Fyre, Raven - Blind Man's Bluff (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Raven Fyre

  She didn’t have the guts to ask why. Besides, she suspected she already knew why. “Does Rachel know about this?”

  He grimaced. “She tried to get Ty and me to let her work there at first—the income is a huge temptation. But we discouraged her. At first, she was too young. We don’t allow anyone under twenty-one to become a member or an employee.”

  “And now?” Chloe asked, afraid she didn’t really want to know. Was this the cause of Rachel’s dating habits? “Certainly she’s old enough.”

  “We’d rather try to steer her toward management at High Tide. And I’d rather you didn’t think of this as a viable option, Chloe. Last ditch resort, maybe.”

  Chloe rubbed at her temple. “But that much money…that quickly. I wouldn’t have to do it for long, right? A month or two and I’d have enough of a cushion. With Rachel’s help, we could share the house and the expenses. I can transfer my credits to South and pick up where I left off with college, and eventually, I’d just get a bland, part-time job.”

  “This is a monumental decision, sweetheart. It’s not like working at Books-A-Million for the summer. We’re talking sex. With strangers.”

  “Oldest profession in the world, right?” she countered, trying for a light laugh, but the tension was palpable. Could she do it? “I promised Rachel, long ago, never to let her down. If that means bending my morality, so be it.”

  But he suggested, “Sleep on it. If you feel the same way tomorrow, we’ll discuss it further.”

  “What’s to discuss? And I don’t need to sleep on it. Just tell me where to be and when.”

  “Fine.” He sounded anything but. “Come by High Tide tomorrow, around ten. Dress casually, and I’ll give you the grand tour. We’ll go over employee policies and club rules. Then…we’ll see.”

  * * * *

  “Damn it, Jackson,” Ty rubbed the nape of his neck. “I knew this was going to be a problem. It was in your voice the other day. And when you look at her, the sparks going off between the two of you. Damn it to hell. She’s a walking wet dream. I get it. But why would you want to torture yourself by putting her off-limits? From the way she was responding to you, I’d say the attraction is mutual.”

  “Hell, Ty, it isn’t what I want at all. Chloe’s gotten under my skin. There’s no use denying it. I offered her money, interest free. She doesn’t want a handout, and I get that. She’s determined to earn it. Admirable. Stubborn as hell. But admirable.”

  “Oh, she’ll damn well earn every penny working at the club. She understands what goes on there? What would be expected of her?”

  “Absolutely.” Which only tightened the knot sitting in his stomach. She was willing to shuck her dignity, sell her body, in order to save her sister. He got it—hell, he’d sacrifice his soul were the circumstances reversed. Family was everything to the Sawyers. But his attraction for her made it damn hard to swallow. “She’ll be here any minute for a tour and a rundown of employee policies and procedures.”

  Ty narrowed his gaze on his brother. “And what do you have up your sleeve?”

  Ah, Ty did know him oh-so well. “A new client. Someone who’ll be gentle with her while breaking her in. One handpicked by yours truly, with very specific tastes for a dark-haired, green-eyed beauty.”

  “The less I know, the better I sleep,” Ty said, glancing to the monitors. “You’re on.”

  Jackson scanned the screen, watching the sexy female make her way to the bar and exchange words with Mick, watching the turn of heads as Chloe passed, the appreciative smiles. The bartender went to the house phone and dialed the extension for their upstairs office.

  “Tell him I’m on my way down,” Jackson said to Ty as he strode to the door.

  She was waiting for him by the bar and looking so delectable in jeans and a lilac-colored blouse that hugged her high breasts and tapered over her slim torso that Jackson had to remind himself not to scoop her up and take a bite. He did take her hand and kiss her cheek.

  “You look lovely, as always,” he told her.

  “Thank you. I’m ridiculously nervous,” she whispered for his ears only, the rush of breath at his temple and the sultry, seductive scent of her perfume waging a war with his libido.

  “Let’s take a drive.”

  He led her out to his SUV, and they drove farther east, farther along the beachfront road, just past the jetties near the point and Ono Island. Just shy of the Florida state line.

  * * * *

  Surely, the man knew the location of his own club, for goodness’ sake. “Did I miss something?” Chloe asked.

  The name on the stucco building read, “Low Tide.”

  “Sex On The Beach isn’t exactly a family-friendly title, sweetheart. Underground literally means underground, in this case.”

  “Oh. Well. Okay, then.” She took his hand as she stepped out of the vehicle, letting him lead her in through a side door.

  A tall, voluptuous blonde, dressed in a rather sexy royal blue dress and high heels, greeted them. “Mr. Sawyer.”

  “Jocelyn. This is Chloe Rezner, Rachel’s sister.”

  Recognition flickered in her blue eyes. “Nice to meet you. I have everything prepared as specified, Mr. Sawyer. The Red Room,” she informed and handed him a key card.

  “Thank you, Jocelyn. Right this way.”

  He kept his firm, wide palm pressed to Chloe’s lower back as he escorted her to an elevator that opened on cue. The double brass doors swallowed them up, and the car descended to the lowest floor. They exited to the right, and Jackson led her down the narrow hallway. She ignored the other various shaded doors, ignored the embarrassing, unyielding fascination that had her wondering what sinful pleasures they might be hiding. What sinful acts she would ultimately be expected to perform behind those same colorful barriers. She focused instead on Jackson’s reassuring presence, the heat and strength radiating from his powerful body.

  Like that was any better. Damn it. There was no denying the urge to drag him into one of the rooms, lock the door behind them, and throw away the key. She wanted to do things with him, to him, that she’d never done with any other man—not even her ex.

  Which was just stupid, she told herself. Jackson hadn’t even kissed her, not on-the-lips really kissed her, and yet her body responded to his nearness as if he owned it. Nipples peaked and tingling, yearning for the heat and the suction of his mouth. Pussy slick and pulsing, desiring to be filled. Her hands itched to feather into the mass of his thick, shaggy, caramel-colored strands. To roam every blessed inch of his hard body. And follow the path with her mouth.

  Jackson swiped the card, and the encrypted lock clicked as the light flashed red to green, allowing them entrance to the Red Room. The color scheme carried from the door to the heavy silk drapes framing a set of paneled doors straight ahead. The sleek, black furniture, the red drapes, and the rice paper windows on the sliding doors gave the elegant suite a very Japanese feel.

  “I expected more of a…”

  “Dungeon,” Jackson supplied, shoving aside the drapes and the paneled doors to reveal a large, king-sized bed covered in a red raw silk comforter with fluffy, white pillows banking the glossy black headboard.

  “Well, yes, to be completely honest.” But it was more like the penthouse suite of a five-star hotel—a more than pleasant surprise.

  He grinned. “We do indeed have one. I warned you, remember—all tastes, all desires fulfilled. But this is the room you’ll be assigned at first.”

  Perplexed, her brows furrowed. This was all sooo way out of her league it wasn’t funny. “At first?”

  “Until you prove yourself. Until you’re absolutely sure you’re prepared to handle the next step up from straight sex with a client. Ever played around with bondage or toys?”

  She felt herself blush three distinct, increasing temperatures. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, considering the color of the room. He was asking as her employer, she chided herself. Nothing more. And she’d have to get over her inhibitions on so many le
vels in order to pull this off.

  “N–not really,” she lied. Self-servicing with a vibrator was no one’s business but her own, Chloe decided.

  “Guess that puts a check mark in the “no” box for anal sex as well.”

  Damn. How many shades of red could a body radiate? How much more heat could her skin withstand before spontaneously combusting?

  Chloe whispered, “Bingo.”

  “Still sure about this?”

  Hell, no. “Positive.”

  The bigger picture—saving Gram’s house, saving Rachel—loomed before her, giving her an amazing amount of courage she hadn’t believed possible.

  Jackson’s expression, however, registered blatant doubt. “We’ll see. We’ve recently approved a new client, a plus for you, really. He won’t be comparing you or your skills to any of the other girls.”

  Skills? Chloe nearly howled with laughter. As if.

  “And,” he added, “so far, the gentleman’s only request is that you be blindfolded.”

  She mulled it over, musing aloud, “Actually, a blindfold might make it easier.” With her eyes covered, she could imagine her lover to be anyone of her choosing. Three guesses—and the first two didn’t count—as to whom she’d be imagining!

  “My thoughts exactly. So, twice a week, two-hour sessions each, for the first couple of weeks. Then we’ll see how you feel about taking on other clients and other…desires.”

  “What are my rights? I mean, will I be able to refuse him a request if I’m not completely comfortable with it?”

  “Yes, of course. He’ll be aware of the rules up front. Straight sex, no toys, no anal penetration without your express consent. You’ll have a predetermined safe word to end the session immediately, no questions asked.”

  Moving to the table by the bed, he opened the narrow drawer. “If you change your mind, at any time, feel free to explore. They’ve been sterilized, and the lube is packaged in these individual-use cell-packs.”

  Chloe scanned the contents, her eyes going wide at the variety of wares. Some of the toys she easily recognized. Others…She simply had no idea what they’d be used for. Maybe that, in and of itself, was a glaring sign of how ill-prepared she was for this scandalous venture.

  Was she fooling herself to think she could go through with this?

  Did she really have another choice? Her options were slim to none, and none of them paid as well as Sex On The Beach.

  When she commented with only a noncommittal sound, Jackson continued, “There’s a panic button here by the bed and one out in the sitting room, connected to the table by the sofa. One of the staff is never more than a few seconds away. Protecting you is our number one concern. And the clients know crossing the line is grounds for immediate removal.”

  Chloe shut the drawer and wandered to the adjoining bath. There was a sunken tub, large enough for three or four adults, easy, with jets and a separate shower. The vanity and sink were made of black granite, the fixtures a brushed nickel. Bamboo spears and pure white orchids shot out of a tall, slender, square-cut glass vase. Embroidered, white towels hung on a bar over the side of the tub, and another lay folded near the sink. Sweetly scented soaps carved to look like small swans sat in a dish beside the faucet.

  “Any questions?” he asked.

  Only about a million. “When do I start?”

  “As soon as the medical exam and the blood work come back clean. We’ll go back to High Tide and hammer out the details of your contract.”

  * * * *

  One question snowballed into what seemed like a hundred more once they were settled into the private office upstairs at High Tide. Ty was nowhere to be found, so Jackson sat at the desk while Chloe chose the sofa along the back wall.

  Was she distancing herself from him or from the idea of what she was about to sign on for? He had to wonder.

  He couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through that lovely head of hers. Her expression was guarded, apprehensive. She chewed her lower lip—a nervous sign. And she kept fidgeting with the screw-on cap of the bottled water he’d had sent up from the bar.

  She’d be terrible at poker, Jackson thought with amusement.

  “And what should I wear?” she asked.

  “Jocelyn will instruct you in everything you need to know once you arrive. Clients usually have very specific requests, and we keep a wardrobe room. Now, let’s get down to basics.” He pulled a checklist and an employee packet from the filing cabinet to his left. “Have you ever had your pussy waxed?”

  She blinked owlishly. Nope, a poker player she was not. “Sure, ah, for a bikini.”

  “How would you feel about a Brazilian? The full monty. Completely baring your pussy. ”

  God, she was so sexy when she blushed. Blushed—like a freaking virgin. What sort of screwed-up fuck had she been married to that so beautiful and sexy a woman could actually be embarrassed discussing her sexuality? And why did he feel as if he were personally on a mission to change that?

  “Yes, I’m aware what a Brazilian is, thank you, Jackson. And no. I’ve never gone completely bare…down there.”

  Trying for his best scolding look, he frowned at her. “Down there? Chloe, sweetheart, our clients will expect you to be a little less inhibited than the average partner. If you have a problem with the vernacular, you’d better get over it. Now.”

  “I’ll…get into character once it’s showtime.”

  Right. “All our girls use Marlene’s, a salon in Perdido. I’ve already booked an appointment for you for this Thursday—manicure, pedicure, waxing, and a trim. Anything else you’d like that I haven’t thought of, just have Marlene add it to the tab. Now, you’ll see our club physician right away and get the blood work going at the lab. Condoms are a must, even with our rigorous screening, but we recommend a backup method. You can never be too protected when it comes to birth control.”

  “I had some trouble when I was younger…and being married…I, ah, stayed on the Pill to regulate my cycles, so that’s not a problem.”

  “Trouble?” The word was out of his mouth before he could snag it back.

  She studied her hands. She’d set the water on the table beside the sofa, linked her fingers, and rested them in her lap. “A miscarriage. Not long after Clint and I tied the knot.”

  “Was that why you married him?”

  “No.” Her head snapped up, and her chin lifted defiantly. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “You loved him.” Why the fuck did it feel like someone was standing on his chest?

  “At the time? Yes, I believed I loved him. We were so young. What did we know?” She shoved up off the sofa, walked to the bank of screens. “He wanted the dutiful wife, cleaning house, cooking him dinner, waiting on him hand and foot after a hard day’s work. I wanted to be whatever he wanted. But it wasn’t enough.”

  For him or for her? Jackson sensed it wasn’t her.

  Uncertainty shone in her eyes as she turned to face him. “What if…What if I’m not able to satisfy the client?”

  Anger boiled in his veins. How could she possibly perceive herself as anything less than perfect? If Jackson ever got his hands on the bastard she’d married, he’d rip his fucking ball off and feed it to him—half a package for half a man. No way the prick carried a full set.

  “How could you not?”

  A thin, tremulous smile curved her sensual lips. “Your confidence in me is appreciated. I hope I don’t let you down. After all, it’s your business, your good name at risk.”

  “Put it from your mind. Here’s Jocelyn’s card with her number at the club and at home. From this point on, I leave you in her capable hands. She’ll see to it that you’re paid, in cash, immediately following each session, minus the club’s cut, of course.” He stood, rounded the desk, and handed her Jocelyn’s business card.

  She accepted it, tucking it away in her handbag. “Thank you, Jackson.” And she laid her hand on his arm. “Truly, I don’t know what else I’d have done.”

/>   “You’d manage,” he insisted.

  Chloe Rezner was much tougher than she was willing to give herself credit for.

  His resolve? Not so much.

  Jackson tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stroked a thumb over her delicate cheek. Their gazes locked, and the longing he saw reflected there nearly buckled his knees. This hell he was making for himself, accepting Chloe as an employee, which put her off-limits socially, was going to kill him.

  Because he found it infinitely harder and harder not to pull her lips to his and simply let himself feast, he stepped back. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

  Chloe nodded and walked away, turning back when she reached the door. “You won’t mention this to Rachel?”

  “Not my place,” he said honestly.

  “Thank you. Again.”

  With that, she walked out of his office and irrevocably out of his reach.

  Chapter 4

  “I still don’t get why you’re working for Bonnie,” Rachel said, pouting. “If you’d just let me talk to Jackson and Ty—”

  “We’ve been over it, Rache. No use beating the poor, dead animal again. I won’t put you or the Sawyers,” Chloe was making a discerned effort to think of them as the Sawyers and not Ty and Jackson, since they were now her employers, “in an awkward position.”

  “Okay, fine. Then why hasn’t Jackson called or come by?”

  Four days without so much as a “boo.” She was nearly mad with the desire just to lay eyes on him. Crazy. She was going crazy, longing for a glimpse of a man she could never have. Chloe seriously needed to get a handle on her lust. “Why would he?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? With the electricity that arcs off the two of you whenever you’re near one another?”

  “You know I don’t have time for anything but work.” So, it was a lame argument at best, but it was all she had. The truth would never do. “And neither does Jackson. I’m not sure how late I’ll be…”