Damn, he’d tried to do his best with Joni, he just didn’t want a slave. He could chalk that mistake up to being young and stupid, but if he were being honest, he could see that everything about his marriage had been a lie. He’d promised to love, honor, and cherish Joni—and had only managed to succeed at two out of three.
What could he possibly offer Karla that would be any better?
* * *
Karla leaned against the wall outside Adam’s office, certain her feet wouldn’t support her if she tried to walk right now.
“Joni, you were the best slave a man could want.”
“Hell, just look at the mess it was with Karla.”
The ringing in her ears made her realize she was close to passing out, throwing up, or both. She held her forearm against her stomach and pushed away from the wall with the other, then made her way back to the kitchen, the hallway, the stairway. The sooner she could get upstairs and remove this ridiculous corset and thong and dress in jeans and a t-shirt, the better. She’d almost made a fool of herself, throwing herself at a man who wanted so much more than she could ever give him.
When he’d called off their Master/slave arrangement, she’d thought it had been because he didn’t want that kind of relationship. He’d told Karla a twenty-four/seven wasn’t right for either of them, but now he’d admitted he did enjoy the role of Master. With Joni, at least. He’d rejected the agreement with Karla in exchange for a Dom/sub. Clearly, he hadn’t been honest with her.
Could Karla ever back to being his slave again? She didn’t enjoy subjugating herself in that way. She’d slowly lost pieces of her personality as she’d tried to mold herself into what Adam wanted. A fucking disaster. Now that she was stronger, both sexually and emotionally, becoming his slave was even harder. She didn’t want to give up her power like that again.
But she clearly needed to give it up if she wanted Master Adam.
He wants you.
Karla put her fists to her ears in an attempt to block out the voice that had given her messages since that Thanksgiving Day nine years ago when she’d been told to “watch over him” and had followed him to Lake Michigan.
Now she knew. It was Joni’s voice.
Hearing her rival’s voice on the tape just now in Adam’s office confirmed what Karla had suspected lately. How could her mind play tricks on her like that? How could Karla conveniently conjure up the dead wife’s voice and delude herself into thinking Adam wanted her and she had the blessings of his dead wife?
Maybe she needed to go into counseling to deal with Ian’s death. The worst of her delusions had started after losing him. Now she was about to lose Adam. The weight of that loss crushed her like a boulder on her chest.
No, the worst of her delusions was when she’d seen Adam standing in front of the stage during her audition. She’d convinced herself she’d come home to him at last. That she was safe with Adam. How could she have been so wrong?
“Oh, Adam. Why can’t you just love me the way I am?” How pathetic was she that, even now, she wanted to try and win him over—to be what he wanted her to be? How could she give up on him? He was the only man she’d ever loved. She’d waited so long for him. Maybe just one more try to win his heart. Not everything about being his slave had been horrible. She could just find the things that both of them enjoyed and see if he would be satisfied with those, couldn’t she?
Formulating a plan, she went to the closet and pulled out the red, filmy harem-girl costume she’d owned since college. How perfect that the costume and veil were red, Adam’s favorite color. Hell, maybe Joni had chosen the color.
Okay, Kitty. Don’t go bat-shit crazy on me here.
She pulled out her phone and called Angie, knowing she’d need the moral support of another harem girl in the club tonight.
“I’ll talk to Marc. I’m sure he’ll help.”
Angie said they’d come upstairs to meet her tonight and discuss the plan of attack before heading to the club. Karla remembered how Luke, Marc, and Adam had banded together to help Marc win over Angelina again last month. What were friends for? Only now Karla was the one in need of help.
She stripped down to the skin, then donned the next-to-nothing costume. The red silk bra was sequined and beaded, with strands of beads dangling all around for optimal effect at the slightest movement of her body. From one breast to the other hung strands of beads on strings similar to the chain that had hung between her breasts when she’d worn the nipple clamps. She wondered if her Master would be reminded of that night, as well. She shimmied her shoulders and watched the strings of beads dance. She hoped so.
The skirt had a black silk waist, also heavily beaded and sequined, with layer upon layer of red, opaque scarves hiding her naked mons and ass from view. She practiced some of her belly-dancing moves and caught glimpses of the dark triangle of her mons as the scarves moved. No, that wouldn’t do. She took everything off again and headed to the shower.
Half an hour later, her mound smooth and bare, she donned the costume again and scrutinized herself in the mirror. Better. She brushed her hair until it gleamed and tossed her head a few times to make sure her tresses flowed the way she wanted them to. Adam seemed to have a love-hate with her hair—as much as with her—so she hoped tonight he was in a more loving mood, in more ways than one.
Having Angie and Marc seeing her in the revealing costume would help her get over her jitters about showing up at the club half-naked. She’d always worn revealing costumes, but never revealing her girly bits. If she couldn’t let her friends see her like this, how would she ever go down there and face the others—and Adam?
Oh, Adam. You had better appreciate this.
And me.
* * *
Adam surveyed the great room, having already checked the readiness of the theme rooms. Until last night, it had been forever since he’d been inside his own club when it was open for members, who should start showing up at any time. In reality, it had been only three weeks, but so much had happened, it seemed like longer. Good thing he had partners and friends who could step in and keep things running smoothly when all hell broke loose, which it seemed to have done lately.
He glanced over at the stage area. Empty. Usually Karla was doing a sound check by now. He wondered if he should check on her, then heard voices coming down the hallway and turned to see Angelina walking down the hall past the theme rooms dressed in the skimpy harem costume Marc had told Adam to purchase for her last month, along with some other fantasy outfits. She wore a black leather collar, with a leash held by Marc. With her generous hips and breasts, she filled the costume well.
Marc followed in his sheikh’s costume—or maybe he fancied himself a sultan, with that damned gold-lamé turban on his head. Adam grinned. Apparently, the two of them were exploring a fantasy theme tonight, also one of Adam’s favorites. Seeing Marc happy after he’d been so miserable for the past year brought an even wider smile to Adam’s face.
Until he saw a second leash in Marc’s hand. What the fuck? Adam reached up to rub the scar on the back of his neck. The man had stopped sharing when he’d met Angelina. Just who was going to play with them tonight—and how would Angelina feel about sharing?
Adam’s smile faded when he saw who followed them. Karla, head down, head and upper body covered in a red veil. He couldn’t see the rest of her. Around her neck she wore the black fur-lined leather collar he’d put on her the night he’d suspended her with ropes in here—the very night she’d fully surrendered to becoming his slave, in action as well as words.
Mine.
He glared at Marc, who just grinned back at him. What kind of game was the perennial jokester playing tonight? More important, just how had Karla become involved in it? Adam felt heat begin to rise into his face as he crossed the room to stand in front of his impudent partner. He didn’t have to say a word, but stood with his hands on his hips and waited for someone to tell him what the fuck was going on.
“I come bearing a tribute for
you, my friend, who I understand is the sheikh of the Masters at Arms tribe.” Marc grinned and held out Karla’s leash.
“Marc,” he growled. If Adam’s no-nonsense tone didn’t get the cocky bastard to explain himself soon, Adam was going to head slap him.
“You see, I’m a one-woman man now.” He reached out to stroke Angelina’s cheek and Adam watched as she leaned into his hand, the corners of her mouth quivering as she fought breaking into a smile. “So, I’m giving you this now unattached harem girl so she can find happiness, as well. I do believe she’s attracted to you, too, Your Excellency.”
Adam glanced at Karla, who kept her head bowed. Through the veil, he didn’t see her lips curve into a smile, or any other acknowledgement of Marc’s words, but thought he detected a slight tremor from the veil. Rather than appearing to be in a playful mood, she acted like a lamb headed to slaughter.
What the fuck was going on?
Adam planned to find out, but without an audience. Accepting Marc’s “tribute,” he took the leash, thanked him tersely, and led Karla to the vacant loveseat near the stage. His balls tightened looking at her sexy body barely covered by the veil and scarves. He’d admitted to her the other night that the harem-girl fantasy was among his favorites. He’d like to see her shed the veil and scarves to reveal her body to him slowly, but wasn’t sure how he felt about her revealing herself to everyone at the club tonight.
Now why was that a problem? If she wanted to be his sub, she needed to become comfortable with her naked body, because he could order her to strip anytime he wished. He’d never had a problem with that before, although he’d never been emotionally attached to any of the subs he’d ordered to do so in the past. But hadn’t he been her Dom, more or less, since they’d ended the Master/slave arrangement last month?
God knew he wanted her all to himself. But first he wanted to know what was going through her head. He sat on the loveseat. If she wanted a sheikh, he supposed he’d have to play the part.
“Kneel.” He pointed to a place near his feet. Without hesitation, she complied, still keeping her head bowed. “What is it you need tonight, Karla?”
“Only to please you, Master.”
How did she mean Master? They weren’t back to Master/slave again, were they? God, he hoped not.
“Just how do you plan to do that?”
“In whatever ways you ask, Master.”
“Remove the veil.” He’d quickly grown tired of having her face hidden from him. Even if the material was flimsy and see-through, he needed to see her eyes, her mouth, her lips.
“Permission to move, Your Excellency.”
Move? Of course she’d need to move in order to remove the veil. Why was she asking for unnecessary permission?
He sighed. “Granted.”
She raised her hands, striking a dramatic pose, and the veil fell in front of her, its material continuing to shield her from his view. Without warning, passionate Middle Eastern music blared from the nearby speakers, distracting him momentarily. He looked over at the sound system to find his partner, the quasi-sultan/sheikh, grinning in his direction and executing a salaam as he bowed in Adam’s direction. Then Marc returned to where he’d left Angelina kneeling beside a small stage-side table. He sat with his slave girl between his knees and gave her an order. She looked up at him warily, then around at the others nearby, balking until Marc said something that had her face turning red at the same time as her hands reached out to undo his leathers. Adam grinned.
Karla’s long, flowing veil flitted across Adam’s face, drawing his attention back to her. She dipped and undulated to the music, alternately hiding her face and revealing it with the red veil. She looked so good in red. Why she ever thought black was her color was beyond him.
He just wished her expression wasn’t so serious. Maybe she just wanted to concentrate on the moves—and him; she didn’t take her eyes off him. The intensity of her smoldering, come-hither look made him feel as if she’d sucked his breath from his lungs.
What was going on in her head tonight?
She began rippling her hips, alternating between fast movements and slow ones in such a sensuous way, causing his heart rate to speed up and slow down in direct response. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the red bra cups studded with black sequins and beads, making him wish his lips were brushing over the creamy skin there he knew to be as soft as satin. Her torso and hips rippled like waves on the ocean, commanding his attention as the beads and bangles hanging from her bra and the waistband of her skirt mesmerized him. He realized this was one very expensive outfit, no Halloween costume.
Where had she learned to dance like that—and why hadn’t he known about this talent sooner? Karla lifted the veil over her head and twirled on bare feet, her hands and arms making graceful motions that caused the veil to flutter and float around her body. When she turned away from him, he watched her hips shake to the music, her hips enticing him to reach out to her and sending the bangles into frenzied motion. She took the ends of the veil and leaned back until her gorgeous cleavage came into view, then whipped the veil over both their heads and around his neck and shoulders, pulling him closer to her tits. Just before his lips would have pressed against her jiggling mounds, she released one end of the veil and stood upright, evading his head with a sideways lunge. She stood upright and pulled the veil away from him, wrapping it around herself again. His dick rose to a full salute and he adjusted himself against the loveseat to keep from strangling his little head. He nearly came in his leathers.
“Very nice, kitten,” he managed to choke out. “Where did you learn to dance like that?” He waited, not sure he really wanted to know.
She giggled, damn her. He throbbed even more.
“Columbia, Sir. A phys-ed activity elective. Cassie and I took the class together and we both use it for workouts now.” At her body’s strenuous exertions, her words came out in sexy, breathy gasps that only made him harder.
“If I’d known college was this much fun…”
She smiled. He’d missed seeing that smile. She tossed her head side to side and back and forth as she danced, sending her long, gleaming curls whipping around her face and shoulders. The desire to grab her by the hair and pull her upstairs to his bed nearly overwhelmed him. Control yourself, old man.
Her hips undulated to the beat of the music, as she lifted a couple of the scarves hanging from her waist and he could have sworn he’d caught a glimpse of a shaved pussy. When had she shaved—or was his brain playing fucking tricks on him? She lifted the scarves again and flounced them in his face, obstructing his view without giving him the answer.
The music pulsed in time to the movement of her hips as her undulations picked up speed. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He wanted to order her to straddle him, now, hoping she wore nothing under the scarf skirt and was as turned-on as he was, but didn’t want to end her erotic dance for anything. Not just yet.
Best decision he’d made in a long fucking time, because Karla turned toward him again and came down onto her knees just inches from him, her legs spread open. He looked down to see if he could see her mound and caught what looked like a tiny glimpse of pale skin. Jesus. Had she?
Again, she threw the veil around his shoulders and drew him close to her tits. His head dipped toward them, but she kept moving his desired targets as she leaned further back until he would have fallen off the loveseat and onto her if he hadn’t pulled himself back. He reached out to part her skirt.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
There it was--her Venus mound shaved bare. He closed his eyes a moment to regain control. When he opened them once more, she had leaned back until her head touched the floor. Christ. He couldn’t take much more. Then she gave him much, much more. Her chest and hips rippled in alternating currents, giving him an even more delightful view of her pussy. She raised and lowered her hips, simulating sexual intercourse.
“Lie still.” His words sounded strangled in his own ears. She complied, looking up at
him, breathing hard and waiting for further commands. “Straddle me.” She glanced at the bulge in his leathers and quirked an eyebrow. “Not yet. Just straddle me.”
She lifted her head and torso from the floor in one graceful, fluid motion. He reached out to take her arms and lifted her the rest of the way onto his lap. She pressed what he now knew was her bare pussy against the front of his soft leathers and his dick nearly ripped a new opening in his pants. She continued to move her hips and torso to the music, torturing him even more.
Adam reached out and brushed his thumb pad over her lower lip. So full and sensuous. He grabbed her hair in his fists and pulled her closer until their lips met. She didn’t open for him until he pulled her head back by her hair and drove his tongue deep inside her mouth. His heart pounded against his chest, in alternating rhythm with the throbbing dick pressed against her clit and pussy.
“Master, how can this lowly slave girl please you?”
The seriousness of her expression told him there was more going on here than role-playing, but he didn’t want to waste time or energy processing that information. At the moment, she wanted to know how to please him. He could respond to that much, at least.
“Remove the bra.”
She released her hold on the veil, leaving it draped over his shoulders, and reached both hands around to her back to unhook the bra. Watching the strands of beads dangling between her breasts made him wish he had his nipple clamps to replace them, but he wasn’t going in search of his toy bag at the moment.
When the bra loosened, he reached out to pull it off, realizing he still held her hair in his fists. He released her hair and took the straps in each hand, easing them down her arms, revealing to his hungry gaze the dusky-pink areolas he could never get enough of. They looked swollen, inviting, and he lowered his head, cupping one breast in his hand as he flicked his tongue over the peak, feeling the nipple swell to twice its size against his tongue. His dick bobbed against her pussy and she squirmed in his lap. Taking the bud between his teeth, he bit down gently and pulled.
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