by Ronica Black
Synopsis
What Jude Jaeger seeks is simple. What she needs is complicated. Woman. She has one a night at Conquest, sometimes two. And she gives them what no one else can or will. Pleasure. But outside the club, Jude isn’t interested in women, keeping them at arm’s length. That is until she meets Mary, a woman who responds to her touch like none of the others. When Mary shows up at the college where Jude teaches, all the emotions Jude thought she could live without come rushing back stronger than ever.
Mary Brunelle is a socially awkward loner who goes to a private club and finds herself in the arms of a beautiful stranger who conquers every last inch of her and then disappears into the night. Mary tries to find her, desperately wanting to see her again, but has no success until one day in class she looks up to see that the mystery woman is there. And she’s her professor. Mary soon sets forth on her own conquest, but can she tame the ultimate dominatrix?
Conquest
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Conquest
© 2011 By Ronica Black. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-524-6
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: June 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
In Too Deep
Deeper
Wild Abandon
Hearts Aflame
Flesh and Bone
The Seeker
Chasing Love
Conquest
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Bold Strokes Books, as always, for supporting me and taking this book on. Thanks to my editor Cindy and to all those at BSB behind the scenes, much love and gratitude to you all.
Dedication
For passion. For sex. For love. And always, for C.
Chapter One
What Jude Jaeger sought was simple. What she needed, complicated. Woman. She had at least one a night, sometimes two. And she gave them what no one else could or would. The ability to scream, to beg, to cry. To come.
Making women come was her drug of choice and she was so addicted it was like air to her now. She breathed it in and out as she walked the dimly lit club to seek out another. The dark walls pulsed around her, throbbing with the powerful industrial beat. The music was there to encourage their heartbeats, to push their adrenaline onward and forward, and to mask their cries of pleasure. She felt like a hunting animal moving through it, with no need for words. Heated glances, intense stares, and eager touches sufficed.
She grew excited as she considered the night ahead. Would it be another regular tonight, or would it be a virgin? She liked to call them “pretenders of innocence,” and she could recall quite easily what it had felt like when she’d been one not all that long ago.
She’d been shy and lanky, a young woman from a different country, freshly slaughtered from her first and last relationship. She needed a place to unwind, a place safe from things like commitment, love, expectations, and emotion. And she was curious about things that were unspeakable to most. She’d lurked there in the corner of the club one stormy night, her hair dripping cold drops of rain onto her bare shoulders. She was hoping no one would notice her but secretly dying inside for someone to. She remembered the fear. The excitement. The quick onset of hot lust as she’d openly watched two women nearly tear themselves apart in a frenzy of fucking. What tiny morsel of innocence she’d had at that moment had fled. It ran down her body like heavy water and snaked right out the door. What replaced it was need. The need to watch. The need to touch. The need to take.
Because no one was ever really innocent. Not there.
And the virgins came by the dozen. Men, women. Lots of women. Curious, excited, anxious, aroused. Soccer moms, housewives, business executives, and Bible school teachers. Jude got them all, and they weren’t afraid to tell her all about their lives, especially during the first few minutes when their nerves were frayed and exposed and they weren’t sure what to do with themselves. They’d talk and talk until she had them alone and pressed up against the wall for a hot, long kiss. Then the subject would shift to her. They’d want to know her name, where she was from, was she married, how many women she’d had.
But names were dangerous and, for the most part, meaningless. They were for places like the market or work or saying hello to the next door neighbor. They weren’t for her. And they weren’t for this place either.
She’d center their attention by kissing them long and hard and staring deep into their eyes. She’d calmly tell them what she wanted them to do. Then she’d help them by kissing their trembling hands, tracing their inner wrists with her tongue, and nibbling the delicate skin on their perfumed necks. They were hers in seconds, burning fiercely aroused gazes into her eyes, experiencing feelings many of them had never felt before.
Those feelings were what kept them all returning to the dimly lit club night after night, week after week. There was no better place in which such desires could be carried out. Not homes, not cars, not alleyways downtown. No. No other place would do as well as this unassuming black building with its private rooms and private doings. It contained them all, encouraged them all. Providing them a protective shroud for the deeds they dared do.
Dirty little fantasies. Dirty little deeds.
But the place was quiet now. Darkness had yet to completely settle outside. The evening sun still slanted lightly upon those that were lingering nearby, spotlighting their every move. As soon as the sun set, though, the lingerers would gravitate toward the building, free to move in the fading light, throwing cautious glances over their shoulders as they pushed through the door.
Jude pictured them as she stepped into her private room and closed the door. Even though she’d arrived a little early tonight, she didn’t have much time. Quickly, she slipped off her slacks, blouse, and undergarments and folded them neatly. She put them in her duffel bag and then pushed it under the large bed. Her leather pants and vest were already laid out on the comforter, awaiting her. They felt cool as she slid into them, the soft leather lightly kissing her bare skin. She wanted to moan. The sensation was arousing.
After holding her eyes closed briefly to refocus, she opened them and took in the room. It was cozy but just spacious enough not to feel stifling. Every detail of it was her doing, from the mirrors on the ceiling to the different sources of light, to the well-stocked dresser against the wall. As efficient as it was, she made sure it felt warm and inviting as well. Women were all about ambience, and they wanted to feel comfortable and safe. Her first time had been in this room, but it had been cold and sterile, and when it became hers she’d made a note then and there to change it.
Her masculine cologne stung her neck in a long, cool spray while she studied her reflection and then finger-styled her hair. She flexed her jaw and noted the determined glint to her eyes. Nothing else mattered now. Nothing but this place and this room and those that she led into it.
Completely ready, she left th
e room to head toward the bar for her nightly drink. Two men she was familiar with were already seated there wearing leather attire, noses in their glasses. She walked tall and strong, and when she looked into their eyes they looked away. No one spoke. No one dared. The men especially. She had nothing to do with them, and that fact was clear, so clear they didn’t dare speak to her or even look her in the eye. The bartender, a man she knew only as Cord, was the only one who did look her in the eye, and even that was only on occasion. He slid her a double shot of vodka and she wondered again what the night would bring in. A few other regulars? Pretenders of innocence?
She downed her drink and breathed deeply.
Two other familiar forms entered from the back hallway as she slid her empty glass along the bar. She knew one of them intimately and they both moved toward her now, hoping for her interest. But tonight and every night lately, she wanted to wait it out, anxious for those that might come through the front door. It opened as if on cue and another regular entered.
The day was dying. Twilight was here.
The lingerers would be coming soon.
Chapter Two
Mary Brunelle turned off the engine to her Chevy Aveo and sat for a moment trying to still her racing heart. Her destination was directly ahead, a building that appeared black and small from the front but extended further in the back, nearly hitting the block fence surrounding the deserted lot.
Shit.
She was there. Already. Why couldn’t the drive have lasted a little longer? Why couldn’t she have gotten lost?
A hot nervousness beat inside her just as it did before every other social encounter she had to endure. It didn’t matter if she was arriving at work in the morning, entering the break room at lunch, or waiting in line at the post office after work. People made her nervous. There was no rational reason why. Not really.
Most people left her alone and let her go about her business. Her co-workers, on the other hand, were a bit of a different story. They stared (what she considered staring), sometimes made faces, whispered, and giggled behind her back. They made her feel exposed and awkward.
And yet, here she was. Meeting them at this club after work. In the downtown part of downtown.
But today was different. Her co-workers had invited her, specifically requesting she come. They said the club was mysterious and entertaining. A real must-see. Something they’d all enjoy. They’d have drinks and shoot the shit. Get to know Mary. Why didn’t she ever go out with them?
The friendly banter had been seductive, pulling her in, speaking to that part of her that wanted so badly to be included. She hated that part of herself, knowing that the need and desire for acceptance could be dangerous. It was, after all, the reason she was there arguing with herself inside her car.
She eyed the club through her windshield. The building was like a dark abscess in the grayish light of dusk. There was no movement near or around it. Only a dozen or so cars were in the lot, sitting silently, telling her nothing. The overhead streetlights came on, glowing faintly, as if they didn’t get enough power to actually work. She stared up at one and counted off the seconds while she deliberated her next move.
She should go in. Force herself to be social. Have a drink or two to drown her nerves. Just relax and, well, shoot the shit as they said.
No. She shook her head.
What she should do is go home and watch a good show over a bowl of Orville Redenbacher’s. Feign a stomachache tomorrow at work when they asked why she didn’t show.
But she wasn’t a good liar. And they’d only keep asking until she gave in.
“Fuck it.” She crawled from her car, shouldered her purse, and stood in the lot, staring at the front of the building. Her mind was still in the car, still trying to convince her to go home. She took advantage and walked quickly, breathing deeply through her nose. A red sign sizzled near the all-black door, the word Conquest singeing into her corneas again and again.
The door opened, startling her. A heavy wave of music thumped out just before a man did. He was husky and wearing all black, melting right into the building and the growing darkness. As he passed the blinking sign she saw the reflection of leather covering his body. A black studded hat sat snugly on his shaved head and sweat glistened on his neck and near his ears. He stopped at the edge of the building and lit a cigarette. The glow of it showed that he was watching her. Her mind caught up to her then and her throat tightened with fear.
What the hell was this place? Was this why her co-workers were so amused? Or worse, were they actually into this sort of scene?
Her car called to her in the comfort and safety of the encroaching darkness. She imagined crawling back inside and releasing a sigh of relief as she started the engine.
But no. That dangerous need for inclusion and acceptance forced her to remain. She looked at the business card she pulled from her slacks.
It said Conquest and had a simple one-line address. Yes, this was the correct place. She turned it over where her co-worker Carla Meeker had written in ink.
Don’t be late, first drink on me!
She sank the card into her pocket and wiped her palms on her pants. The leather man inhaled gluttonously and smiled at her as he exhaled smoke through his nose.
“Nice night, ain’t it?” he said, crossing one large black-booted foot over the other.
“Mm hm.”
“You sure you’re in the right place?” he asked, smiling like he knew a secret she didn’t.
“I think so.”
He didn’t respond. Just kept smiling. It made her uncomfortable and she hurried toward the door. As she pulled it open she gave him one last glance and saw the pale, half moon sliver of his bare ass against the building. It added more fuel to her already raging bonfire of anxiety, and she tripped as she entered, a little afraid the man was going to give chase.
She blinked in the dim light as the throb of music beat against her chest like an angry fist. It wasn’t as loud as it was powerful. Like a heavy heartbeat coming from the walls to slip into her skin and settle in her body, beating within her bones. Her body was a part of the club now. It had taken only seconds.
She stepped further in and realized the room was lit in black light where everything white glowed brightly. The most notable was the white light lining the bar. She searched the bodies slumped there on the barstools, took in their leather garb, and glanced away from the whites of their curious eyes. She imagined her co-workers sitting at a corner booth hidden in the darkness, laughing hysterically at her as she ambled around nearly blind.
But she didn’t see any booths. Or tables. There was just a bar with several stools and a few wiry looking chairs placed near the corners of the room. Bodies seemed to birth from the wall, moving toward her with silent intent. They were cloaked in black, camouflaged like darkly shrouded soldiers on a ninja’s mission. She struggled for courage. The bartender, resting two beefy bare arms on the bar, called out to her.
“This club is members only,” he barked.
“I—” She fished out the card and searched for her voice. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.” She held out the card and it trembled in her fingers.
She inhaled sharply, her senses on high alert, and she caught the slightly dank scent of the place. It smelled like maybe beer had been spilled on the industrial carpet. She shivered even though the club was comfortably warm.
The person from the wall was now directly next to her with Mary’s card in hand. With an athletic build and slicked back short hair, Mary couldn’t tell if the person was a man or a woman. All she saw was the glow of teeth blazing under the black light.
“Uh…hello,” Mary said, a little uneasy at their close proximity. The person didn’t answer and another one, this one wearing a mask that reminded Mary of Zorro, arrived at her side. She appeared to be female, shorter in stature with delicate looking cheekbones.
Mary expected them to speak, but instead they both moved in and began kissing her arms. A jolt shot through h
er as their hot, slick tongues registered, making their way up to her shoulders. Insistent hands palmed her hips and tried to drift up under her blouse.
“Oh my God. What—” She pushed on them. “What are you doing?” What the fuck was happening? What was this place?
“I think there’s been some kind of mistake.” Her heart threatened to leap out of her throat as body-racking fear overcame her.
She stumbled backward, but they moved with her, nimble fingers shoving upward on the short sleeves of her blouse, making way for the seeking tongues and sucking lips. She trembled again. This time with shock and fear and a deep, dark spark of lust trying to catch flame.
Panic came along with the burn of embarrassment. The people at the bar were staring. Not just staring but watching. Intently.
“I really think—” She started but couldn’t finish. She’d never been touched like this. Ever. Not by one person, and certainly not by two. She was terrified, the whole situation indescribable and insane. But her skin was coming alive beneath their mouths and her eyes were threatening to close with pleasure, ready to cave in to it.
“She’s so fresh. So so fresh,” the smaller stranger said.
They groaned, their mouths devouring her shoulders like dogs tenderizing a tasty bone.
“Yes, let’s take her back—”
Mary forced open her eyes, the words slamming reality home. What the fuck was she doing? What was wrong with her? She needed to run. And fast.
She pushed them away, her fear suddenly in control. “I have to go.”
But they were back on her like magnets on metal, their glowing eyes alive and hungry.
“I have to go,” Mary insisted. Where the fuck was Carla and everyone else? She grew angry, realizing they’d probably set her up. The joke was on her.