by Marni Mann
Brett and Jack hated it here and wanted to live in South Florida.
But Max had recently relocated here to be with his girlfriend, Eve Kennedy, an extremely successful stylist who dressed most of Hollywood.
I was the only single one in our group after breaking things off with the quarterback from Miami. Vince Hedman was extremely attractive, loyal, and sweet. He was just too soft.
I didn’t want a teddy bear in bed.
I wanted someone who showed dominance, who could get my attention and keep it, whose commands would make me obey.
Without it, my needs just weren’t met.
Vince had had to go.
Right after I’d left him, we’d started building the second location and negotiating a possible partnership between The Agency and Entertainment Management Worldwide. I was growing our finance department, so it could handle double, maybe triple, the amount of work.
I was busier than I’d ever been.
I needed a release.
And I didn’t have time to look for someone to give me one.
So, when my best friend, Pepper Michaels, had suggested I stop by her sex club, Lush, to get what I needed, I’d realized how perfect this opportunity was. The club was exclusive. To be granted a membership, you had to go through a lengthy approval process. Only Miami’s top elite was allowed in, and the same was true for her LA location. There were rules, a dress code, and a two-year waiting list to join.
I wasn’t looking to jump into a relationship again.
I wanted someone who could fuck me the way I needed to be ravaged.
A place where I could lose myself in pleasure instead of agonizing over the stress at work.
Because, while I was at work, I constantly had to be in charge. I had to make all the decisions. I had to manage and dictate and delegate.
So, when it came to sex, I wanted to be controlled.
It was a balance.
One that had become extremely important in my life.
In the days leading up to going, I had found myself fantasizing about the stranger who would touch my body, who would give me exactly what I needed without any attachment or expectations after the two of us came.
Because my membership gave me access to both locations, I usually visited the LA spot when I was in town.
That was where the SUV was pulling up to now.
The driver opened my door, and as I climbed out of the backseat, I said, “I’m going to be several hours. Please park out back and wait for me there.”
He nodded, and I headed toward the entrance.
As I reached it, I knocked twice. A security guard answered, holding a tablet that he extended in my direction. I placed my hand on top of it, and I watched it scan my prints to confirm my identity. When the screen turned green, I pulled my arm back.
“Miss Davis,” the security guard said, checking the tablet before he looked at me again. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Once inside, there was a reception area where several women, wearing masks and lingerie, were standing around a large desk. Their role was to greet guests, get them whatever they needed, and make sure they were comfortable.
“We’re glad to have you back, Miss Davis,” one of them said as she walked over to me. “Can I escort you to the bar and get you something to drink?” By the way the feathers were weaved into her hair, she reminded me of a peacock.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
She continued to follow me until we reached the set of doors that were on the far side of the room. This was what separated the chamber—the main area of the sex club—from the entrance, and it also added another layer of security.
We both stopped, and I glanced at her.
“Enjoy your evening,” she said, and she turned her head and nodded at the security guard who stood at the desk.
That was the signal for him to unlock the door, and it started to slide open. When there was a gap large enough for me to fit through, I stepped into the chamber.
Sex.
That was the only thing that came to mind as I stood on the other side. It was all I could see—not just the act, although that was certainly happening in here, but there were hints of sex everywhere. Erotic scents floated in the air. The decorations and wall textures and furniture were all done in sensual colors, and the fabrics were made of leather and satin and velvet. And then there were the sounds—floggers slapping bare skin, handcuffs clinking against metal spokes, moans in every level and tone.
The chamber was a half-circle with hallways darting off the arc. Each hallway contained several rooms. Some were private and locked for anyone who didn’t want an audience. The others didn’t have doors. But all of them were equipped with props to cover an array of fetishes.
The center of the circle was where people gathered when they first arrived. It was where you could grab a drink and something to eat. There were couches and high-top tables and low-playing music. Conversations were held; they just happened quietly. No one wanted to talk over the moaning and screaming that filled the background.
Since tomorrow was all about business—going to battle against Hudson Jones—I didn’t want tonight to be about talking. I wanted to relax. To release the pent-up tension.
I wanted to lose myself.
So, I didn’t stop in the circle and sit on one of the couches or grab a drink at the bar.
I went to one of my favorite spots, which was the hallway to the far right, and then I stopped at the last room on the left.
There was no door on this one.
Instead, it had a large archway, and in the center was a four-poster bed. Usually, a woman was on one of the sex swings in here or on the Saint Andrew’s Cross, and I found that so incredibly seductive. But, tonight, there was a woman spread across the middle of the mattress with a rope wrapped around each ankle and wrist, and then those were tied to the wooden posters.
She was naked.
Kneeling on the bed was a man in a suit. He was holding a riding crop and tapping it on her nipples. Every time the leather hit her skin, my legs would press together. That gave me just enough friction to alleviate the tingles that pulsed through my clit.
I wanted the slapping sensation on my body.
I wanted the rope to burn my wrists.
I wanted to feel the restraint from being bound to the bed.
He moved the crop down the center of her breasts and dragged it across the top of her pussy.
When she screamed, which was the neediest sound I’d ever heard, the softest moan came out of my lips. My fingers clasped the edge of the doorway, nails digging into the molding.
I understood where that need came from. How just a brush of leather across her clit would give her a little of what her body was craving.
I throbbed for her.
For the crop.
For a flick between my thighs.
“What would you sound like if I tied you to that bed?” a man asked from behind me.
His voice was rich and deep, and I could tell he was close to me.
I immediately turned around, hoping his face was just as sexy.
Our stares locked, and I felt my lips pull into a smile.
He wasn’t just sexy.
This man was absolutely gorgeous.
He was around six foot four inches with black hair that was tousled to the side and piercing green eyes.
He said nothing as he gazed at me, obviously waiting for me to respond.
“I would be louder than her,” I eventually said.
His eyes dipped down my body. With each inch, I felt my breathing start to speed up. Because, as he took in more, so did I.
His Tom Ford suit.
Those large, masculine hands.
A body that seemed incredibly fit.
And, oh God, that handsome face.
I could picture it between my legs.
I could feel the control melting at my feet.
“Would you be still?” he asked. “Or would I have to tie th
e rope so tightly, it would burn your skin?”
My ankles stung in response.
I didn’t hate the feeling.
“That depends.”
His brows rose, and it produced deep grooves across his forehead and crinkles at the sides of his eyes.
“On what?” he asked.
And, when he spoke, my attention was drawn to his lips. They were thick, and they appeared so soft. The thought of them surrounding my nipple was beginning to make me squirm.
“If you ordered me to sit still or if you ordered me to fight the ropes.”
He looked at my mouth for several seconds before those inviting eyes moved back up to mine. “What’s your name?”
“Scarlett.” I held my hand out, and he clasped it. The strength in his fingers didn’t go unnoticed. I could practically feel them plunging inside me. “And you are?”
“Andrew.” He released my hand before setting his on my shoulder and turning me toward the bed. “Tell me something, Scarlett.”
Another jolt burst through my clit as I watched the crop come down on her inner thigh.
Andrew’s mouth then went to the shell of my ear, and he said in his growly voice, “Do you want an audience, or do you want us to be alone?”
Us.
He lifted the long strands of hair resting over my chest, and he moved them behind my back. Goose bumps covered me the second I felt his touch, and they grew across my skin as his fingers left me.
I looked across my shoulder, giving him only my profile. “I didn’t come here to answer questions.”
I wanted that privilege to be taken away from me.
And it suddenly was as he clasped my hand between his fingers, and then he used that same hand to lead me down the hallway.
Four
Hudson
Nothing could break my concentration. Not even the woman screaming in the background as she got slapped with a riding crop. That was because I was staring at Scarlett’s face, waiting for her to realize it was me and flip the fuck out.
But that didn’t happen.
As it turned out, she had no idea who I was.
I was surprised she had given me her real name. I hadn’t expected that from this place. If it was something Scarlett did, I imagined everyone else was just as honest.
Even though she and I’d never met, I was sure she would have looked me up. At the very least, to just get a sense of whom she’d be facing during tomorrow’s meeting.
She obviously hadn’t because she gazed right back like I wasn’t the attorney representing the opposition in the deal we’d been negotiating for months.
To double-check, I gave her my middle name and waited once again for it to all click into place.
It didn’t.
So, I tried one last time, taking a few steps toward her, grazing my hand across her shoulder. I thought my touch would cause a little resistance, that it would get her mind straight, and maybe there would be some recognition.
There was none.
Just a feral look in her eyes that told me her pussy was already wet.
It was a look that surprised the fuck out of me.
I hadn’t expected for her to be so responsive, to not know who I was, to not be pissed as hell that I had come here to see her. I’d imagined that I’d have to cool her down and feed her a few cocktails and a heavy dose of charm before I could get her to talk to me.
This outcome was so much better.
She was letting me right in.
And inside her was a place I’d fucking love to be.
There wasn’t a man on this planet who wouldn’t want to trade places with me. Scarlett was the most gorgeous woman in this club, even more beautiful than a majority of the celebrities her company represented.
I was one lucky bastard.
And, now, I had this goddamn piece of perfection squeezing my fingers while I led her to a private room.
When I’d first arrived, I’d familiarized myself with the layout in here, so I knew where I needed to take Scarlett, and that was toward the center of the main room. I then led her down a hallway, and I unlocked the last door on the right, using the key from my pocket.
Once she’d figured out who I was, my plan had been to bring her in here to talk.
But fucking was so much hotter than talking.
When I opened the door, Scarlett walked inside first. Her hand slid out of mine, and she stopped at the base of the bed and turned around to face me.
I stayed in the back of the room, my hands resting on the armoire behind me.
If she didn’t come here to answer questions, then she came to lose control. I could tell that was what she wanted by the way she’d stared at the riding crop, how her body had swayed each time the leather came down on the girl’s skin. Instead of flinching, she’d appeared more turned on with each strike.
So, that was what she’d get in here.
A total loss of control.
In more ways than fucking one.
“You need a safe word,” I said.
“Cherry.” She smiled as she said it.
It obviously came with memories.
None would be as sexy as the ones I was about to give her.
“What are your limitations, Scarlett?”
She turned her face. Now, there was just a hint of her grin left. “If I can’t handle what you’re giving me, I’ll use the safe word.”
I was fine with that. I just needed to know she could get me to stop.
Now, she could.
“I want you to leave your dress right there.” I pointed at the floor in front of her. “If you have anything on underneath, place it on the nightstand. Then, get on the bed.”
She pushed her ass against the mattress and reached behind her back. Her dress began to loosen as she pulled down the zipper, and eventually, it fell to the ground.
That fucking body.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
She was flawless.
Not too skinny or too fit, but someone who certainly took care of herself and maintained her curves at the same time.
I had known whatever was under that dress would be exceptional.
But I hadn’t anticipated this.
She stepped out of the material and reached behind her back once more to unhook her strapless bra. As she peeled it off her chest, my cock ground against the zipper of my pants.
She was natural, no bigger than a handful.
And fucking stunning.
Her panties dropped down her long legs, and she lifted them into her hand, walking them over to the nightstand.
I growled as she placed them on the wooden top, and I hissed the reminder, “Get on the fucking bed.”
With her eyes still on me, she crawled onto the center and knelt.
I didn’t give her another order because I wanted to take her in.
So, my stare slowly dragged over every inch of her skin. “So fucking perfect,” I roared.
It was skin I needed to touch.
A body I needed to devour with my mouth.
A pussy I needed to feel around my cock.
I no longer cared who she was or why I was here or the conversation I was supposed to be having with her.
Only one thing mattered, and that was giving her what she wanted.
“Get on your back,” I said, and I moved over to the side of the bed. As I watched her obey, I lifted the panties into my hand and brought them up to my nose, inhaling her scent and groaning, “Fuck, that smells good.”
I hadn’t thought it was possible for tonight to get any better.
I was wrong.
Because never in my life had I inhaled anything as sexy as Scarlett’s cunt.
I slipped the panties into my pocket and opened the drawer on the nightstand. Since I’d inventoried the room before she arrived, checking out the paraphernalia that was available, I knew there were silk scarves in here. I grabbed four and wrapped the first one around the top-right poster of the bed. Then, I looped it around her
wrist and tied it to the wood. I did the same to her other wrist and both ankles until her body was stretched across the whole bed.
I knew there were toys in the other drawers and more in the armoire. But, tomorrow, when Scarlett walked into my office and made the connection, there was a good chance my hands would never be on her again.
So, tonight, I was going to use them as much as I could.
I stuck two fingers into my mouth to wet them, and then I dropped them onto her nipple. “Mmm,” I breathed.
“Andrew,” she gasped as I pinched it and tugged.
I wasn’t gentle.
I wanted her to feel a quick burst of pain that I followed up with pleasure, caressing the end with long strokes from my thumb.
Her moan halted when I tightened around her again, and it deepened when I released.
I wasn’t sure which one she liked more, so I tried squeezing harder and adding spit when I lightly brushed over it.
Every motion earned me a verbal response.
And every one sounded as though she was feeling incredible.
I leaned onto the edge of the bed to get closer to her tits, and then I held my hand right next to it and flicked her nipple with my finger.
Her scream was short and extremely sharp.
I let the pain simmer before I blew air across it.
It was already hard and puckered, but the skin around it seemed to tighten even more. Then, her mouth opened, and the back of her head ground into the bed.
“You like it when I blow on your fucking tits,” I said.
Because she hadn’t asked, I gave her another burst of it.
Her ankles pulled against the scarves, trying to stretch the knots and get free. “Please,” she cried right before I flicked her again.
She wanted something, and begging was the only way she could ask for it.
But, at this moment, I owned her pleasure. I controlled what she got and when it would happen.
I leaned a little further onto the bed, and I bit the top of her right tit. “Yes,” I groaned as the taste of her flesh filled my mouth.
I wasn’t as hard on her as I could have been. But it was enough to catch her off guard, for her back to straighten, for her to still be feeling the sting several seconds later.
Her eyes told me she wanted me to do it again.