Le Club 3
Anne’s Courage
Bad boy businessman Jamison Devereau attends the wedding of his brother, Justin, a member of the luxurious BDSM club known as Le Club Laurel Oak, located in a Victorian mansion in the historic district of Ocala, Florida. There he meets the beautiful Anne Sutton, manager of Le Club.
Jamie moves into the club to keep an eye on Devereau Plantation South, the brothers' Florida horse farm, while his brother is honeymooning in Europe. Jamie finds Anne to be attractive and just the type of woman he is looking for.
Anne is a few years older than Jamie and has serious body image issues to deal with due to her breast cancer. Although she is not involved in the BDSM lifestyle, she is not opposed to it. Jamie makes Anne confront her demons and stretch her horizons. He must get through the barriers to her heart, and must deal with his own dark baggage.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 31,635 words
ANNE’S COURAGE
Le Club 3
Skye Michaels
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
ANNE’S COURAGE
Copyright © 2012 by Skye Michaels
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-590-5
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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ANNE’S COURAGE
Le Club 3
SKYE MICHAELS
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
On Saturday morning, Anne Sutton looked up from her desk in the executive offices of Le Club Laurel Oak—Ocala, and there, leaning against the doorjamb of her office, was the most stunning man she had ever seen. She looked him up and down more boldly than she meant to before her gaze settled on his face. She felt herself swirling into the depths of his brandy colored eyes. Was this what they meant by “swooning”?
Jamie Devereau’s dark, wavy hair, much shorter than that of his brother, Justin, was windblown, making him all the more attractive. His worn jeans fit his long legs and great butt like comfortable skin. He wore a black T-shirt, motorcycle boots, and aviator sunglasses pushed up on his head. A day’s scruff of beard darkening his face emphasized the strong bone structure and added tantalizingly to the bad-boy image. The resemblance between the brothers, however, was amazing. The men could have been twins although two years separated them in age. The Devereau gene pool is apparently very strong. She could see the gleaming black, custom-made Ducati motorcycle that had been shipped to the club from New Orleans parked in front of the house, his helmet balanced on the seat.
“Mornin’, cher. I’m Justin’s brother, Jamie. I’ve come in for his wedding tomorrow, and I’m going to be using the Ming Suite while he’s on his honeymoon in France,” he said in a New Orleans drawl that oozed charm.
“Yes, I know. I’m Anne Sutton, the manager of Le Club. I’ve had the suite prepared.” She stood to shake his hand. Anne was tall, and she liked her generous curves. Today she wore her shoulder-length light-blonde hair in a sophisticated chignon which she hoped would emphasize her sparkling baby-blue eyes. Her black silk Armani suit fit her like a glove, and she knew her black Christian Louboutin pumps with the bright-red soles highlighted her long legs.
“So, Ms. Sutton,” Jamie said with a wicked bad boy grin, “I’d like to peel you out of that suit, bend you over this desk, and plant my cock between the cheeks of your really fine ass. The shoes can stay.” He added the last part as an afterthought. Apparently, Mr. Devereau preferred the direct approach, for shock value if nothing else.
“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Devereau,” she responded tartly. “That is totally inappropriate.” Oh God, I think I just creamed my panties.
“I can be very inappropriate,” he responded.
I bet you can.
“Are you afraid to explore your wild side, Ms. Sutton?”
“No, Mr. Devereau, I’m not afraid. I’m just not so inclined,” she said, trying to maintain a stern demeanor, although she secretly wanted to grin. He really is a “bad boy”! He could be really irresistible.
“Call me Jamie...or Master. Want to bet? I’m going to make it a priority to change your mind,” he said quite seriously but with a devilish gleam in his eye. “Just so you know. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
* * * *
He had to admit, this woman really got his juices churning. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t really it. There was something about her, maybe a certain vulnerability hidden by her glossy surface. She was just the type of woman he liked, tall and cool on the surface, but with unplumbed depths hiding a molten hot center. He was just the man to help the volcano simmering inside blow! Justin had mentioned in one of their phone calls that the manager of the club was very attractive and appare
ntly unattached, which had immediately peaked his interest.
You’re definitely on my wish list, cher. He grinned to himself as he strode from her office, down the front stairs of the mansion, and out to the parked bike. I want to get you out of that suit really bad! He threw his long leg over the motorcycle and tore out of the front gate, the Ducati growling in the quiet morning on Fort King Street.
As he looked back over his shoulder at the enormous white mansion, he couldn’t help comparing it to the darker, more dangerous atmosphere of the club in New Orleans, of which he was now a member.
Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala was a very private BDSM club, catered to only ten members. The acronym “BDSM” stood for Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadomasochism, an alternative Lifestyle as varied as the people who practiced it. It spanned practices including spanking to whipping, blindfolding to bondage, role-playing, dominance and submission, all in varying degrees and extremes. The purpose was to increase sexual tension and pleasure for all participants.
When the rundown Laurel Oak Estate had come on the market, Jason Steele and Trent Redding, friends since college days at Harvard, had put together a consortium of like-minded BDSM aficionados of the Lifestyle to purchase the estate and renovate the house and grounds for Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala. It had been a dream of theirs since they had been introduced to the Lifestyle while seniors in college by their classmate, Justin Devereau, Jamie’s older brother. Their father, Devereau Sr., had been a founding member of Le Club Beaudelaire—New Orleans located in the French Quarter.
I wonder if Ms. Sutton is into BDSM. It will be interesting to see her around the club since I’m going to be here for a while and find out. Jamie found the ambiance of the Ocala club much lighter and less intense than that of the New Orleans club. It was a new facility compared to Beaudelaire which had been on Chartres Street for probably over fifty years.
The Laurel Oak Estate was perfect for a club patterned after, and loosely affiliated with, the New Orleans facility of which Jamie was currently a member. He had taken over his brother’s membership position in the New Orleans club when Justin had moved to Ocala. The club was located just at the edge of the historic Ocala residential-business district. Each member had contributed a sizable initial investment and paid hefty annual membership fees which were calculated to cover the substantial operating expenses and generous salaries of the many employees. Some of the employees participated in the activities at the club, and some did not, but all were extremely loyal and discreet due to the excellent working conditions and high salaries paid at the club—not to mention the confidentiality agreements signed by one and all.
Chapter One
Anne Sutton smiled as she enjoyed the beautiful weather and took in the gorgeous setting for the Anderson-Devereau wedding, one of the biggest social events of the year. Anne waved to Paula Greenley, one of Kelly’s attendants and the editor of the Ocala Country Life magazine, who was doing double duty as she was orchestrating the magazine’s coverage of the event, which was scheduled to be the main article in the June issue.
The late Sunday afternoon in April was mild with brilliant-blue skies, scattered white clouds, and a soft breeze. The last of the guests had been seated and were waiting with anticipation for the ceremony to begin. The open antique baroque carriage drawn by Jester, Justin’s shiny black Friesian stallion, moved at a stately pace down the long winding driveway of Devereau Plantation South, a horse farm located amid the rolling hills and extreme green pastures and woodlands of Central Florida.
For anyone who knew Justin, a wedding without Jester as a member of the wedding party was unthinkable. The driveway was bordered by acres of green pastures crisscrossed by white three-board horse fencing and was lined by oak trees trimmed in white twinkle lights, which were already lit in anticipation of evening.
The carriage, with a driver in top hat and tails, carried Kelly Anderson dressed in a stunningly simple white silk Vera Wang wedding dress and short veil. She was accompanied by her father, Dr. Matthew Anderson, who was dressed in black tie and tails. Kelly was marrying Justin Devereau, of the Louisiana Devereaus. He anxiously awaited her appearance at the gazebo next to the tranquil pond behind the long, low, contemporary Japanese style house with the bright-blue tile roof. The house was still under construction but mostly finished. Justin was flanked by his brother, Jamie, and his father in all but name, Maxwell Warwick. Anne thought that the groom, whose slightly brooding good looks complemented the stark black and white of his classically cut tuxedo and ruffled shirt, was stunningly handsome with his long, wavy, dark hair tied back with a silver Celtic knot. His best man, Jamie, groomsmen, Jason Steele and Trent Redding, and ushers, the members of his polo team, all looked elegant in black tuxedos as well.
Justin was clearly nervous as most grooms were, but Anne could see that Jamie and Max apparently had him well in hand.
Justin seemed to hold his breath as Kelly alighted from the carriage with the help of her father and turned to face him as he waited for her in the gazebo. Her lovely face was barely visible through the gossamer veil.
Anamaria Sanchez, the wedding consultant, who bustled about checking last minute details and timing gave Kelly a comforting pat on the arm and adjusted her bouquet. Anne smiled. Anamaria was always unflappable. Finally, as the strains of classical music from the chamber group playing at the back of the tent began, Anamaria gave the signal.
Kelly’s matron of honor, her sister Colleen, and her bridesmaids, Calleigh Steele, very pregnant at eight months and counting, and Paula Greenley, preceded her down the aisle. The attendants were dressed in spring-green dresses and carried bouquets of white lilies and tiny pink wild roses.
Finally, at Anamaria’s prompt, Kelly took a deep breath and started up the white silk-covered path strewn with pink rose petals. Anne had never seen her look so radiant. She smiled at the wedding guests seated in flower-decked chairs. Her bouquet of white calla lilies and orchids trembled in her hands, and her lovely green eyes brimmed with tears of joy as she approached Justin.
Anne found the ceremony touchingly simple. The bride and groom shared a soul-shattering kiss after the ceremony to the thunderous applause of all the guests. Afterward, the wedding party and guests adjourned to the enormous white tent for a fabulous dinner and champagne toasts. Anne thought Jamie’s toast to start the festivities was charmingly irreverent, but it was clear how much he thought of his older brother. He looks breathtaking in that tux!
* * * *
After dinner, when Jamie was freed from his duties as best man, he went in search of Anne Sutton. He circulated among the jostling throng. He knew she was hidden among this crowd somewhere. Apparently, she had attended the wedding with friends and did not have an escort. A few discreet inquires made to Jason and Trent yielded the information that the manager of the club was definitely in attendance.
Ah, there she is. He spotted her at a table with several club employees. She looked stunning and coolly elegant in a sheath dress of the same blue as her eyes. It hugged her curves lovingly. He walked through the crowd to her table, bent down, and whispered in her ear, “Let’s dance. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity all day.” Not giving her the chance to decline, he placed his hand possessively on her shoulder and helped her rather decisively from her chair. Jamie led Anne to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. He held the stunning club manager who had captured his imagination the day before more closely than was strictly polite as he smoothly began to circle the floor to the romantic music.
“Mr. Devereau, you don’t often take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?” she inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Not often, Ms. Sutton. So why not just go with the flow?” he responded with a devilish grin.
* * * *
Determined to make polite conversation although her knees were shaking, she said, “I understand from Calleigh Steele that Justin and Kelly’s house is almost finished and should be ready to move into by the time they get bac
k.”
“It is, but renovations on my house at the farm are just getting underway. I’m beginning to feel as though the Devereau brothers are monopolizing Calleigh’s time.”
“I’m sure she’s delighted,” she said. I wouldn’t mind you monopolizing my time. A little shiver of awareness trickled down her spine as the rich honey tones of his deep voice seeped into her bloodstream. Now where did that come from? She had not been interested in pursuing a relationship with a man in quite some time, not since her bout with breast cancer several years ago had left her body less than perfect, and her fiancé apparently traumatized by the changes in her body, had broken their engagement.
He nestled her closer to his broad chest, and she settled into his embrace as she followed his strong lead. I bet he leads like this in bed, too. Good Lord! What am I thinking? I’ve got to get out of here! When the dance was over, she smiled up at him and said, “I have to leave early, I’m afraid. I have a very busy day tomorrow, and my assistant will be on her honeymoon in France—the lucky girl! Thank you for the dance, Mr. Devereau.”
“Yes, I can see that you are afraid, cher, but I don’t know why. Please call me Jamie. I think we’ve progressed past the usual formalities.” He smiled as he let her go, watching as she left the tent and headed toward the parking valet.
Jamie rejoined the wedding party for the cake cutting.
Anne's Courage [Le Club 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 1