“So brave you are.” The words move from his lips, but I can’t take my eyes off his. They have mine locked, fearing his every move. And with each step, my pulse picks up. He oozes sex. Power. Domination. “You think you can just come into my club, break into my office?”
“Well, technically the door wasn’t locked—”
“And just take from me?” His voice raises just enough to send a heatwave of goose bumps down my spine. There’s no time to react when my feet leave the ground as I’m lifted. His rough grip digging into my hips confirm he’s less than happy with me. I’m positive he’s about to toss me through the glass window when he whips us around, sits in his chair, and throws me over his lap. “You know what happens to little foul-mouthed girls who think it’s okay to talk that way to me? To disobey me?”
I squirm under his tight hold. “What are you doing! Let me go!” I yell, trying to climb off his lap. His thighs are hard as stone, and I can smell sweat mingling with the cologne I remember from last night. “Seriously, Psycho Satan, let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“Oh, I hope you do. I enjoy a screamer. But I enjoy a stern disciplining even more.” Before I can decipher his meaning, he yanks down my loose-fitting jeans, and in one swift move, slaps me hard across my butt cheek. The immediate sting has my teeth clenching.
“YOU—”
Again.
And again.
And again. I attempt to fight under his hold until I find myself pleading “Please, stop.” My voice is hoarse. He does as I ask, but his hand still touches me, caresses me, soothes the place where he marked me. His touch is gentle. Calming. An unfamiliar feeling of wanting more blooms in my belly. My hips squirm in a slow grind over his lap without my consent. Each slide of his hand across the stinging of my flesh shoots bolts of electricity straight to my groin, and there’s no mistaking the hardness jabbing into my stomach, spiraling the intensity of…need? Want? Something…more…
“Please,” I whisper again, sounding less upset and more…God, I’m not sure. My skin is on fire. I’m confused at the tightness in my lower belly. The way I’m squeezing my thighs together. “Damien,” I say his name, a plea to make me understand.
His growl echoes in my ears, and I’m no longer in his lap. His arms hug me as he stands, fusing me to him. Using his free hand, he swipes everything off the surface of his desk to the floor, and my butt lands on top. He grabs my ponytail, locking my hair around his fingers. With a tight squeeze, he forces my head back. Our eyes lock, and without invitation, his mouth is on mine. His tongue slides inside, not allowing me any vocal time to object even if I chose to. I’m stone-still, my brain having trouble catching up. I’m being kissed. No, I’m being mauled by a man way out of my league. I seem to have lost my mind, just as he has, because a moan, unfamiliar to me, travels up my throat, and I kiss him back. His tongue tastes like coffee and mint, and it makes me want to taste more of him. My palms reach out, sliding up his hard chest.
His free hand drags my jeans farther down my hips. “Dammit, what in God’s name are you wearing?” he demands, pulling my worn jeans hard enough for the zipper to tear. His strength and determination win over, and my pants fall to my ankles. He kicks them off and presses himself in between my thighs. “Why do you wear such plain clothing?” His fingers begin to tug at the seam of my panties. There’s immediate panic at where he’s about to explore and my heart begins to pound. It’s been forever since anyone but myself has ventured there, and I quickly begin to pull away.
“Damien,” I plead, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, his fingers become more determined, working their way past the thin barrier. “Damien,” I say again, with a little more force. My palms push against his chest as he finds my entrance. The tips of my fingers curl at his intrusion. My lips part just as he ends our kiss and pulls away, placing his mouth on my neck.
“A girl as innocent as yourself shouldn’t be here. Especially in the hands of a man like me.” He grazes along my flesh with his teeth. I want to tell him he’s right. Push him away and run. At the same time, I want to beg and cry for him to continue until I explode into a million pieces. He begins to use force as he slips one thick finger through my wet folds. With each thrust, his hold on my ponytail tightens. As if he wants to cause me just as much pain as he does pleasure. The feeling is almost euphoric. My eyes squeeze shut, and when I open them, I find him staring at me, his amber irises gone, obsidian in their wake.
“Is this what you wanted?” he continues, stroking me. “Is this what you think happens here?” He adds two fingers this time when entering me. “Were you hoping to get caught so I could teach you a lesson?”
He’s trying to work me up. Prove me wrong. I become disobedient under his spell. I attempt to wiggle out of his grip, but he only spreads my thighs wider, planting himself harder against me. His two fingers become three, and his slow pumps become quick, powerful jabs. Raising my hands, I reach for his hair, grasping tightly. His hair is thick and still wet between the clutches of my fingers.
“You enjoy giving pain as much as receiving. I’ll take note.” His words anger me even more. I want to pull his hair out, but my restraint on him is slowly becoming less trying to hurt him and more of a tool to help hold on to whatever is happening with my body. A feeling of tightness creeps up my stomach. My skin all too quickly becomes overly sensitive, and with each push, shove, dominating thrust, he takes me to such an unfamiliar place. A few more seconds pass and my walls squeeze around his fingers as my own hold his hair for dear life.
All too quickly the moment of pure bliss wanes. Damien releases me, and I almost tip off the desk. Immediately, he steps away from me, putting ample space between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His voice is gravelly and deep. He moves to the window and runs his hands through his hair, refusing to look at me.
“It’s…okay.” Okay? That was the best you had? And really, is it? I have no idea. I’m so confused. He just spanked me, for crying out loud. Was it horrible? Yes. It hurt like hell. Did I totally hate it? I’m afraid to even answer that. The way he coddled my bruising skin once he was done felt overly intimate. Yet, he’s a complete stranger. And then what I just allowed to happen…Oh God. My cheeks heat as shame washes over me at the way I so easily allowed him to touch me. A man who’s probably with a new woman every single night. If not more than one. Embarrassed and now feeling the cool breeze against my bare thighs, I jump off the desk and slip my ruined jeans up my legs while willing a hole to swallow me alive.
“I need you to leave.” He doesn’t spare a glance at me, but his voice is telling. He’s back to being mad. I’m not sure he was ever not mad, but now, he’s possibly even angrier.
“Not without what I came for,” I spit out, trying to button my jeans, but failing at the ripped seam. I’m just as guilty for allowing what happened between us, but I’m certainly not taking that spanking session for nothing. He turns at my reply. His eyes warm my blood as they penetrate me. “I told you I need that contract. I’ll do anything to get it. Which means I’m not leaving until you hand it over.”
He stares at me for some time. Maybe I’ve broken through his thick skull. A few more seconds. God, please just give me the stupid contract and pretend this day never happened. He begins to move, and I flinch, my body tensing. He goes to the bookshelf at the far end of the room, unlatches a hidden compartment, and pulls out a stack of papers.
Yes, yes, yes, yes…
Turning back, he tosses the thick stack onto the desk. “This what you want?”
Yes! “Thank you.” I step forward to grab it, but his arm reaches out, his warm fingers wrapping around my wrist.
“Not so fast.”
“What, why?”
“I told you before, nothing is free.”
Oh crap. “You mean that spanking shit you just pulled wasn’t payment?”
He ignores my comment. “You want the contract? Well, I want something from you.” I’m not feeling very good about where this is hea
ded. “You’ll sign that contract, offering yourself to me for one night. If you fulfill your contract to me, I’ll let you walk out of here with it.”
Uh, whoa. Hold the phone. “Um, just one minute. I told you before, I’m not some sort of escort.”
“And I’m not looking for one.”
“Then what the hell? I’m not going to be your sex slave for a night. Just because I allowed”—I wave my hands around as if I’m free falling from a mountain—“whatever just happened to happen, doesn’t mean it’s happening ever again.” His eyebrows rise in disbelief. Yes, I would. Ugh. My body’s still tremoring from what just happened. “Listen. I get it. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. I’m sure you actually have no interest in keeping me hostage for a whole night, you’re just trying to scare me into leaving. But you don’t understand. I…I lied.” His eyebrows rise once again. I go on. “I may have told a little fib to make myself look cooler to a bunch of Barbie wannabes.”
Damien steps forward, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Explain yourself.”
Sounds a lot easier said than done. “I lied and said I was familiar with sex clubs. Sex. All of this.” I wave my arms around again. “But I’m not.”
“Clearly.”
I dart my narrowed eyes at him, hoping he feels the hatred in them. “I’m not here to prove anything to you, Damien. I just need that contract. They say if I come back with one, proving I’ve got what it takes to come in here and get one, they’ll allow my best friend to pledge.”
“This means nothing to me. Why do I care about your friend? Do you want to pledge?”
“Fuck no! But my best friend sure does. And they kinda have me by the lady balls if I don’t. They’ll ban her, and she’ll hate me.”
“If she’s your friend, she’d understand,” he says with a bored shrug.
“Well, she’s my only friend. And I can’t risk that.” I wish I were a better bluffer, but there’s no hiding the sadness in my tone. Christine will hate me. And I can’t risk losing the only person who’s truly stood by me. I shrug, brushing off any emotions etched on my face. “Either way, can you just give it to me? There’s really no need for me to come back here. Hand it over, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Dropping his arms, he steps back into my personal space. “Take it or leave it. My offer won’t change. It’s up to you how much this friendship is worth. But I’m a busy man. Give me an answer. Now.” He intrudes further into my personal space, forcing me to take a few steps back. When he stops, he leans into me, and I stiffen, unsure of his next move. Reaching over me, he grabs for the doorknob. “What’s it gonna be, Ms. Jensen?”
I want to tell him to shove his contract up his ass, storm out of here, and take my chances on Christine not hating me. Possibly prepare myself for becoming a loner for the next four years of college. I’m trying to build the mental picture of eating alone every day, but Damien’s cologne, once again, seeps into my nostrils, jarring my concentration on planning my future life of solitude.
“I think you should…” His arm brushes against my shoulder as he opens the door. “Should…uh…” God, what was I going to say?
“Should what, Jensen?” Jesus, the way he says my name… My skin breaks out into goose bumps.
“Only one night. That’s it. Then you hand over the contract.”
Damien steps aside from the door. “Be here tomorrow by nine o’clock. Don’t be a second late.”
Did I just make a deal with the devil?
STANDING IN MY USUAL SPOT, gazing down at the congested dance floor, I watch as members grind into one another, their hands petting and groping, unconcerned who sees them. I stare at a couple, the man with his hand up the woman’s skirt, no care that she’s exposing herself. Her lips are parted. Her cheeks flushed. She’s on the brink of an orgasm. He grinds his hand into her to the beat of the music, until her legs go limp, and he wraps his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.
Everywhere my eyes land, the view is filled with sex, lust, and hunger. There are no limitations in my club. The rules are basic. Everything is consensual. When you sign my contract, you give yourself to this club. The atmosphere, the sharing…if that’s what you’re in the mood for. Discreetness is a must, and judgment is not allowed past the front doors. In my club, you get to become whomever you desire.
Before making my way back to my office, I did a round through the back hallway, taking count of the private rooms reserved for the night. It’s no surprise we’re fully booked. Some by the hour, some the entire night. It depends on the guest’s needs and their heavy wallets. Each member is allowed an allocated time in the private rooms to do as they wish. If they want more time, they pay. And a steep price at that.
Fredrick hands me the list of attendees, and I scroll down to see the usual suspects. A few names are old to the club, but new to the private rooms. Some members take longer than others to take advantage of the full amenities. It’s a place where people learn more about their likes and dislikes. Where they discover things about themselves that may have been festering deep inside them for years until making their way inside those doors.
Bondage and discipline are an acquired taste for some. For few, they learn of it when they become a member of Exquisite. A deep love for something inside them they never knew existed. Submitting and dominating is in us all, and it’s here you learn who you want to be. The private rooms are stocked with anything from a simple bed for privacy to a wall full of tools and objects to help satisfy one’s sexual needs.
With the changing of the songs, I lift my wrist to check the time. It’s almost nine o’clock. The anticipation to see if the girl shows has had me on edge all day. A part of me hopes she doesn’t. I know I’m playing with fire, but I’m also not one to walk away from a good challenge. The moment my fingers were deep inside her, I knew I wasn’t going to turn away from her. The little whimpers that left those bare lips of hers proved to me she was as innocent as they came. And I wanted nothing more than to break that innocence into pieces—show her naïve mind what the big bad world was really made of. Her scent of vanilla and purity filled my office as she came on my fingers. I almost took her into a private room right then, but with patience, comes reward. And all I needed was one night to get exactly what I wanted: her innocence.
The reward, however, will dull fast. She’ll be out of my hair by morning, and I’ll find another toy to play with until I get bored and move on. I’ve even thought about denying her the contract. For business, it’s not smart to hand over something as important as the company’s binding contract. If that got into the wrong hands, it would be bad for the club. I didn’t allow her to leave before signing her own. I needed her to be aware of what she was in for. The fear, confusion, curiosity—it all showed on her face while she read it. I had to hide how hard my dick got at each expression. Whoever this friend was meant something to her, and as much as she wanted to run, I knew she’d come back and do whatever it was I asked of her.
The package I sent over arrived about an hour ago. A black dress that would leave her back completely exposed. Her body was lacking the curves I prefer, but the dress will complement her slender frame. There was one item I requested when having my personal assistant shop and send over the package: a tube of deep red lipstick. In the card stuffed inside the box was a request for her lips to be painted red. Though…it was more of a requirement than a request.
I have plans for those lips. Oh, do I.
I check my watch again, just as it hits one minute to nine. I wasn’t bluffing when I told her not to be late. She will be on time or our deal is off. I’m not a forgiving man when it comes to not following directions. I pull my phone out to call Fredrick to give him orders to deny her when she shows at the door when I spot her racing past the bar. I lower my phone, intrigued by her persistence to get through the packed crowd. I try to get a look at her attire, but she’s weaving in and out of people too quickly. My eyebrows go up as she attempts to pass a group of men who gi
ve her trouble. When she drops down to the ground in her twelve-hundred-dollar Valentino dress and crawls under them, my lips crack into a smile. “Who is this girl?”
She disappears into the crowd, and I know she’s made it into the back hallway that leads to my private elevator. The clock on my wrist strikes three-after-nine when the knock sounds on my door. I’m not given the opportunity to offer entrance before arguing blasts from the other side and the door flies open.
“Seriously, touch me again, and I’ll shove this fucking heel up your ass.”
I turn to see Fredrick is fighting to keep a hold of her bicep and failing miserably. The stressed look on his face tells me she just put him in his place.
“Damien, I’m sorry. She’s got a mouth on her. The girl just pushed past me and—”
“It’s fine. You can go.” Stepping away from the window, I walk to my guest, staring her down, getting satisfaction from knowing I make her uncomfortable. The way her skin prickles instantly delights me. I place myself too close to her and take her in. The dress fits her like a glove. I knew the sizing would be perfect for her. I have no shame taking an eyeful of her breasts and how perfectly they fill in the front. I itch to lift my open palms and squeeze them in my hands. The way the dress slits in the front leaves her legs nearly bare. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the back, but then she turns, offering Fredrick her death stare, and I take in the exposed flesh, so open and ready for me.
The image of my tongue licking down her bare skin has my pants tightening and my hand fighting not to grab her and rip the dress right from her body. But in all the visual indulgence, I haven’t even gotten to the best part of her: her lips. As instructed, her lips, plump and tempting, are painted red.
Exquisite Taste Page 4