Dark Consequences (Club Risque Book 4)

by Poppy Flynn

  "Of course, it doesn't always mean that they're not, either," Laurel cut in. "But generally, those types of women are referred to as 'slaves' and they are a tiny minority."

  Luanna was floundering again, and Desi was quick to see that. "Of course, 'slave' is just a title as well, remember," she interjected hurriedly. "But those are people who take submission to a whole different level. What you need to remember is that it's a choice. And it's their choice. There is no coercion here. People participate in BDSM, at whatever level they are comfortable with, because that's what they enjoy. For some, that's a 24/7 commitment, but for the majority, it's a way to…" She faltered as if searching for the right words.

  "…get our freak on a couple of times a week," Laurel finished for her with a cheeky grin.

  Desi raised one eyebrow then laughed. "Not quite how I was going to put it, but yeah, I guess that about sums it up," she accepted.

  Chapter 7

  The things Desi had said during their lunch date swirled around and around in Laurel's head. She knew some of it was true and she appreciated her boss' concerns, but Laurel couldn't help thinking it was time to push the envelope and see where things with Connor were heading. She had given him time; she had allowed them to move into a casual, easy friendship. But Laurel wanted more from him, and she knew he was never going to take that step on his own. They'd been circling around each other for the best part of a year and, as far as Laurel was concerned, it was time to make her move. He'd been back at head office for a while and, as usual, there had been no contact between them while he'd been gone. She felt like things had slipped in that time. But he was going to be back in a few days, and with a week either side of Desi and Joel's month-long honeymoon, that gave her six weeks in which to cement their relationship and move it to the next level.

  Connor was looking forward to seeing Laurel. Whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, there was a smile on his face and a spring in his step as he crossed the marbled foyer of Blackwood Universal at the thought of seeing her for the first time in almost three weeks. He'd missed her—although he wasn't going to admit that, either—and the contemplation of both their easy camaraderie and the red-hot sexuality they shared had him picking up his pace in anticipation.

  What he hadn't anticipated was the way Laurel plastered herself all over him, the second he walked through the door, and planted a long, blistering kiss on his surprised mouth. For a few seconds, he forgot himself, lost in her warmth and the generosity of her lips, eagerness filling his senses until a vague sense of movement in his periphery startled him into awareness. He stiffened and placed his hands on Laurel's shoulder to push her away. Not only was he somewhat averse to PDAs, but she also undermined his dominance with her aggressive behaviour. This was neither the time nor the place, and his previous good mood was replaced with irritation.

  Before he could say anything, Desi poked her head out of her office and saw him. "If you two can put each other down for five minutes, perhaps we can get to work?" Her words were softened with a grin, so he knew she wasn't really bothered, but Connor was still riled.

  Putting Laurel away from him and throwing her a frown, he answered Desi, "Of course. I'm right behind you." With that, he followed her into her office without so much as a word to Laurel. They would talk later!

  Okay, so maybe that hadn't been her best move, Laurel considered as Connor walked away. She was a bit peeved that he hadn't spoken to her, but there was plenty of time later, she supposed. Trust Desi to turn up right at the wrong moment. As she sat down at her desk to get some work done, Laurel tried to ignore the way her hardened nipples were rubbing against the lacy fabric of her bra. Damn, one small taste of him and now she was horny, too! She squeezed her thighs together and squirmed on her seat, trying to ease the ache that had started deep down inside. It was going to be a very long day. She couldn't help wondering if Connor would be up for a bit of work day hanky-panky in the board room…or even the stationary cupboard. Heck, anywhere, really!

  By the end of the day, Connor still wasn't sure just how he was going to punish Laurel for her transgressions. But, boy, did she have it coming! He'd spent an uncomfortable meeting with Desi trying to surreptitiously adjust his erection, and consequently, his mind had been on Laurel instead of on the job, and that had just added to his irritability. Not only that, but she had him second guessing his reactions to her, which had left him feeling out of control, in turn, causing him to panic. He damn well loathed that overpowering feeling of dread and anxiety. It harkened back to a place in his past where he flat out refused to be ever again. His knee jerk reaction had been to just avoid her and thereby preclude any kind of confrontation, whether that was an argument about her overstepping the parameters of their 'non' relationship or a punishment that had the distinct probability of them getting physical. And that just made him angrier because it felt like running away, and Connor was damned if anyone was ever going to hold enough power over him to cause avoidance of a situation. He'd tried that once and it hadn't worked anyway. He'd vowed, when he got older, that he would always face any issues head on, and no way was he going to let one bratty little submissive get the better of him. He would deserve to be stripped of his Master title at Club Risqué if he ever allowed that to happen. So, no, evasion wasn't a viable option, no matter how much his psyche kept telling him to make his escape. He was a man now; he wasn't a confused and impressionable teenager any more, betrayed by someone he had loved and trusted and who had left an unfillable void in his life, which endured to this day. He was the master of his own destiny and he would meet it unflinchingly. Even if it did leave a bad taste in his mouth.

  Connor decided on leaving Laurel guessing for the rest of the day. He didn't avoid her, but neither did he seek her out. He got on with his work, was patronisingly polite and civil during any enforced contact. And he made sure they were never alone. There was no way that Laurel could fault his behaviour, but he could see her getting more and more wound up as the day went on. Still, there was no opportunity and nothing she could say anyway. That was almost a satisfying punishment in itself and it went a long way towards easing Connor's tension.

  At the end of the workday, Connor made sure he was tied up and unavailable until he was certain she had left. Then he concluded his responsibilities and stalked out of the building toward his hired car, his long, purposeful stride eating up the distance and his features fixed into a somewhat surly but determined expression.

  Laurel flopped down among the brightly coloured scatter cushions on her comfortable sofa and huffed out a breath, scattering the loose tresses that had fallen into her face with the abrupt movement. She had changed into a pair of soft, worn jeans which clung to her like a second skin but were supremely comfortable, having been aged to perfection, and teamed it with a deceptively nondescript tee-shirt which was plain but clung to every inch of her voluptuous curves. The outfit was deliberately casual, so she didn't look like she was trying too hard, but still aimed to knock Connor's socks off.

  Off course, right now, it looked as though even that had been trying too hard since she hadn't had a chance to speak to Connor during the entire day. Not even so much as a 'hello', since she had jumped him and Desi had interrupted, and that had been the end of that. Connor hadn't said anything—that could be a good thing, or it could be a bad thing—she never had time to find out. Not then, in the heat of the moment, nor during the rest of the day when he had been rushed off his feet every time she had seen him.

  Sure, Laurel knew he had to get everything sorted out and under control before Desi left for her honeymoon, but he could, at least, have found a moment to speak to her, however brief that might have been. It rankled somewhat that he hadn't, but she wasn't going to read too much into it. Well, not just yet, at least.

  From her small but homey kitchen area the tangy, cheesy smell of homemade lasagne wafted through her apartment to tempt the taste buds. She had painstakingly prepared it from scratch, making the meat sauce in advance so it co
uld both marinate overnight and save her time putting it together this evening. It was one of Connor's favourites, except she had never managed to invite him. She'd put it on to cook anyway, even though the events of the day and her numerous attempts to catch him alone had all been in vain and had left her frustrated and lacking in appetite. There was garlic bread sitting on the counter, already wrapped in silver foil as well. She could ring him…except he wasn't really receptive to calls or messages. Maybe just a quick text message. Her thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt by the loud hammering on her front door. Laurel startled as the pounding noise broke the quiet and jumped up, hurrying to the door and mumbling under her breath as she swung it open. "Okay, okay…keep your pants on!"

  Connor blazed through the door, slamming it closed behind him so that it rattled on its frame. "On the contrary, I think those pants should come right off, right now!" he growled, grabbing her firmly by the arm with one big hand as he hauled her into the lounge and made a beeline for the sofa.

  "C-Connor?" Laurel stammered in surprise, scrambling to keep up to prevent him from actually dragging her. She took in his thunderous expression and the fact that he was still wearing the same navy suit and pale blue silk tie that he'd worn to work that day, confirming that he'd come directly from the office and hadn't even stopped to loosen the precise oxford knot that it was fixed in.

  He dropped onto her couch heavily enough to scatter the cushions and draw an ominous creak from the wooden frame, pulling her right down with him and directly across his knee. Without so much as a civilised greeting, he fumbled underneath her for the buttons on her jeans and wasted no time at all dragging them down around her knees and taking her panties with them.

  "Connor! What are you doing?" Laurel screeched.

  "I would have thought that was perfectly obvious," Connor retorted. "I'm giving you the spanking you so richly deserve!"

  With that, he brought his hand down hard and fast, before she could even object, pinning her down with his other hand as she bucked and kicked until he trapped her flailing legs between his own without so much as missing a beat.

  Laurel squealed and swatted at him with her right hand, the left one gripping his ankle to try to steady herself. She wasn't ready for this. He had taken her by surprise, and she wasn't in the right headspace. He was spanking her harder than he ever had before, and it hurt!

  "Stop it!" she shrieked, her voice breaking as the tears pooling in her eyes finally overran and raced down her cheeks.

  "Oh, no!" Connor denied. "You want to play hard ball with me, then you can take the consequences, missy." Stinging blows rained down on her tender backside, and the tops of her thighs burned, heating her skin in entirely the wrong way while she squirmed and wriggled and tried to ease the smarting throb that seemed to be pulsing beneath her reddened skin.

  Connor didn't let up until she finally went limp, only her shoulders quaking occasionally as she sobbed noisily. Her skin was hot under his hand, but he didn't make any move to soothe it at all. Instead, he leaned over and grabbed some tissues from the box on the coffee table and pushed them at her, waiting while she blew her nose and wiped her eyes before he pulled her upright and turned her to face him.

  "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young lady?" he asked sternly, keeping his face in an impassive mask that gave nothing away.

  "I'm sorry," Laurel blubbered. "I'm really, really sorry. I just forgot myself and acted impulsively. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "Anything else?" Connor demanded, refusing to soften his rigid demeanour.

  "It won't happen again, Sir," she sniffled in a suspiciously timid voice that Connor wasn't sure he should trust. "…and I made food for you, and I didn't ask, but it's okay, you don't have to stay. I just thought you'd be hungry and tired after all the travelling and would appreciate a proper cooked dinner…not that I knew you were coming over, since I never got to talk to you but…" Her voice trailed off, and Connor heaved a sigh, feeling like a complete dick as she dangled the meal in front of him as a gesture of thoughtfulness and generosity. How could he be so insensitive as to walk out and snub the gesture when she had just been trying to do something nice for him?

  "That was very considerate of you, Fluff. I would love to stay for dinner."

  Pulling her into the crook of his arm, he tucked Laurel's head under his chin and pulled her legs across his knee, divesting her of the jeans, which hampered her movement, and running a soothing hand across whatever piece of bare skin was within reach. He stroked her arm with his other hand and leaned his head back on the sofa, closing his eyes and missing the satisfied expression that ever so briefly flickered across Laurel's blotchy face.

  In the early hours of the morning, Laurel was awoken by the quiet sounds of Connor shuffling around her room in the grey pre-dawn light and she knew he was preparing to leave. A little pang went through her at the thought, even though, logically, she knew he didn't have an overnight bag or a change of clothes with him. Still, this was Connor, who was always prepared for any eventuality, and she would bet anything that he had a spare shirt and tie and a set of toiletries in his vehicle. And if not there, he would have a change at the office in case there was ever the need for a quick business change or he just spilled coffee on his shirt. That was just the kind of person he was, so it still stung. Plus, last night had been incredible. She honestly believed it meant something to him beyond just the kink.

  After they had enjoyed dinner together yesterday evening, the two of them had chatted and laughed and caught up on the few weeks since they'd seen each other. It had been a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere, and if Connor had held onto any residual anger from that morning, then it didn't show.

  It was exactly the kind of evening that Laurel wanted to spend with him on a permanent basis. The television had been on in the background, tuned to a movie that neither of them was really watching but which filled any silences and stopped them from being awkward. He had cuddled her on the sofa in a way that made Laurel realise that Connor truly enjoyed that kind of affectionate closeness, pulling her close and sifting his fingers through her hair or drawing patterns with his fingers on her shoulder. For all his outward reticence, he was a very tactile man, and during the entire evening, he had never stopped touching her once.

  As the night drew to a close, it was clear he intended to stay a little longer. He had pulled her up and led her to her bedroom, where he had slowly stripped off all her clothes, kissing and nipping at each little bit of skin he exposed before moving on to the next bit and driving her nuts with his lazy, unhurried progress, but she knew better than to rush him. Or to even show her impatience, although she had a sneaky feeling that he knew anyway. In fact, the slow way in which he was manoeuvring was showing all the signs of being just another devious way to punish her for this morning's indiscretion. But if it kept him with her, then, hey, who was she to complain?

  When she was finally naked, Connor had pushed her down onto the bed and used that pale blue silk tie to bind her wrists together, tying it off on one of the wooden dowels on her headboard then pulling her down until she was stretched out for his pleasure.

  He pushed her legs wide apart and settled himself between, taking his time, licking, blowing, stroking and kissing everywhere except the very place where she really wanted to feel his mouth…or his fingers.

  After what felt like forever, Connor had finally taken a long, slick lick along her seam, just stopping short of her needy clit. She had canted her hips over and over, silently begging him for more, but there was going to be no hurrying him. Instead, he had moved to her breasts, teasing just the areola, circling around and around them with one long finger but never venturing any closer. Never providing anything more than the lightest tormenting touch until Laurel was wound tight with wanting.

  Finally! Finally, he had moved lower and tickled each side of her labia with the tip of his tongue. A single finger had feathered along her slit, hardly even discernible against her smoothly waxed mou
nd. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, he slipped a single digit inside her achingly empty channel and taunted her needy bud with a whisper of his hot breath, so close and yet still not close enough.

  Laurel had felt as if she might almost jump out of her skin when, at last, he locked his lips decisively around that small, needy bundle of nerves. With a low rumble, Connor had splayed one large hand across her stomach to anchor her in place while he suckled the desperate nubbin. "You do not have permission to come!" he growled. His finger stoked in and out, whisper light, never quite doing enough but, nevertheless, the long drawn out climb still propelled her closer and closer to the edge. Then, just as she thought she might almost get there, Connor withdrew—his hand, his mouth, his teasing; everything.

  Laurel had heaved out a groaning, defeated breath, but Connor simply moved up her body and pulled one of her tightly beaded nipples into his mouth. At least there was no tormenting this time. He sucked hard and long until her nipples were sensitive and distended, each vigorous pull flaring an echoing tug directly in her lower abdomen. Now, his fingers returned rigorously, two of them scissoring and stretching her; rubbing and stroking, tantalising her G-spot, hurtling her towards the vortex, this time at break neck speed, as fast as his previous ministrations had been slow. Laurel was panting and writhing, unable to curb the keening little noises that were wrenched from her throat.

  But once again, just as she reached the peak of the precipice and was about to throw herself over into euphoria, Connor had backed off once again. Bastard! That time, Laurel had sobbed her frustration out loud. "No! Oh, God, please no. Connor, please…" But her begging had fallen on deaf ears, that time and the one after that. And so, it had continued until Laurel felt wrung out and exhausted, barely able to move from the excessive twin torment of being on the acute edge of pleasure, followed, ultimately, by the unbearable emptiness of denial.