by Raine Miller
No, she was certain he’d meant collar, and realized that was probably Dean’s purpose, too. Her husband might be okay with other men looking, but the diamonds fitted tightly around her neck made a clear statement that she was taken — his quiet stamp of ownership.
The bartender arrived, and she ordered a glass of white wine and Mac asked for his standard Johnnie Walker Black. Just as the bartender turned away to prepare their drinks, Jillian gasped and literally jumped in place as an unexpected shocking sensation rippled deep inside her body, then settled into a slow, pleasurable hum against her g-spot. She clutched the edge of the mahogany bar, and just in time swallowed the moan that rose into her throat, catching the purely sexual sound before it could escape.
Mac glanced at her, a slight frown of concern marring his brows. “Did something startle you?”
She was going to kill her husband. With effort, she tried to act normal, to pretend that she didn’t have a pleasure orb stimulating sensitive nerve endings and wreaking havoc with her concentration. “I’m . . . I’m fine.” She was so breathless she could barely talk.
Mac didn’t look completely convinced, but said nothing more. Their drinks arrived, and she took a big gulp of her wine, needing a bit of alcohol in her system to relax. She shuddered as the toy continued rubbing and shaking against her inner walls. Mac noticed her inability to stand still, and suddenly appeared very amused, his gaze much too perceptive.
“Dean must have got himself a new toy to play with,” he said, and grinned.
Jillian’s face flushed crimson, confirming Mac’s guess without saying a word. “I plead the fifth, and you are absolutely shameless for even going there.”
“I’ve been called much worse, and you should know by now that I’m about as bad as they come,” he replied with humor as he escorted her back toward Dean— who had his hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face.
The guys completed their conversation, while Jillian finished her wine, watching as couples paired up and left the lounge area in pursuit of other adventures. Logan broke away from their group to approach an attractive brunette, then Sawyer joined two women who’d been blatantly eyeing him, clearly angling for double the pleasure.
Jillian shifted on her feet and pressed her thighs together, barely able to maintain her composure with the vibrator humming so illicitly inside her — just enough to keep her on that fine edge of need. Dean chatted with Mac a few moments longer, before Mac finally took pity on her and decided to be on his way, too.
“Looks like your wife is getting anxious to check out the rest of the club,” Mac teased, making a not-so-subtle reference to just how fidgety she was. “My date for the evening just walked in, so you two have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Which left them wide-open with possibilities, Jillian was certain.
Mac stepped up to her and brushed his lips across her cheek in a platonic kiss. “Just relax and enjoy yourself,” he murmured into her ear. “That’s what we’re all here for.”
She watched him saunter away with masculine grace and way too much sexual confidence, toward a raven haired woman with bombshell curves who greeted him with a familiar smile. They spoke for a few seconds, the woman laughed in sensual delight at something Mac said, and a moment later they were gone, too.
Dean took the empty wine glass from her and set it on a nearby table. “Ready for me to give you a tour of the place?” he asked.
“You?” She narrowed her gaze suspiciously at her husband. “What do you know about the inside of The Players Club?”
“Enough.” He shrugged, much too nonchalantly. “I stopped by yesterday afternoon for a private, first-timer’s tour. I wanted to know exactly what to expect, and I needed to set up a few things for tonight’s fantasy.”
“Oh.” That he’d given this evening’s activities that much thought, to the point that he’d made certain arrangements prior to them arriving, amped up her curiosity. “You can do that?”
“Yes.” He placed his hand on her lower back and guided her out of the lounge. “Members can reserve certain rooms ahead of time, depending on their interest or kink, and I had something particular in mind for you and I. But first, let’s look around together.”
They strolled back into the grand entry hall, where other people were also milling about and heading in different directions. The enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast prisms of light around the room as they stopped before a split staircase with two directional signs: to the right for public viewing rooms, and to the left for private rooms. Another stairway led down another flight of stairs with a sign designating that area “The Dungeon”.
“The Dungeon is probably a little more hard-core than we want to venture into, at least on our first night here,” Dean said before she could ask what that part of the mansion entailed. “Lots of whips, chains, and more on the sado-masochistic side of things.”
Admittedly, Jillian was beginning to enjoy a little pain with her pleasure, but her husband was right . . . she wasn’t quite ready to venture down such an extreme path on their first visit to The Player’s Club.
They ascended the stairs, veered off to the right, and spent the next half hour exploring the open, public, viewing areas — where you could either be a voyeur or exhibitionist. Dean refused to turn off the pleasure orb still vibrating inside her, and the physical stimulation coupled with the visual titillation heightened every one of her five senses as they watched all sorts of sexual vices play out before them: couples fucking, women on women getting it on, orgies, and light BDSM just to name a few of the milder acts.
They passed through rooms decorated in themes, complete with costumes, where people acted out their fantasies for everyone to watch. All around them was the scent of sex, the sound of sex . . . heavy breathing. Moans. The slap of flesh against flesh. Gasps of pleasure. It was sensory overload, like the hottest form of foreplay, and she was drenched as a result.
Dean stopped her at a window that looked into a room where two men were pleasuring a woman — or rather, she was letting them do as they pleased to her. Dean moved behind her, hands on her waist as he pressed the thick, straining length of his cock bulging the fly of his slacks up against her ass . . . just like one of the guys in the viewing room was fucking the woman who was on her hands and knees, while the woman sucked the other man’s cock.
Lust sizzled through Jillian as Dean ground himself harder against her backside, his breath hot against her ear, the hum of the vibrator ramping up her arousal and making her desperate for some kind of relief.
“Do you like watching those two men having their way with that woman?” he murmured huskily, clearly just as turned on by the sight. “Are you imagining yourself as that woman, wondering what it would feel like to give and receive pleasure at the same time?”
Oh, yes, she imagined, and that fantasy liquefied her. Her nipples turned hard and tight as the trio in the enclosed room continued fucking and sucking, and she whimpered in response and thrust her hips back against Dean’s, grinding against his stiff erection.
His breath exhaled on a groan, and a moment later the vibrator inside her kicked up a notch, jolting her entire body with the shocking sensation. Jillian’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, and her knees would have completely given out on her if Dean hadn’t wrapped a strong arm around her waist to anchor her body to his. His free hand slid around to the front of her dress and slipped beneath the hem, skimming upward until his fingers dipped beneath the elastic band of her panties and stroked her wet flesh.
She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out at the contact, and without thinking she braced her stilettos further apart, giving him complete access to her.
“Keep watching,” he demanded in a rough whisper as his fingers brushed over her pulsing clit and tugged on the engorged flesh, taunting her just like the orb teased and tormented her deep inside. “Keep imagining.”
She couldn’t do anything but watch and imagine, the fantasy so potent her mouth went d
ry and moisture rushed between her legs. A part of her brain told her she ought to be mortified for being so uninhibited. They were in a public area. There were people nearby, behind them, probably even watching as Dean’s fingers worked their magic and promised satisfaction. But she didn’t care. They were both still fully clothed and her body’s demands over-ruled all common sense, especially when her husband knew exactly how to touch her to make her shatter into a million pieces.
In that crazy moment, she let go of everything — her modesty, her reserve, her embarrassment — and knowing that Dean would catch her in his strong arms she embraced the rush of ecstasy pulsing in her veins. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, a mewling sound escaping her throat as her body convulsed with a pleasure so intense she nearly blacked out.
When she finally regained her senses he was holding her, the arm banded around her waist keeping her upright. Gradually, their surroundings came back into focus, along with the knowledge of what she’d just done in front of strangers. Heat swept across her cheeks, the warmth spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
Dean’s face was buried against the side of her neck, his breath damp and heavy against her skin. “That was so fucking hot,” he rasped as he removed his hand from beneath her dress and straightened the hem, keeping her perfectly, decently covered.
She felt him shift behind her, and a few seconds later the toy inside her stopped vibrating so that she could relax more fully. He withdrew something from his pocket, the silky material brushing along her arm as he brought the item up in front of her to see.
“Now we get to the really good part of the evening,” he said, his voice low, soft and seductive against the shell of her ear. “I’m going to put this blindfold on you and I’m going to push you past anything we’ve ever done before. I want you to trust me to take you there in a way that’s safe and secure, okay?”
A frisson of excitement coursed through her as she nodded. His words were vague and gave nothing away, yet she knew whatever he had planned would be hot, thrilling, and daring. He slipped the black, silk mask over her eyes, plunging her into compete darkness — and a part of her was grateful for the blindfold so she didn’t have to look anyone in the eye after what they’d just done.
“I always trust you,” she said with conviction and certainty. It was the one thing she could always count on when it came to Dean.
“Tonight is going to test that trust in ways that will shock you,” he murmured as he strummed his warm fingers down her bare back. “And I need you to remember that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, or us. However, if things get too intense for you, all you need to do is say our safe word and it all ends immediately.”
She swallowed hard. That he had to qualify this evening’s adventure with such a warning had her imagination spinning in all sorts of dark, decadent, wanton directions. “Fair enough.”
CHAPTER 4
Dean secured an arm around her back, tucked her against his side, and led her . . . somewhere. Jillian had never had a good sense of direction, and being blindfolded completely threw her coordinates off balance. All she could do was let him guide her while listening to the various sounds of the club — laughter, groans, and even screams of pleasure — all amplified by the loss of her vision. She felt as though she was being led through a maze, and a short while later she heard a door close and Dean released her so that she was standing alone, the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around her. Wherever they were, it was completely silent, except for Dean’s footsteps as he moved around the room.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“That will be your one and only question before we get started,” he said, the commanding tone of his voice letting her know that he was now in charge, that the dominant alpha male that she loved had come out to play. “Tonight, you’re mine, to do with as I please. Going forward, I will be the one asking questions and making demands, and you will obey and reply with sir. There will be punishments for insubordination and consequences for hesitating when I tell you to do something. Do you understand?”
“Yes . . . Sir,” she added quickly, almost forgetting the word.
“As for where we are, we’re in a small, comfortable room that I reserved and stocked with a few items to use tonight, like this new leather paddle,” he said, and followed that up with a firm smack against what sounded like his palm. “There’s a large glass window in front of where you’re standing, so anyone can watch us, just like we watched those two men fuck that woman. We haven’t even started and we’re already drawing a nice little crowd.”
Oh, God. Her stomach did a tiny somersault. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being on the other side of the viewing glass, of allowing strangers to get off on her and Dean’s pleasure. She’d never been an exhibitionist, she certainly didn’t have a model figure to flaunt, but there was safety and comfort in wearing the blindfold — as if she couldn’t see them, they didn’t really exist. She had to think that way, or else she’d totally lose her nerve.
“Take off your dress and your panties,” he ordered.
The brusque command took her off guard, and she hesitated a fraction too long for Dean’s liking. He smacked her bottom with the wide, leather paddle, and even through the material of her dress the sting was enough to make her yelp in surprise.
“Do it now,” he said in a harsh tone. “Or the second swat will be twice as hard and on your bare ass.”
Gathering up her courage, she drew the neckline of the dress down, along with the sleeves, and stripped off the garment as quickly as possible before she changed her mind. She did the same with her underwear, until the only three things she was wearing were her stilettos, the diamond choker around her neck, and the soft, silky mask. Her skin felt warm and flushed as she imagined dozens of eyes taking in her less than perfect figure — her full breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the flare of her hips. She kept her thighs pressed together, and it was all she could do not to cover herself with her hands because she knew that would earn her another searing spank from her husband’s paddle.
“You are so fucking sexy,” Dean murmured, as he trailed his fingers along the seam of her thighs, over her bare mound, to her belly, making her shiver at his touch, while at the same time soothing her anxiety and making her melt with his sensual praise. “Absolute perfection. Every single inch of you.”
He slowly circled around her, one hand caressing her breast. “Your tits are lush and perfectly shaped, your nipples like hard cherry candies that I can’t wait to suck on.”
She couldn’t wait, either. The tips were so rigid they hurt.
Standing behind her now, he skimmed his palm over her bottom, gently squeezing the flesh in his hand. “Your ass is still nice and pert, and we both know how much I enjoy that soft bit of cushion when I’m fucking you from behind.”
She heard the faint flicker of amusement in his voice, a shared intimate moment between them that quickly dissipated when he stroked a hand up her thigh and pushed his fingers in between, where she was wet and silky soft. “And then there’s your legs, so long and slender and smooth. Every man in that room is imagining them spread open in invitation so they can see what a pretty cunt you have.”
Her heart beat crazy-fast in her chest, and she wondered how far he intended to take all this. Trust me, he’d said, and she exhaled a breath and clung to those comforting words.
She heard him walk away and pick something up that jangled, then returned to stand in front of her. “Give me your hands,” he demanded.
She lifted her arms, extending her hands out in front of her. A few seconds later he had both of her wrists secured in leather cuffs, and as she put her arms back down to her sides she felt the heavy weight of a clasp attached to the bindings.
Next, he urged her legs a few inches apart and wrapped a thick leather band of some sort around her upper thigh that felt like a belt, and buckled it in place snug and tight, then repeated the procedure on her other thigh. Once those were in place, he
clipped the wrist cuffs to the ones around her thighs, effectively keeping her arms confined to sides.
He tugged on the bindings to make sure they were secure, and excitement and apprehension clashed inside of Jillian. There would be no covering herself, or touching him, or using her hands to stop him from doing something shocking to her.
He’d taken away her sense of sight, and now her ability to touch. Ultimately, the blindfold and restraints enslaved her to him, made her both vulnerable and submissive to her husband, and gave him all the control. Much to her own surprise, the thought of other people watching her, and Dean, was suddenly becoming a very heady, exhilarating mind game that gave her a bit of a thrill.
The only way she was going to enjoy any of this was to shed all her inhibitions and open herself to the possibilities and pleasure that inevitably followed when she allowed Dean free rein with both her mind and body. Giving him her complete trust and faith enabled Jillian to clear her head of any embarrassment or shame and experience desire and passion at its most potent.
She was so lost in her thoughts that the sudden touch of Dean’s mouth on her breast made her gasp in surprise. His soft, wet tongue trailed down the slope to the stiff crest, followed by the strong pull of his mouth on her nipple, and the sharp nip of his teeth that felt like a jolt through her entire body. He shifted to the other breast, making the second nipple just as hard, then with a final flick of his tongue the sensation was gone . . . replaced seconds later by an unmerciful pinch on each nub as he attached some kind of contraption to her nipples.
Instantly, a path of fire zinged between her breasts and her clit, and she moaned, long and low as desire and need coiled tight inside her.
“Those nipple clamps look so fucking gorgeous on you,” Dean murmured, his voice gruff with satisfaction and arousal. “That bite of pain makes the pleasure hotter, more intense, doesn’t it?”
She was so overloaded with sensation she could only manage a whimper in response.