Smiling softly, as his words clicked, her hand came up to his jaw in a gentle caress. After three months, hearing the word wife or being called Mrs. O’Brien was still a surprise. Her gaze dipped to the glittering band on her finger, nestled against her diamond solitaire—proof positive they had vowed to spend their lives together.
Despite her nerves over the upcoming evening and being on edge from her commute home, she grinned. “Not listening is a bad habit. One my sexy husband will have to help me break.” Teasingly, she added in a hushed tone, “Don’t tell anyone, but he’s the owner of a new BDSM club that opens tonight, so I’m sure he has the means and the know how to whip me into shape.”
“Smart ass,” he rumbled, although amusement twinkled in his eyes as he swatted her butt lightly to get her moving.
Eternally grateful to be home and excited for the night ahead, she giggled as she scurried into their bedroom with him following a few paces behind.
“Remind me never to take the 410 during rush hour ever again.”
“It must have been quite a tie up. You called forty-five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, about that. I’d have been home twenty minutes sooner, but there was another delay.” She set her purse down on the dresser and pulled out the crumpled yellow slip. He’d find out soon enough when he saw the $200 fine hit their checking account. Not to mention, he knew the trooper that had ticketed her.
He slipped the paper from her fingers and turned it over. “Illegal operation of a vehicle on an unimproved shoulder,” he read aloud. “Seriously, Mara? You could have picked something up in your tire and had a flat, or the pavement, which is uneven and not maintained like the road, could have given way or narrowed and sent you veering into the guardrail or worse, back into traffic.”
“I know. The big scary state trooper you went to high school with said the same thing.”
He scanned the citation until he found the name, which he read with a smile. “Wes Jacobs. I haven’t heard that name in a long while. We played football together.”
“You’ll be happy to know that Officer Jacobs scolded me severely and will be giving you a call to make sure I made a full confession to you about my crime. It felt like a verbal spanking. Are Doms all they breed around here?”
“It’s Texas, baby, would you expect anything less?”
Shaking her head over the arrogance of that statement, she stood on her toes and kissed him. “I better shake a leg.” Then she hurried to the bathroom to shower.
She’d let the water run hot and steamy, enjoying the feel of it pulsating against the tense muscles in her neck. When she stepped out moments later, Sean was waiting with a thick fluffy towel. He enveloped her with it and his big hands began to rub her down.
“Feeling better now? You were a bit frazzled when you got home.”
“On top of gridlock on the 410, I’ve never gotten a ticket before. It was rather nerve wracking seeing those blue lights in my mirror.”
He took another towel and began drying her hair. After the excess moisture was gone, he squirted some of her leave in conditioner into his palm, spread it between his hands and worked it through the length of her hair. His long fingers combed gently through to the ends before returning to the top of her head and massaging her scalp.
Mara leaned back, groaning with pleasure. “You have magic hands, Lucky.”
When they lowered to her towel, to wipe off the excess conditioner, he unwound it from her body, letting his magic hands wander. Desire ignited within her setting up a tingling ache in her breasts and deep in her belly. Her eyes opened, meeting his in the mirror, the penetrative blue orbs missing nothing. She leaned back and relaxed as his finger roamed freely over her breasts. As he dipped his head, gliding his lips along her neck, he captured each nipple simultaneously, his fingers rolling them slowly, making her burn before giving them a firm pinch.
“Always so eager, my nightingale. Sadly, we’ll have to wait to indulge.” With another tug and roll that left her whimpering and arching into his hands, it was over. Unable to hold his gaze any longer without begging, she stepped toward the vanity and grabbed her brush. Pulling it through the wet strands, she gathered it at the back of her head in a high ponytail. In the summer heat, it would dry quickly.
“A little makeup and I’ll be ready to get dressed.”
“I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.” When he walked out, Mara had to lean against the vanity to compose herself. Sean could make her want him with a look, when he touched and teased it was all she could do to keep from jumping his bones. As she considered her reflection, she knew the blush on her skin wasn’t from the shower’s heat. Her lower lip was swollen from where she’d bitten it trying to maintain her control. Her nipples were beaded into sharp points and her chest rose and fell more rapidly than normal. Somehow, she had to get centered.
A sweep or two of mascara, a swathe of pink gloss to her lips and she was done. Ignoring her robe and discarded towel, she walked out naked anxious to see what he had bought for her.
As she approached where he sat on the padded chest at the end of the bed, she noticed the large white box on the bench beside him. Within reach, his hands caught her hips and pulled her between his legs. While his active hands stroked up the outer curves of her thighs and his fingers curled around to her bottom, he pressed kisses along her belly.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against her damp skin. “Turn around.”
As she did, he flipped the lid off the box and drew out a white corset. Trimmed in pink—no surprise there—he wrapped it around her as she held it in place in front. He then set to the task of lacing her up in back while she adjusted the smooth demi cups. Pulling the ties snug pushed her nearly D breasts upward until she was close to overflowing. A pat on her bottom was her cue to turn back.
“Skirt without panties, or panties only, your choice.” Regarding her expectantly, he held an item in each hand while he awaited her decision.
The skirt, also white, had a narrow ruffle around the bottom dotted with little pink bows. It was cute, though only about as wide as a belt and would leave her bare ass on near constant display. The panties were lacy boy shorts, a bit sheer, but they provided some coverage, although she expected the bottom curve of her cheeks would hang out.
“We need to leave in ten, Mara. Choose.”
“I can’t. You decide. What do you want me to wear?”
“Panties it is.” He bent forward, holding them open. “Step in.”
With her hands on his shoulders for balance, she stepped in and he slid the stretchy lace shorts up her legs and around her hips. He handed her a pair of sheer white hose while he stood. “Put these on while I get your shoes.”
As she carefully smoothed the delicate stockings, he disappeared in their walk-in closet, returning with a shoebox. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet and squatted in front of her. “I’ll get the garters.”
With his head bent to his task, she couldn’t resist the temptation of his hair, running her fingers through the thick wavy locks. It was silky soft and glistened with reddish highlights. As his broad fingers fastened the pale pink garters with the darker pink bows to the sheer white thigh-hi stockings, Mara marveled at how much he enjoyed dressing her, taking an interest in everything she wore, including her shoes. The men in her past only cared about themselves and getting her naked as fast as possible. That stray thought, which brought up a cascade of dark unpleasant memories, intruded into the sweetness of the moment making her flinch.
“What was that?” he asked, glancing up as he snapped a clasp at the front of one thigh.
“Your fingers tickled a little.”
His brows gathered briefly. When his hands rose to her hips and turned her to fasten the garters in the back, relief rushed through her that he’d let her lapse slide. She was usually more adept at concealing the harsh recollections.
A moment later, he drew her down until her lace covered behind perched on one of his muscled thighs. He twisted to retr
ieve the shoebox from the bed. “I saw these and thought you might like them.”
When she saw the pink bow tie pumps with white piping, she grinned. He knew her so well. She’d developed a love of fun, sexy shoes, likely due to the utilitarian, rubber-soled, butt ugly nursing shoes she wore to work every day. Even though the heels—none of which were under four inches—were only appropriate to wear to a club, she’d already built up quite a collection. Mostly thanks to Sean, who had a fondness for them too. Imagining the stares she’d get if she wore them into a fine restaurant, she smiled as he strapped them on her feet.
“Naughty and nice,” he murmured while adjusting the small buckle. As she took in the five-inch heels and the delicate eyelet lace trim, she agreed they were the perfect combination of sweet and sexy, good girl and bad, and yes, naughty and nice.
“I love them.”
“I figured you would. Walk around and see how they feel. Then we need to get going.”
Knowing he watched, she added an extra swing to her hips as she walked across the room, paused, struck a runway model pose, before pivot turning and gliding back. “They fit perfectly and the little gel cushion makes them really comfortable. What do you think? Am I ready for the grand opening?”
“You look sweeter than candy and hotter than a three-dollar pistol.”
“Three dollars?” Shifting toward the mirror, she frowned. “Does that mean I look cheap?”
He pulled her full against him, his hands gliding over her barely covered rear. “Never cheap, darlin’. A three-dollar pistol is a very old Texas saying that means smoking hot. I meant it as a compliment.” He nuzzled his face between the full mounds plumped up over the low cut bodice. “What if I said you looked good enough to eat? Is that better?”
“Much,” came her low groan as he licked the deep valley between her breasts. After only one taste, he stopped, shaking his head.
“We’ve got to go, before I can’t.”
Moving her back a step, he stood with another surprise from the box, a sleeveless satin sheath, which he slipped over her head. The neckline draped low in front to reveal some skin, while keeping her naughty underthings covered and the hem, an inch at most below mid-thigh, concealed the tops of her stockings and the frothy pink and white garters that held them up.
She arched her brow at him in question, never having been clothed this much at the club in D.C.
“This is for the lounge and bar area. We have a reception planned first. We’ll save your sexy unveiling for the main room after. Ready?”
“Yes. I’m getting excited. I can’t believe it’s finally here.”
“Agreed. This day has been a long time coming.”
Chapter Twelve
Driving north through the outskirts of the city, Sean entered the twenty acre secluded lot through the front gates and drove along the private wooded lane that shielded Club Decadence from nosey neighbors and curious passersby. At the gate, a guard checked them in and security cameras monitored their progress along the winding drive up to the main building. The parking lot out front was jam packed, but Sean turned right at the ‘employees and deliveries only’ sign and parked around back.
“It’s so different from the last time I was here,” Mara remarked as she gaped up at the three-story structure. With its stucco outer walls, clay roof tiles, and arched portico style entryways, it looked like a large southwestern hacienda. Outsiders would never suspect the beautiful building and grounds belonged to a private sex club. As they parked in the area reserved for the owners, Mara noticed a high wall had been constructed around back.
As he switched off the ignition, Sean glanced her way and grinned. “If you think the outside has changed, wait until you see inside. It was a shell when you were here two months ago.”
“What’s behind there?”
“A play garden, when we get to it.”
Staring at the nearly ten-foot high wall, her mind was awhirl with ideas of the games that could take place in an outdoor play area. Unyielding stone benches and wrought iron came to mind, as well as rough tree bark against bare skin, nipples in particular. The thought alone made Mara appreciate cushions, padding and carefully sanded wood furniture, not to mention air conditioning.
The driver’s door slamming made her jump, and before she knew it, Sean was helping her down from his high truck seat by lifting her at the waist. When her feet touched the ground, he grabbed her hand and was off, barely taking time to slam her passenger door and click the auto door locks.
Scurrying along behind him was difficult in the dark, particularly in five-inch heels. “Lucky, slow up or I’m going to fall off these stilts and break my neck.”
He stopped, spinning back. Bending at the waist with his arm encircling her thighs, he stood and flipped her over his shoulder. She squealed as blood rushed to her head and her view of the world overturned.
“Sorry, nightingale, we’re late,” he said without missing a step. “And what better way to enter a BDSM club then ass over tit on your Master’s shoulder.” His big hand curved around the backs of her thighs steadying her as he keyed in a code and jerked open the door. “Watch your head now, baby. Don’t raise up.”
He carried her down a corridor that was obviously a service hallway. Craning her neck as they passed, she saw doors labeled laundry, storage, stage entrance and one that said ‘staff only’. Other doors went by in an upside down blur. As they approached the end, a man came out of the room labeled storage with two cases of champagne in his arms. His rolled up sleeves showed his flexing muscles as he managed the cartons easily.
“Sean! Glad you could make it,” the man called in a good-natured taunt.
“I don’t want to hear it, Ben. I had to wait on the little woman.”
“Uh-oh! First night and we’ve got one in trouble already.” He angled his head and dipped down, trying to get a look at her in the dim light as he followed. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Mrs. O’Brien, I assume?”
“Ben, this is Mara, my sub, wife and whipping girl later tonight for making me late.”
Ben laughed as Mara shrieked, “Sean! Whips are a hard limit.”
Her husband’s hand slid higher, moving from the back of her thigh to her ass. Once there he squeezed. “I was joking, baby. By the way, Ben is our bar manager. You can meet the rest of the staff later.”
Ben gave her a grin before peeling off to the right through a set of swinging doors. A split second later, Sean flipped her again, this time turning her upright as he set her on her feet.
After brushing her hair from her face, he angled her chin up and took her lips in a brisk, yet passionate kiss. “Ready or not, here we go.” As he pushed open the door, he beamed with excitement. “Welcome to Club Decadence, nightingale.”
His strong hand at the small of her back, guided her inside. Wide-eyed, she swept the crowded room getting the feel of a posh nightclub, not that she’d ever been to a posh nightclub, and more than she could have imagined. Directly ahead was an empty dance floor, most likely because rather than dancing to the piped in music, the guests were waiting for the band that was tuning up on stage.
“Live music,” Mara enthused excitedly.
“Enjoy it while you can. This is the best local band we could find. Too bad they’re scheduled to go on tour in a month. After that, we’ll probably have to go with a DJ. I auditioned at least two dozen bands and none were quite what we had in mind.”
Beyond the musicians, she took in the plush gold curtains that flanked the stage and contrasted perfectly with the rich burgundy walls. Rows of recessed lighting lined the room about eight feet up on each wall, giving of a subtle ambient glow. Two sides of the dance floor were bordered by pub tables, two and four tops with high stools upholstered in the same gold tone as the drapes, but the fabric in a sleek design.
“It’s beautiful, babe. Never would I have thought it possible after the raw wood, sawdust and scaffolding I saw the last time.”
“The contractors did an excellent job,
” he agreed with obvious pride as he too scanned the crowded room.
“Yes, and your decorator was inspired,” Mara gushed. “The colors, furniture, accent pieces, everything is warm, rich, and well…” she shrugged, grinning as she finished, “decadent.”
He grinned, too. “Exactly what we were going for. You can meet the designer tonight. She’ll be here with her husband.” Checking the time, Sean took her hand and led her toward the other side of the large room. “Let’s find the owner’s table in the bar. Dex is planning a welcome speech at eight o’clock sharp. That’s in five minutes, we’re cutting it close.”
As he wove them through the throng, she gaped at the huge L-shaped bar that ran nearly the length of the back wall, rounded the corner and then half again down the far side. The top gleamed in a rich, dark wood. Underneath, recessed light shone down toward the floor and illuminated the matching low-backed stools with their burgundy and gold patterned cushions. Floor to ceiling behind the bar, was a wall of lighted shelves filled with liquor bottles in all shapes and sizes. It was impressive.
As they passed the midway point, a long center corridor with half walls split the room separating the lounge with its dance floor from the bar. It originated from a set of double doors, which she imagined, led to the front. After bypassing it, they approached a large seating area of plush gold couches and low tables. Mara recognized several of Sean’s partners and former teammates. Rick was there and had his arm wrapped around his wife Regan. They were chatting with a man across the way. Although his back was to her, she knew Cap right off. His ebony hair, wide-set shoulders and commanding presence recognizable anywhere. He was talking to an older, distinguished looking gentleman who had the same powerful bearing, not that all the owners weren’t strong, confident men, but Cap and this man stood apart somehow. She wasn’t the only one to feel their pull because several of the other guests were listening in, hanging on every word. It was a fascinating discussion or these two men garnered unmistakable respect.
In his mid to late fifties, by her best guess, the man beside Cap was older than she expected for a member at this sort of club. As she looked around, she noticed that the membership was a bit older than what she’d been used to in D.C. The thirty-something crowd seemed more sophisticated too, if the less overblown club wear was any indication. This went double for the curvy blonde on the older man’s lap who was dressed to the nines in a stunning floor length beaded sapphire blue gown. The rest of the seats around the table were full, leaving Lil T and Jonas, the other two owners to round out the six, standing and chatting to other guests or members nearby. Sean had pushed the opening back a week, waiting for Lil T who was last of the group to be discharged, wanting all of the owners to be present for the big first night.
Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) Page 15