His Devil's Desire (Club Devil's Cove Book 1)

by Linzi Basset

  Rhone didn’t even try to contain his laughter, which elicited a string of French curse words from Enzo.

  “Tu me gonfles, tu connard!” he sneered. His eyes narrowed as he watched Rhone approach. His arms spread wide like he was keeping Samantha safe by will alone.

  Rhone disarmed Enzo with effortless ease and it was done so smoothly and fast that Samantha gaped at him. Enzo, on the other hand, was furious.

  “Fils de pute! Leave her alone.”

  “Tais-toi, Enzo. This is between Samantha and me.”

  Enzo tilted back his chin with a determined glare.

  “Enough, Enzo. I don’t have the time or the patience for games. Step aside or I will bodily remove you.”

  “You and what army?” Enzo piped up confidently.

  “It’s okay, Enzo. He’s right. This is between him and me.” Samantha stepped around him. She scorched Rhone with a heated glare. “You—”

  “No. I don’t want to hear it. You were given a direct instruction before I left the house, Samantha.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And did you follow that order?”

  She stubbornly clamped her mouth shut and looked down. She could feel the heat of the blush fill her cheeks.

  “Samantha,” Rhone warned darkly.

  “No, but—”

  “Therefore, you once again proved you can’t be trusted.”

  Rhone watched her jaw go slack and waited. It took all of two seconds.

  “If I hadn’t been there you’d be dead meat and the girl—”

  “We were onto them, Samantha. We’ve done this thousands of times before. I didn’t need you there to do our job for us.”

  “You could’ve been killed! I saved your life, you asshole!” she snapped at him and chose to ignore the gasps from the kitchen staff who were watching them animatedly.

  Rhone yanked her up against him and pushed his face against hers. “I didn’t ask you to protect me. I don’t need you to. Goddamnit, Samantha, you could’ve been killed out there!”

  He shook her until her teeth rattled against each other and Enzo offered a shrill warning, “Assez, Rhone. You’re hurting her.”

  “Fuck,” Rhone muttered and for a brief moment he yanked her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m sorry, but I’m furious at you for putting your life in danger.”

  “Rhone, I did it for a living for ten years. I—”

  “And if you are to be believed, you haven’t done it for the past six. You made a commitment to me the day you signed that contract, Samantha. Was that a lie too?”

  Samantha stared at him, and then cursed. She’d known signing it, that night of the treasure hunt, without demanding some changes would come back and bite her in the ass at some point, but he’d been so angry at the time, she wanted to prove her trust in him. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

  “You have to admit that some of those clauses are unreasonable, especially in a non-exclusive D/s relationship.” His warning glare silenced her intention to argue against those clauses. “No, it wasn’t a lie, but Rhone, I can take care of myself. I don’t—”

  “You committed to giving yourself into my care, my protection and that you would never put yourself into a situation where your life would be in danger. Or did you forget about that clause?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “And yet, you ignored it. Does that mean that the commitment you made to our relationship isn’t worth the paper it was written on or that you chose to defy me willingly?”

  “Are those the only two options you’re going to give me?”

  His narrowed eyes warned her she was overstepping her boundaries. He looked her up and down. His mouth turned down. With his finger, he traced the edge of the t-shirt hugging her breasts.

  “And I remember instructing you not to wear any clothes. More defiance. Take it off, Ace. Now.”

  “I am not stripping naked in front of Enzo,” she whispered furiously.

  He pulled the t-shirt away from her body and peered down her front.

  “You’re wearing lingerie. Something Enzo is used to seeing in here. When you come out of this kitchen, you better be in nothing but two slips of white lace, Ace. Believe me; you’ve pushed me enough tonight. You don’t want more punishment added. I’ll be in the harem room. You have two minutes.”

  She stared after him, mouth agape, as he sauntered out of the kitchen. Enzo leaned closer and gently pushed her jaw up. Her mouth snapped closed.

  “He’s a fucking asshole,” she remarked but at the same time was relieved that he didn’t intend to whip her.

  “Oui. That he is and even though you might not realize it, he’s enamored with you, mon petit. Very much so.” He winked at her. “In case you didn’t know, Rhone is a breast man. He loves them in any shape and size. And yours . . . let’s just say, I’ve seen him drool when he looks at them.” He laughed at her expression. “Be wise, lovey, and use them to your advantage tonight.”

  “Gmphf, he’s likely to clamp the poor things tonight just to add to my distress,” she muttered under her breath and yanked off her t-shirt.

  A few sighs followed at the sight of her jiggling breasts. Enzo smiled at her. “Yeah, you have a gorgeous pair, mon petit. Even I, at my wizened old age, can appreciate them.” He took her t-shirt and held out his hand, his eyes full of friendly mirth. “Now, the sneakers and jeans.”

  “Lemme guess, you’re a butt man and want to leer at my ass when I walk out of the kitchen,” she accused him but smiled at the wide grin on his face.

  “Ah, mon amour, all men love a cute ass, some more than others. And you have the perfect combination to make any man drool. There, now go. Before he comes back to fetch you. Even I know better than to interfere with a Dom’s punishment.”

  Samantha’s steps slowed as she approached the harem room, so named because the scenes always involved more than two people.

  Oh shit! What’s he planning to do?

  She cursed herself again for willingly signing all the special clauses, as Rhone had worded it. Giving him full control over her body and their scenes was perhaps one she should’ve questioned.

  But this is punishment and he knows what my limits are. He won’t ignore them.

  The little voice in her mind reminded her that any Dom worth his name would push those boundaries. The expression on his face, when she finally entered the room, warned her that it was exactly what he was going to do.

  Her legs turned wobbly when she encountered the four other Senior Masters and Mistress of the club standing behind Rhone.

  Rhone had seen Samantha naked many times and yet she managed to take his breath away. The white lace bra hugged her full breasts enticingly, pushing the round globes higher. Her nipples were visible through the lace and had tightened to hard stones under his unnerving regard. His gaze travelled lower, appreciating her narrow waist which was in perfect ratio to her curvy hips.

  Her legs appeared long for a woman of her height but were perfectly formed and came together under the small triangle of lace covering her mound. She seemed delicate as she elegantly crossed her feet. There was no denying it; she was gorgeous and ravishing.

  She didn’t smile often but when she did, it jolted through him like an electric current. Very unlike the unsure smile that trembled on her lips right now. His admiration grew when she tilted her chin in a defensive gesture to gather her strength.

  Her presence filled the room with warmth. He’d seen how others stared at her when she walked past; she unwittingly enticed people to stare. And he was finding her allure increasingly difficult to resist.

  “Strip, Ace. I want you naked,” Rhone ordered. His voice had deepened and reached into the depth of her being, to stroke at the submissive inside her.

  Her obedience was automatic and done with such grace that her spectators became entranced with her swan-like movements as she unclipped her bra and pulled the straps down her arms. She allowed it to slide down her front like a lover’s cares
s. Next, she wiggled out of her lace panties, tracing her fingers along her thighs as she pulled them down and stepped out of them.

  “This is punishment, Ace. You do know why?”

  Samantha was enthralled by the sudden roughness of his voice and the heated glow in his eyes.

  “Yes, Master Razor.”

  “For the sake of clarity, please reprise us.”

  Her eyes sparkled with ire.

  “I disobeyed your instructions and I was disrespectful toward you in view of club members.”

  Rhone circled her. He traced his finger over her breasts, lightly flicking her nipples, caressing her shoulders, before he trailed the tip down her spine to knead and palm her soft cheeks.

  “Have you ever been edged, Ace?” His heated voice tickled her ear before he pulled the lobe between his lips to nibble on it.

  Samantha arched her back. Her breathing escalated when his hands brushed down her flanks and caressed the insides of her thighs. A low moan crawled out of her throat and floated across the room to the enraptured audience watching the reaction his closeness was having on her body.

  “I’m waiting, Ace,” Rhone growled and bit into her taut shoulder muscles.

  “Ehm . . . for what, Masterrmmm,” she moaned when his tongue traced the carotid vein in her neck.

  How the devil can I remember what he asked? Not with him teasing me like this.

  The excitement that rushed through her, when she noticed the heated expressions on the faces of five on-lookers, floored her. She’d never been into exhibitionism but somehow the intimacy of the room, decorated in crimson, gold and copper hues, with a huge round bed, hammocks and sofas, seemed the perfect setting for it.

  “Edging, Ace.” he reminded her on a chuckle.

  Edging? Oh, fuck no!

  “I . . . no. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to experience. It’s overwhelming and . . . controlling,” she admitted.

  Rhone caught the hidden meaning immediately.

  “Ah, so you’re one of those subs who want to be in control of a scene rather than allowing the Dom to guide you and push your boundaries? Am I correct?”

  Samantha didn’t like to admit to it. Not in front of these powerful Doms, who would never allow such an atrocity to occur in one of their scenes. She’d always chosen Doms who were willing to give her leeway and she’d gotten away with it more often than not. With them, she wouldn’t even try.

  “Well, then,” he accepted her silence as admittance, “this is the perfect opportunity to wean you off that habit, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Master Rhone . . . I don’t . . . not edging, please,” she muttered over her shoulder when she recognized the reason for the presence of the other five. He was going to push her boundaries to the limit and he was going to use their help to do it.

  His large hand covered her pussy. Her whimpers shattered the silence.

  “Who does this pussy belong to, Ace?”

  He squeezed her pussy.

  “It belongs to you, Master Razor.”

  “Who controls your orgasms, sub?”

  He squeezed harder.

  “You do, Sir.”

  “Good girl. You know what edging is, Ace? We’re going to take you and keep you in a high state of sexual arousal for as long as I deem fit. And you, will not come. Tell us why, Ace?”

  “Because my pussy belongs to you. My orgasms belong to you,” she managed to croak. The vice-like grip on her pussy tightened with every answer; her already aroused loins clenched in reaction.

  “You need to understand the difference between us and other Doms you’ve scened with in the past. We don’t just covet physical domination but also the emotional power. It’s addictive, Ace, having such power over a sub, which is given of free will. The symbol of trust is intoxicating to say the least. That, my pet, is where the real power of being a Dom is and you are going to experience all of it, tonight.”

  His hands trailed over her stomach, smiling as she pressed her back harder against his chest the moment he palmed her nipples.

  “Do you know what attracted me to you, Ace?”

  Samantha’s eyes lowered. She felt exposed. Not because of her nakedness or him caressing her in view of his friends, but because of the emotions his words evoked inside her. It was something she’d been wondering herself and now that he was about to disclose his motive, she was afraid.

  “Apart from the physical attraction, I was attracted to your spirit. I would never have guessed that you’re a submissive that first day we met but I soon realized that it was your soul crying out to me. Bound and enslaved by the shackles of your past; desperate to escape, to run wild and free. That’s what I want from you, Ace. Complete trust in me to unchain you from those cuffs, to allow you to become the person you are meant to be. Not what others have forced you to become.”

  Samantha was shocked how deeply his words affected her. How accurately he had summed up her needs. She swallowed the sob that threatened to choke her.

  It can’t be. God, how cruel can the world be?

  For as long as Adam Baxter played the piper to her fiddle, she’d be bound by those shackles. No matter how badly she wanted to give herself, her body, heart and soul over to this compelling Dom.

  “Master Rhone . . .” Her voice cracked.

  “And that, my lovely sub, is why tonight I am going to push your boundaries. More than you ever imagined possible.”

  “Very well, Master Razor,” Samantha bowed to his power. He was harboring a quiet rage inside him. She could feel it emanating through his skin and his tense body pressed against hers. “But I need your promise that you won’t abuse my trust or force a confession out of me while in subspace.”

  Samantha knew that if they kept edging her for hours, she’d be flung into an euphoric bliss.

  Keon grunted but didn’t say anything when Rhone nodded after a brief hesitation. “I promise.”

  Samantha noticed the gleam in Keon’s eyes and cleared her throat. “All of them. I’m sorry, but I need all of them to promise,” she prodded and waited until they conceded grudgingly.

  “Very well, Master Razor, where do you want me?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rhone shouldn’t have been surprised. He really shouldn’t—not with her. Yet he was amazed when he watched her climb onto the massive round bed in the center of the room. The soft slither of the translucent red chiffon hung around the bed frame, cascading and forming a canopy around the bed. She knelt on the mattress in Nadu position, with her eyes lowered, waiting submissively. She took his breath away in that moment. She seemed ethereal in the dim lights from the scones that illuminated her softly glowing body through the red hues of the curtain.

  “Man, what a beautiful sight,” Max said in awe.

  Rhone didn’t hear him, still enamored by the trust in her eyes when she’d accepted his promise. It sparked wonder inside him. The smile on his lips didn’t adequately convey what he felt inside; it was like every neuron of his brain tried to fire in all directions at once. It was the best kind of paralysis he’d ever experienced.

  “Well, what are you assholes waiting for,” he barked when he caught the same expression of wonder and admiration on his friend’s faces—Pamela’s included.

  “Fuck me,” Lance mumbled under his breath. He wiped his lips with his fingers. “Are you sure she signed that agreement, Rhone? I wouldn’t mind her as my—”

  “Yes, she signed it,” he cut him short. When they looked at him en masse, he forced a deep, calming breath into his lungs. He’d not taken into account how he would react to his friends being physically attracted to his sub. It was there on their faces, even Keon, who hated her for the role she’d played in his past.

  Rhone glanced at her and felt calmness settle over him. It wasn’t in her nature as a sub to betray that trust.

  She was his. She’d given herself to him of her own free will. He’d made sure of that before she’d signed the agreement. He recalled her expression when she’d respo
nded to his question.

  “Yes, Master Razor, I will be your submissive.”

  “Not so fast, Ace. This agreement will be between you and me and has nothing to do with Keon or your job. This is us. A Dom/sub relationship with all the special stipulations in this contract. You need to be sure it’s what you want. I’m not forcing you to sign this because that is not how I want our relationship to be. If it’s not what you want, walk away, now.”

  She stared at him with her mouth agape until he leaned over and gently closed her lips.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple, Ace. I want you as my sub. You excite me and I lust after you all the time. This way, I’ll be able to appease that lust. But know this, once you sign that, you belong to me. Your body, your pussy, your orgasms . . . every reaction belongs to me. I will control all, wherever, however and whenever I want. I’m going to bury myself so deep inside you, you’ll feel empty when I’m not with you, Make no mistake, Ace, I’ll give you what you’re afraid to ask for. I will own you.”

  “Lucky bastard,” Jack said before he slipped onto the bed.

  “On your back, Ace. Max, please pull her legs up and use the silk ties to bind them to the bondage poles behind the bed. Arms as well.”

  Rhone sat down in the plush wingback chair next to the bed. “Pamela, please raise the drapes. I want an unobstructed view.”

  “Master Razor, what . . .” Samantha’s voice faded away at the scorching glow in his eyes. Suddenly, she knew. He wasn’t going to partake in this punishment. No, he was going to be the puppeteer; watching and directing the scene like a movie director; controlling and commanding her every reaction, her every move. He’ll watch the others as they aroused and caressed her to the edge, time and again. And she would be helpless because he would know . . . he would know exactly when and how to push her buttons. Or rather, have them push her buttons.

  “And let me make this clear, sub. You will not come. These Doms and Mistress Pam are experienced enough to know when you reach the point of no return and they will bring you down before you do, but should they miss the sign, it’s up to you to make sure you don’t climax. Do you know why, Ace?”