by Calinda B
She yelped.
“I’m so sorry…” The woman backed up, holding her palms out.
“Claire? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Ms. Weathersby.” She cast her gaze at the floor. “The Chartiers have taken me in and given employment. I didn’t know how I would feed my babies. Mr. Chartier took pity on me. He’s a good man.”
“Liam?” Savannah’s eyebrows stitched together.
“Yes.” She lifted her gaze to look at Savannah, then lowered it to her hands. “You look nice, Ms. Weathersby.”
“Thank you. Is anyone else around?”
“No, miss. They’re all gone. I’m so sorry to have run into you.”
“It was my fault. I’m glad you still have a job.” She patted Claire’s shoulder. “Well. I must be going. See you later.”
She scurried toward the front door. Outside, she flagged down a cab and gave him the address of the Diamond Club.
She barely paid attention to the drive, busy going over the plan in her head, adding new details with each pass.
Once inside, after riding the elevator to the 100th floor, she hurried through all the preliminary ordeals to gain entrance to the club. When she was on the main floor, she paused at the elevator door. She smoothed her short, tight skirt, brushed her hand along her bare shoulders, and made sure no wrinkles existed in her midriff-revealing top. Then, she positioned the string of diamonds and rubies, so they dangled in her cleavage. She nodded to the host standing at the black pedestal.
He greeted her as if she was a treasured member.
She sauntered through the bar where she’d met Liam. As usual, couples and trios were doing their bump and grind on the dance floor. Shots were being dribbled on a woman dressed like a showgirl. Colt and Rex were pouring drinks and keeping up their light banter. And Brianna, the bitch with a blade, was taking people’s food and drink orders. Same old, same old. Savannah strolled through the space.
A few heads turned, and gazes were trained her way.
She couldn’t tell if they were pitying her, admiring her, or wondering about her. She didn’t care. She scanned the room for Ambrosia or Liam. Not here. Slowly, rolling her hips from side to side, she sashayed toward the elevator. She punched the button and then waited. When the elevator arrived, she rode it up to the floor where the Diamond Strumpet’s club was located. Once she stood in front of the door, she lifted her hand to knock. The door swung open before she got a chance to rap her knuckles.
“Naeva!” Siobhan stood with a concerned expression. “Are you coming in?”
“Yes, I…”
“I was about to leave, but I’ll wait. I’m sick of watching Monique carry on like a grieving widow.” She inclined her head behind her. “Come in, come in.”
She swung the door wide.
Savannah took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and strode into the room.
Monique was in the middle, naked, save for a thong, handcuffed to the fur-covered table, continuing her “training.” Her head popped up. “What’s she doing here?”
Master Steele tensed at Monique’s side, holding his whip aloft.
The audience of women all turned to stare at Savannah.
At the assault of pitying gazes all trained her way, Savannah cringed inwardly. Outwardly, she refused to let them get to her.
“Carry on,” she said with a flick of her hand. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
They peeled their open stares from her and turned toward Monique, giving Savannah surreptitious glances.
Monique cried out and tugged against her cuffs. “It’s her fault. She’s the one they were targeting. Instead, they killed my lover.”
A collective gasp shuddered through the room.
“Monique!” someone reprimanded. “She lost her father.”
Master Steele hung his whip on one of the hooks alongside the table edge. He removed a key from his pocket and began unlocking the cuffs.
“What are you doing?” Monique said.
“We’re done,” he said with his electronically enhanced voice.
“We can’t be done. I need this to heal.”
“You simply need the attention.” He unlocked the last cuff and stood to the side. “Get off my table.”
“What? No!” She sat up, clutching her arms to her bare breasts.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Master Steele growled. “Before I really show you how to submit.”
Monique’s eyes widened until they looked like black dots in a sea of cream. “You don’t get to treat me this way. I can get you fired, you know.”
“Knock yourself out trying.” He lunged toward her. “Go!”
She scrambled from the table, grabbed her clothes, and slunk to her seat.
Master Steele’s mesh-covered gaze landed hard, hot, and heavy on Savannah.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.
He crooked his finger and beckoned for her.
She pushed between the ring of sofas and crouched, lowering her gaze.
He sucked in a breath.
The audience quieted.
“This is so cool,” someone whispered.
Savannah assumed her panther position and slunk across the room on her hands and knees.
The rasp of his zipper sounded before she got close to him.
Someone’s eager. Savannah slowed her progress, making her movements as sinuous as she could. It wasn’t hard, given how surprisingly aroused she’d become by his gaze. She arrived here thinking she hated Master Steele. All it took was one look to let her know the intensity of their connection. For a fleeting second, she thought, He’s staff. We can disappear together, and no one will be the wiser.
When she closed the gap between them, this time, instead of kissing his bare feet, she crawled on top of the fur covered stand. She settled on her hands and knees with her forehead resting on her hands.
“Remove your clothes. All of them.”
She rose to her stiletto-clad feet on the table, determined to not fall, not making eye contact. Bending at the waist, she let her long, straight hair fall over the edge of the table.
He groaned.
Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, she peeled off her short skirt, letting her hands glide over her ass and thighs. She removed her tight top in the same leisurely manner. Her silken bra came next. Last, her lace thong. When she was completely nude, save for her shoes, she rose to standing, defiant and proud. Let anyone judge me and find me lacking. Anyone at all. So, I have no one to call family. I still have a right to be seen. She pivoted in a slow circle, letting her gaze rest on each face as she turned.
The women seemed hypnotized as they regarded her.
“She’s so beautiful,” one of them whispered to another.
“Liam’s such a dick. What did he do to deserve her?” whispered another.
“I’m equally as pretty,” Monique hissed.
When Savannah faced Master Steele, she paused, meeting his shadowed gaze.
Shielded by the same dark netting as that which cloaked his eyes, his lips appeared to part, as if he were under her spell, too. He simply stood there, watching her, his beautiful, massive cock hanging from his leather pants, his chest glistening with sweat and oil. His hands hung by his side, coiled into fists.
Satisfied by his regard, she pivoted until her back faced him. Then, she bent forward, giving him an eyeful of the pink-lined treasure between her legs.
“Fuck me,” he growled.
She crouched, then resumed her pose of submission, hands flat, her forehead resting on the pelt, her body nestled on her thighs.
He stepped closer and placed his warm hand on her wrist.
She inhaled, smelling leather and the faint whiff of tobacco.
He drew her arm behind her back. Then, he took the other one and did the same, resting one hand on top of the other along her sacrum.
She kept her forehead pressed to the soft, white fur. One stiletto-clad foot was crossed over the othe
r at the ankle.
Hard, cool metal snaked around her wrists. A rasp, followed by a snick signaled the cuffs sliding into the locked position.
She inhaled sharply, not liking the sensation of being bound. But haven’t I been bound by circumstance my whole life? I’ve let it define me.
A soft tick, tick, clatter met her ears. Then, the tickle of—What? A whip popper?—whispered across her skin, tracing circles across her back.
She arched into it, like a cat, luxuriating in the teasing touch.
The popper disappeared.
She tensed, waiting.
A thwack from the leather thong struck her derriere.
She winced. She wanted this. If Adam was dead, she craved punishment. She wanted absolution like she wanted her next breath.
He struck her again. And again. And yet again.
She welcomed the pain. More, she thought. She ground her teeth together, to keep from crying out.
He landed more blows, each one harder than the last.
Keeping her forehead pressed to the fur, she writhed and whimpered. Each whack of the lash seared her skin like fire. Suddenly, the pain grew to be too much. Her body became intensely hot like she lay in a furnace…as if she was being burned to death, like Adam. Tears began to stream from her eyes. Her lungs convulsed.
“Adam,” she whispered. “My sweet Adam.”
She let out soft mewling sounds like a frightened kitten.
Master Steele stopped.
Someone in the audience let out a sob.
Savannah paused, sniffling, every nerve ending on high alert.
One warm finger landed on her skin.
She sucked in her breath through clenched teeth.
Another finger fell into position as if he played the softest scale imaginable on the keys of her soul. Finally, they all fell into place.
His fingers made gossamer-like touches along her ravaged bottom. Then, he gripped her hips. His lips landed on her, making feather-soft kisses all over her stinging butt cheeks.
She kept making the mewling noises. The radiating pain combining with the soothing caresses made no sense to her mind. She surrendered, falling into a deep, still place within.
“This is so beautiful,” someone whispered.
“He never did that to me,” Monique whispered in a petulant voice.
Master Steele withdrew.
She listened intently for what would come next.
He unlocked her cuffs.
They fell across her back, cool and heavy. What’s he doing? Why is he releasing me?
She kept her hands where they were, blood rushing back into her wrists.
He walked around to where her head rested. His fingers touched the top of her forehead and guided her head up a few inches.
Her gaze landed on his beautiful cock, laying on the fur like an offering.
His hands were placed on either side of it. Heat poured from his abdomen.
She’d never seen anything so compelling. She let her eyes roam over the swollen flesh, outlined with fat, throbbing veins. Her attention paused at the tiny mole at the base. Her fingers itched to stroke the mole and circle around to his inner thigh. She wanted to caress him, letting her fingers explore. Then, she’d curl her palm around his huge phallus and stroke—all while sucking the head of his erection. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his hard heat.
He hissed, rocking his hips slightly.
She ran the tip of her tongue along a vein, savoring his musky taste.
His palms arched until only his fingertips pressed into the pelt.
Resting on her forearms, she took his cock between both palms. She opened her mouth, eager to suck him.
His hands landed on her head and squeezed.
“Stop,” he whispered.
She froze. Is he about to come? What’s going on?
“Let go of me.”
She released her hands, yanking them away. What did I do? Did I hurt him? “I’m sorry, I…”
His cock slid from the table, and he lowered his face to her ear. “I can’t do this with you. You’ve broken me.”
She sat up, kneeling. Staring at his hard, sweaty belly, confusion rolled through her mind. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted to be punished.
His supple hands fell to his pants, and he tucked his erection away. He tugged the zipper pull, trapping his cock inside.
Lifting her face toward his, she studied him.
He shook his head. Then, he turned and hurried away, heading for the hallway from which he entered.
The room erupted with conversation.
“Oh, my god, Naeva. What did you do to Master Steele?” Siobhan said.
Naked and exposed, she brought her hands to her breasts. She no longer wanted to be seen—not like this. Not vulnerable, roiling with mixed-up feelings. She scrambled off the table and retrieved her clothes.
Yanking them on, she said, “Do any of you know where he goes after this? Does he mingle with guests as his real self? How can I find him?”
Siobhan shook her head. “He’s like a ghost. We don’t know where he comes from or who he is. We could dine with him nightly and not know it.”
Savannah’s mind whirled. Suddenly, her idea of running away with a staff member didn’t seem nearly as half-baked as it had when she thought it. I must find him. She jogged toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” Siobhan called.
“Away from here.” She cranked the door handle.
Her horrid heels slowed her down. Once she’d entered the hallway, she ripped them from her feet, flung them against the wall, and sprinted toward the elevator. Where did he go? She stabbed, fisted, and slapped the damn button until the lift arrived.
The elevator moved like an old man. Once the doors to the lounge floor opened, she scurried through the bump and grind space toward the elevator to exit.
Finally, she made it into the hotel lobby. She spied a guy as tall and imposing as Master Steele hurrying out the front double doors. She increased her speed.
“Wait!” she called.
His long-legged stride lengthened.
She bolted toward the doors, nearly colliding with someone speeding toward her, crossing the hotel lobby. “Liam? What are you doing?”
His hands gripped her biceps.
She tried to wriggle away.
His blue eyes stared fiercely into hers.
She tilted her head to gaze past him, as the large man disappeared around the corner. “Let me go. I have to catch someone.”
His fingers tightened. “Look at me.”
“What?” Her gaze snapped toward his. Anger warred with despair in her belly and heart.
“You’re not to see Master Steele ever again.”
“Oh, right. You have cameras there so you can watch my progress?” She pulled to get away from him.
“I know everything that goes on in this club. No more sessions with Master Steele.” His mouth formed a grim line.
She struggled in his grip. “And, why shouldn’t I? You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And why’s that?” She spat the words.
“Because you’re mine.”
She blinked, stunned. “What did you say?”
“This.” He slanted his mouth over hers and claimed her with one, long, mind-numbing kiss.
22
Standing on the sidewalk outside the Diamond Club, Savannah tried to make sense of what just happened. A few seconds ago, she’d been chasing Master Steele. She’d collided with Liam, and he’d…ambushed her? She reached up and placed a finger on her lips, scorched by his kiss, while staring into his anguished gaze.
Liam’s eyes sought hers. “I can’t wait, Naeva. I need to touch you—to show you what you mean to me.” Liam’s gaze burned as hot as the explosion that destroyed the manor. “I’ve been such a fool.”
Her insides turned to mush. “Liam, I…”
“Come.” He took her hand and led he
r back inside. He drew her down a narrow corridor, toward an elevator she’d never seen. Grinning uncharacteristically, he withdrew a diamond studded key from his pants pocket. “I’m the only one who has this key.” He held it up for her. “No one can go where we’re going.”
He fitted it into a slot, and the doors glided open as if they were waiting for him.
She stepped into the lift.
It had three walls of windows, allowing her a splendid view of the city, in all its nighttime dazzle. She hoped no one could see in through the tinted glass.
He pressed a button on the silvery wall to close them in. Then, he turned to her. He trapped her face between his warm hands and studied her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She swallowed. “What about Charlotte?”
“Charlotte was pretty, but she didn’t hold a candle to you. You’re different. You’ve got hair like fire, and eyes that bewitch. You hold mysteries. You’re complex, yet kind. You don’t let me get away with my shit. Maybe it’s because you got to live away from the club but there’s something about you that’s deeply compelling.”
She stifled the feelings threatening to consume her by thinking derisive thoughts. Is it the fact that I can immobilize you in hand to hand combat? Or that I’m not who you think I am?
“I’ve tried to run from it—from you—but I can’t. You excite me. You mesmerized me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She let out a laugh. “You could’ve fooled me. You were kind of an ass.”
“I had to be that way. I’ve guarded my heart against loving anyone ever since they took Charlotte from me. But you…” He pushed his thumbs back and forth across her cheekbones. “You, dear Naeva, are different.”
Stuck on the phrase “from loving anyone,” she searched his face, hoping he didn’t burst out laughing and say, “Gotcha!” When had any lover acted as if he adored her?
Her deceit weighed heavily on her sense of right and wrong. “You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“I do,” he said, gently. Again, his lips slanted over hers. He kissed her, softly, sensuously, sucking and nibbling her lips.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the kiss. Let me have this fantasy, if only for one night.