The Club: Ethan

by Jenna Elliot

  No, what’s got me pushed against my break zone is this babe in my arms. Watching her getting turned on. She’s shocked by the scene. By her reaction to it. She’s fresh and so easy to read.

  That’s what’s turning me on.

  Her innocence. Her eagerness. The way she molds herself to me, suddenly the seductress. As if she can push me. I feel the urgency in the move, the tenseness in her lean muscles. She slides her hands up my back then down to my ass and pulls me tight, all hesitation about public nudity forgotten in the face of her need.

  My cock throbs against her, giving her what she’s looking for. I’m a dude with a willing babe in my arms, after all. And my reaction encourages her. She rocks her hips, cradles my dick like she wants a ride through my pants. She arches her back just enough so her nipples graze my shirt.

  My babe is hungry . . .

  One fast move, and I spin her around and up against the stage. She gasps when I drill my cock up against her bare ass. I bow over her until my chest presses against her back, and I can whisper in her ear. “Better be glad I still have my clothes on, or I’d take you up on your offer right here.”

  I grind my hips to drive home my point. Then circle my arms around her, effectively trapping her against the stage. I tug on her nipples.

  She goes wild. Arching against me, she leans into my hands as if her tits are heat-seeking missiles and my palms the targets. She doesn’t care that there are still people filtering away from the area. She doesn’t care that we’re giving the poor bastard on stage a show of our own. She only cares that I touch her, the promise of my hard dick, and finding release.

  “Go ahead,” she challenges me.

  And it makes me so hot. Too hot. My sweet, sweet Mia is pushing my buttons. I don’t know why. I can’t remember the last time this happened, but I do know she doesn’t understand the club rules. My rules.

  Threading my fingers into her hair, I coax her head back until she’s forced to look up and get an eyeful of the bare-assed sub still collapsed on his knees with a raging dick, a blazing welt on his ass, and no one to rescue him from his need.

  “You want to take pity on that poor bastard?”

  Mia calms against me, and I know she’s trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about.

  “You want to give that guy a hand?” I ask. “He needs rescuing, or he’ll be sitting here all night.”

  Her eyes widen as understanding dawns, and the effect is exactly what I knew it would be—ice water.

  “No!” She tries to break away, twisting underneath me until I’m the one who needs a good dousing.

  I let her go.

  She spins to face me, panting, a delicious sight with her breasts trembling beneath the painted designs, her nipples tight and angry, her gaze narrowed.

  It’s the challenge in her eyes that’s stoking me. I know it the instant my blood rushes like a fiery tsunami to my crotch. Every fiber of me wants to whip out my dick and sink it in, do her against the stage the way I did her against her car. Fucking A . . .

  I don’t think. I react. The next thing I know, I’m scooping up this little spitfire in my arms and carrying her from the stage.

  She pounds my back with a balled fist, struggles to get away. “Put me down.”

  I’ve pushed her dangerously close to the edge. She’s caught up in the moment, not thinking through the need. “You need to learn some manners.”

  “I’m not your pet,” she spits back. “Put me down.”

  “I’ll put you down, all right.” I grind out between clenched teeth. “When I’m damn good and ready.”

  She growls with frustration, and any pleasure I might feel at her neediness is doused by my own battle for control. All the struggling has her writhing against me. She’s testing my restraint, and that’s making me testy.

  I kick open the first door that shows up, turn sideways and barge through the doorway. There’s a brunette standing in front of a mirror, applying lipstick. A blonde emerges around a wall from a stall area.

  Fuck. The ladies bathroom.

  “Get out,” I bark at the women, who take one look at me and haul ass out the door.

  I head for the only place to deposit my cargo—the sink. Her ass smacks against the porcelain with a slapping sound that echoes in the tiled room. She scowls and starts up with her fists again. Takes me a minute to catch her hands and subdue her, but I glimpse myself in the mirror behind her. The sight stops me. Who is this dude with need all over his face, clenching his jaw, shadowing his eyes with unfulfilled craving?

  Sure as hell isn’t me.

  Forcing her hands against her breasts, I press her back until her head touches the mirror and she has to face me now.

  “Manners, Mia. You need some.”

  “Fuck you.” She hisses at me, still caught up, still wanting to fight. “I don’t want to play your stupid games.”

  Not an option.

  I transfer her hands to one of mine, freeing up the other. I brush my fingers along the curve of her cheek, so turned on by the sight of her reflection. I trace her jaw, caress the column of her throat, will her to calm, will my dick to calm.

  Leaning forward, I bury my face in her hair to block out the sight of her in the mirror. “Shh,” I coo. “There are some things I need to explain.”

  She doesn’t try to break away. She doesn’t tell me to fuck off. It’s working.

  “Command Performance has rules, and I have rules. I want to share them with you.”

  I breathe against her ear, feel her tremble in reply. She’s so attuned to me. I didn’t realize how much. I have to be careful with her. More careful than I’ve been.

  I press light kisses to the hollow around her eye, brush her lashes with my lip. I can feel her relaxing.

  “I want to share all this pleasure with you, Mia.” I trail my mouth down her nose, use my nose to coax her head up until our mouths come together. “That’s what you want, too.”

  I hold my breath.

  “Tell me.” She breathes the words out on a sigh.

  The tension deep inside me eases up its vise. I release her hands. Before she has a chance to change her mind, I drag my palms over her shoulders, down her arms, tracing her beautiful body as a distraction. I tongue her soft mouth.

  She drapes her hands over my shoulders, giving me the freedom to touch her again, to explore. I know she only wants to feed the beast inside her, and I’m down with that. But I’m still wooing her, and I need to fucking remember that. Mia’s new at this. Yes, she learns fast, but I’m the fucking master at making her feel comfortable, teaching her.

  “Command Performance has three levels. All arousing. All about pleasure.” I breathe the explanation against her tongue. I can practically taste acceptance in her mouth. “Level One is about fantasy play. Like the scene we just watched. Role playing, voyeurism, light submission/ domination. You enjoyed watching, didn’t you, Mia?”

  I nibble my way down her throat, waiting to see if she admits it, needing to gauge where my newest pet is right now, because she will be my newest pet. I only need to know if she’s figured that out yet.

  I feel her swallow, smile when she says, “Yes.”

  Good girl. We’re moving along. Anyone walks through that door right now, and housekeeping will be mopping up blood.

  I graze my palms down her chest, around her quivering breasts. A soft moan escapes her.

  “We can have so much pleasure here, babe. We can do anything that makes you feel good.”

  “You’d let me handcuff you?”

  Jesus, she tests me. I tighten my hands around her waist, and the sudden pressure makes her eyes fly open.

  “You think you can handle me?” I ask, staring deep into her eyes, gratified by the sudden flash of hesitation I see there.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “We’ll see.” A promise.

  I work my fingers down her smooth belly, over the designs that I meticulously painted not so long ago, but somehow feels like another l
ifetime.

  “What happens on the other levels?” she asks, spreading her legs a little, distracting me with her questions, so I’m lured to keep touching where she wants to be touched.

  I understand how she operates.

  I trace the apex between her thighs with a fingertip, feel her thighs quiver. “No need to worry about the other levels for now. There’s plenty to enjoy right where we are.”

  She rests her cheek against the top of my head, such a tender gesture, an unfamiliar one. “Do you have to do this kind of sex all the time?”

  I’m not sure if it’s her interest or her touch that knocks me off my game, but I’m suddenly way the hell off. I don’t answer. I can’t. I haven’t fucked outside the club for so long. The Jeep thing kind of sidetracked me.

  I head straight to my comfort zone. Working a finger into her wet pussy, I suddenly don’t give a shit whether I damage the paint job or not.

  Her muscles clench, and I remind myself not to push her too far. I’m more skilled than that.

  “I want to have sex with you.” I press a kiss to her shoulder, let my finger settle deep inside, my own distraction technique.

  “What if I want to stay at Level One forever? What if I don’t like the club? Where will that put you and me?”

  “Having a good time, however we choose.” I lightly press against her G-spot, let her know what I have to offer.

  Her moan echoes in the quiet, erotic, filtering through me like a damned drug.

  “But you like the club, Mia. You like what I do to you.”

  Her only reply is another soft moan. I can feel her warm breath against my hair. My balls ache now. So tight I’m going to be a cripple if I don’t get some release soon.

  God damn this game. The vulnerability. All this fucking talk. The questions. Her lack of control is fueling mine.

  “No drugs. No drunks. Use condoms.” I punctuate each with pressure from my finger. She writhes against me. “Always have a safe word. Green is go. Yellow is wary. Red is stop.”

  “Or, I can just say stop.” She gasps out the words.

  I’m pushing her dangerously close again. I hear it in her voice. I feel it in the way she works her hips, trying to rub her clit against my palm, looking for release again.

  I’m fucking hopeless tonight.

  “Or, you can just say stop,” I whisper, letting my finger go still, just rest inside her. “No touching unless invited. More politeness is expected inside the club than in the outside world. You’ve noticed that already, haven’t you?”

  She manages a weak nod.

  “If someone’s wearing a collar, they’re off limits. The sub belongs to the dom for an hour, an evening or 24/7.”

  “Is that what the redhead was offering you?”

  That makes me smile. I appreciate the distraction, but won’t tell her. I’m in a hell of my own making right now. I deserve what I get. And maybe a challenge is what I need. We’ll see. “When we’re together, we’re monogamous. From the first fuck until our last, it’s only you and me, babe. You get that?”

  “Yes.”

  “In this club, you call me sir.”

  She rests her head back, a boneless move that tells me I’m not the only one pleasure-drugged, even if I won’t show it. Her gaze is slow to focus. “If I forget?”

  My fucking balls tighten in anticipation of her mistakes. “There will be consequences. Whatever I feel is appropriate.”

  She considers me, and I see everything in her expression. She knows I’m fire, and she wants to know why, wants to reassure herself that putting her hand in the flames won’t burn.

  The game doesn’t work that way. In the club. Out of the club. Because life doesn’t work that way. There are consequences. Always fucking consequences.

  “You don’t cum unless I give my permission.” My tone is harder than I intend, but my shields are taking a hit with all this goddamned talk. “That means while we’re fucking and when you’re alone. No self-pleasuring.” I thumb her clit, watch her thighs part, hear her breath hitch in slow degrees. “You know what happens if you disobey this rule.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s the way I live.” I have no explanation, no reassurance to give. She wants me on my terms or she doesn’t. I’ll deal with it either way. “It’s my job to give you what you need. I want to take you to a private room and lick that paint off, but you have to agree to my terms.”

  I wait. I need to let her make up her fucking mind without any coercion. But I can’t. I roll her clit under my thumb again, feeling her body’s reply as her pussy grips my finger, as she arches her back against the mirror to lift her hips and give me more access.

  And that’s not even enough. With an urgency entirely out of character, I roll her clit over and over, and lean over her until I can taste her mouth against mine. “What do you say, Mia?”

  “I have to be out of my mind.”

  “Is that a ‘Yes, sir?’” I demand, but my heart stutters to a halt in my chest, waiting, waiting. I fucking hate waiting.

  Then she rocks her hips, pressing her clit against my hand, taking in my finger a little deeper. “Yes, sir.”

  Finally.

  13

  Ethan

  I LEAN BACK against the door and watch Mia float around the private suite, eyes wide as she tries to take in everything at once. The fountain trickling into a pool surrounded by ferns and potted palms. The soft glow of light spilling from fixtures concealed along the ceiling lines. The piped-in mood music. The smell of jasmine.

  As a rule, this suite is too romantic for my tastes, but I booked it specifically, hoping to increase my neophyte’s comfort level. I’ve hit the mark. She still seems dazed, wrapped in a dreamy haze of arousal, but now she’s pleased with our accommodations. And excited. Me, too. I enjoy the sight of her as she moves around the suite, clothed only in my creativity.

  I plan to get a helluva lot more creative.

  Pushing away from the wall, I head to the bar and straight to the scotch, needing fortification at the thought of the pleasures ahead. And the challenges. I’m fucking beyond horny.

  I pour a drink and lift it in a toast. “I want you to enjoy your first time here.”

  Your first night as my pet.

  She smiles, sweeping a hand from the orgy-size walk-in shower with a tropical floral display within to the marble pool where lily pads and lit candles float. “When you invited me to a sex club, I expected sleazy. Like some sort of strip club.”

  “Not so much.” I pour her a drink, too. She’ll need it.

  “I had no idea a place like this exists.” She approaches the bar, eyes bright with pleasure. I hand her a glass, and she clinks it against mine. “To a good time, sir.”

  She’s so eager. I’m gratified. Seriously. It’s such a cock-stroke to have women beg, but Mia’s different. She doesn’t really understand the game yet, and all this initiation, the battering down her defenses and reservations . . . I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve trained a new pet, I can’t remember if all this push and pull is always so stimulating.

  One thing I do know is, I won’t be rushing now that I’ve got her where I want her. Not even if my balls turn neon blue.

  I hook a finger beneath her glass and tip it to her lips. “Drink.” She is seriously going to need some fire in her belly with all the places I plan to take her tonight.

  “I’m overdressed for a bath. Undress me.” Taking another fortifying swallow, I savor the burn while setting the glass back on the bar. “Start with the shirt.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her glass clinks against the bar, and she sidles up to me with an excitement that makes my crotch ache. God, it’s going to feel good to get out of these pants.

  The top of her head reaches to my chin, and she’s so close that my every breath is filled with the scent of her hair. Something fresh and natural. No heavy perfumes for Mia.

  With her gaze lowered to her task, she undoes first one button, then anothe
r, taking the liberty of slipping curious fingers beneath my shirt to finger my chest, even though I haven’t yet given her permission to touch me.

  We have a lot of ground to cover tonight.

  Her hand is warm. Her light touch spikes my heart rate way more than it should. Is this why I haven’t broken in a new pet lately—because it’s damned demanding?

  I brace my legs under me, as she takes her time losing my shirt. She drags each sleeve down my arm as if she’s unveiling a goddamned sculpture. But the pleasure on her pretty face, the thoughtfulness . . . She’s trying to please me the best way she knows how.

  I can’t help but think it’s really sweet. I don’t want to discourage her or get her back up, so when she runs her hands lightly along my arms and neck, I shut my mouth and let her satisfy her curiosity. I’ll choose my battles carefully tonight. In the meantime, I’ll just have to deal with the storm of reactions she’s setting off inside me.

  I’ve never been so ready to shed my clothes and ram my dick into pussy. So ready.

  “I like your shoulders, sir,” she says in a teasing, sexy voice as she palms the muscles. Her touch is soft, suggestive. When she leans forward and bites my nipple, I swallow back a groan. Blood roars in my ears. I inwardly curse at finding myself in a reckless ball of heat that follows her hands. I’m back to square one again—too fucking close to losing my grip.

  “Pants off. Now.” I sound cool and collected. Impressive, given how needy and greedy I feel. Even if it kills me, I order myself to go slow.

  “Uncomfortable, are we?” She’s thrilled. I can hear it in her voice as she carefully unzips me.

  Suddenly, her hands are all over me, peeling my pants away, warm fingers brushing skin as she gingerly releases my throbbing cock from the boxer shorts. My dick swings free, such a fucking relief I actually groan aloud, a sound that echoes over the mood music and reverberates through me. I’ve never wanted anything more than to dive into her hot, wet pussy.