by Laura Kaye
She stepped into her heels just as the doorbell rang and spared herself one last glance in the mirror. Earlier in the week, she’d taken a picture of herself in a dress to make sure Wolf thought it was appropriate—because what did people wear to sex clubs???—and he’d told her that if she didn’t wear it, he’d punish her.
Liv had no idea what that would entail exactly, but she’d worn the dress. A black vintage-inspired number with a formfitting cross halter top with a princess neckline, and a flared A-line skirt that ended just above the knees. She grasped her purse and rushed for the door.
And there Wolf was. Just as sexy as she remembered. Maybe sexier, standing as he was on the front porch of her townhouse wearing a pair of gray dress pants with shiny black shoes and a black button-down shirt. Rolled-up sleeves exposed his forearms.
“That picture did absolutely no justice to you in that dress, Liv,” he said, drinking her in. He stepped right up to the threshold, took her face in his hand, and kissed her. A slow, exploring, lingering kiss, like he was tasting her, or sipping at her. It unleashed butterflies in her belly. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi. And thank you.” She grinned and suddenly felt on the verge of giddiness. For getting to see him again, for getting to go to Blasphemy, for getting to be with him again, whatever that might entail tonight. “Would you like to come in?” As he entered, she admired his ass in those pants. “Next time, though, I think you have to send me a picture of your outfit, too.”
He arched a brow. “Why’s that?”
She smirked. “So I can have a picture of…” She waved her hands at him. “…all that on my phone.”
He chuckled and gave her a challenging look. “You can have any part of me on your phone that you want, Liv.”
Her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that,” he said, surveying her living room. She tried to see it through his eyes. Large, framed Georgia O’Keeffe prints dominated her walls. Petunias. Red Poppy. Jimson Weed. The furniture was all neutrals, a cream-colored couch and chair and mission-style dark brown tables, to allow the flowers to stand out. A few framed photographs of family and friends filled one of the bookshelves. Once there had been more, but a lot of her friends had been Caleb’s or law firm friends, and somehow, she’d lost or drifted apart from many of them when her relationship fell apart.
“Would you like the nickel tour?” she asked.
Wolf nodded. “I’d love to be able to picture you at home when we can’t be together.”
Gah! He took what could’ve been a simple yes and multiplied it by like a sexiness factor of at least a gabillion. At the back of the house, the kitchen and dining room were bright and airy, filled as they were with the rays of the setting sun.
She was just about to lead him to the staircase when she noticed him frowning at the vase of red roses on her table. Lest he get the wrong idea, she lightly rested her hands on his waist. “Today, I was so distracted that I made a client a bouquet of red roses when he’d ordered pink. I brought the mistake home to enjoy.”
Those green eyes blazed at her. “Distracted, huh?”
“Very.” She stepped in closer, until her breasts pressed against his chest. “Thinking about you is very distracting, Wolf.”
His lips quirked in a crooked grin. “What if I said I liked you being distracted by me?”
Liv shrugged one shoulder and peered up at him. “Then I’d say keep doing what you’re doing.”
He licked his lips. “I think you’d better give me the rest of this tour before we never make it out of your house tonight.”
Smiling, she led him upstairs. “Just my bedroom, a bathroom, and my office up here.” She showed him the latter two before leading him into her bedroom. With her queen-sized bed, comfy reading chair, and two dressers, the room had never felt spacious. But now it seemed even smaller with Wolf there, eyeing her space like he was evaluating how and where he might take her. In point of fact, she was kinda looking around at the possibilities herself…
“You have a nice place, Liv. Comfortable and homey,” he said.
“Thanks. I like it here. I can walk to the park and a coffee shop, and it’s just a few bus stops to Flowers in Bloom.”
He eased his big body to sit on the corner of the bed, then reached for her, bringing her to stand between his spread knees. “Do you have any questions before we go?”
She took a moment to think it through. He’d sent her information to read on Blasphemy, including the rules and membership information, which he informed Liv he’d be covering on her behalf; and on BDSM and submission, including instructions on safewords. He’d also sent her a list of activities for her to consider for her limits, which she’d checked off and stowed in her purse. “I’m sure I’ll have a bunch of questions, but I feel like I won’t know what most of them are until we’re in the moment.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Can I still call you Wolf at Blasphemy?” she asked.
He pulled her to sit on his knee. “No. Please call me either Master Wolf or Sir. You should address all the Doms you meet this way. Sir is always safe if you’re not sure.”
Liv nodded, hoping she didn’t mess up. Because there was a protocol to even speaking to Dominants or attached submissives that people observed. “I don’t want to do anything to embarrass you.”
“Not even possible, Olivia. I’ll introduce you around, and everyone will understand that you’re new and learning. And I won’t leave you alone. Not even for a minute.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’d appreciate it.”
“Doing it as much for me as for you. If those roses made me temporarily insane, I can only imagine how I’d feel if another Dominant offered to play with you.” He let the evidence of his possessiveness hang there until she was a little dizzy with it, and then he kissed her again. “Damn, sweetness, we gotta get out of here. Because I can’t sit on your bed another second and not want to strip you down and bury myself deep.”
“I’m not sure which you’re trying to motivate me to want. Going or staying,” Liv said with a little chuckle. She really adored how free Wolf was with his compliments, his praise, his desire for her.
“Tell me about it,” he said. “But let’s go. I want to show you off.”
The words set her body on fire through the car ride across the city. Then they passed briefly through a public dance club called Club Diablo and spilled out into a private courtyard in front of an old church building. Liv spun around, taking in the nearly private oasis behind what appeared to have once been an old factory building. “No one would ever know this was here.”
“The church was abandoned and in bad shape,” Wolf said, squeezing her hand. “The city was going to tear it down. But my friends and I bought most of the block for both clubs. We thought this was perfect for the privacy our members want at Blasphemy.”
“And it’s beautiful,” Liv said, looking up at the old steeple and the circular stained-glass window beneath it.
“Wait ’til you see it from the inside. The glass throws rainbows everywhere.”
Inside, she gave Wolf—Master Wolf now—her checklist and stowed her purse in a locker, and then he led her out to a reception area where an intimidating-looking man sat behind the desk.
“Master Alex,” Wolf said, greeting him. Which was when Liv noticed the black cuff around Wolf’s wrist. Soft and worn. With an embroidered Gothic M. “I’d like to introduce you to Olivia Foster. She’s my guest here tonight.”
“Olivia,” Master Alex said, standing. He had dark hair and darker eyes, almost piercing in their intensity. There was no denying the man was handsome, but there was something about him that, despite his politeness, was too intense for Liv. His gaze was hard to hold. “Welcome to Blasphemy.”
“Thank you, S-Sir,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious, like everyone would know she’d never done this before. She finally gave in to the urge to lower her gaze, and that’s when she noticed that Master Alex
wore a black cuff identical to Wolf’s.
She sat and signed some paperwork while Wolf read over her checklist, and then Master Alex pulled out a drawer full of narrowed cuffs, a row of white and a row of red. He turned to Master Wolf, one eyebrow arched.
“Red,” her Dom said.
Her Dom. The idea that he was hers, or could be hers, skittered tingles over her skin. “May I ask the difference? Sir?”
Wolf took the red leather into his hand. “White means unattached. Red means attached. I’d like you on your knees when I put it on your wrist.”
Attached? He wanted her to wear something proclaiming her as his? She remembered what he’d said in her bedroom and how he’d looked upon seeing her roses, and part of her wasn’t surprised. But it still spoke to a seriousness that made her feel like she could float.
“Now, Sir?” she whispered, half rising from the chair at the desk. She felt Master Alex’s eyes on her, but she knew that she shouldn’t look anywhere but at Master Wolf.
“Now, Olivia.”
She sank directly from the chair to the floor, knees apart, like she’d read about, and eyes up on him.
“God, that’s beautiful,” Master Wolf said, seemingly comfortable saying such things in front of the other man. “Present your wrist, please. Right.”
She held up her hand, and he fastened the red leather snugly around her skin. It was one of the most fascinating things she’d ever seen, because it made her feel claimed in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. Possibly even ever. “Thank you, Sir,” she managed.
He helped her rise and pressed a kiss to the soft spot above the cuff on the inside of her wrist. “You feel ready?”
“As ready as I can be. I’m a little nervous, but as long as we’re together, I’ll be fine,” she said, being completely honest. Because she was excited, but she was also a bundle of nerves. About what she might see, about who she might see, about what might happen on the other side of the doors across the room, from which the bass beat of music was just audible.
“Count on it, sweetness,” Master Wolf said.
“Olivia?” Master Alex said.
She peered at the other Dom, a cautionary awareness tingling down her spine. What was it about him that set her so on edge? “Yes, Sir?”
“Have a good night,” he said. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Thank you. You, too,” she said.
Master Wolf shook the other man’s hand, then led them through two sets of double doors until they finally entered the back of what was once the church. Olivia gasped. It was gorgeous.
At both ends of the vaulted ceiling, large circular stained-glass windows cast colors over the space—and the sun was setting. She could only imagine what the place would look like during the height of the day, when the side windows might be illuminated, too. Soaring frescoes covered the walls, and a large circular bar sat in the center of what had once been the nave. Leather couches and chairs sat here and there, some of them made private by arrangements of large-leafed tropical plants—palms, philodendrons, and bromeliads, to name a few. Against the beauty and elegance of the setting, the decadence of the music, people’s costumes, and various sex acts happening where Liv could see or hear them, it was hard to know where to focus first.
She was at once enthralled by everyone’s openness and a little shocked by it. Once, Caleb had made her feel ashamed for wanting to play out a fantasy with the man who was going to be her husband, and here was a whole club devoted to playing out fantasies—right out in the open where everyone could see.
“This is just the main floor of the club,” Wolf said, pointing a few things out to her. The locker rooms, the public bathrooms, some dungeon furniture, a stage now used for demonstrations where the altar had been, a hallway down which private play rooms were located on multiple floors. In the middle of the space before the stage, a crowd of people danced under flashing lights to the pulsing, chanting, electric music.
“It’s a little overwhelming,” she admitted as he brought her to the bar. With the marble countertop and iron accents, it had an interesting vibe that was both modern and antique.
“I’ve got you, Olivia. I promise.” He found a seat for her and raised his hand to the bartender.
The man headed their way, and he quite possibly had the best smile Olivia had ever seen. One that seemed a second from splitting into a grin or a laugh. One that might just as easily indicate he was up to no good. “Master Wolf,” the man said gregariously. “How the hell are ya?”
“Master Quinton. I couldn’t be better tonight. I’d like to introduce you to my Olivia.” My Olivia! Liv didn’t think she was imagining the pride—or the pleasure—in Wolf’s voice.
“My, my, little Olivia. Welcome to Blasphemy. Where has my good friend been hiding you?” Master Quinton asked, holding out a hand that requested hers.
She looked to Wolf, and he gave her a nod, so she returned the shake. “Hi, Master Quinton. It’s nice to meet you.” He was a good-looking guy, but it was his humor and personality that created at least half of his charm, which was overflowing.
“Of course it’s nice to meet me. I’m the awesomest. So awesome I’m sure Master Wolf hasn’t been able to stop talking about me,” he said, arching a brow.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Where Master Alex set her on edge, Master Quinton put her right at ease and made her feel like an old friend, two things good bartenders often did quite naturally. “I’m very sorry to say, Sir, that Master Wolf has been otherwise indisposed.”
Quinton barked out a laugh. “I like you, Olivia. You take care of this guy, okay? He’s one of the good ones.” He winked at Wolf and took their drink order, a whiskey for Wolf and a glass of champagne for Liv. The club had a two-drink-per-player maximum, but Liv didn’t want more than the one. She wanted her senses about her tonight so she didn’t miss a thing.
“Otherwise indisposed, indeed,” Wolf said, giving her a smile. He led her to a couch partway between the bar and the dance floor, and guided her to sit between his legs as he had in their hotel room. Their position gave her a nearly three-sixty view of the club’s main space—and the various activities in it. “Liking what you’re seeing so far?” he whispered against her ear.
Liv nodded as she sipped at her champagne and tried to take it all in. A woman in spiked boots danced with a man wearing assless pants, and it was clear from the red handprints on the man’s skin who was in control of that relationship. A man gave another man a blow job against the wall just past the dance floor. And a woman was tied spread-eagled to an X-shaped piece of furniture while two of the Master Doms—judging by the black cuffs they wore—tormented her with what looked like pleasure, given the woman’s cries. “It’s weird that I’ve had this hang-up when everyone here is so open.”
Nodding, Master Wolf’s gaze trailed to the threesome on the big X. “That’s a St. Andrew’s cross, and those are Master Jonathan and Master Cruz. They usually dominate a submissive together. How would you feel to be in that submissive’s place?”
“With two Doms?” Liv asked, her gaze cutting back to the three of them. The blond-haired Dominant was on his knees, using his mouth and his hands between the woman’s legs, while the dark-haired Dom smacked her breasts with a short instrument full of soft-looking black tails.
“Does that intrigue you?” Master Wolf asked.
“I…” She swallowed hard, her pulse picking up. “I wouldn’t mind being her, being tied down and exposed to everyone. But two men seems a little…more than I’m ready for.”
He turned her in his lap enough that they could see eye to eye. “It took me so long to find you, Olivia. I have no intention of sharing you.” Relief flooded through her, and she nodded. “But I’m intrigued at this idea of tying you down and tormenting you while everyone watches. Maybe someday—” He pointed to the stage at the far end of the room. “—I’ll get you up there and make a whole show out of you.”
Liv’s pulse spiked just imagining it. “Okay, Sir,” was all
she could manage to say.
Master Wolf laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll work up to that.”
She smiled. “Yes, please.”
“Mmm. I remember the first time you said those words to me.” Wolf pulled her to him for a kiss, forcing her to turn until she was straddling him on the couch. A million pairs of eyes landed on her back, watching them kiss, watching Wolf’s hands run over her thighs and under her skirt. On a groan, he pulled away long enough to place their drinks on the end table. And then he was right back to her, penetrating her mouth with his tongue, dragging rough hands over her skin.
Knowing people were watching and hearing moans and cries of ecstasy from all around her, Liv was quickly needy and wet and a little dizzy with lust. And then Wolf’s hands landed on her ass, rubbing and squeezing, his fingers digging in and making her wetter. “Wolf,” she moaned.
Smack! His hand landed hard and unexpectedly against her left butt cheek. “How do you address me here?”
Oh God! “Master Wolf. I’m sorry,” she said. The surprise of the spank unleashed twin reactions through her—a little humiliation and a whole lot of arousal. The latter confused her, even as she couldn’t deny it. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
His fingers curled into the waistband of her panties. “Rise and remove these. And bend at the waist when you drag them down your legs.”
Liv’s heart was suddenly a runaway train in her chest, racing fast and picking up steam. He helped her off his lap, and then she was standing in front of him. But not before she’d met the curious, interested gazes of a few of the onlookers around them. With a shiver, she met Wolf’s gaze, too. His eyes were green fire.
It bolstered her. She bent over, reached under her skirt, and grasped the black silk-and-lace boy shorts. And then she slowly dragged them down her legs until she stepped out of them, one leg at a time.
He held out his hand, and she placed the panties into his palm. “Do you remember your safewords, Olivia?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
“Use them if you need them.” He arched a brow.
She nodded. “I will, but I don’t need to, Sir.”