French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (3 page)

Biting back a bored sigh, she closed her eyes again. Maybe if she endured long enough, the cumulative thuds of the lash would save her the need to visit Mason tomorrow, not to mention the $200 per hour fee she shelled out for one of his sessions.

As the circling lashes began to work on her front, the tails encountered a fresh canvas of untouched flesh. When one stroke landed low on the delta of her mound in an upswing, Mari felt a little twinge of response. It increased with the next enthusiastic throw that connected a hairsbreadth from her lower lips. Regretfully, he didn’t linger there, moving up her belly instead until the focus became the underside of her breasts.

She wanted to scream in frustration and opened her mouth to do exactly that, but she’d never dared be that bold before. Not with any of the other eight doms she’d scened with in as many months, and especially not with Derek. So how could she start with…

Something occurred to her in that moment, which effectively doused what little spark had been created. She didn’t recall his name.

Appalled, Mari racked her brain for the answer. Colton, perhaps? Or maybe, Kelton. Did she politely call him “sir” and pretend that she wasn’t completely horrified by her memory lapse? The truth was she didn’t know him at all and to be honest, preferred it that way.

Dear heavens! She blinked, focusing on the handsome jaw set in determination. What kind of slut had she become to allow a random stranger to strip her bare in the middle of a sex club, cuff her with arms and legs spread wide, immobilizing her with unbreakable chains or straps, and then take a lash to her?

Less than an hour ago, he’d approached her, promising a “sensual flogging that would have her rattling the windows with her screams of pleasure.”

She’d eyed the young dom with skepticism. If he succeeded, he’d be the first to deliver on his pledge. Lured by his confident enthusiasm, Mari blamed her poor judgment on sexual deprivation. A starving woman would scale high cliffs for sustenance. She should have known better.

He was too young, too inexperienced, too willing to abide by every limit on her list. Still, she’d accepted his proposal of a scene, wishing now that she hadn’t.

She’d been to this point with the other doms and it was about now, when she admitted they didn’t have what she needed that it turned awkward, and at times, ugly. No dominant wanted to admit his skill wasn’t up to par, but to be proved lacking in front of an audience, well, that was a blow to a dominant’s already over inflated ego. Some didn’t take it well and blamed her. One had called her frigid.

Mari hadn’t denied it. After all, she hadn’t come once during a scene in the entire eight months she’d been a member. And tonight was shaping up to be no different. In time, Kelton—or was it Colton?—might develop the skill for the command and control that she needed, but he didn’t have it tonight, and she would leave unfulfilled yet again.

Abruptly, the rhythmic strokes stopped and he approached. His hand was gentle as he stroked down her warm body, cupping her breasts, tweaking each nipple lightly, before slowly gliding down her belly and exploring between her spread thighs.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Sadly, his grunt of displeasure told her he’d found what she expected he would, a pussy as dry as the surrounding Texas hill country in a midsummer drought.

“This isn’t doing it for you at all, is it, honey? Let me try something else. Something with more of a bite.”

Yes! It’s about damn time! Bring on the whip!

That’s what her body demanded, yearning to feel the searing fire that a single tail could bring, that she desperately needed in order to feel alive again. However, unless he took complete control, ignored her wishes and threw her wretched limit list away, he was never going to make the windows rattle, let alone make her scream with pleasure.

Guilt consumed her next, as it had with all the other scenes that had gone badly. She should have been up front with him and admitted what she was, that she needed a sadist, not the sensual dom that he obviously was. Unintentionally, she’d duped yet another unsuspecting player, in the hopes she could be normal for once and tap into a different side of herself, one that could enjoy a slow seduction, or a fun spanking, or possibly find satisfaction through sex without pain. But she’d fooled herself as much as she’d fooled him and all of the others when she wasn’t forthright and didn’t disclose her struggle to find where she fit in these days.

And, she didn’t say that now. Instead, she tried to make him feel better and shoulder the blame for the blown scene.

“It’s not you, sir, it’s me. I have enjoyed your attention, truly, but I can’t seem to keep my focus tonight.” Dropping her gaze demurely, she tried to look and sound as contrite as she genuinely felt. “A personal matter is bothering me and I shouldn’t have come. I’m so very sorry. Please, sir, forgive me.”

He studied her a moment and Mari anxiously waited to see which response he would take, anger over the rejection, or rising to meet a challenge.

“Let me try the crop. The sting will make you forget about your troubles for a bit and help you relax.”

Even after the extended time Colton-Kelton had spent on her, his determination was untiring. This was rather endearing and made her think he had more dominant qualities than she’d given him credit for. She was done, however, exhausted emotionally and physically. Perhaps, she was done with the club altogether. No sense wasting anyone else’s time and energy.

“Thank you, sir, but I think I should call it a night. I’m not good for either of us, obviously, and I have a long drive home. Surely it’s close to midnight.”

“It’s not yet ten o’clock, sub.” He shot her an irritated glare.

She’d only been there an hour? My how time drags when you’re not really having fun. But she didn’t say that to him, she wouldn’t ever be so rude. She did explain that she was from out of town and had a long commute.

“Stop trying to let me down easy, Mari. Clearly, you need something that I can’t give you. As you suggested, we’ll end it here.”

She felt awful, feeling the heat of his frown as he moved to release her. It didn’t help that he recalled her name when she didn’t have the same courtesy. As a one-night stand submissive, she just plain sucked.

He moved behind her to remove the spreader bar and wrist cuffs attached to the eye bolts in the floor. While he worked quickly, her eyes rose to the few stragglers at the velvet ropes that cordoned off their station. The crowd they had started with had quickly departed, undoubtedly recognizing the lack of chemistry and the less than satisfying and quite tepid scene that was playing out. As her gaze passed over a lone man and a couple standing at the perimeter, the latter probably waiting to use the station next, she halted, doing a double take as she scanned back. It was then that she connected with the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. She took in his strikingly handsome features, long dark lashes, full masculine lips, and the light scruff of a dark beard covering his strong jaw and chin.

Despite never having seen his face, there was instant recognition. It wasn’t the color of his hair or the broad set of his muscular shoulders that told her who he was. Nor was it the black button up shirt that molded to a defined chest, its open collar, revealing a touch of smooth olive skin, or the non-traditional black dress pants that molded like a second skin to every bulge and contour of his thighs. It was none of that, although her heart raced and her hard nipples ached at what she saw.

More so, it was the confidence he exuded in his cross armed, wide legged stance as he stared back at her. He was the whip master; she’d bet money on it. And as magnificent as he was, the way he aroused her from a distance, even without a whip in his hand, was stupefying.

How long had he been watching? Had he arrived at the bitter end, or had he seen the entirety of the crash and burn scene? As his eyes slowly tracked down her body, she decided his bearing witness to her lackluster performance was a good thing, because wherever his gaze touched, her skin came alive as if he stroked her with his fingers. Desire burst to life in her anew, rivaling the fire that ignited her senses when she’d watched him wield his whip earlier. Her nipples hardened and her pussy became damp as her body instinctively prepared to receive him, although her mind said, “No way in hell.” Unlike Kelton-Colton, this was an experienced master, skilled and dominant to the extreme. He’d bend her to his will, assuredly crushing her heart in the process.

His gaze, a deep forest green in the low lights of the playroom, finished its perusal and returned to her face. A slight smile curved his lips as he tipped his head in acknowledgement. Then, his mouth tilted up in a devilish grin as his eyes dipped meaningfully to her swollen, hard tipped breasts. He quirked a knowing brow and heat flooded her face. Without a doubt, he was aware that her dom hadn’t been able to produce in an hour-long session of focused caressing, restraints and flogging, what his brief perusal had achieved in seconds.

Lowering her lashes, she looked away, impatiently waiting for her dom for the moment to set her free. Once he had, she apologized once again and abruptly excused herself without gaining his permission. Looking neither left, nor right, she bent and scooped up her pile of discarded fetwear and in a whirl, rushed naked to the locker room. Not once did she turn back, determined to leave the whip-wielding dom to the bolder, braver subs that would be better able to handle his brand of domination and leave with their hearts intact.

“We’ve got it covered,” the calm collected voice in her ear reassured her. “I already have a full team, all paired off for efficiency. While I don’t mean to offend, sugar, you would be odd man out, literally. It will go more quickly without another set of hands in the mix.”

Adriana Dunbar was her store manager as well as her best friend for the past five years. Anyone else would have ceded to the boss’s wishes, but she had always been up front with Mari and told her when she was getting in the way, which was now.

“Seriously, Mari. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Why don’t you stay home and get some rest? Better yet, take the day and head to the beach. You could use a little color, sweetie. You looked pale the last time I saw you.”

Although wrapped up in kind words and dripping with concern, Adri’s tone came across as unusually patronizing. Mari bristled like an angry porcupine. It was her shop, dammit. If she wanted to come in and work for a spell, then she would.

“Adri, I—” she began, but was immediately interrupted.

“Come on, Mari,” the manager continued, although she turned down the condescension minutely. “It’s inventory time. You know that’s your least favorite thing to do. You pay us well to manage the scutwork for you. Take advantage of us.”

“Actually, I don’t mind it.”

Adri’s laughter rolled light and airy through the phone. “Last time, you said you’d rather have hot needles jammed under your fingernails. And, might I add, you bailed two hours in with a migraine.”

Mari blew out a breath. Put that way, she sounded like a prima donna owner who did exactly what Adri was accusing her of doing, breezing in disturbing the flow out of boredom. Her friend was right. Inventory was tedious and she hated it worse than anything at the shop, but lately staying home alone without anything to do except dwell on the pathetic turn her life had taken was worse.

Convinced now that she shouldn’t inflict herself on her staff solely because of that, she relented. “Fine, but I want to come along on the next buying trip. I’ve missed that.”

“Of course, sweetie. That is your area of expertise, after all. Fall fashion week is next month. Do you want to make reservations, or should I?”

“I will. It will make me feel useful.”

“Aw, sugar, don’t talk that way. You know if you really want to help with inventory, we’ll make it happen.”

“No, you’re right, I’ll only muck up your well-oiled machine.”

They hung up after making plans to meet for brunch on Sunday before the shop opened for its half day. As soon as she disconnected, another call came through. The name on the caller ID brightened her day instantly.

“Jordy,” she said excitedly.

“Hi, Mom. I’ve only got a minute before class and can’t talk. Can you deposit my monthly funds a few days early? I’m a little short.”

“Of course, honey, but—”

“Gotta run. Professor Sherman is a real stickler with stragglers. Talk soon. And thanks.”

Then there was nothing except disappointment as she stared at the display as the call disconnected. It had been weeks since she’d seen him. A few short texts and calls were all she’d had in between. She missed him and Beth, both.

A minute couldn’t have passed before her phone was vibrating again.

“Beth! Honey, are you coming home this weekend? I’ve got tickets for that art exhibit—”

“That’s why I was calling. I’m in between classes so I can’t go into it now, but I need to cancel. That cute guy in my biology class finally asked me out. I couldn’t say no. I know we had plans, but can I take a rain check for next weekend?”

“Sure, but don’t you have a concert then?”

“Rats! You’re right. We’ll make it the next one for sure. Hey, I’ve gotta go. Class starts in two minutes.”

“Okay, baby. Call me and let me know how the date goes.”

“Sure thing. Oh, can you shoot me about two hundred bucks so I can get a killer outfit? You’re the greatest. Bye, Mom!”

Feeling like an ATM, who was out of sight and out of mind except when one of them was in dire need of cold hard cash, she sank down on the couch. Listening to the quiet of her big empty house, she grabbed the cashmere afghan draped over the armrest and curled up under it, feeling sorry for herself. As she stared at the cornflower blue and white wallpaper that she was beginning to hate, she contemplated another lonely weekend. All too quickly, the realization followed that she had nothing to occupy her time during the week either. She closed her eyes against the loneliness only to see a pair of haunting green eyes when she did. It didn’t take much to decide another trip to San Antonio would occupy a few of the monotonous hours that had become her life. But the whip master was out of the question.

Abruptly, she sat up, determined to do something this weekend. She’d call Reyn, nice safe good-looking Master Reyn. He’d gotten her closer than any of them and after their last session, he’d given her his number. It wasn’t that he sent her pulse racing or that she was ready to prostrate herself on the floor and swear undying love and loyalty to him, but he seemed perfect for her—perfectly safe. He was looking to play and had no problem adhering to her restrictions without the head games, unlike most of the other doms were inclined to play, seeing it somehow as their ‘job’ to push her limits and expand her BDSM horizons. Nuts to that! She wasn’t interested in being expanded and Reyn didn’t want more than she was willing to give, unlike so many others.

Mari reached for her phone, daring to send him a text. It wasn’t like her to be so forward and make arrangements for a scene, but it was better than trolling and sitting in her house for another weekend alone.

Within the hour, they had plans to meet and Mari was facing back to back weekends in San Antonio. It was a first, once a month as frequent as she’d ever visited. But this would be different, with someone waiting for her. No trolling, or negotiating, and hopefully, without the stress of all those parts she didn’t enjoy, she could get past the barrier and finally get some satisfaction from the parts that she did, or used to.