“What does it feel like when I do this?” He curled his fingers and jerked them upward again.
“Like I'm going to come, but... Please? Please, Sir?”
“Yes, you can. Come, Clara.”
He did it again and I was dragged to the edge, left with no choice but to go over. The orgasm tore through me, but pleasure continued as though it hadn't happened. I screamed and the sound was muffled, leaving me suffocating as he persistently made me come again.
“Breathe,” he said calmly. “Take another breath.”
Floating on aftershocks, I wrapped myself around him and listened to his heartbeat.
“One day, I'm going to find out how many times you can come in a row.”
I shuddered and my head fell back on his shoulder. “I'm not sure I can, more than that, Sir.”
“I'm sure you can. But do you want to?”
“Whatever pleases you, Sir.”
“Good. You sound better now. I was worried you'd pass out.”
“... Could that have happened?”
“If I made you come again, I think you would have. I've never done that before.” I pushed my hips against his when he made the quick, forward motion with his fingers curled toward his palm.
“That felt so good, Sir.”
“What about the ruined orgasm you had?”
“When I came, without feeling any pleasure?” I laughed, remembering the intensity. “Was that punishment for something, Sir?”
“No, I wasn't punishing you for anything. I really didn't mean for that to happen.”
“I know you aren't cruel.” I grinned at him. “Sadistic, however...”
“What?” Quinn looked startled before he laughed. “After all that, what did you say?”
“Something I shouldn't have, Sir?”
“You want to see sadistic? Get on your hands and knees. We're not done yet.”
“I'm sorry, Sir, I-”
“There's plenty of time to play, rest, and then get ready for dinner later.” His laughter sounded darker as he reached for the leather restraints. “Give me your wrists. This is going to last a while.”
- Chapter 17 -
~ All the Right Moves ~
“Turn around,” Quinn said, reaching into his suit jacket.
I went still inside as cold metal encircled my neck. He was having me wear a collar to dinner? It wasn't a collar, I mentally pinched myself. Maybe the equivalent, yet to anyone else it would look like a necklace. A diamond and emerald necklace. There were elaborately etched vines of silver with white gold, circular emeralds connecting them. I stared in the mirror and met his eyes. He clasped a matching bracelet around my wrist.
“Umm...” I felt light-headed, sensitive to the warm air from our shower and the cold metal that was warming against my skin. “Thank you, Sir? But-”
“Did you see the boxes last time?” he grinned. “Your earrings match.”
“I didn't see any boxes.” Though they were powder blue, which would have made them difficult to miss. “Sir, I'm really not sure-”
“I am.” The necklace warmed, pressed against my chest when he put his hand on my neck. I kissed him back, letting submission win over shock.
“They're both incredibly beautiful, but-”
“All of your clothes make me want to tie you up. With soft, white rope. Remind me to do that later?”
“Thank you very much, Sir.”
I watched him comb his hair and straighten his dark blue and black tie. He looked professional and dangerously masculine, not needing the suit to have that be true. I remembered huddling in my coat, speed-texting Lane my insecurities. My outfit for the evening was what I wanted to have been wearing. The 'little black dress' was knee-length, wavy and layered at the hem. It managed to make me look thin, had my legs look long, and I liked that only a modest amount of cleavage was showing. Emeralds and diamonds in the necklace glittered, the gold and silver polished to catch the light. It was perfectly framed by the soft, wispy black of my cowl neckline.
“Sexy submissive,” he said, his eyes warm as we left. “I'm sorry we're wasting so much time with dinner.”
“It won't be a waste of time. You might learn something useful. Maybe?”
“If Tony's going to reveal what he's been up to, he will right away. I'm hoping that he doesn't at all.”
“There's nothing to say if things aren't going well for him.”
“Exactly. Watch your dress,” he said, closing the car door after I got in.
I waited until he seemed less preoccupied, wondering if it would be wise to ask, “Are you being... safe?” Submission kicked in a second too late.
“Safe? What do you mean?”
“I'm not asking how, just... have you been safe, getting the information you've needed?”
“Yes, I really have been.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, Sir.” His quiet laughter confused me. I lit a cigarette, then one for him when he put his window down.
“Nothing I've done is illegal,” he said. “I utilized contacts I've made over the years. It wasn't the most ethical thing to have done, but unethical isn't illegal. At least, not in this case.”
“Ah. I have some contacts like that, too.”
“Do you?”
“Lawyers tend to know useful people, too.”
“It's good they got back to me so fast. I didn't want to leave you sitting in the living room all weekend.”
“Yes, that's what I've been worried about. Sir,” I added, to counterbalance the sarcasm.
“No, I think you were worried that agents of some kind were going to show up at your door. What were you thinking about?”
“What if Anthony does digging of his own? If he finds out you've been looking into him, couldn't that be bad?”
“The files I've prepared for them are based around information I shouldn't have. I'm taking a risk by presenting it, but the only way it becomes a serious risk is if he wins the property. Which, I've been assured, he shouldn't be able to.”
“How much of a risk, Sir?”
“You're really that worried?”
“For you, not for me. Agents at my door,” I scoffed. “People I know can make just about anyone go away.”
“I promise it's not that serious.”
“I'm sure it's not.”
“What don't you know?” he asked quietly. And then more loudly, “You were around for most of it. I only found out Thursday evening. I'm sure you heard me talking to Luke and Greg. Both of them are good friends, a financial consultant and a real estate broker in upstate New York.”
“I heard their names. Greg, I figured, does something with real estate.”
“Luke helped confirm my prior suspicions, and Greg was able to fill me in on what was really going on. Bid, not outright buy.”
“I remember.”
“That's really it. I worked all day Friday, part of today. Nothing illegal went down.”
“That's not why I... well, it is, but-” I sighed and let the wind take my cigarette away. “I know you're careful.”
“Always,” he replied.
“Then? No worries, right?”
“We're here.” Quinn pulled into a parking space, but left the engine on as he finished smoking. “I'd appreciate Tony not finding out about... you know, anything I know.”
“Of course. If he finds out, it won't be from-”
“I know. I know that. Thank you, Clara.” He kissed my cheek. “Let's do this.”
“We got a table already,” I heard Anthony Barton's voice boom through Quinn's phone. It rang soon as we had gotten inside.
His face was smaller than his wife's. It was the first thing I noticed. They were the same height, though she was wearing very high black heels. Anthony's hair was dark, dark brown, gelled so it stayed perfectly tousled. When he waved, I could see his gold watch from across the room. He wore a dark brown suit, his ice-blue shirt crisp and opened at the collar. I had been expecting thin,
wiry, not someone who would look at home on a football field. He was a large man, tall and burly.
Looking at Quinn made me smile. He was a couple of inches taller, his back and shoulders broader. Tony would be toast if they met on the field. His wife was a stick in comparison, her hipbones showing through her sheath dress. She had long, golden brown hair, and hazel green-brown eyes. Watching the way she stood and moved, I wondered if she had been, or currently was, a model.
Self-esteem was restored when Quinn put his arm around my shoulder, leading me around one of the dining tables. He smelled like dominance, sex, and cologne that gave me confidence. It was calming as I surveyed the restaurant, hearing the clink of silver against glass plates. The necklace brushed over my neck and the bracelet was light and reassuring around my wrist.
“You should have told us you were bringing a date. We would-”
“Claire, this is Anthony, and his wife, Chloe.” Quinn smoothly interrupted. “You were saying?”
“Nothing,” his wife said, posing with one hand on the table, the other on Tony's shoulder. I wondered if she would have dressed differently had she known he wasn't arriving alone. The cocktail dress was dark gold and tight enough to emphasize her slim figure. There were diamonds along the swimsuit-like strap in the back, the material flowing into her low neckline. Her shoulders and most of her back were bare. It looked nice from the front, yet whenever she turned to the side... Flashy, indeed. I couldn't help noticing that she was wearing a strapless red bra, or maybe that was just because I was a good four inches taller than her. My eyes stayed above her neck, as did Quinn's, I noticed.
“Very nice meeting you,” I shook Anthony's hand.
“Excuse Tony,” Chloe said. “He forgets his manners around new... friends.”
“His old ones, too,” Quinn added lightly.
“I didn't get your name,” she continued over him.
“I'm Claire.” I met her unexpectedly sharp gaze. I felt mine go a few degrees colder. Her eyebrow quirked and I smiled, looking nothing but polite. “Claire Gillian.”
“You can call me Cleo,” she held her hand out.
“Lovely to meet you.”
Her expression warmed almost enough to be believable. “Sit by me. You can talk to me when they start their work-talk. You know how boring that can be, don't you?”
“What with how hard we both work, we need some downtime. That's what dinner is for. I'm sure you both can relate?”
She pretended not to hear me as we all sat down. With me sitting next to her, Chloe was in front of Quinn, with her husband facing me. The table was wide, but she didn't need to lean over so far for the bread basket. Or when she asked Quinn to pass her the oil and vinegar.
I caught her attention as she looked around the table again, “The salt?” I handed her the salt and pepper shakers. There wasn't anything else on the table for her to want.
“Finally, the wine!” Tony said, his voice obnoxiously loud.
I looked to Quinn, but he seemed just as surprised. The waiter recovered himself well. “My apologies, sir. If you'd like a new-”
“It's fine. Might as well, now that it's here.”
The waiter hesitated, looking at Chloe, then at me. “Would you like to taste the-”
“Yes. Pour us two glasses?”
“Such a good vintage,” she remarked.
He waved the waiter away without looking at him. “You can go. We're all set.”
“Thank you...” I said, sure he hadn't heard me.
Quinn looked distracted. I understood why when my phone buzzed a few moments later. 'Don't worry. I'll tip well.' I nodded, though it wasn't the only reason I was annoyed. What Tony and Cleo had done was a huge lapse in dinner etiquette. It was traditional to serve the women first, the male guests second. Our wine server had known that. The power-play made me sigh inside. I really wanted to believe they were unaware of the snub, yet I had seen the way they smiled at one another over their glasses. It was a game they played, and I didn't appreciate them involving Quinn, or me.
“Would either of you like to sample a full-bodied, Spanish Red?” Cleo's eyes glittered, they were so sharp with anticipation. “There's certainly enough left.”
“Too early in the evening for me, thank you.” I took a drink of the sparkling water that was in front of me.
“Quinn?”
He declined too, but before Cleo could reply, a new waiter returned to tell us about the specials. Quinn ordered a steak with salad and soup, and one for me after he glanced over and saw me smile at him. What was happening at the table had me distracted. Cleo tried to be subtle, yet I saw her gaze linger on Quinn's chest, his shoulders. Strange emotions pulled at me when I saw her lean back and glance down at his waist. Lower. It wasn't a possessive feeling, not jealousy or anger, but something just as dark swept over me. I'd never felt anything like it before.
“That's a beautiful necklace,” she commented, startling me.
“Thank you,” I let my hand fall back into my lap, no longer thinking about the first collar he had given me. It had only been his belt, but the moment it wrapped around my neck-
“Ha!” Anthony interjected, loud enough for people to hear us four tables over. “How sweet, that your date blushes.”
Even Cleo looked shocked. Quinn ran a hand through his hair and breathed out slowly. His eyes were too dark.
“I'm sure the wine you ordered is sweeter,” I said calmly, before his aggression level grew any higher. “Very generous of you both to offer us a glass. That was nice.”
Cleo's gaze sliced from him to our wine glasses. Tony's smile seemed frozen. “How could we not? You're our guests.”
“Here at your invitation,” Quinn added, his voice quiet and dangerous.
I continued watching Tony, my eyes soft and non-confrontational. When he stood to fill our glasses, Quinn met him halfway and put one of them in front of me. The tension immediately lifted as we took a sip, but the new silence verged on becoming awkward again.
“So, Quinn, how's-”
“Speaking of wine,-- I'm sorry,” I had spoken at the same time he had. I looked at Tony the same way I had before. “I interrupted you. You were saying?”
“We spoke at the same time,” he grudgingly replied. “What were you saying about wine?”
“I've never had the chance, but I've always wanted to take one of the tours in... Spain.” I kept the question out of my voice. Had Ben gone to Spain or Greece, I couldn't remember. Had it been for wine, or cheese-?
“You should absolutely go on the Grand Tour! Tony and I've been three times-”
“Only two times.” Pride trumped ambition. “We went to the Caribbean, instead, last year. Remember?”
“We should go back to the Islands in spring. Shouldn't we? There was so much we didn't do, especially on-”
“Hey,” Quinn leaned over as they reminisced together. “Thank you. Twice.”
“Mmm... please and thank you for later, Sir?” I whispered back.
“Fuck yes, my sexy-”
“Quinn?” I glanced at the waiter who had helped Tony and Cleo, standing on his other side. “You ordered white wine?”
“No...”
“Excuse me, sir. Compliments from the gentleman over there.” The waiter subtly gestured to three well-dressed men sitting across the room.
“Thank you,” Quinn replied.
Four, narrow, elegant wine glasses were carefully set in front of us, already filled. He left the bottle. Quinn toasted the party of three, then looked from me to Cleo and Tony. I nodded imperceptibly, answering the unasked question.
“I've worked for them before,” he explained. “I'll be back in two minutes.”
“Thank them for me, too, if you want?”
He nodded in reply, letting his hand trail over my shoulders as he left.
“This is the first time Quinn's invited someone out to dinner.” Chloe smiled once he was out of hearing distance.
“I can't believe that,” I said, mat
ching her light tone. “He's too good a conversationalist.”
Tony laughed. Cleo leaned closer. “I'm dying of curiosity. How did the two of you meet?”
“Very randomly. We had a cigarette together and, well...” I smiled, watching him shake hands and laugh with his clients. “How did you two meet?”
“The way he smokes,” she rolled her eyes and made a tsk tsk sound. “Tony used to smoke, but I convinced him to quit. Right, hon?”
“It was a habit I needed to kick, anyway, y'know.”
“See? How long have you known one another? Quinn didn't say.”
“With so much talk about us,” I smiled vacuously, “I feel I'm neglecting both of you.”
“He's filled you in on us already, hasn't he? All those boring stories we've told over and over again...”
“The beauty of having a social life?”
“So I know I'm not mistaking anything, you're his..?”
Collared submissive was not the proper answer. A simple yes probably wouldn't be appropriate, either? “We haven't known one another that long. I'm not comfortable with, er, generalities.”
“What does that mean?”
“What it sounds like...” I saw Quinn heading back over and tried not to look guilty.
Tony and Cleo's conversation washed over me like white noise. Had I evaded, or given everything away? He looked wary, sitting down, but there wasn't much time to say anything. Our food arrived as he did. I commented on Chloe's ring over soup and salad, which came with a story. There was another story about her earrings. I drew Tony in whenever he seemed distracted. Quinn managed to look courteously absorbed in our conversations, listening and prompting Cleo to share more. Her enthusiasm kept Tony quiet, something I found intriguing.
I panicked a little, running out of things to talk about. But then her purse caught my attention. It was pink and black, not hard to inject into conversation. The details she proceeded to give about other evening bags made my head spin. My body ached for pain as I phased in and out our conversation, the only thing that kept my eyes alive with amusement. Even Quinn's glazed over as she went on and on, exuding orgasmic happiness that I managed to keep matching.
“Did you say a Lane handbag?” I knew what she'd be getting for her birthday, only four months away.
Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) Page 19