by Kacey Shea
“Your plaything is a little nervous.” She smiles at Jude. “Just the way I like them. Sure you don’t want help?”
Jude smiles back but for a split second I swear his jaw clenches with irritation. “Not today.”
“Very well, then.” She eyes me again but this time her gaze is full of interest—in me. “Payment.” She holds an open hand out to Jude.
He hands over a wad of cash. “Everything we discussed.”
“And the cleaning deposit for if you make a mess?”
I gulp imagining what kind of messes get left behind.
“It’s there.”
She walks to an intricate iron door, pulls out a set of keys, and unlocks it. “Have at it, then.”
Jude’s hand falls to the small of my back and he pushes me forward. Logically, I understand we are only here for research purposes. The club has a zero photography policy not only to ensure the protection of its clients, but also to maintain an air of exclusivity. One of Jude’s clients wants this particular room replicated, which is why Jude asked me to come along and pretend we’re a couple interested in joining the club. I’m certain the cash he handed over allows us private access more than our lie of membership interest.
Yet, even though I know all of those things, there’s something about the possessiveness in Jude’s posture that sends a thrill down my spine as we pass Mistress and enter the room. The door shuts with a resounding click at my back, one that seems to reverberate through the total silence.
Jude doesn’t drop his hand, and the warmth of his palm sends heat throughout my body. I wonder what it would feel like to have his touch everywhere. He’s always so certain, moving with purpose and confidence, there’s no doubt in my mind he would be an amazing lover.
A shiver runs up my spine, my pulse beats loudly to my own ears, and heat floods my cheeks as I imagine the fun we could have in this room. Sexy, naked, delicious fun. I don’t dare look at him. My control is teetering on a vulnerable ledge, and after last night I’m not certain which way it should fall. The more I discover about Jude Lawrence, the more I want him, but is that really a good idea? My legs press together, the ache between them begging for some kind of release even though it’s momentarily out of the question. I am not throwing myself at Jude in a sex club, even if it is empty and all ours for the next twenty minutes.
I scramble for something clever to say, a joke, or really anything at all to break the building tension. My eyes land on a bench resembling the one we picked up the other night. “Oh!” I skip over to it with more enthusiasm than necessary, just to put some space between us. “This is the same as the one you bought from the creepy guy.” I pat the leather then yank my hand back when I realize the amount of naked skin and bodily fluids that’s probably touched it.
Jude’s chuckle wraps around me like a warm blanket. “Yes, same builder.”
I turn my back to the bench, my gaze following Jude as he walks around. “So thorough.”
He purses his lips and nods, pausing to meet my gaze only a second. “You have no idea.”
Uncertain whether he intends his words to be full of innuendo and promise—God, I hope they are—I busy myself with inspecting the room. Not that he needs my help re-creating it for his client, but it gives me something to think about other than the room’s intent.
Jude stops at the wall where there’s an apparatus affixed with different hooks, wooden beams, and leather straps. He lifts his gaze, notices me staring, and I swear his eyes melt into a different shade of brown. Darker. Deeper. “Would you . . ?” His brows lift.
“Uh,” I manage to squeak.
My eloquent answer brings a smile to his lips. “Unless you’re scared I’ll tie you up and leave you here.” The lightness to his tone settles my unease.
I roll my eyes and strut over. “You better not.” I examine the crossed bars of wood and metal and rope. It’s rather confusing. I hope he knows what he’s doing. Maybe I should be worried, but I’m not. No, I’m excited. I love the idea of being at Jude’s mercy. I force an exasperated sigh through my lips, playing off the desire thrumming through my veins. “Where do you want me?”
“Oh, Rachel, I thought you’d never ask.” He grins but there’s a deviousness to his smile that makes me hope for more.
I lean my back against the wall and lift my hands, palms up for him to take. “Tie me up, Captain.” My voice is breathless, almost comically so.
His booming laughter shakes his chest, his head tipping back as a smile so free and uninhibited takes over his face. God, he’s beautiful. He shakes his head, taking one of my hands in his. “I think it’s supposed to be Master. Captains are for sailing and rugby.” His fingers encircle one of my wrists, and lift it high to fasten over my head. He has to take a step forward to reach the desired height, his chest brushing against my breasts. His next breath hits the shell of my ear.
“Rugby?” I whisper. Not sure why, other than with him so close it seems appropriate. “What are you, British?”
He chuckles. God, I love making him smile. Being responsible for his joy. “Possibly. Maybe I should do one of those ancestry DNA tests.” He reaches back up to adjust the buckle at my wrist.
“You should.” I gulp as his chin turns toward me. We’re practically cheek to cheek, and if he turns a little more his lips would be on mine. “But I’m not calling you Master.”
His brows lift, but he doesn’t appear offended. In fact, I get the impression he enjoys my feisty spirit. “Well, what would you call me, then? I need a good Dom name.”
“The Dealer.”
“Nah. Sounds like a hitman.” He knocks my feet apart with his knee, a grin on his lips. “Wider.”
Fuck. That’s hot. I resist the urge to slam my eyes shut. I imagine him giving the same command with us naked and me bent over in front of him. “Dirty Dealer,” I breathe out on a tight exhale.
His jaw tenses, and he nods, letting out a sound of what must be agreement, though it also could moonlight as a tortured growl.
He drops to his knees and widens my stance even further, affixing my ankles in their own ties so I’m spread wide, my lower half resembling the bottom of an X. I still have one hand free and the urge to run my fingers through his hair is almost too much. There’s something about the length of it, the slight curl at the ends, that begs for my touch.
When both ankles are secure, he glances up, his eyes molten with desire under his dark lashes. “Too tight?” The look in his hungry gaze steals my breath and I swear if I weren’t fastened to the wall, I’d fall over.
All I can do is nod my chin.
He doesn’t break eye contact as he rises to his full height. It’s as if an invisible band tightens between us, drawing him closer with each passing second. Want. Desire. Need. Emotion undeniable and real coils in the space between us until we’re practically sharing the same breath.
If someone had told me last week that I’d be tied to a wall of a sex club, begging for a man I’d known less than two weeks to kiss me, I’d have thought they were crazy. Now. Now, that didn’t sound crazy at all. It sounded just about perfect.
In a move that I think shocks us both, I grip the fabric of his tie with my free hand and tug him so his chest is completely pressed to mine. “Kiss me.”
He licks his lips, his gaze darting to mine. “I’m supposed to be the Dom in this situation.”
He’s so close.
I strain forward, but because of the ties I can’t quite reach him. “Well, you’re doing a poor job.”
“Are you questioning my competency as your Dirty Dealer?” His lips kick up at the edges. His jaw scrapes along mine as his mouth goes to my ear. “I may have to spank you for that.”
Heat spreads to my core. “Promise?”
“Fuck, Rachel.” Jude pulls back and swallows thickly, as if he’s trying to fight this pull between us. I don’t know why, but I’d like for him to let go and give in already. His gaze levels mine, and the depths of his eyes appear almost as tortured as h
is words. “What are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me.” Honesty. I know he wants me. I saw evidence of that the other night. I want him too. In this moment, there’s nothing I’d like more. “Kiss me, Jude. Please.”
He leans closer, his body big and pressed to mine. “I like hearing you beg.” He shifts his hips forward and I feel how much so.
“Don’t get used to it,” I say, but there’s no fight left to my voice. Not when he’s going to give me exactly what I want. What we’ve both been fighting and denying.
His lips crush against mine, and we’re kissing. Oh, God. We’re kissing. Finally. It’s as if something shatters inside. Control. But also the fear that’s held me back from taking what I want, what I’ve been wanting. Him.
I thread my free hand around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. Like everything about us, it’s a battle, full of push and pull, taking and receiving. My entire body lights up, energy pulsing and ready to unleash. The sensation of being tied up only enhances the pleasure of his lips on mine. I tug at his hair and he releases a groan that goes straight to my clit. Fuck. I want to come so badly, I might actually cry if I don’t find release.
As if he understands my frustration—or maybe he’s as eager to move this forward—Jude’s palms caress the sides of my body. One grabs the fleshy part of my hip, his fingers digging into my skin and making me gasp. “Fuck, yes. Rachel,” he whispers, and his other hand strokes up to my breast, kneading it over the fabric of my blouse and bra.
My nipples peak into buds that ache for his mouth. “We’re wearing too many clothes,” I say between kisses.
His deep, throaty chuckle scatters goose bumps over my flesh and a tingle down my spine.
“Need any help?” The Mistress’s voice interrupts from across the room like a bucket of unexpected ice water.
Jude takes a quick step back and the heat of Jude’s body disappears in an instant. His gaze drops to the space between us as he answers her. “No, thanks.”
Damn it. My eyes close as the erotic spell of this room is broken. Not that I want our first time to be inside a sex dungeon, but hell, I could’ve kissed him forever on this wall.
“Five minutes. I have the room booked for another private session on the hour. Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all. Selfishly, I wish Jude would pay her to go away. Bribe her and book the room for another twenty minutes, just so he can kiss me. It’s stupid and irrational, but I think it all the same.
“We better . . .” He doesn’t finish or meet my gaze, his hand dropping to his trousers to adjust himself. I’m frustrated, but he must be in pain.
“Uh . . .” I reach up to the fastener on my opposite wrist, but it’s not possible. “A little help, please.”
“Right.” He scrubs a hand over his face and steps forward to do it for me. “Sorry.” Neither of us speaks as he releases the restraints. We retrieve our phones and personal items from the front desk and walk out to the car. Jude won’t meet my gaze, and all I want is to demand he kiss me again. Preferably harder and naked in his private condo. But saying it aloud is terrifying. I wish I could read minds—or rather, his—so I knew where I stood.
37
Jude
I kissed Rachel in a sex dungeon.
The thought plays on repeat like a song I can’t get out of my mind.
I kissed Rachel and it was everything I hoped it would be. Not true. It was more. Someone check me into rehab because I’m officially an addict. But making out in a fucking sex club. What the hell was I thinking? She deserves better. Hell, I was seconds away from stripping her down and then going down, in a public place. Not that anyone would have seen except for the owner, and it’s not as if she hasn’t witnessed more. But still. I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Memorable, and not in a weird story you tell people for a laugh kind of way.
“Jude?”
I tap my fingers across the steering wheel and swallow, finally turning the key in the ignition. “Yeah?” I kissed Rachel in a sex dungeon. Jesus.
“Look at me.” Her voice isn’t nearly as commanding as the Mistress, but there’s a desperation to her words that I can’t ignore.
I lift my gaze, my breath catching on her beauty. Her lips are plump, slightly swollen from the assault of my mouth. My body aches to pull her onto my lap for more, but there’s an unease to her gaze, a vulnerability that I don’t dare discount.
“Was that okay?” Her fingers twist together in her lap, and she lets loose a wry laugh. “I mean, I’m not going crazy, right? You wanted to kiss me?”
Does she not think—? “God, yes.” I reach for her hands, twining our fingers together. “Of course. I’ve been wanting that.”
“So, what’s the matter? Why do I get the feeling you’d rather be anywhere but here with me?”
I’m an idiot. I’m fucking it all up. “Rachel, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I saw you on the side of the road.” I gather my courage and exhale on a deep sigh. “But fuck, I never meant for it to be in a sex club. I feel like such a noob.”
Her lips press together and her eyes drop to where our hands connect. She watches as I rub my thumb back and forth across her skin. A giggle bursts from her lips, and she bites her bottom lip as if to stop it.
“Oh, that’s funny?” A smile tugs at my lips.
She nods, letting loose another laugh. “Yeah, actually it kind of is.”
This time I join in. At first it comes out uneasy, like an engine not sure it’ll turn over. But when her shoulders shake and she has to wipe away tears because she’s laughing that hard, I can’t hold back anymore. Like two idiots, we sit in a mostly empty parking lot with smiles that won’t go away. “I want to kiss you this very second.”
She inhales sharply, but her smile doesn’t fade. “Yeah.”
That’s all the permission I need. Turning in my seat, I frame her face with my hands, loving the way her soft skin feels under the pads of my fingertips. Carefully, slowly, I close the space between us, savoring the moment. Committing it to memory, and placing it in the deepest part of my heart for safekeeping. She’s precious, more than any jewel or antique I could acquire. My lips press to hers, sealing my silent promise to always make sure she knows how extraordinary she is. I never want her to question my intentions again. This time isn’t rushed, or out of control. There’s no battle of tongues or hair pulling, but it’s just as good.
The walls around my heart crack and crumble, but instead of feeling broken or unstable, her soul wraps around the spaces needing repair. Filling them, and building something strong enough to withhold much more than I ever could on my own.
With one last brush of my lips to hers, I pull back enough to meet her eyes as they flutter open. She appears as dazed as I feel.
“That was—”
“Yeah,” she breathes.
“We should—” I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to form sentences.
She doesn’t laugh or poke fun, though. “Yeah.”
I straighten in my seat, attaching my seat belt and checking my mirrors before pulling out. The big, goofy grin on my face greets me in the rear mirror, but I don’t even try to wipe it away. I’m happy. Being with Rachel makes me happy.
We’re on the drive back to my condo when the phone rings. Strange. It’s Aubrey, not Chance’s name that pops up on the caller ID. She doesn’t usually call. I hope everything’s okay. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“Not at all.”
I press the button on the steering wheel to connect the call. “Hey, Aubrey. Everything good?”
“Only if you’re still coming tonight.”
Tonight? I rack my brain but come up short.
“You forgot.” She’s annoyed. “He forgot!” She yells but the sound is distant, as if she has the phone away from her face.
“Ha! Told you!” Chance says, his voice muted.
“What did I forget?” I glance at Rachel and wince.
“The fundraiser!
You promised. Chance has his art featured, and it benefits my shelter.” She sighs. “Please tell me you’re coming anyway. And bringing a date. I’m not sitting with an empty seat at our table. Do you need me to find you a plus one?”
“No.” The response flies from my lips. I’m not sitting next to anyone besides Rachel. I hope she doesn’t hate me for roping her into this thing.
“No?” Aubrey draws out the word, and I can picture her smile. “Oh! Is this the one? Chance was telling me about your little freeway lo—”
I cut the call short with a flick of my thumb. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “So, uh, it looks like I’m attending a fundraiser tonight. I forgot—and honestly I’d rather not go.” I sneak a glance at Rachel, relieved to find her smiling. “But that’s not happening. One of my best clients is the organizer. And, well, apparently I agreed to sit with my friends Aubrey and Chance.”
“You have something against fundraisers?”
“Not at all. But I’d rather write a check and be done. Dressing up to socialize amongst California’s movers and shakers isn’t my idea of fun.”
“You don’t enjoy that?” She lifts her brows. “Sorry, it’s just surprising. You seem to know everyone.”
“I’d rather stay home”—with you—“than go to this gala.”
“But you didn’t invite anyone? You were planning to go alone? I find it difficult to believe you have issues finding a date.”
I pull into the parking garage and find my space before answering. Once the engine is cut, and my seat belt’s unbuckled, I shift to give her my full attention. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of a loner.”
She meets my gaze, her stare curious as if weighing the truth of my words. She glances down at the space between us and fiddles with the purse strap in her hands. “Well, I’m sure there’s some woman out there who’d love to be your date.”