by Anya Summers
He caressed her back. “You look lovely. Now, remember your safeword. I’ll start with ten lashes, and then we will expand from there. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He trailed the falls over her slim shoulders, and along her spine to the shapely globes of her bottom.
She had a fabulous butt: firm, rounded, and made for discipline. Michael drew the strands of the flogger across the spread folds of her crease and heard her gasp. Then he drew back and swatted her rear, flicking his wrist and applying just the right amount of force for a satisfying snap. Sabrina yelped, but didn’t use her safeword, so he continued. Moving around her form, he established a rhythm, watching her every response. He was pleased when her cries shifted and became ones of pure, undiluted pleasure. Their girl loved discipline, loved double penetration, loved bondage, and anything else they wanted to try, making her fucking perfect. To Michael’s mind, there had never been such a perfect fucking submissive.
And the way she surrendered, sliding into the scene, trusting him with her body, made him wonder if perhaps they could get her to trust them with her heart as well.
She held nothing back from him as he flogged, gave him everything as he worked to send her into subspace. Her head lolled on the bench. Her body turned to butter beneath the flogger.
And Michael knew he was standing on the ledge. A simple push would send him headlong into the freefall. He wanted to hold his emotions back, keep himself from loving her. He really did. He couldn’t deny that he feared she was in it for the money, as Lisa had been. Lisa, who had played him for a fool.
But at the end of the day, did it really matter? It wasn’t like he didn’t have more than enough to share. Because Sabrina was transforming into the perfect fucking submissive under their tutelage.
Michael stopped, noting how far gone into subspace she was. He knew she needed to be loved, to be brought to orgasm, and they had agreed he wouldn’t fuck her here, not this first time.
“Please, Sir,” she whispered raggedly.
“I know, babe, let’s get you upstairs and—”
“Now, I need you now, Master, please. I ache. Don’t leave me. Take me. Right here. Right now,” she begged with a sob.
Michael shot a glance at Dante. His best friend nodded his approval. Michael laid the flogger down, bowled over by her response, and stroked calmingly down the lines of her back. “All right, hush now, and let me take care of you.”
When his hands reached her pussy, he found her drenched, and bit back a groan. He made short work of his dress shirt, and unzipped his slacks. With his engorged dick in hand, he rubbed the head through her crease, and was rewarded with a throaty moan. “That’s it. Let me hear your cries, let the whole club hear them.”
Then, with a roll of his hips, he slid balls deep inside her waiting heat. She squeezed his glans taut. Gripping her hips, he focused on giving her the orgasm of her life. He reveled in her loud mewls and the slap of his flesh against hers. He loved the feel of her pussy clasping him tight, and trying to draw him deeper into her channel.
Michael took perverse pleasure in how far gone Sabrina was as she came undone. How many subs had he fucked in this club? Yet not one of them had ever made him want to beat his chest this way. Not one had ever made him feel a tenth of what she made him feel.
He rammed deep, enjoying the red patches of her skin still vivid from the flogging. And he wished for a moment that when he came, pumped his seed inside her, that it would take root, that she would grow ripe with his child. He could imagine what she would look like pregnant, glowing, with his babe safe in her belly. How ripe and heavy her pretty breasts would become.
“Oh,” she keened, and her body vibrated, her pussy spasming around his plunging shaft.
He quickened his pace. Sweat poured down his back as he fucked her senseless. Her garbled moans drove him over the edge. He slammed home and came. Hard. So hard, his fucking knees almost buckled at the force.
Hot jets of semen emptied from his straining cock into her channel as she milked him.
Michael stood there, his body trembling, his heart beating a fast staccato pace. And it was beating for her. He couldn’t deny it any longer: he was falling for her. As much as he had resisted her lure, he could not deny what it was she did to him.
Michael finally withdrew his softening member, spying his seed dribbling out of her pussy. He righted his pants first, then took the warm washcloth from Dante’s waiting hand. He cleaned her crease before disposing of the cloth in the hamper. Then he set about freeing her from her restraints.
Dante grabbed his shirt, and her negligee and heels. Michael helped her off the bench, surrounded her body with a blanket, and scooped her up into his arms. As he carried her small form to the elevator, she whispered, “I love you, Sir.”
And then her eyes slid shut before he could reply, could ask her to repeat herself. He glanced at Dante as they entered the elevator.
Dante said quietly, “If you can’t love her back, at least be kind and don’t shut her out.”
“I never said I would, or what my feelings for her are.”
“And what are they?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Michael responded, even though it was a lie. Because he had figured it out. And that was what worried him. Hearing those feelings being echoed in return filled all the empty spaces inside him. It left him dazed and unsteady, as if he was on a boat being tossed about by a violent sea, and couldn’t find his footing.
“Don’t wait too long. Because while it might not seem like it to you, she just gave you a gift, one that shouldn’t be squandered or discarded.”
“What about you?”
“I know she loves me, and I her. You’d know that if you weren’t avoiding talking about it.” Dante exited the elevator the moment the doors were open and strode away, leaving Michael with a sleeping Sabrina in his arms.
Michael carried her into his bedroom, where he gently laid her on the bed. He stroked her face, and moved her hair out of the way, careful not to disturb her. For such a small thing, she definitely took up a massive amount of space in his life. He had to fight the urge to slide into bed with her. He craved to hold her close, hear her whisper those three words again. Instead, he drew the covers up over her, and then left her alone in the room. There was work to be done; they were nearing the end of the case.
If they had a culprit, he needed to get things prepared for the next day. He wanted a confrontation to make the rat squeak tomorrow night. And he didn’t want Sabrina anywhere near the rat.
Ironically, his pretend fiancée didn’t feel so pretend any more. She’d said she loved him while in subspace. He had never known a submissive to be able to lie while in space. They were too far gone. That was how they had uncovered Lisa’s duplicity.
It meant that the words Sabrina had spoken were true.
Sabrina loved him. He rubbed his chest at the feelings building inside him. Now he just had to decide what he was going to do about it.
Chapter 20
Sabrina stared dejectedly out the passenger window of Dante’s Escalade. Michael had sent her away… after she had done the unthinkable, and told him she loved him. It had been stupid, stupid, stupid, on her part to bring it up at the end of the scene.
But she’d been riding this blissful high, and the words had slipped out. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d meant to force his hand because of the internal panic button that had been pressed last night. They were getting ready—Michael, Ram, Graham, Quinten, Hudson, Killian, and Luc—to confront the culprit behind the leaks at the club.
Which meant that, when it came to Michael, her usefulness was at an end. And that terrified her. She couldn’t lose them now. Not after having tasted what it was like to be the center of their attention. Dante and Michael, in short order, had become the focal point of her world.
“Someone is thinking some deep thoughts over there,” Dante commented.
“He sent me away,” she stated, proud that s
he didn’t cry as she spoke.
Dante steered them down the drive to Michael’s family home, rightly dubbed the Mansion. The palatial estate was fit for the Queen of England to live in. Michael had had Sabrina clean it along with the maids on staff upon occasion. But because this was the grand old family home, there was constant staff: maids, a chef, grounds crew, and even a butler. With its twenty-two bedrooms, multiple floors, and more than twenty thousand square feet of wood and stone, the upkeep and cleaning of the place from top to bottom took an army of workers.
“He didn’t send you away, not in the way you’re meaning, love. He doesn’t want you anywhere near the confrontation that’s about to ensue. We both thought it best, since this entire business is coming to a head over the next few days with Brett and the contact on the board, that it would be far safer to have you here, where there’s always someone around.”
“I told him that I loved him last night. I don’t think he loves me back, though.” She was unable to keep the sorrow from her voice. It hurt knowing that she was over the moon in love with Michael and he didn’t love her. He liked her, enjoyed screwing her, sure. But love… it was something he just couldn’t bring himself to experience with his cleaning lady. She understood it even as her heart bled.
At least it was different with Dante. He loved her and she could talk about what was really bothering her. Because with Dante, she knew she could. She could lay out all her cards, tell him what she was struggling with, and he would listen, even if there was nothing he could do to fix it.
“I know. I heard you. So did he. Just give him time, love. Michael has never been easy when it comes to feelings. But, I can say I’ve never seen him with another woman the way he is with you. Let’s get past this ugly business first, and then we can start to worry about that. Then I will be only too happy to let you pester the daylights out of him, and hold him down while you do it.”
She laughed. “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”
He pulled the truck into the circular drive and parked. Ivory stone, weathered with age, made the place look almost like a castle.
She sighed. “It’s so big.”
“You think this is bad? You should see the Fortress, or the villa in Tuscany, or the house in London.”
“He’s a really big deal, isn’t he?” That seemed to drive home how provincial she must appear to someone of Michael’s ilk.
“Yes, he is.” Dante leaned across the console of his vehicle until they were eye level. “But that’s why I think he needs people like us to keep him grounded, and from losing parts of his soul. He needs us.”
“You, perhaps,” she said, her heart raw.
“Both of us. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, love,” Dante told her, his love for her crystal clear.
She laid her palm on his cheek. “Have I told you today, how much I love you?”
He grinned. “Yep, but I love hearing it. Now, first, let’s get inside and see what we can do about dinner. Because then I’m going to make mad, passionate love to you for the rest of the night.”
“Promise?”
“Always.” He kissed her quickly before getting out of the vehicle and heading to the back to grab their belongings.
She knew he meant it, that he would be with her even if Michael chose not to be. It would hurt him, hurt two men who had been best friends for years. And she hated that she might be forced to make the decision to let them both go. It would hurt Dante if she walked away, but she suspected it would hurt him worse if his friendship with Michael, their topping submissives together, ended.
She had plenty of decisions to make. She only hoped that, when the time came, she would be strong enough to do what was right, even if it wasn’t necessarily the easy thing to do.
Michael stared at his friends, the founding members—minus Dante—as they waited for Brett to arrive for the arranged meeting that wasn’t a meeting but a confrontation. Dante had texted him a picture of Sabrina lounging by the pool at the mansion.
It was good that she was safe. That she would be kept out of this ugly business.
Before Michael could allow himself to slide into thoughts of Sabrina, Brett stepped off the elevator. Brett was in his mid-forties, fit and, before all this, was what Michael had considered a good Dom. But he had betrayed one of their most fundamental rules: they didn’t talk about the club with those who weren’t members, and they certainly didn’t sell each other’s secrets to the highest bidder.
After Brett entered, Hudson slipped in between him and the elevator. Hudson’s bald scalp glowed in the light. The man was a fearsome professional rugby player, and physically one of the toughest men that Michael knew, and that was even with the ex-army members, fireman, and cop sitting in the room.
“Where’s everyone else?” Brett asked, glancing around the empty club.
“Have a seat, Brett.” Michael jutted his chin to the lone chair.
“What the hell’s going on?” Brett asked. A hint of fear flashed in his gaze before he covered it up with feigned arrogance.
“Sit the fuck down,” Quinten snapped angrily.
“Fuck you. I don’t have to sit.” Brett started backing away.
Quinten lifted a brow, and Michael nodded. Quinten, with Graham and Killian assisting, took Brett down to the ground and cuffed him, before unceremoniously dumping him in the chair.
“I’ll sue you for this, Fitzgerald, and the rest of you assholes. What the hell is the meaning of this?” Brett yelled, struggling against his restraints.
“You can certainly try. But after my team of overpriced lawyers get through with you and your violation of our NDA agreement—which is rock solid, by the way—there won’t be much left of you to come after me. But sure, whatever floats your boat for this infraction of your rights.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you think—”
“Let’s not go round the bend. Quinten, if you will?” Michael gestured with a wave toward his friend.
Quinten stood in front of Brett with a file in his hands. It contained all the damaging information they needed. “We have payments from a Genesis Corporation for some pretty large amounts made into one of your accounts. I had to do a lot of digging, but with the phone records I was able to compile, I discovered that each time you spoke with someone at a certain number, you had funds wired into your account afterward. I have the emails that you sent, detailing what it was that you saw at the club. Shall I continue, or shall I tip off my buddies at the FBI that you have a little sting operation going on here? I’m sure they would love to know where the money came from.”
Brett glanced at the stone-cold faces of the Doms in the room. Michael saw the moment he realized the gig was not only up, but that it would be more beneficial to him if he confessed. Little did Brett know that this entire session was being recorded. Because they had bigger fish to fry.
His shoulders sagged, and Brett blubbered, “I owed money to a loan shark. I thought I had a handle on my gambling problem, but I lost a few, borrowed, and then lost some more. They were going to kill me.”
“So not only did you betray all of us, you’re a piss poor Dom,” Ram said with disgust.
“A Dom controls himself at all times, and doesn’t allow himself to get lost in vices like drugs and gambling,” Graham said snidely.
Michael had to admit he could only shake his head at Brett. And to think, before this, he had thought highly of the man. Perhaps his perception of things was skewed by his position and the people he worked with, day in and day out.
“Who have you been working with at Fitzgerald Foods? Who is it you’ve been feeding information to?” Michael demanded.
“Carla Lowell; we met at a bar and have been sleeping together for months,” Brett admitted.
Shock riddled Michael. “Carla is the one who has been paying you?”
Brett nodded.
So it wasn’t Dan, like Michael had believed. Son of
a bitch!
Seething, Michael commanded, “Tell me everything. Detail every transaction with a written statement. You do that, and the worst I will do to you is expel you from Underworld with a gag order. And I highly doubt you will be accepted into any reputable lifestyle clubs ever again; you’ll have to get your jollies off of FetLife. We’re a small community. When you betray one of us, you betray us all. I highly doubt Declan, Jared, or Carter will allow you into their clubs.”
“I know I fucked up. I’ll do it. I never meant for it to go so far,” Brett agreed.
“Intentions are tricky business. Regardless of your intent, you’ve created enough damage that I doubt you will be welcome at any lifestyle establishment because of your actions. And know this, Brett, if any of what transpires here tonight, or anything you’ve passed along suspiciously makes it into the media, or I hear any more talk from you about Underworld, I will make it my personal mission in life not only to ensure you are blackballed from every kink club in the world, but I will have you tied up in so many legal battles, your grandchildren will still be dealing with the fallout. Do we have an understanding?”
The remaining fight left Brett’s shoulders. “We do. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“You might want to consider Gamblers Anonymous,” Ram stated, always trying to help.
Brett nodded. “Anyone have a pen and some paper? I’ll write it all out.”
“I want it on record. Start talking,” Quinten said, placing a voice recorder on the seat beside him.
“Get him what he needs,” Michael said to Quinten, who had prepared for Brett’s confession. Michael rose from his seat and paced away.
He had what he needed to set his company and the board back to rights. Quinten would explore the legal angle; see if there were any criminal charges that could be brought against Carla. Michael had thought that Carla was one of his most ardent supporters. This revelation made him question his ability to read people. Just because she had been loyal to his father, didn’t mean that a person would be loyal to him. Then again, with this business coming to light, perhaps she had never been loyal to either of them, and it had all been a mirage.