Done [Running to Love 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (19 page)

Max and the woman he’d been talking to were gone, and Lacey thought they had probably gone back to the members’ area. Max didn’t usually take his women back there unless they wanted to view a scene, but there was always a first time, and Lacey hadn’t been back to the club for a long time. She had no idea of who was connected to whom anymore.

She saw Monica with her long-time partner, Robert, another detective, cuddled together in one of the big chairs set against the far wall. Monica had been the most tenacious in her efforts to keep the connection with Lacey, and she felt sorry that she had pushed Monica away. She would try to remedy that in the near future. Monica looked up at that moment and saw Lacey looking her way. She blew a little kiss, and Lacey pretended to catch it, her happiness growing at Monica’s apparent lack of ill will. She waved back, just as Greg arrived with a glass of bubbly liquid.

“Who are you enticing now, Lacey?” His tone was teasing, and Lacey knew he had recovered from her brief connection with Alistair. She was very curious about what was going on with him, but this club totally respected privacy, and she wouldn’t ask. Greg would tell her if it was his to tell.

She took the little glass and smiled her thanks before taking a sip. It was ginger ale. Greg had a beer though, and Lacey felt a dip of disappointment. Alistair wouldn’t let anyone drink if they were going into the back of the club. He demanded that they be in control of their faculties, buzzed only by sexual desire and need, if they were going to make use of those back rooms, and everyone complied or were ousted as members. No exceptions. If Greg was drinking, then it meant there would be no scene tonight for her. Lacey fought her disappointment even as she accepted his decision. He was doing what was right, and she knew it. Even so, a little imp of mischief seized her, and she pushed her bottom lip out, faking a perfect pout. He immediately responded.

“What’s wrong, Lacey?”

“You’re having a beer.”

He shrugged. “Nonalcoholic. It’s a poor substitute, but tastes close.”

“Oh.” Well, that was interesting. She looked carefully at Greg and saw something simmering beneath the surface. He looked like he wanted to laugh, and she wondered what he and Anton had talked about at the bar. Anton used to be military and was slightly known to her. He was pulling weekend bar duty by the look of things. Whatever Anton shared had Greg very interested. He had also stopped to exchange a few words with Alistair. She waited.

“If you’re ready, we’ll head into the back, Lacey.”

Her pulse throbbed, and her juices began to flow again before she thought it through. Greg wasn’t going to do a scene with her tonight that involved her submission in front of the other members because of her
condition
. So there was something else going on, and she supposed she wouldn’t mind seeing who it was, but Greg was going to pay for his teasing later. She put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet, then followed him through the green door into the club proper. Monica and Robert immediately followed them, but she didn’t see Stephan and Melissa. If that woman was up tonight, then Lacey was leaving, but a steady pull on her arm kept her following Greg. They arrived at the so-called soft dungeon, and Lacey blinked. She blinked again, but it was indeed Max who was stretched on the cross. At least she thought it was Max, although she had never seen him naked before, but the sight of his tall, broad physique fit her memory of him, as did the shock of thick, blond, curling hair. He looked totally buff and hot, even if she noticed it from a totally objective viewpoint. She turned to Greg to orient herself, and he pulled her to fit against his side, dropping his chin to rest it on the top of her head, and Lacey bit back the words that sat on the tip of her tongue. The whistle of a strop took her immediate attention, and she watched it curl around Max’s ribs before withdrawing, only to come down again with even greater impact in very nearly the same place, an indication that the person wielding it had very real talent.

That person was clearly female, with a tall, slender build and long, flowing grayish blonde hair. Her features were obscured by a red silk mask, and she wore a tight leather dress of the same color. Her matching stilettos were planted firmly, and she was totally focused on Max, laying each stripe with methodical purpose, working her way down his muscular back and across his tight buttocks, clearly paying attention to every reaction he made. Max arched into each lash but didn’t make a sound. Sexual tension crackled in the air to the accompaniment of the hushed breathing of the spectators. It was a scene Lacey could never have imagined in her whole life as one that would speak to her in such a significant manner, but it was amazing. She imagined herself in Max’s place, only with Greg wielding the strop, and she trembled with arousal. Then she put herself in the other woman’s position, and her hand itched to hold the leather and lay it lovingly across Greg’s naked body. She turned a speculative look on him, and he bent to whisper in her ear.

“Never going to happen, Lacey, but it sure does make a person think. Max is someplace else, and it looks like a great place to be.”

Lacey watched the Domme, or whoever she was, step close to Max and speak to him, trailing her fingers over his reddened buttocks. It took some time, but Max answered her, although Lacey couldn’t make out their conversation. It was clearly personal, intimate. The woman walked around in front of Max, and he suddenly moaned, his hips thrusting as much as his spread-eagle position would allow. There was no doubt what was taking place behind the shield of his body, and strangled sounds emanated from various throats around the room, and people shuffled and moved restlessly, Lacey among them. A long, slender hand tipped with scarlet nails came into view between Max’s widespread legs to knead his scrotum. Max came on an agonized groan, and Alistair and another man stepped forward to help release and ease him down. He sank to his knees and dropped his face into the woman’s lap as she went to the floor with him and then dropped a light blanket around his shoulders. Lacey saw her uncap a bottle of water and hold it to Max’s lips, and her heart ached at the tender moment.

“Come with me, sweetheart.”

Lacey pouted for real as Greg drew her away, her eyes still devouring the scene, her mind going back to the times others appreciated her time on the cross, and celebrated with her, had she but known the extent of it. She looked at Max and his lady in red with not a little envy as they disappeared from view and wondered where she had seen those shoes before. Then Greg scooped her up and turned into a members’ room and everything fled her mind except for the thoughts of a night full of pleasure.

“Take that nice little dress off, Lacey, unless you want to go home in my shirt.”

Lacey turned her back to him, reaching up to lift her hair out of the way, dropping her head forward so that Greg could access the tiny buttons. He undid them with agonizing slowness, and she fought her impatience, knowing it was making him crazy as well. At last, the dress dropped apart and slipped down her shoulders. She bent her arms to catch the fabric and turned to face her man, holding the white folds against her breasts, letting it slip a tiny fraction at a time while she kept her eyes demurely lowered.

“Don’t make me wait, wench.” Ah, the lusty pirate or the lord of the manor. Either mantle sat on Greg’s shoulders as if he were born to them. Lacey’s panties were soaking, but she ignored his edict and continued to tantalize him. He was on her in the next breath, and she shrieked as he swept her off her feet, stripping the dress away as he did so, leaving it crumpled on the floor like tissue paper. He had indeed unwrapped her.

He sat down on the leather-covered branch at the foot of the big bed and laid her over his knee, trapping her legs between his, mashing her breasts against his thigh, her hair dangling to obscure her vision. He pulled her panties down to her knees and ran his thumb between the cleft of her buttocks until he reached her anus. The callused digit pressed suggestively, and Lacey clenched.

“Such a pretty little hole, wench, all puckered and tempting. Relax your cheeks, sweetness, while I examine it further. And do not bother me with inane conversation.”

Lacey managed not to pant in excitement, trying to play along, and disobeyed him, clenching as hard as she could in mute denial. His hand followed the curve of her ass and then came down on the fullest part in an open-handed blow that sounded far worse than it felt. She wiggled and was rewarded with two more swats in the same place. Her bottom heated and stung, and Lacey let her legs slip apart, just enough to give the appearance of complying. His hand slipped between her legs and along her slit, and he chuckled when he felt how wet she was.

“Trying to hide your secrets from me. That’s not allowed.”

Lacey nearly came off of Greg’s lap as he shoved two fingers up inside her.

“Be still!” he warned, and pulled out just to do it over again.

Lacey did her best to obey this time, and Greg removed his fingers to further lubricate them in her juices then turned his attention to her bottom hole, rubbing her cream into the little star. She relaxed and felt him slip inside, just a fingertip she was sure, but it felt so much bigger. He rotated it, and she moaned.

“Please,” she begged. “Spare me.”

“I will not listen to you. You are a nice, tight little piece, my girl,” he crooned above her. “I’m going to enjoy pushing in there, especially once I heat this cushion up.”

Lacey held her breath and waited in deep anticipation. Greg chuckled and took his finger away.

“I think I’ll have you beg for it, little one.”

He abruptly stood, and Lacey’s lips parted on an involuntary cry as she tumbled toward the floor but naturally he caught her and held her away from him at arm’s length, and she was able to set her feet on the floor.

“Take the little piece of silk off and hand it to me, wench.”

Lacey’s hands lifted of their own accord and fumbled with the back clasp of her bra. She loved the way Greg’s eyes focused with such heat on her outthrust breasts as she did so. She let the straps slide down her arms and the cups drop away in slow motion to reveal her hard, pebbled nipples. She ached with need, and the scent of her arousal filled the air. Greg gave her a dark smile, and she fairly dripped at the sight of it. She offered him her bra, and he took it, walking slowly around her to pull her hands, one at a time, behind her back. He efficiently tied them together and pressed a kiss right between her shoulder blades. Lacey sucked in a breath and stood awkwardly, her panties hobbling her at the knees. She felt Greg slide down behind her and skim them to the floor. She stepped out of them at his tap on each ankle and waited for his next order. Greg walked to the big bed and sat down, motioning to her to come to him. She did so, her legs trembling like a newborn fawn’s.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“On your knees.”

Lacey dropped, certain Greg would ease her way, and he did, catching her by the shoulders to ensure she wouldn’t bruise herself. Her face was on the same level as his lap, and the bulge of his erection tented his slacks. He ran a finger over her cheek and drifted it across her lips, and then his hands went to his zipper. He popped the button and slowly drew the tab down, the soft buzzing sound actually sounding like a chainsaw to her sensitized ears. He pulled the fabric wide and reached in to pull his cock out of the opening. Lacey tried to remember her role, but widening her eyes wasn’t indicative of anything other than very real appreciation for his member. The thick vein on the underside pulsed under her avid gaze and the wide mushroom cap shone purple, glazed with pre-cum.

“I will master you tonight, wench, and this is the instrument of your education.”

Lacey loved this game. She remembered to lower her eyes again like a maiden, and Greg pushed his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back so that her nose brushed up the velvety skin of his cock.

“Kiss it.”

Lacey hesitantly pursed her lips and pressed a tiny kiss against the head. Greg hissed, and emboldened, she kissed it again, this time letting her tongue flicker out.

“There will be a punishment for teasing me, wench. Open your mouth!”

Greg’s voice echoed around the room, and for a moment Lacey was transported to a place where an innocent girl knelt before a hard man who was intent on debauching her. She let her mouth drop open, and he pulled her onto his cock, shoving deep inside her lips, controlling the movement. He fucked her open mouth in what appeared to be leisurely movements, but Lacey could taste his cum in ever-increasing amounts. She refrained from closing her lips around him or trying to suck him, although she did use her tongue just a fraction. Greg instantly pulled out, and she knew she had almost caused him to lose control. She felt her power and veiled her eyes with her lashes so that he wouldn’t know, but of course he did.

He stood, dragging her up by her hair and one hand under the soft curve of her upper arm. The little sting of pain enhanced her anticipation, and he whirled her around. She expected him to toss her upon the bed, belly first, but he gently lowered her and she knew he was thinking of their baby. Her face dropped onto the bedding. Greg immediately positioned her so that she could breathe easily and then tucked two pillows beneath her belly, pulling her thighs apart as he did so.

“Do not move, wench. You will not like the consequences if you do.”

Lacey contemplated her options, but then Greg was back from his delve into the little table by the head of the bed, and he straddled her thighs, the weight of his hand between her shoulders holding her down, although without the use of her hands, she was quite helpless. It made her hotter. His other hand once again passed over her bottom and then down in between her buttocks to unerringly seek out her anus. His fingers were coated with an oily substance, and one slipped inside her easily, going deep. Lacey instinctively tried to push him out, and he tugged at her hair before pressing down again on her back. She relaxed and felt another finger join the first. She gulped in air and breathed through the stretching and prickle of pain until other sensations replaced them, all those little nerve endings awakening under the intrusion. After scissoring and curling the tips to stretch her further, he pulled out, and Lacey felt the solid end of a plug push inside. It widened her a little more, and when Greg turned it, she writhed and whimpered, trying to rub her clit against the pillow where it would do the most good. He put his hand under her and lifted so that she couldn’t get any friction going and pushed the plug ever deeper until it was fully seated. His actions let her knew that he was totally in control of her pleasure. Lacey keened in frustration.