matter how good, how kinky, how perfect the sex between her and Master, she needed more. She wanted a commitment from the man who saw her more clearly than anyone ever had in her entire life.
She just did not know how to tell him her greatest desire.
Pushing down her brooding thoughts, she stepped into what could only be termed as the back door lobby. As the elevator doors slid closed, the door that led to the club’s main room opened, and Lace joined her.
Nearly an hour later, she drove away from Lace’s secluded house in the woods, hoping the reclusive woman would find happiness with the two men she had met less than forty-eight hours earlier. Hawk and Raven Woolphe had been waiting at Lace’s front door when they’d pulled in, having taken the more direct route, which led over the Trent and Neuse rivers to form a mile and a half of bridges. Lace had a serious phobia about driving over water, so they had taken the thirty-mile longer route with its several smaller bridges.
At the end of Lace’s driveway, Whitney sat for a few minutes debating whether to go back to the club as was expected, or follow her aching heart and disappear. The newspaper she had been working at for over the last two years had laid her off a few months before as a part of their downsizing. She had found work writing freelance articles for several online BDSM magazines about the various aspects of her introduction into the lifestyle and the lessons she had learned along the way. She could write anywhere, as long as she had Internet access, so there was nothing keeping her tied to New Bern, other than Taurus and the love she had for him.