The Deal (Trading Hearts #3)

by Saskia Walker

  She stood in her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm wired. This place has me so turned on."

  "How much would you like to explore? Are you ready for the dungeon?"

  "Yes of course….what is it?"

  He had her trust. Lucas grinned. "A few more specialties. The dungeon is where anything goes."

  "I was about to say anything goes here." She nodded her head to the left.

  Lucas looked in that direction and saw a couple making out on a chair in the dark shadows beyond the edge of the dance floor. The woman was facing her lover, straddling him. It made him think about Naomi, straddling him.

  They passed along the cinematic corridor, where old black and white erotic movies from all over Europe were projected onto the walls. Walking down the passageway made occupants feel they were in amongst the kinky goings-on. It was mainly a walkway, but every now and again someone would stop, captured by one of the images on the screens they were passing.

  "This is incredible," Naomi said. "I didn't know there were places like this. Everyone is so upbeat, like…at home."

  "That's it exactly. Mainstream clubs don't appeal to me. They're so often about the hook-up. This kind of club is less about the hook-up and more about the fetish. Even though you see more flesh here and plenty of peacock behavior, there's an atmosphere of mutual admiration and respect. Everybody wants to be seen comfortable in their fetish and people tend to come in here with other people who are happy to wear and do what they do."

  They were nearly there. He paused. Behind her, projected on the wall, two Scandinavian nudes cavorted in an early 1970s porn movie. They foiled Naomi's PVC catwoman-look perfectly, juxtaposing the black and white sexual revolution with Naomi's sleek and colorful introduction to the fetish world.

  "The dungeon is just up ahead," he informed her.

  She stared up at him silently for a long moment, then reached up and kissed him. "I'm ready."

  "It gets pretty explicit in there, and there's often heavy BDSM. Are you going to be okay with this?"

  Her eyes glittered. "To watch, or to partake?"

  A flame lit inside Lucas.

  He tightened his grip on her lead and headed for the dungeon.

  Chapter Six

  They descended the stone stairs into what Naomi assumed would have been the crypt years ago, and was now used as a sexual playroom.

  As they reached the bottom of the stairs a couple of women emerged, laughing, as if high on the time they'd spent in that space. The woman in the lead had lipstick smeared around her mouth as if she'd been kissing frantically. Naomi glanced over her shoulder as they passed on the stairs and saw her companion had lipstick smeared on her face too. Whatever they'd seen or done in there had got them seriously hot. Naomi smiled. She liked that it was LGBT friendly. The age range attending the vast event was wide, and there were fetishes she'd never even known existed. It was a feast for the senses, and with Lucas as her Master she felt safe to explore. Anticipation had her on edge, wired and reckless. It was a heady feeling and she was adrift on the wave.

  A Dungeon Mistress welcomed them at the doorway. Her hair was short, thick and cut punky. She was made up with Egyptian eyes. What really caught Naomi's attention was her dress. It was entirely made of chainmail. When she moved it showed tantalizing glimpses of her naked breasts beneath. She nodded approvingly at Naomi and smiled. Naomi blushed and lowered her eyes.

  Lucas thanked her and they passed under the stone archway.

  The music was loud, making conversation all but impossible. It was a dark heavy rhythm too, powerfully seductive. The room was darker than the others, with alternating red and blue lighting. The strange dark-colored lighting meant it was both public and private at the same time, because the crowd appeared anonymous as they circulated the scenarios in the colored half-light. The dense lighting made shadows reach out from the corners of the room, then suddenly stripped them away when a series of strobe lights lit the space starkly, revealing images that took her breath away.

  At the centre of the space was a raised platform and on it was a girl on her hands and knees. She wore shiny red hot pants and a black leather top studded with metal. A well-built guy dressed as a Dungeon Master towered over her, trailing what looked like a bull whip over the length of her body, teasing her with it. His face was obscured by a black hood and he wore clothing that reminded Naomi of an old-fashioned blacksmith.

  It took Naomi a few moments to realize a second man was involved. He was kneeling behind the girl on the podium, licking the back of her thighs, trailing his tongue up the length of the bare flesh towards her PVC-encased pussy. The attention of the two men was making the woman wild. She wriggled and swayed, her head dropping, her mouth opening as she cried out.

  Further away at the far side of the room stood a huge cross set in a circle of wood. A man was tied there, facing away from them. He wore tight leather pants and was stripped to the waist, revealing an array of eye-catching tattoos across his back and arms. Two men stood either side of him, running their fingers over his leather clad buttocks. One of them held a cat-o-nine tails aloft.

  They were readying him for a flogging. A public flogging.

  Naomi's level of arousal rocketed.

  It was then she realized Lucas was studying her. She looked at him, noticing the way the shadows and light made his face appear gaunter. His mouth was a sensuous contrast. She wanted to wrap herself around him, to show him how much she adored the world he was introducing her to. A cutting edge fetish world, and yet the way he'd been speaking in such romantic notions was old fashioned and oddly familiar to her soul. She clung to him, her arms snaking around his neck, and breathed in the scent of his cologne mixed with that of the leather he wore. How she ached for him. To be without him would be the only true hell.

  He ducked his head and kissed her, long and hard and wet, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth. Her arms tightened around him. She pressed against his hard body, aching to be filled by him.

  He drew back and the strobes lit up his face. His eyes searched hers, then he leaned in to speak close to her ear. "I want to show you off, are you willing?"

  She nodded.

  Quickly, he headed for the central podium.

  Being led through the crowd by him in this highly charged, sexualized atmosphere was breathtakingly arousing to Naomi. As they passed, people looked at them, assessing their relationship, their fetish. She was proud to be seen as his pet, and the lead created a safe zone for her. It implied she was his and his alone.

  When they reached the podium, Lucas stepped up the first of the steps and spoke with the Dungeon Master. He nodded, and then returned his attentions to the current occupants of the podium.

  Naomi saw people looking at them with admiration and curiosity. It made her shiver with anticipation. As the lights changed, their faces became indistinct in the decadent arena of club lighting and dry ice, but she could tell they were eager to discover what Lucas would do with his pet.

  While they waited, Lucas drew the baton from his inner pocket.

  He stared at her, tapped it on his palm then moved and placed at the base of her zippered mini skirt, on her thigh. He drew a line across her bare thigh, then pressed it there. There was a question in his eyes.

  Again she wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed herself up against him.

  He groaned. "Naomi!"

  "I want it all," she whispered.

  It was the last thing she remembered doing. From that moment on, everything happened to her. It was out of her control, and it was narcotic in its intensity.

  The stage was cleared. The guy in the blacksmith's outfit swept his arm widely, inviting them up. Lucas gave her the full length of the lead and stepped up ahead of her. On shaky legs, she followed him. As they took the stage, the strobes hit them. Glancing about, she saw the lights exposed stark profiles of them both on the far wall. It was an image that burned itself into her memory – Lucas, tall and powerful, awaiting her at
the top of the steps, the lead between them both tethering them together.

  When she reached the stage she lost her nerve. Instinctively, she sat on the edge of the stage and clung to his muscled thigh through his leather pants.

  Lucas shifted. He put his hand on her head and stroked her, soothingly.

  Reflex poured through her.

  Lucas shifted again. She looked up at him, mesmerized by the way he looked in the strobes. He took off his jacket, threw it down on the stage floor and encouraged her to kneel on it. His chest expanded as he took the jacket off, his biceps flexing. His hair fell forward and he tossed it back with a jerk of his head. He didn't look like a high powered executive now. He looked altogether more dangerous.

  He pointed at the jacket and she crawled forward until her knees were on the soft leather. As she took up the position, she discovered how hard the stage was under her hands and keens. His jacket was both a gentlemanly gesture – another old fashioned quirk – and a safe haven.

  Her heart raced. She could feel the weight of expectation around them, the multiple pairs of eyes on her as she moved to her master's command. The situation compelled her to act appropriately, moving against Lucas's lower legs while he stood alongside her, the rhythm of the music was undulating and infectious, making her move in time, rocking her hips.

  She felt touch of the baton against the back of her neck. Her heart stalled, then beat on frantically. He moved the tip of it along her spine, following the line of her zippers, first on the back of her fitted top and then down the back of the skirt. The tip of the rubber baton jerked over each and every bump on the zipper. The action reverberated down her spine, making every nerve ending leap to attention.

  Sensitizing me, she thought, arching and bowing to the tip of the baton. She remembered the woman who'd been up here on the platform previously, how the whip had trailed over her body.

  When the top of the baton made contact with her bare skin at the top of her thighs, the difference in sensation startled her. She glanced back at Lucas. He raised his arm. She closed her eyes. The first point of contact rang through her entire being. She gasped aloud, panting. It differed to having Lucas's palm on her. It was a sting more than a slap. Her entire nether region tingled.

  He delivered a series of blows, the baton bouncing off her thighs.

  When the strobes next hit she saw her own shadow cast high on the walls to her right, her body arched to her Master's hand. It was too intense.

  She turned her head the other way, but that only meant she caught sight of other scenarios. A silent whip moving in time with music, couples kissing, touching – and most of all onlookers. Their eyes on her.

  As another sting rang through her, she cried out, unable to hold back. It was deliciously arousing, the pain/pleasure bound up with the experience of being exposed in her sexuality, her fetish of choice.

  Thoroughly wired, she hung her head, her hair hanging down over her face, trying to remain upright.

  Then she felt his hand at the zipper on her skirt.

  If he undid it all the way he could put his hand inside. She'd known that as soon as he'd shown her the outfit. Now it was about to happen.

  As the zipper was undone, she felt cool air on her ringing flesh.

  Then she felt his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy through her skimpy G-string. He squeezed. Hard. He manipulated the flesh, crushing her clit.

  She lifted her head and moaned loudly. The sound was lost in the music.

  She was close to climax. She flashed hot and cold, feverishly aware of her entire skin – the onlookers and the firm hand of her Master while he brought her to orgasm

  It flashed through her mind he'd watched her masturbate over Skype

  He'd known about her exhibitionist streak since they were in Edinburgh together.

  Lucas had been learning her all the time, ready for this.

  In the cup of his palm, she came.

  Chapter Seven

  The call from Georgio Melandros came early on Monday morning, when Naomi was lying in Lucas's bed. Lucas was preparing breakfast. It was a task he seemed to enjoy. She'd been texting Sam, telling her to get down to Mass with a bunch of girlfriends if she wanted to check out some Doms. When her phone bleeped, she glanced at the clock and knew immediately who it was. She tried not to hold her breath, and answered.

  "Georgio, good morning."

  "Welcome aboard, Naomi Kildare. I'd like to represent you."

  She sensed he was smiling. "Georgio, I'm thrilled to bits!"

  "I can't wait to get started. Your work is innovative and unique. We've got an exciting time ahead."

  "That means so much to me." She was so pleased she grew tearful. "Most of all that's what I needed, to know you liked my stuff enough to go forward and represent it."

  "I adore your designs! In fact I'm wondering if there's going to be room in the timetable to design a few select men's items… just a suggestion. Throwing it out there." He laughed.

  She was stunned. A moment later she wondered why she hadn’t though of it herself, her creative juices immediately flowing. "That a terrific suggestion."

  "Excellent. I'll make a list of stuff I want." He chortled at the other end of the line. "The next thing on the agenda is get the contracts department to put together a deal for you. We like to have every new client meet with Lucas Eaglestone, the company owner. It's important he meets the people under his umbrella."

  Finally she knew for sure, Lucas hadn’t influenced this. She'd done it all by herself. "I look forward to it."

  Georgio chatted on for a few minutes. As they were closing, Lucas walked back in to the room, wearing only boxer shorts. Instinctively she waved, pointed at the phone and grinned.

  "Speak to you later," she said to Georgio, "and thank you."

  She disconnected. "Georgio offered me representation."

  For a moment he didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Then he put the breakfast tray on the bedside table and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. "Thank fuck for that!"

  Naomi laughed, His reaction was so unexpected. "Oh Lucas, you were worried."

  "More worried than you, I bet. I knew he'd want to represent you, I just didn't know if he'd have space on his list. He's very busy."

  "He's invited me to dinner this evening, to meet the head of the agency, a Mr. Lucas Eaglestone."

  Lucas grinned. "I can't wait to meet you."

  He laid down on the bed beside her, pulling her close.

  The warmth of his body and his proximity made her current blissful state even more upbeat. "So how am I supposed to handle it?"

  “We act as if we're just meeting, but it'll be with the silent knowledge of each other, this precious bond we have.” He reached out and meshed his fingers with hers.

  For a few silent moments he stared into her eyes, and she suddenly knew, deep down inside how much he wanted her – he made her feel it. It was as if she saw all of their relationship in his eyes, past, present and future. Could it be true? Or was she dreaming it? "Our bond?"

  He shifted again, rolled onto his back, but this time he took her with him, moving her so she was laying on top of him, looking down at him. “Yes, our bond. And at the risk of sounding businesslike,” he said, “let’s talk about the future, our bond going forward. Let's agree an agenda. If not now, soon.”

  Naomi laughed. It was so him. And her pleasure was multiplied because her position made her feel safe, yet cosseted. He looked like a roman emperor, lying as he was on the pillows.

  "Not now, but soon." She ducked her head and kissed his chest, loving the intimacy of the moment. He moved his hands around her hips then cupped her bottom. She shivered, his deliberately possessive touch making her yearn for more. The moment was so precious. She rained kisses on his strong neck, his jaw.

  With one warm palm he stroked her back, following the line of her spine up until that hand cupped the back of her head. “You’re making me hard.”

  “I know.”

  “I�
�m not done talking yet though.” His eyes simmered with heat, with control.

  The way he looked stole her breath.

  She waited for him to speak, to move on, but his expression held her in check. Even though she was physically on top, he was still the one in charge.

  “I want you to know I’m picturing a relationship with you, not just crazy sex.”

  The spectre of his ex-wife still hovered close by, but his words sent a dizzying rush through her. It was too much though, too soon. She wasn’t ready to trade it all, not yet. She tried to be nonchalant, tossed her hair back and smiled at him. “But crazy sex will always be on the agenda, right?”

  “You push a hard bargain, lady.” His laughter rumbled in his chest and she felt it, her body rippling. “Okay, you got it. “ He winked.

  She touched his mouth, loving how his smile made her feel. She reached one hand around his neck and opened her mouth to take his kiss. When their mouths met, they locked together.

  His cock hardened under her. Instantly, she was wet, the pulse in her groin speeding. She didn’t want to say more, couldn’t say more. Nothing was going to stop this now, not doubts or wishes or words. Her core had turned to molten liquid and she was slick with juices. She pulled away. “I do have one major issue I need to discuss.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to know about this rock hard erection I’m lying on.”

  He rolled her over onto her back. “Open your legs and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  * * * *

  Georgio Melandros lifted a champagne flute, and encouraged Naomi to do the same. "Here's to your future, my darling. I'm delighted to be part of it. We're going to take the retail trade by storm with your inspired creations."

  Naomi chuckled as she clicked her glass against his. Georgio had an infectious personality and made her feel the journey ahead would be as much fun as it would be a business adventure. The Pall Mall restaurant he'd taken her to was top end, with pristine white tablecloths and old fashioned silver service attention.