His features had been carved in stone, and he stared past her, his hands tightening on her waist in a near bruising grip. Emily shuffled a half step and saw a beautiful, naked sub at a Dom’s feet, a mass of black hair tumbling around her lovely face and over her shoulders. The Dom had a possessive hand on her shoulder where it pressed into his upper thigh, and they both watched her and Jordan.
She’d let out a squeak when Jordan scooped her up and stalked from the room, his tall frame tense and unwelcoming. Her release spoiled, Emily had nearly spoken up, but one look at his face put paid to her impulse. It wasn’t her place. Whatever the dynamics of that strange tableau, she knew better than to ask. Oh, he’d then held her and petted her, but it all felt by rote and it wasn’t until he asked about the scarring on her thighs that she felt he was actually back with her.
“I thought the scarring wasn’t noticeable.”
“The marks are faint, but I noticed. I’ve yet to make a total inspection of your nice little body, sub, but I had my face in your pussy tonight.”
That was his correction for her prevarication. Emily flinched at the crudity and noted his sadistic smirk. Bastard. “I used a razor blade. And before you ask, my mother caught me and told my therapist, and I had to sign a contract to promise not to do it again.”
“You keep your promises.”
“You know I do. Sir.”
Jordan shifted his position beneath her, and she adjusted accordingly. She wondered if they’d always sit this way, with her on his lap, wrapped in nothing but a blanket. Once again, she thought she could get used to it.
“I know you keep them, sweetheart, at least to others. It was an observation. So what did you do to ease the pain after that, to equalize it?”
That was easy. “I acted out, brought shit down on myself. I courted danger and invited other kids to get into it with me.”
He chuckled, and the faint remaining strain on his face smoothed away. “I find it hard to imagine you as a fighter.”
“I didn’t win very often,” she admitted. “But that wasn’t the point.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. What happened when you outgrew the schoolyard fights?”
“Who says I did?”
“Emily.” But his voice was teasing.
“I became a bitch, or just plain annoying. Sometimes I’d act—” She corrected herself. “I act the part of the blonde bimbo.”
“Does anyone ever get close to knowing the real Emily?”
Swallowing against the huge lump in her throat, she managed to answer. “I don’t even know who that is.”
“You will, sweetheart. You will.”
“Okay.” The uncertainty and doubt in her voice resounded in that one word. But she was more concerned she might not like the person she found.
“I have something to take your mind off all those uncertainties and ruminations, sub. Learn about others and forget about focusing on yourself. Knees. Eyes on me.”
The command jolted her from her sad speculation, as he no doubt intended, and she slipped to the floor where a pillow awaited her. When he wasn’t prying open her mind or smacking her ass, he was gentle with her. The blanket was swept away, and she knelt before him with nothing to veil her body or her thoughts.
Master Jordan casually unlaced his leathers, stretching his long legs out on either side of her. The flex of his fingers mesmerized her, and as the panel fell away, she was rewarded with the thrust of his cock, thick and hard, the mushroom head glistening above the hood of the foreskin. Master Jordan was big all over, and she swallowed in anticipation.
“Use both hands, sub.”
Shuffling forward, she grasped his shaft, easing the thin sleeve of skin downward, hiding her satisfaction when he stifled an intake of air and his thighs tightened. The soft, velvety feel made her rub her cheek against him, and she inhaled his musk and reveled in his sultry heat. Turning her face, she drifted her mouth over the wide glans, flicking her tongue into the slit to taste the beading pre-cum, before widening her lips to take him inside.
Jordan then wrested control, threading his fingers through her hair to guide her movements. “You watch your teeth, sweetheart, and use your lips to work the foreskin. Suck.”
This wasn’t her favorite thing, and the men she dated would hardly dare demand it, but her Dom was hardly like those men. And she’d checked off the oral sex box on that damn questionnaire, not considering oral sex went both ways. His earthy, salty taste soothed her just as his relentless hold on her head thrilled that part of her longing to be told, to be dominated, and to simply exist in the moment.
The deeper he pressed, the harder it became to suck him, remember to cover her teeth and use her tongue on a particularly sensitive spot she’d discovered on the first few passes. She became a vessel for his pleasure, his hands managing her movements and his low, demanding voice exhorting her to swallow him down. Saliva escaped from the corners of her mouth, and her jaw began to ache as she breathed through her nose and fought her gag reflex. The impossible size of his shaft as it swelled with release packed her mouth, and he came so deep in her throat there was only a rushing sensation of thick, hot fluid to fill her belly.
He eased her away, and his cock slipped free, wet from her efforts and his own. “Fuck me, sweetheart, you please me.”
The soreness in her jaw magically vanished, as did the awareness of sticky smears of cum and spit on her cheeks and chin. Master Jordan stared at her with such approval and appreciation Emily decided blow jobs weren’t her least favorite thing after all.
Tucking himself back into his pants, he reached for a box of tissues and extracted a handful, then leaned to mop her face dry. “We need to discuss birth control.”
Yes, indeed. Intercourse was another tick in the box, and the idea of fucking this man was now high on her agenda. She was greedy and wanted to experience it all before—she noted the tightening in her throat. This experience was finite, and that was a scary thought. Before she could consider why, he interrupted her train of thinking.
“Emily. Focus. What’s in your head?”
She had no idea and prevaricated. “I’d like some water, please.”
“Oh, sweetheart. For sure.” In a clear need to tend to her comfort, Jordan grabbed for the bottle and uncapped it, offering it to her.
Emily drank deeply, using the container to hide her face, closing her eyes as she tipped it up. Then she hastened to answer his question. “I’m on the Pill. And you have my medical records.”
“I’m clean as well. I don’t care for condoms, being uncut, but if I’m working with a number of subs, and sex is in the contract, I use them. But I’ll be training couples now. Change of workload.”
“I don’t understand.” And she didn’t want to hear about him fucking other subs either.
“The other house Dom has met someone he wishes to remain exclusive with. You’ve seen him around. Master Jon.”
The enormous, incredibly handsome black Dom who pushed air ahead of him when he moved. Emily knew who Jordan was referring to and nodded enthusiastically.
He narrowed his eyes on her and without needing to think about it she said, “He looks amazing, but he scares the crap out of me. His submissive must be an Amazon.”
Jordan relaxed, his shoulders lowering, and his face losing the same tension he displayed when he looked at that gorgeous brunette the other night. Emily carefully stored that information away for another time, but thought he might be jealous of her interest in Master Jon. Until she had clarified that interest.
“Actually, I understand she’s not at all what we expected, and she’s not his submissive yet. But exclusivity is a hard limit.” He shut his mouth tightly and shook his head a little. “This place runs rampant with gossip, and I try not to get involved.”
Emily perked up at the thought. She loved gossip. She kept her ears open and listened carefully, sifting out the wheat from the chaff and gained many an advantage that way. But her Master likely wouldn’t approve. She tried no
t to consider it.
“So, I’ll be working with couples and am prepared to eschew intercourse, even to share, if we agree to be exclusive. Until your training is complete.”
Was he holding his breath? Emily watched his chest, detecting no movement, and hurried to answer, although that renewed sense of her connection with Master Jordan having a time limit made her ache a little. “So nothing between us.”
“Correct.”
The negotiation felt stilted, and she fought the urge to giggle. Eschewing intercourse. Exclusivity. Then the idea of Master Jordan fucking other women sobered her, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth, and she nodded. “All right.”
“To be clear, you’ll have no other men in your life while we’re together.”
Her thoughts drifted briefly to Jeremy, soon back from his vacation—the one she’d refused to accompany him on—and realized there’d been nothing between them of consequence. She’d let him know as soon as he returned that she’d moved on, and suspected he wouldn’t be particularly bothered.
“No one else.”
“I’ll expect you next weekend then.”
Wait. What? A bucket of cold water couldn’t have chilled her so effectively. It was as if he’d gotten what he wanted and found he really didn’t care for it anymore. Emily bit her lip and struggled to her feet, pretending not to see the hand he offered her. Was this Master Jordan a Jekyll and Hyde kind of guy? She didn’t know BDSM, not really, but this seemed way off. He’d get right into it, into her, and then hold her at arms’ length. It rubbed her the wrong way.
* * * *
His little sub, the one he’d just committed to exclusively for the duration of her training, and what the hell was that all about anyhow, pattered across the room to where her small pile of clothing was stacked. He felt her confusion and rising annoyance and cursed under his breath. He was giving her mixed messages. His damn issue, not hers. When she’d agreed to be exclusive, and receive him bareback, his cock had joined his belly in a happy dance, although she’d taken her own sweet time in answering him. It was time he came clean, put his cards on the table, and if she chose not to continue, then so be it. He couldn’t keep hedging.
“It’s a holiday Monday tomorrow. Is your school closed?”
Her affirmation was muffled as she yanked a long-sleeved tunic over her head, her fet wear set to one side.
“I hadn’t thought about it until now, Emily. Will you come and have breakfast with me tomorrow? We have a lot to talk about.”
Wary blue eyes considered him, and she shook her tangled curls back, exposing the long line of her throat. Jordan imagined a narrow black collar encompassing that slender neck and decided to buy her one—for training. The ribbons a lot of subs affected weren’t to his taste.
“I’m not sure.” Her tone was tentative.
Fuck, he was going to drive her away at this rate, and just when they were making such progress. Not to mention how well Emily gave head. He’d thought his brain had fried during the last moments of his orgasm when she’d taken all of him.
“The Club has an excellent kitchen. It feeds the house Doms and Master Patrick and his wife when they choose to eat there. I’d like your company.” He realized how much he meant it.
“What time?” Emily held her pants in front of her, the smooth length of her legs peeking out from behind them. Jordan then wished he’d asked her for a sleepover instead, but held onto his resolve not to make this more than training. Exclusive training, but training nevertheless. Sleepovers reeked of intimacy. Like what you’ve started with this submissive isn’t already redolent.
“Nine o’clock work for you?”
Head tilted to the side, those blue eyes considering, she nodded.
“I’ll meet you at the door.”
She fit perfectly beneath his arm, tucked against his side as he escorted her out to her car. Jordan didn’t miss the speculative glances or the way several of the single Doms ran a quick eye over Emily. He found himself glaring them into proper decorum and decided to seek out a training collar sooner than later.
Chapter Four
Emily surveyed the atrium. The kitchen area must be tucked away and well vented, because she couldn’t smell the odors of food cooking or hear the sounds of dishes and utensils clattering. The place was a soothing Eden, with well-tended plants growing in containers beneath some well placed skylights. It was clearly a place to provide an atmosphere totally different than the excesses of the Club proper. And it was empty except for the two of them. She made mention of that fact.
Shrugging, Jordan said, “It’s early. Master Patrick worked late, and he has kids, too. Little kids. I expect they don’t sleep through the night, and his wife is kinda fragile. They’re probably catching up on their rest. Master Jon is in house, but he’s probably come for breakfast and gone already. And I don’t think anyone overnighted in the member rooms.”
It felt quite comfortable, sharing a table in a quiet restaurant with this man, learning about the Club’s people and not just about the kink. Jordan looked staggeringly attractive this morning, his dark hair still damp from a shower, with a hint of scruff on his cheeks and strong chin. The thought of seeing him across from her every morning infiltrated her mind, and she blinked it away. This relationship had a shelf life.
“How long have you worked here?”
His gaze narrowed on her face, and she figured he’d noticed her brief distraction, but he didn’t comment on it. “Several years now. I got hired on about the same time as Graham Alexander.”
“Does he still work here?”
“Nope.” Jordan smiled, and her heart swelled at the way his face lit up. Had he not smiled at her before?
“He didn’t like the work?”
“Oh, he liked it, Emily. Graham was one of the best Doms here. But he met somebody and married her. Kennedy Johnson.”
She was puzzled. This Graham fellow married somebody, so didn’t work in the Club anymore, but Jordan just said that Master Patrick lived here with his wife and kids and still worked in the Club. She wondered how his wife tolerated the fact he touched other women, but supposed everyone was different. Maybe it was different being the owner.
With another smile, and a touch of teasing humor, Jordan said, “Kennedy wasn’t thrilled with his job, but they worked out a compromise. But then Graham’s history showed up and bit him on the ass. Kennedy saved his bacon, but I expect he did some extreme groveling. Anyhow they’re really good now. One kid, Graham’s boy from a previous indiscretion, and they’re expecting a baby girl.”
“That’s sweet.” She wondered what the whole story was but appreciated that Jordan trusted her with some history. Especially when he’d said he didn’t care for gossip. This felt like a confidence, and she’d treat it as such.
“Uh-huh. Graham’s hair will be gray with two women running him ragged, especially if the baby turns out to be anything like her mom. Kennedy kicks Graham’s ass on a regular basis, and Gray loves the woman to distraction. Apparently having to work for submission with no guarantee of obtaining it is Graham’s kink.”
“So there’s lots of different kinds of these relationships.”
“There are.”
Emboldened, she asked, “What’s your idea of one?”
Forbidding didn’t quite describe the change in his presentation, but it was close. His sensuous mouth thinned, and the skin over his cheekbones tightened. Even his dark eyes took on a frosty sheen. “I’m not interested in a full-time relationship.”
There it was, the Great Wall of China erected Jordan Sterling style. He was clearly putting her on notice, drawing a line in the sand. And she resented it. It was a fair question, no matter her submissive role, and they weren’t in that mode now, anyhow. She’d bared herself to him in most every conceivable way, despite the early stages of their association, and he’d opened the door by sharing about his friends.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, or pry. I didn’t consider it to be such a difficult question
, really.”
Jordan took a long sip of orange juice, then set the glass down carefully. He met her eyes and nodded. “Sorry. I’m single because I choose to be. This is my job, training submissives and couples. Threesomes. I don’t have a desire for hearth and home, and kids running around.”
It felt like a rehearsed speech to her, but she nodded in return and applied herself to her grapefruit and toast. If he couldn’t be truthful with her, then he couldn’t. She wasn’t going to act like a hurt and rejected girl.
“Emily.”
Jordan. She controlled her immediate snarky reaction. “Yes?”
“I thought I wanted a relationship once, and it wasn’t meant to be. My life suits me as it is.”
If that wasn’t the biggest load of crap. She heard the pain behind his comment. As adept as she was at managing her own hurt, she was supremely sensitive to it in others. But he wouldn’t let her make it her business, and she wanted to smack him. Give it a rest, Em. Expiry date, remember? Take what you need and leave the rest.
“I see.” There, that was innocuous enough, and she ensured she sounded absolutely, totally neutral.
Master Jon strode into the atrium, distracting her. He was accompanied by a slight, brown-haired woman who walked with her head down and her shoulders slumped. She projected emotional angst, and Emily stared, knowing it was rude, but unable to tear her eyes away. Jordan frowned at the couple and then at her. It seemed as though the Eden-like atmosphere was deteriorating with every minute.
“Does your class graduate this year?”
Jordan’s question yanked her from her reverie, and she hurried to answer. They chatted, their interaction superficial, and Emily wished she hadn’t asked the question that had shut him down, even as she wondered if the mystery woman was in Jordan’s past, or if he’d met her at the Club. She felt a little ill at the thought of the other woman still being around, and how that might play out.
A visibly ticked Master Patrick stalked past, his tall body rigid and emanating controlled anger, face bleak. He barely acknowledged them, and that was okay with Emily. The Dom seemed capable of reading one’s secrets with a simple glance, and assessing one’s worth with another. She suspected she hadn’t impressed him much. He stopped at the other occupied table, and Jordan touched her hand to pull her attention back on him. Not that it was a chore. When she pretended the awkward moment hadn’t happened, and focused on the way his T-shirt stretched snugly across his broad chest, the soft fabric caressing his muscled physique, Emily longed to slip her hands under that shirt. It occurred to her she hadn’t yet seen him naked, and hoped that would change in the near future.
Enough [Club Pleasure 7] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 6