Longing: Club Inferno (15 page)

“Anya?”

“What?” she screeched, turning red as a beet. Shifting—which didn’t help the distracting buzzing between her legs—she faced Colleen.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Tamping down a hysterical giggle, Anya nodded and plastered on a happy smile. “I’m just great. Why do you ask?”

“Because you stuttered all through your accessories class and now you’re looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

“Oh well,” Anya said, “I’m a little nervous about the part. Trey said a decision is going to be made any time now, and they haven’t even called me up to audition.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Colleen narrowed her eyes and leaned in to her.

“Yup.” Anya fled back a few steps. The buzzing was barely audible, but the last thing she wanted was for Colleen to know she was wearing a vibrator between her legs that Clint was controlling remotely.

“All right.” Colleen gave her a searching look. “I’ll see you later.”

Anya watched her go and then let herself into the lending closet, where she let out a huge breath. Placing her hands on the desk, she rode out the buzz until she came. Then she took out her phone and texted:

Four.

Immediately, the buzzing between her legs subsided. Staggering over to the couch in the back by the dressing room, Anya sprawled out. He was going to kill her if this kept up. The next time, she was going to pick truth.

“Truth is more dangerous, my ass,” she said.

That morning, Clint had gotten up to go swimming—after four hours of sleep. The man was a machine. He woke her up by sliding a loop over each of her legs. In the middle of the loops was a soft pad.

“Um, what are you doing?” she croaked, still groggy from sleep.

“This is your dare, lover. You’re wearing a vibrator between your legs for the rest of the day.”

“Wha—?” Her fingers clutched the sheets as he turned it on. The soft buzz went up and down in intensity. “Oh,” she whispered.

Buckling it across her waist, Clint secured it. “It’s wireless. I’ve got the controls. It will work everywhere in Couture. I’m going to control your orgasms today.”

“Clint, I’ve got to do my classes this afternoon.”

“I know,” he said, and leaned over to lavish sucking kisses on her breasts.

Anya’s eyes rolled back in her head from the pleasure. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She came off the bed moaning when he upped the intensity.

“Clint,” she cried, feeling the buzz wash over and over her sensitive clit. Lying back on the bed, she sighed in pleasure.

Lifting his head from her breasts, he placed the nipple clamps on her again.

“Oh,” Anya said, tensing as the orgasm came unexpectedly and shuddered through her.

“One,” he said, kissing her lips. “You text me every time you come today. And if you need me to turn it off. Don’t abuse it, though, or I’ll come and investigate.”

Anya sat up. “And then what happens?”

“You’ll find out. You seem to like my surprises.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her again. “Meet me in the studio around seven. You’re going to watch me shoot Dina’s scene. She’s very excited you’re going to be there.”

“What do I have to do?” Anya said.

“Just watch. I’ll do the rest.”

He thumbed a remote control and a low vibration rippled between her legs. It was nearly silent, thank goodness.

Anya stared up at the lending closet’s ceiling. They should paint it with a starry sky or something. She took out her phone and texted Clint.

What’s the record for the most orgasms?

83

In one day?!?

Kinsey found a woman who did 20 in 20 minutes

Anya put her phone away.

The door to the lending closet opened.

Oh, not again,
Anya thought.
Nefertiti better wear that damn key around her neck from now on.

Luckily, she recognized the voices. One was Marta, a fashion model, and the other was Fiona, a designer. Fiona kept her prototypes in here. They were probably doing a fitting. Anya knew she should get up and go find Colleen to work on their line, but she was just so damned comfortable. It was peaceful. She might have even dozed off to the drone of the familiar back-and-forth of the model and designer. But she heard them talking about Clint and her ears pricked up.

“That bartender at Ceili’s is damned fine,” Marta said. “I heard he’s a stripper.”

“Clint? Yeah, he’s sexy and he knows it. Turn around. I don’t like how the hem is falling.”

Anya heard rustling.

“I heard he’s a real jerk, though,” Marta said.

“How so?”

“This chick, Rita, who did a
Vogue
shoot with me said he’s dating the fat accessories instructor on a bet.”

Anya let the tears leak out of her eyes. Her heart knew it wasn’t true. She was actually more upset that Rita was modeling for
Vogue
. Still, it brought back the insecurities. Anyone who looked at Clint and her as a couple would always wonder why he was with her.

The humming started between her legs again.

Stop,
she texted. It immediately shut off.

There was no way she was going to be able to call in Istvahn to break this up. As much as she’d like to. She had two choices. She could walk out of here, facing them down and shaming them for talking about her, or she could stay here until they left.

“That doesn’t sound like Clint,” Fiona said.

Anya had to agree.

“He only dates models,” she continued.

I am a model, you bitch. I may not have been in
Vogue,
but I’m well respected.

“Maybe he was just throwing her a pity fuck,” Marta said.

Anya sat up. She couldn’t call Istvahn. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t call in the cavalry.

Come to the lending closet. I need you inside me.

“I did not fuck him in the lending closet,” Anya said. She’d blown him. Big difference.

“That’s not what Fiona said. She was very put out. She’s got a show here tomorrow and she needs to prepare. She said Clint barged in and told them to take a hike. Then she said you called out from the back that it was okay, they could stay. And then she said there were sex noises coming from the back.”

“Did she describe the sex noises?”

Clint had been surprised but enthusiastic when she dropped to her knees and almost ripped his pants off. He controlled the buzzer between her legs, so she was able to text him five and six when they were done.

“I think they were put out by the moaning.”

“I didn’t moan.” Anya thought back. Did she? Clint might have been a little loud. What could she say? She had mad skills. Looking at her fingernails, she smiled.

“I should remind you,” Colleen said, breaking into her thoughts, “that Fiona and Marta are not aware of Club Inferno. So I’m officially writing you and Clint up or giving you a verbal warning or some shit like that. Go fool around in the appropriate areas. We have enough of them, for pity’s sake. Or your own rooms. What are you, teenagers?”

“It served them right. They were being bitches.”

“They were very offended. Fiona’s an introvert.”

“Then she should have kept her mouth shut instead of spreading nasty gossip.”

Colleen took a swig of her soda and flipped a couple of sketches over to her. “I’m having Marisol start stitching these up. We’re going to launch next month unless something big stops us. What gossip?”

“Where’s the denim dress?” Anya asked.

Colleen crinkled up her nose. “I don’t like that one.”

“I do. It shows the range of the collection.” She shuffled through the papers until she found it. “Put this one in too.”

“Only if you tell me what they said to upset you. It couldn’t have been too bad, you didn’t call in Istvahn.”

“I figured Nefertiti would get mad if I blew him.”

“TMI—oh, who am I kidding. Good for you. Or good for him, rather. What did those skanks say to piss you off?”

“They said Rita told them that Clint was fucking me on a bet.”

“She’s out,” Colleen said. “I’m not standing for this petty high school bullshit. Please tell me you didn’t believe that crapola?”

“Considering he’s had plenty of chances to pump and dump me and he not only didn’t, he came back for more”—Anya stretched—“of course not. But seriously, don’t kick Rita out. She’s more trouble than she’s worth. When I get that part instead of her, she’ll be out of here and she’ll take Cesare with her. Speaking of which, check this shit out.” Anya scrolled to her text messages and tossed her the phone.

“Get out,” Colleen said when she read Cesare’s texts.

“Let’s see.” Anya weighed her options in her hands. “I could give up amazing sex with a hot Dominant stripper sex god who worships me and wants me in his life for a rich Italian count who dumped me because his mommy told him to. Decisions, decisions. Money doesn’t mean shit. I’m staying with Clint.”

“Good choice,” Colleen said, handing her back the phone. “It’s nice to see you happy.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve got to meet up with Clint. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.”

Colleen rolled her eyes. “Have fun.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Anya said, pausing to look back at her friend.

“Dante and I are teaching an advanced course tonight.”

Anya thought back. “Not the erotic asphyxiation one.”

“No,” Colleen said. “How do you know about that? It’s a little advanced for you.”

“I’m not going to one of your classes. I’d spend the whole time trying to make you laugh.”

“I’d have Dante beat you,” Colleen said. “No, this one is on whip training.”

Anya whistled the
Indiana Jones
theme song as she left her office.

Clint’s studio was open when she got down to Club Inferno, so she let herself in. He looked up and smiled at her, thumbing the remote on as she kissed him.

It turned her into an instant sex fiend. Their hands were all over each other. Clint turned down the intensity and put her at arm’s length. Anya pouted.

“Later,” he promised. “I’ve been editing the Switchblade videos for YouTube. They look great. Want to see them?”

“You bet,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

He played them back. There was one where the boys in the band were whipping Dante’s girls and everyone was laughing. “I stopped when it turned into an orgy,” he said.

The next video was a crowd shot of everyone drinking and dancing, including Anya and Colleen. “You’re both wearing way too many clothes,” Clint joked.

“Pervert.” She elbowed him.

“You know it.” He turned up the intensity on the vibrator.

Standing up on her tiptoes, Anya moaned in his ear. He was turning to kiss her when a woman walked in with Master Micah. She was wearing a robe and a collar. Micah held the leash it was attached to.

“Hi, guys,” Clint said. “This is my girlfriend, Anya.”

She got shivers when he said that.

“Anya, this is Dina, and I think you know Micah.”

She waved shyly. Micah was shirtless and wearing black jeans. He had a sleeve tattoo on each arm and he wore glasses.

“I’m going to set up the scene. Dina wants a video of her coming while being spanked. How much of Micah do you want in the video?” Clint asked.

With an apologetic smile at the Dom, Dina said, “Just his hands, please, sir. I want to mostly see my ass and him spanking me and getting me off.”

Nodding, Clint fiddled with the settings on the camera. “Micah, grab the fainting couch. I think that gives her enough room to stretch out.”

While Micah pushed that into position, Anya got comfortable on a chair behind the equipment. She hoped she wouldn’t wince and be a baby when Micah whacked Dina.

“Do you have any preferences on how you want to come?” Micah asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “Whatever you decide.”

“Good answer, pet,” he said, and helped her take her robe off.

Dina was naked underneath and Anya looked away, hoping her embarrassment wouldn’t be noticed. Micah sat down on the couch and pulled Dina across his lap.

“You got everything you need?” Clint asked.

Micah held up his two hands.

“Okay. Let me rig up the lights and I’ll tell you when to start. Dina, do you want music?”

“No, sir,” she said. “I don’t want anything to get in the way of hearing his lovely slaps.”

“You got it.” Clint went over to his equipment board and dimmed the lights so just a soft spotlight highlighted the couch. “Feel free to move around and get a better look,” Clint told Anya, with a brief kiss and a tickle across her clamped breasts.

Taking a shaky breath, Anya squirmed as he upped the intensity on the vibrator. “Seven and eight, baby,” he told her, and the anticipation filled her.

Her breathing was ragged as the pulse hit her clit with a throbbing lick that just wouldn’t stop. Toes curling, Anya fought the urge to pull Clint back for another kiss. He had work to do.

“All right, camera is on,” Clint said, moving in. “At your pleasure, Micah.”

Micah’s hands, instead of immediately striking Dina’s exposed posterior, just glided up her body. He poured oil over her back; the glistening wetness made Dina’s body glow under the light. He poured more over the curve of her buttocks and kneaded the flesh there.

The first crack of his hand in the dim light startled Anya, as did the increase in vibration. It buzzed high enough that she almost cried out, but Clint lessened it immediately. Apparently he was making good use of the tripod, if he had a hand free to operate the remote.

Micah’s hand flashed five times and slapped down on Dina’s behind. Each strike, Clint upped the intensity. The next crack Dina shouted in pleasure and Anya almost joined her. As Micah methodically spanked his submissive, Clint made sure Anya felt intense pleasure at each contact.

Dina’s buttocks were red and bore Micah’s handprints. When she was panting, he dipped his fingers inside her. Dina moaned. Anya closed her eyes and concentrated on controlling her breathing as Clint increased the vibrator’s settings again. Dina’s cries were louder now. Anya jumped when Clint kissed her. She hadn’t heard him come up.