Club Shadowlands (11 page)
82
Cherise Sinclair
Pining after Master Z was not good.
At night, her tiny apartment felt more lonely than normal as she thought about the difference in her, unsure what it meant. On the plus side of the ledger, she now knew her sex drive was alive and well, that she could have fantastic orgasms just like other women.
That change was so new, so mind-altering, she couldn’t quite encompass it. She felt…sexy.
But on the minus side… Well. Leaning back on the couch, she stared up at the ceiling.
Those miraculous orgasms were from being tied up, having a man tell her what to do, and make her do it. Even as she shook her head in disbelief, her body heated, moistened. Ready for more. Wanting more.
Surely she didn’t want more bondage stuff. But the thought of never having sex like that again was…was like imagining life without chocolate. She rested her head in her hands.
What was she going to do?
Saturday arrived after seven days of confusion and six nights of erotic dreams. She’d fall asleep, and Master Z would be there, his firm hands holding her in place, his mouth on hers, on her breasts, on everywhere. She’d awaken, panting and aroused, still feeling restraints around her wrists, hearing his low whisper in her ears.
In her spare time, she hit the Internet, researching BDSM. What she discovered hadn’t made her any more comfortable.
Now she paced across her living room. Time to decide what to do. Tonight was bondage night. She could return to the club… Or not.
This was just so complicated. She’d insulted him by refusing to give him her number.
He’d had her car towed and repaired as if it was nothing. He had subs who adored him. He’d hit her with a paddle and let other people do it too. He’d given her the best sex of her life and made her feel beautiful.
He probably wouldn’t even remember her name.
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That thought stopped her halfway across the room. What if he looked at her like she were…nobody. Another customer. A one-night stand inconveniently showing up. Her arms chilled, and her stomach felt like she’d swallowed cold oatmeal. Could she bear that?
She shook her head. No. No, she really couldn’t. All her arguments disappeared in the face of such humiliation. She couldn’t go back; he wouldn’t --
Her doorbell rang and she frowned. At seven o’clock on a Saturday night, who could be at her door? A pizza delivery to the wrong address?
She checked the peephole -- a delivery man -- and opened the door. “Yes?”
“Miss Jessica Randall?”
“That’s me.”
He handed her a soft package. “Have a nice evening, ma’am.” He left before she could respond.
Too bizarre. She hadn’t ordered anything. After locking the door, she set the package on the glass coffee table and started ripping. Inside the envelope, soft tissue paper wrapped around a…nightie? Taken aback, she held it up. Definitely a nightie in a baby-doll style. A soft pink with a halter top and lacy handkerchief hem. Real silk.
She had never worn anything like that in her life. What in the -- A card lay in the bottom of the package. Bold black handwriting. Tonight is lingerie night for the subs. I would like to see you in this and nothing else. Master Z.
Oh. My. God. Her heart seemed to stutter even as her legs turned wobbly. She dropped onto the couch. He wanted to see her. A thrill ran through her.
And then she frowned. She hadn’t given him her number, let alone her address. How had he known where to send anything? Of course. The limousine driver, she’d given him her address. Sneaky, Master Z.
Once again, he’d known how she felt. Some men might have shown up on her doorstep. Her heart gave a hard thud at the thought of seeing Sir. But he wasn’t that pushy.
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Instead, he’d found a smooth way to let her know he wanted to see her. A warm feeling grew in her chest. He hadn’t forgotten her.
Now it was up to her.
She scowled down at his gift. Wear that skimpy thing? Absolutely not.
She stared at it longer. Then, biting her lip, she stripped and slipped on the top. Cool silk drifted around her body. The halter top lifted her breasts up until they almost overflowed, and the bottom… Well, she’d seen shorter. Really. But not much. Although the points of the handkerchief hem dropped in front and back to midthigh, the sides only reached her hips.
She discovered a tiny G-string left in the package and dangled it from one finger. Wear this? What would be the point?
She walked over to a mirror. The nightie really did look pretty good on her, didn’t it?
She twirled so the hemline flirted with her legs. She’d seen less modest outfits at wedding showers. He hadn’t sent something that made her look totally slutty.
Actually, she couldn’t imagine Master Z sending anything vulgar.
She turned again. If she left her hair down, it would cover up a lot of the cleavage. For the drive, she could wear a coat and leave it in the tiny coatroom. Her hands started to sweat.
Was she really, really considering this?
* * * * *
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He wondered what Jessica was doing about now. Staring in shock at his gift? Trying to decide what to do? Her confidence in herself and her attractiveness wasn’t strong; that might influence her decision. Was she knowledgeable enough about her desires to set her feet on this path?
Clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled back to the main room. How brave was she?
* * * * *
Ben glanced up from his paperwork, and a big smile split his heavy features. “Well now, look who’s back.”
The welcome was sincere, and she smiled at him in return. “Guess so.”
“Master Z will be pleased.” He flipped through his file box, pulled out the papers bearing her signature. “The boss said, ‘This time, read them.’”
She laughed and started perusing the three pages. Several times she stopped to catch her breath at the ways she could have gotten in trouble and the penalties involved. Sir hadn’t lied to her about the punishment for messing up someone’s scene either. If anything, she’d gotten off lightly.
Ben was grinning by the time she finished. “A little overwhelming?”
“A lot overwhelming,” she muttered. If she’d read the forms last week, she’d never have set a foot inside. At least this time she had the benefit of some Internet research.
“Give me your coat, and leave your shoes in a cubby.” He nodded at the built-in shoe storage beside the coatrack.
After tucking her shoes away, she took off her coat, feeling like she was stripping.
He gave a low whistle, making her blush. “You look really nice. Go on in now.”
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Cherise Sinclair
The club room was more familiar this time, although the crowd’s attire had changed.
The female subs were all in lingerie with the males in low-riding bottoms. The Dom types wore dress slacks and shirts, leather or latex. Her nightie was actually one of the more discreet ones. Thank you, Sir.
Although most of the members were in couples or small groups, there were singles also.
And as she sidled up to the bar, she noticed the interested looks men -- and women -- cast her way. She noticed her breasts wobble under the sheer silk. Good grief, this was like being naked.
She glanced at an empty St. Andrew’s cross and winced. Or maybe not.
The bartender was another familiar face. Cullen. He certainly hadn’t grown any shorter; the man positively loomed over the customers. She settled herself onto a bar stool and winced as her all-too-exposed butt hit the chilled wood.
Cullen leaned an elbow on the bar to smile down into her eyes. “Little Jessica. I’m very happy to see you again. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a margarita, please.”
When he set the drink in front of her, she realized she’d left her wallet in the coat pocket. “My money’s in the coatroom. I’ll be back in --”
He shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t make that clear last time, did I? This is a private club; the members’ dues cover their drinks. And you’re Master Z’s guest.”
“That was last time. This time --”
“He’s expecting you, sweetie. This time, too.” His grin was slow and appreciative as he studied her. She flushed. “He also said if you were brave enough, you’d be a treat for the eyes. As always, he was right.”
She actually felt a quiver inside at the appreciation in his eyes.
Glancing away, she realized the tall man next to her was ogling her breasts. With a huff of exasperation and embarrassment, she turned toward the dance floor. Her eyes Club Shadowlands
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widened. Leathers and lingerie certainly made for…interesting dancing. The chemises, baby-dolls, and nightgowns offered very little protection against a Dom’s hands.
Wetting her lips, she looked away and tried to see if Master Z was around. But what could she say to him anyway? Hi there, want to tie me up again? Oh, God, she shouldn’t have come. This was too awkward, too embarrassing. She started to slide off the bar stool.
Hard hands grasped her around the waist and set her on her feet.
“Jessica, I am pleased.” Sir’s voice, deep and dark and smooth, sent a thrill running through her from her head to her toes.
She looked up into his intent eyes, then away, unable to meet his gaze. Chuckling, he held her out at arm’s length and studied her. He smiled. “Quite as lovely as I had imagined.
The pink suits you.”
“Um.” He wore a black silk shirt again with some of the buttons open, revealing his corded neck and hard upper chest muscles. She had run her hands over that chest, played with the springy black hair. Her fingers tingled; she wanted to touch him again. Wanted to be touched.
“Thank you for the…for the gown,” she said awkwardly. The all-too-thin fabric offered no barrier to the heat and strength of his hands.
He rumbled a laugh. “The gown was for my pleasure, pet.” Pulling her into his arms, he took her mouth in a lingering kiss. When he lifted his head -- when her head stopped spinning -- she realized he had one arm curved around her waist, and his free hand was rubbing her thong-bared buttocks.
She stiffened, tried to pull away. His grip tightened, tilting her hips into his. Fully erect, he pressed against her pubic area in a way that made her catch her breath.
“I look forward to taking you tonight,” he whispered in her ear, “to hearing you whimper and scream as you come.”
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Heat shot through her so suddenly, so fiercely, she almost staggered. With a deep laugh, he released her and set her glass in her hand.
Cullen had been watching. Now he grinned at Sir. “Feel free to share your pet anytime, Master Z.”
To Jessica’s alarm, rather than laughing and saying “no way,” Master Z inclined his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her mouth dropped open. He wouldn’t… They didn’t… Relief filled her as Master Z
curved an arm around her and headed toward the rear of the club.
After a few feet, he stopped. “I almost forgot the rest of your clothing.”
From the glint in his eyes, she didn’t think he was talking about a concealing robe.
“What would that be?”
He held one big hand out. “Give me a wrist.”
Oh, God. Asking for a wrist meant restraints, didn’t it? A tremor rushed through her and she felt herself dampen. “Now?”
“The only acceptable response from you is ‘yes, Sir.’”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.” Even as she placed her left wrist into his hand, warmth pooled inside her.
He unclipped something from his belt, and her eyes widened. How had she missed seeing what he carried? One side of his mouth curved up as he buckled a suede-lined leather handcuff snugly around her wrist.
“Next one.”
It was harder to give him her hand this time, knowing what he had in mind. But she did.
With an approving smile, he put the other cuff on her.
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She turned her hands over and studied the cuffs. Sturdy leather. The right cuff had one metal ring; the other cuff had another ring hanging from the first.
His intent gaze captured hers and didn’t move away as he snapped the rings on the two cuffs together, binding her hands together in front of her. This wasn’t in private. She pulled at the cuffs, her breathing increasing when nothing gave. “I don’t think I like --”
“Actually, you do,” he said, running the knuckles of one hand over her breasts where her nipples had tightened into hard points. When she tried to step back, he merely tucked his fingers around where the cuffs joined and held her in place.
She shook her head as he continued touching her, stroking her breasts.
“What are you feeling now, Jessica?” he asked, as if he wasn’t rolling one nipple between his fingers.
“I -- noth --” She stopped. No lies, he’d said. But…
“Just stop and think about your body, little one. Are you excited?”
Her heart beat quickly. Her breasts seemed to have swelled under his hands. Her private areas were wet and throbbing.
People walked around them; she could hear soft chuckles, but couldn’t look away from Sir’s intense eyes.
“Answer me, kitten. Do the cuffs excite you?”
“Yes.” She felt like such a slut. Kinky sex, that was all she wanted.
He smiled slowly, his gaze heating as he leisurely looked her over. “I like seeing you in them.” He touched her neck. “And seeing how they made your heart speed up.” He ran one hard finger across her lower lip. “How your lips tremble.”
He reached under her skirt and touched her so intimately, she choked. He lifted his fingers to his face, then hers. She could smell herself, so different than his scent.