You, Me, and the Crazy Ex: A Club Stigmata Novella

by Luckett, Elle

  I made my way through the halls to the administration section and knocked on the frame of the door to the office Kammie and Lane shared, stumbling to a stop when I saw Christopher and Thomas perched on Lane’s desk while Lane typed away on the computer. There was another guy perched on Kammie’s, but his back was to me, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter at a story one of them had just finished.

  “Emerson.” Kammie jumped from her chair with enthusiasm and pulled me inside. Christopher’s blue eyes landed on me hard, but Thomas’s friendlier version was much more welcoming.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you. I was distracted and got here early. I asked Victor if you were here, but you should have—”

  “Another rambler,” Christopher mused, the corner of his mouth rising in a half smile. “You’re not interrupting anything. We’re just welcoming back an old friend who has been gone for too long. Denton Strake, this is one of our members, Emerson Henley.”

  I tried not to look surprised, but it was short of impossible. Denton Strake was also a well-known designer of BDSM furniture that anyone who was anyone would go to for their custom pieces. I’d seen very few of them as they were far from my price range, but he was well known for his designs, and when he turned with a blazing smile, I almost grunted in surprise.

  Not only did Christopher Hayward know my full name, but Denton Strake was the guy from the streetcar.

  “Hi,” I squeaked, offering my hand and stumbling forward. “I’m a big fan of your work.” Oh, God. “I mean, I–”

  “It’s appreciated,” Denton said, saving me from yet another disastrous ramble as he took my proffered hand. His smile was almost blinding and made him all the more handsome as he watched me like a lion watches a gazelle. The details from the dream last night had been right on. Unruly curls covered Denton’s head, and that sexy as sin stubble still dusted his handsome face. Without thinking about what I was doing, I pressed my thighs together at the memory. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been subtle, and Christopher noticed. His smile was filled with amusement and recognition as his head tilted to the side. As intuitive as Kammie had said he was, Christopher could see my immediate attraction to Denton and had filed it away in that clever mind of his.

  I think I would have run from the room if it wouldn’t have made me look like a complete asshole. Thankfully, Denton still held my hand in his, those long work-calloused fingers closing around my palm and holding me in place as though reading my intention to bolt.

  “Do you have plans tonight, Emerson?” Christopher asked slyly. Moving smoothly, he rearranged his stance by shifting his weight from one leg to another—his eyes targeted on me like an eagle. Kammie was staring at me with a bemused smile on her face as though my inner turmoil was something she was reading from the pages of a book.

  Damn.

  Maybe she was.

  I was stuck, admittedly not in a bad spot considering Denton looked more interested in my response than the man who’d asked the question to begin with, but I was still in a predicament that was making me squirm.

  “No plans,” I admitted, thinking about the desperate need I’d had sitting on the streetcar on my way here.

  “Didn’t this work out,” Thomas said merrily before his brother could chime in again and make me even more uncomfortable than I already was. Thomas’s look was sympathetic as he went on. “We were looking for someone to help Denton with a demonstration on a piece we’ve bought from him for the club. He delivered it this evening.”

  “Oh, I don’t…”

  “You’re not an exhibitionist,” Thomas said gently, understanding ebbing from him. “We’re not asking you to do this out in the main club. It will just be Denton, Christopher, and me, which you can also decline if you’re uncomfortable in any way. There’s no pressure here. Just opportunity.”

  I let my eyes run over the three men slowly. I’d known Thomas and Christopher since I’d become a member, and I was more than comfortable with them both. I also knew that Denton would be the one topping me, which I was beyond fine with, but to be watched...

  Anxiety ran a cold finger down my spine at the thought of what they’d invited me to do, although that nervous energy wasn’t the most predominant emotion to assault me. It was eclipsed by the excitement bubbling around my chest with a promise of satisfaction, and tonight, that was an offer I just couldn’t refuse.

  Allowing my eyes to meet Denton’s, I studied him for a second before I smiled.

  “I’d be honored.”

  Satisfaction blossomed over his handsome face as the words hung between us and finally sank in, his hold on my hand persisting. Knowing I’d been the one to give him that satisfaction fed that intrinsic part of me that needed so desperately to please. With very little navigation, this man already had my obsequiousness at his fingertips, and I wasn’t going to complain about that.

  “If you could meet us in private room four once the club is open,” Christopher said, slapping Denton’s back and breaking the connection between us. “We will leave you ladies alone to gossip about us while we’re not around to interrupt.”

  Denton squeezed my hand one last time before releasing it and following Christopher from the room with a polite nod to Lane, Kammie, and me. He was followed closely by Thomas. As Thomas pulled the door closed behind him, my glance moved the other two women in the room.

  “Well,” Lane said, dropping into her office chair and blowing a heavy stream of breath. “That was intense.”

  “Holy testosterone, that man has it for you, Em.” Kammie’s laugh was punctuated by her hand landing on my ass in a gentle slap. “I think you’re in for a treat.”

  “Meanwhile, we’re going to have a mutiny on our hands.” Lane rolled her eyes playfully.

  “In what way?” Kammie sat in her chair and rolled it toward her desk as she searched for something in a stack of papers to the right of her blotter. I made my way to the other side of the office on jellied legs and sank into the couch there.

  “Have you seen that man?” I asked, already understanding Lane’s line of thinking. “Add to the fact that he’s an unknown entity in a world where we’re all searching for excitement…”

  “You’re gonna be envied.”

  “I’m going to be hated.”

  Kammie’s laughter cut through the rustle of papers as she found what she was looking for. “No one will hate you. We’re all rational human beings.”

  “Are you, though?” Lane teased, dodging the pen Kammie picked up and threw at her.

  “The point is…” Kammie said, turning her brown eyes on me. “If I’d let that thought stop me from taking Tristan’s offer, look what I would have missed out on. Have fun and just enjoy the attention. This thing Denton built is supposed to be amazing.”

  “What is the piece?”

  “Do you know what a spool is?”

  I nodded, envisioning the last hardware store I’d been in. The spools had chains wrapped around them so they could be measured out for cutting. The image I conjured in my mind wasn’t something that inspired joy or sexual excitement, however. It was more reminiscent of medieval torture devices that were used to lengthen limbs.

  “Have you seen the kind that goes on the back of eighteen-wheelers?” she continued, oblivious to my sudden macabre thinking.

  My eyes widened as a new picture formed, and Kammie nodded, her smile growing.

  “They’re big,” Kammie added.

  “Really big,” Lane followed.

  “And this one has chains.”

  “Oh my God,” I groaned, throwing myself deeper into the couch. “What the hell have I signed up for?”

  “Stop being so dramatic. You’ve signed up for an evening of fun with a guy you’re hot for. You’re consenting adults,” she said, waving the papers over her head. “The rest is just noise.”

  I wasn’t so sure the rest was just noise, but she’d been right about me being attracted to him. Spreading the papers out on the desk in front of her, she started writing, and whe
n she pushed them across to me, I realized they were the agreement forms that we usually signed before play. I actually preferred getting these formalities out of the way before I was half-naked in a club with pounding music.

  The routine didn’t help the nerves, though. As I sat listening to Lane and Kammie talk about their day, I could feel the myriad of emotions balling up inside of my gut, turning into some awkward twist of anticipation that made my legs tremble under me when it was finally time to get ready for my little display.

  How the hell did I get myself into these situations?

  Chapter Three

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror for almost ten minutes before I decided I was happy with my appearance. Wearing a baby blue corset and short black skirt with nothing under it, I made sure that what little makeup I had on was perfect, and my hair was loose. I always carried a hair tie with me in case they requested I pull it up, but I generally started the night with my blonde hair in soft curls around my shoulders. It made me feel more feminine.

  Making my way across the club on shaky legs to the private rooms, I ignored the stares of curiosity from some of the other girls I sometimes spent time with when it was a slow night. I understood that feeling; I’d been in their position too many times not to, but it didn’t take away from the excitement. I tried to remember how to breathe as I walked down the short corridor to the door marked with a big gold ‘4’, and tapped respectfully bowing my head to ensure I wouldn’t disrespect those on the other side.

  Thomas was the one who opened the door for me. I could tell by his immaculate shoes, and well-tailored pants. He always looked impeccable, and tonight was no exception. I glanced down at the one toe of mine with chipped polish and admonished myself for not being more prepared when I’d left the house.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Emerson. You should wear this blue more often.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Thomas offered his hand to me, palm up, and I took it without hesitation, even when my fingers trembled as they slid over the soft skin of his palm. I’d been so desperate for something like this to happen tonight—I’d been unfocused all day because it was all I could think about—and now here I was, a ball of nervous energy as I walked into a den of lions, dressed as a lamb.

  “Would you like to see the piece Denton designed for us?”

  I was more eager to look at the man than the machine. I could see the dark boots that could only belong to Denton over in the far corner of the room. I watched as they shifted and readjusted before finding that calm again. Not wanting to ignore the kindness of Thomas, I nodded in agreement.

  “Eyes up then, sweetheart,” Thomas mused reassuringly.

  I did as I was told, raising my shoulders along with my chin and earning myself a gentle squeeze of Thomas’s hand as I did. The new furniture Denton had designed wasn’t hard to miss. The large piece was indeed one of those huge spools that you found on a truck bed, but it wasn’t as crass or awkward and clumsy as my mind had put together. The spool design was still there, but the wood surface had been sanded, buffed, and polished into a beautiful finish that had been stained to match the rest of the furniture in the room. The bottom of the circles had been flattened out and cradled in a base that took away from the utilitarian look. There were the expected chains, hooks, D-rings, and straps, but the curved center of the spool had a leather-covered pad fitted around it, making the whole thing look much less about torture and much more about pleasure.

  “What do you think?” Christopher asked, stepping around the side of the spool and leaning against the side of the flat circle.

  “It’s beautiful, Sir,” I whispered, my free hand twitching at my side. I desperately wanted to touch the polish and see if it was as smooth as it appeared to be.

  “Go ahead.” Thomas had read my mind, and he released his hold on my hand, stepping back to watch me approach the contraption. The first thing I did was slide my hand over the polish and smile. It was smooth and cool to the touch. The gloss finish over the surface of it looked like it was an inch thick.

  I walked around the machine slowly, barely noticing the brothers slipping back into the shadows of the room as I leaned into the leather and marveled at its supple feel under my palms. I was lost in the beauty of the craftsmanship. Everything about it was made lovingly and skillfully, but even as lost as I was in this artistry, I still knew the moment Denton approached me. I felt his presence, his assertion, and demand for my attention as he closed the distance from behind me and slowed to a stop, probably half a foot away.

  “You like it.” This wasn’t a question, but I dropped my hands and eyes to the ground and nodded breathlessly. “Are you still interested in working a scene together to demonstrate?”

  “Very much, Sir.”

  Denton’s quiet chuckle was rewarding in so many ways, but the strands of hair it blew over my shoulder made my skin pebble, and a shiver run down my spine. The small reaction only made him close the distance between us. His chest pressed firmly against my back, his broad body winding around mine, offering some of his natural heat.

  Being this close to him was better than I ever could have imagined. He smelled amazing; cologne and sawdust mingling together, making my eyes slide closed to take all of his masculinity in. Every Dom had his own way of easing a sub into play when they were unfamiliar with one another, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this aware of someone without any kind of history between us.

  Denton brushed his fingers lightly over the curve of my shoulders, easing me into a sense of familiarity with him. He started slowly at first, exploring the skin before allowing his fingers to trail down my arms, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He spent some time over my wrists, stroking slowly with the pads of his fingers as his breath grew warmer over the bare flesh of my neck and shoulder, calming me before his lips brushed over skin that suddenly felt alive.

  “You smell absolutely wonderful,” he complimented quietly, easing his hands over mine and threading our fingers together. The weight and heat of him at my back like a magnet. “What’s your safeword, beautiful?”

  “Red,” I hummed out as his tongue darted over my shoulder. “Sir.”

  “Perfect.” I wasn’t sure what was perfect, but pleasing him felt too good to look into the response too deeply. “I’m going to walk you forward now. I want you to touch the piece again, feel it under your palms, and imagine yourself strapped to it.”

  The arousal I felt at his words was like a punch to the gut that made my clit twitch violently while my breath rushed from my chest. I wanted to be strapped to the damn thing now. I wanted to feel that beautifully polished wood under my fingertips while the leather pressed against my body. I wanted it to know what he was planning.

  Denton walked us forward, our entwined hands reaching out until he pressed my palms against the leather padding. He eased his fingers from mine with an intuitive calm that didn’t leave me feeling stranded, then pushed against me briefly. It was just a brush of his muscular chest against my back and an instinctive rock of his hips, but that was enough to feel his erection. Christ, he was as turned on as I was, and he’d just been touching me.

  “I’m going to take off your corset now,” he purred seductively.

  “Okay, Sir.”

  Denton’s hands found my hips and eased forward over my stomach, where he began unhooking the corset. His lips continued to caress exposed skin as he worked, while I focused on remembering how to breathe. I tried my best to draw on the bass that was quietly filtering through from the club, pushing back the violent arousal that was dragging me under the surface. The familiar sound was a soothing balm that calmed my breathing.

  Not that the calm lasted long.

  Denton’s lips found their way to my ear as he unhooked the corset from around my chest. His thumbs slipped through the gap he’d just made and brushed the underside of my breast as his teeth sank into the flesh of my lobe, offering a second of pain before easing the sting with the tip of his
tongue. I wasn’t sure I could feel my legs anymore, even when the corset fell away, and he threw it aside. My limbs were jellied, unable to hold my weight. He’d barely said a collection of words to me, yet I felt comfortable with his commanding presence, while at the mercy of his very capable hands.

  He used them well.

  Denton cupped my breasts, his large hands fitting perfectly around them, offering his natural warmth as my nipples hardened with arousal. He massaged them, slowly and gently at first, his thumb brushing over the taut skin in steady circles, reading my body’s reactions to him. He was in no rush to get to where he was going. There was no urgency in his touch or breathing, just heat, and a slowly ebbing passion that was beginning to make me feel desperate again.

  I wanted to find friction against anything as tension rose inside of me, but this wasn’t as it had been earlier. I wasn’t permitted to seek that pleasure by my own means anymore. I was at this man’s mercy, and he didn’t seem to be in a merciful mood. He read my body language with every touch and taste of my flesh. He read every reaction to every word he uttered and was feeding on that like a starving man. He was using all of this to his advantage, and he left me wanting more.

  I almost cried out when his right hand finally parted from my breast and eased down over my ribs toward my stomach. I didn’t know him well enough to understand if he was teasing or not. In so many ways, it felt like he was already torturing me. I worried he would get his hand close enough to ease some of the growing tension in my body and stop.