by Jane Henry
“God,” she moans, holding onto the headboard in the private room tucked away in the back of Verge, her knuckles white. I’ve had this room custom-furnished, the small fridge stocked with her favorite drinks and snacks so I can ease her back to reality after a scene.
“You let go,” I say, working her from behind, a supple leather strap between her legs building friction as I tug back and forth, “I’ll take my belt to your ass again. Last time that happened you weren’t singin’ my praises, honey.”
She’d lost her temper with me four days prior, after a shit day with her son and the babysitter showing up late making her late, and I had been doing up paperwork in my office. The girl needed her temper taken down a notch. My repeated admonitions to settle didn’t have an effect on her, and once I was done with my work, I’d taken her bodily over my lap. When we were done, she sat on my lap purring like a kitten, but not before she lost her jeans and my belt came off. I’d strapped her soundly, held her while she had a good, cathartic cry, then dressed her back up for a fun night at Verge.
“Ooh,” she moans. “That’s not fair. You’re turning me on, mentioning your belt.”
“You weren’t turned on when I whipped your ass,” I remind her, dragging the strap along her slit, watching her back arch as she draws nearer to climax.
“Not during,” she pants. “After. Was turned on after.”
“You’re always turned on,” I say with a chuckle.
“Can’t—help—it,” she gasps, writhing against the strap, grasping onto the headboard for dear life, opening her legs wider. “Boyfriend’s hotter than hell. Dominates the fuck out of me, leaving me wanting more. Got that—ahhhh—sexy as sin voice. All he’s gotta do is text me and I get w-weetttttt.” Her voice comes out in a rasp at the end. She’s gonna come.
I drop the strap and she tenses, but then I climb beneath her, grasping her beautiful ass that’s hot to touch, her cheeks held tight in my grip, as I bring her sweet pussy to my mouth.
“Aw, fuck, Sirrrr,” she moans as I suckle her clit before lapping my tongue along her folds, rocking my mouth on her pussy in a move that makes her crazy.
“Yeah,” I whisper against her pussy, just long enough to tease her, “Fuck sir. You will, baby.”
My mouth returns to her swollen clit, watching her appreciatively holding the headboard as if it’s a life-preserver. Hell, she’s beautiful, her full curves in my grasp tight and sweet. Another sweep of my tongue and she’s bucking, writhing, a guttural groan rasping against my ears as she comes so hard I have to hold her ass to keep her from flying right off of me. When she’s settling back down, I grasp her thighs and squeeze gently but firmly, then whisper. “On your knees, Diana.”
She scrambles off me and falls to her knees, belly down, arms stretched out in front of her. She knows how I like this position. Chest down, ass up, so I can smack her ass as I take her. Grabbing a fistful of her silky curls, I wrap my hand around her hair and tug her head back. Her mouth falls open, lips parted. I release her hair just long enough to push down my boxers and slide a condom on.
“That’s it, babygirl. Nothing I like more than sliding my cock in your pussy and feeling your hot, freshly-spanked skin against mine. Love seeing my marks on you as I take you. Love feeling your hot ass against me when we fuck like this. Love hearing you moan, feeling that tight pussy before I come. Love how you push me,” I hiss with a hard thrust, “make me earn your submission. Make me take you on.” I push into her again. “Means more when I earn it.”
“Fuck yes,” she says, pushing back against me. I tense, holding onto her, and come with a growl, spilling into her, the power of my climax ripping through me like lightning, blinding.
I fall on top of her, slackening my grasp on her hair, both of us panting from exertion.
“Haven’t done Pilates in a week,” she says with a grin, her face tilted to the side and her fetching eyes locking on mine. “Don’t need to. You work me over so good, I burn every single calorie. Of course, if you keep feeding me those damn brownies…”
I slap her ass playfully and pull out, grasping the hem of my t-shirt and folding it, wiping her clean with the still-warm fabric before tossing it into the laundry basket by the door.
“Double score,” she says, still clearly sex-drunk. “One for nailing me, two for the laundry.”
Diana rolls over onto her side and draws the thin blanket up over her shoulder. This has become routine, her lying in bed in post-coital bliss, watching me dress. “Getting a little tired of you having to be Mr. Bossman after we make love,” she whispers. “Would be nice to have you back in my bed, handsome.”
Pulling a clean shirt from the small dresser I keep stocked with spare clothes for both of us, I wink at her before I tug it on.
“We can arrange for that to happen.” I lean over and kiss the top of her head, feeling a pull in my gut I’ve never felt before. It surprises me so much I freeze on the spot, riveted in place, hands buckling my jeans.
She wants me in her bed. In her home. Wants to wake up next to me. And fuck if I don’t want to be there, too.
A few days prior, she’d walked into the kitchen to see me showing Chad how to make homemade coleslaw, and her eyes had softened, warming.
In the kitchen she’d just stood there, eyes growing misty, and while Chad stirred the dressing, I’d taken her hand, squeezing. “It’s so early, though. Things are moving so… quickly,” she’d whispered.
“Never did care much for what other people say about time and shit,” I’d whispered back. And I don’t. I hate leaving her place. Dropping her off at home now is painful.
“Beatrice is coming tonight,” she says, sitting up and pulling her panties on.
“Yeah?” I smirk. I’ve had a few occasions to meet with Beatrice now, and like her. Feisty, like her friend, but even less reserved. But most of all, she’s good to my girl, and that shit matters.
“Yep.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and grabs her jeans that are folded in a pile on a chair next to the bed. “I get to give her the grand tour.” She turns to me, clad only in jeans and a black bra, and the sight just about makes me hard again.
“You are giving her the tour,” I say, a statement more than a question.
“Yes, since my dom will be occupied with business-related activities. No worries, handsome. I’ve been soundly spanked and fucked into submission, so I’ll behave myself.”
I don’t like the idea of my woman prowling about Verge without me. Some have gotten the memo that she is mine, but it’s a large club with hundreds of members.
“If any guy tries to hit on you…”
My voice trails off, and I weave my fingers through her hair. I swallow.
“Tobias,” she whispers. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Just don’t like you being around other guys is all,” I say. “Got an undercover cop here, and still, no one’s found the asshole rapist who attacked girls on this street. Not good.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Not good. But I’ll be careful. I’ll stick with Beatrice and we’ll go home together.”
“Gonna take you home myself,” I insist. “They can handle this place while I do that at least.”
She smiles, her eyes warming. “I’d like that.”
We quickly tidy up the room and lock it behind us. Diana’s phone buzzes, and she glances at the screen. Normally, I’m not a fan of people checking their cell phones every twenty seconds, especially in the company of others, but I make an exception for her because if it’s Chad, he needs her.
“Babysitter,” she says, sliding her phone back in her pocket. “All good at home.”
“Good. Hey, can you do me a quick favor? I need to check the supply closet to be sure the paper goods were delivered as planned, but I haven’t checked the party room yet to see if the delivery guys dropped off the new table.”
“Yeah, sure,” she says. Since the closet is across the hall from the party room, we walk together. She heads to
the party room as I open the door to the closet. After checking supplies and confirming they’ve been delivered, I turn to go, and almost collide into a girl in the hallway. She’s the same blonde who approached me before, wearing bright red lipstick and her signature tattooed collar.
“Hey, Master Tobias,” she whispers. “I was wondering if you’re busy. And if not, are you scening tonight?
“Hey,” I say gently, but firmly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” The door to the party room opens and Diana appears.
“All set?” I ask
“Yep.”
“Ok, good.”
Diana looks at the blonde girl, whose eyes have gone wide, lips parted the tiniest bit. “She’s with you? Oh, God. I am so sorry,” she stammers, shaking her head so her long silver earrings flash. Her cheeks redden as she turns and flees down the hall toward the back exit instead of toward the bar. I wonder how she walks so quickly on the high-heeled pink pumps she wears, but she manages it with ease.
“Oh no,” Diana says. “Poor thing.”
“Yeah,” I respond. “I used to scene on the regular with anyone who needed it, and members here still sort of expect that. Haven’t really made that as clear as I need to, that I’m not into that anymore.”
“Yeah,” she says with a smirk. “You were like the Man Whore Dom.”
I take her by the elbow and give her a sharp smack on the ass but feel my lips twitch. “Didn’t sleep with them, pretty girl.”
“Yeah, you just spanked their asses, thereby making them want to sleep with you.”
I huff out a laugh. “Not so sure about that.”
“Yeah? I am.”
I shake my head, my eyes looking at the back door “Feel bad rejecting her like that, and I already did once before. I know she didn’t realize I’m with you, but still. Takes a lot of guts to ask to be dominated.”
“Damn right it does,” she agrees. She ought to know.
“Hooked her up with Brax last time, didn’t seem to go so well.”
She snorts. “I don’t know if I could take a dom like Brax seriously,” she says. “He’s all, like, muscle.”
I smile. “That’s a bad thing?”
She grins, shooting me a teasing look. “I don’t know. Some girls like the dad bods. They don’t like this chiseled ab thing. Like hugging a damn washboard.”
“Unbelievable,” I tease. “Giving me a damn complex.”
Her giggle makes me smile, then we round the corner and enter the bar area. “Hey,” I greet Travis and Brax at the bar. “You see Zack tonight?”
“Yeah, talked to him,” says a voice behind me. Axle stands with Marla beside him. “Says he’s bringing a girl tonight, wants to show her around. Hoped it would give him a stronger alibi.”
“I see.” I cross my arms on my chest and at the same time, both mine and Diana’s phones buzz. We look at each other quizzically.
“Beatrice is here,” Diana says.
I glance at my phone. “So’s Zack.”
Diana grins wickedly.
I chuckle, nab her hand and head to the main entrance.
“You know,” she says, as we walk hand-in-hand, “with even a very modest budget, I could help you give this place a real face lift.”
“Yeah?”
I’ve seen her work, and it is excellent.
“Yeah. Fresh paint job, some recessed lighting, a few minor touches here and there. Could be done.”
“I’ll think about it, see what Seth says,” I agree. “Sounds good to me.”
Her smile shows she’s clearly pleased.
In the lobby area stands Zack, dressed in civilian clothing, his head shaved and wearing a scruffy beard. His faded jeans and black t-shirt will make him meld into the crowd at Verge, which pleases me. Beatrice stands next to him, her eyes twinkling at Diana. She wears platform black heels, skin-tight, black leggings that lace up the thigh and tie into bows at the tops of her thighs, a cropped white top that reveals her pierced belly button, and a short, black leather jacket.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll have Diana show you around, you let me know if you have any questions.”
Beatrice nods, her eyes bright with childlike enthusiasm as they walk down the hall. Zack stands taller. It’s the first time he’s ever come to Verge with a date.
“Thanks,” Zack says taking Beatrice by the hand, making Diana’s brows arch almost comically, and leading her to the lobby where they’ll find paperwork if they need it.
“This way,” Diana says. “Master Tobias? See you in a while?”
I nod. She’s never called me Master in a scene, but at the club, she often does as a sign of respect. I watch her walk, her beautiful curls bouncing as she does, a skip in her step she’s gained over the past month she didn’t have before. She’ll introduce them to her friends here. Though Zack’s familiar with the layout, she’s proud of Verge and wants to show her friend.
As I watch her go, something inside me whispers stop her. I stare, puzzled, for a moment, that the desire to stop her is so strong, so urgent, and I actually call out, “Diana?”
She stops in the hallway with Zack and Beatrice turning to stare and look at me with curiosity. I crook a finger at her, and swallow hard, not wanting to look like a dumbass. She’s heading into my club where I am, with a police officer, for Christ’s sake, and my best friends are strewn about like a horde of bodyguards. She’s safe and secure, and nothing bad is going to happen to her. I didn’t even allow her to drive here alone tonight, and she’ll go home with me. Still, when she reaches me, I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck, tug her hair to pull her head back, and kiss her full on the lips, making her gasp into my mouth and her knees buckle. “Be careful in there,” I rasp against her ear.
She pulls back and tips her head to the side. “Be careful?” She leans in. “Handsome, I’ve already scened tonight. I’m just planning on a glass of wine at the bar if my dom allows, and not exactly planning on tacking myself to a St. Andrew’s Cross or anything.”
“Yes to the wine,” I say. “And good. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
It takes effort for me to release her.
When I do, Beatrice turns to Zack. “Very nice, that move there. The hand around the neck thing? PDA? Big fan.” She jerks a finger to her chest.
“PDA?” Zack asks. “What the hell is that?”
Beatrice rolls her eyes. “Public Display of Affection.”
“I’ll give you public display of affection,” he says, playfully slapping her ass. “No eye rolling, either.”
Diana laughs as she joins them but I don’t, the uneasy feeling increasing as she walks away from me. I take an involuntary step in their direction, then the door to the lobby opens, and they’re gone.
Chapter 17
I lead Beatrice and Zack past the lobby and into the bar area. According to Tobias, Zack practically founded the place with him and Seth. “Drinks are served at the bar, and members must agree to limits set by the Dungeon Monitors or bartenders if need be,” I say, before introducing Zack to the people I know around me “Down the hall we have a party room and private guest rooms for long-term members.” It amuses her to pretend Zack has never been here before.
“Very good,” he says, not at all amused. His gaze scans the room. Beatrice, however, is all wide-eyed and impressed.
“Wow,” she breathes. The recessed colored lighting opposite the bar near the dance floor is freaking phenomenal, and I now know from personal experience the furniture, though functional, is super comfortable and kept immaculately clean.
“Yeah, it’s a really nice place.”
“Now I know why you want to hang here so much,” she says with a laugh. “You give your babysitter the name and number to reach you here?” she winks.
“Mandy has my cell number,” I tell her, with narrowed eyes. “And that’s all she needs.”
A heated conversation at the bar gets our attention. Brax has pushed himself to standing, and Travis stands with his arms crossed on his c
hest. Travis’ eyes lock on Zack’s.
“Zack?” he calls, his voice barely controlled, his eyes flashing.
Zack stands, immediately stiffening. “Yeah?”
“C’mere a sec?”
Zack heads to the bar, leans up against it, and Beatrice and I follow. Travis leans over toward Zack and speaks in a low voice. “Guest has just gone to the back exit. Says she needed some fresh air after a scene, and she saw some shit out back that indicated a struggle.” Beatrice tightens next to me.
“Who saw this?”
Travis points to Marla, the bookstore owner, whose eyes are wide. “Get Tobias in here, now,” Zack orders to Brax, who takes out his phone and pushes a button with lightning speed, his eyes narrowed to slits beneath furrowed brows. A low buzz of curiosity follows us as Zack takes Marla toward the back. We try to follow him, but he turns around and gives us both a severe look.
“You do not follow,” he says. “Get the hell back in there where it’s safe.”
“But I—” Beatrice starts.
“Now, Beatrice.” She closes her mouth and her eyes widen, but she stands riveted to the spot as Zack and Marla go out the back.
“What the fuck,” I mutter, annoyed. “I want to see what’s going on.”
“You? That’s my man!”
I give her a curious look. “Seriously?”
Beatrice nods eagerly. “Yep. He’s… I just…well I…” she stammers.
“I have legit, never in my life seen you speechless,” I say.
“Oh, shut up.” But Beatrice’s smile is pleased, her cheeks lightly tinged pink, when the back door opens with a bang and Zack comes back in, his phone to his ear as Tobias enters from the hallway.
“You girls go back to the bar,” Tobias orders.
“Jesus, are they all the same?” Beatrice asks with chagrin, but I know that hard look in his eyes, and I know I’ll regret anything short of total obedience.
“Let’s go,” I say, but then we hear Zack, and what he says makes us freeze.
“Barrel turned over, torn clothing on the ground, and a pink heel abandoned,” Zack says. “Spilled purse to the right of the dumpster Marla saw, looks like it must’ve been out of sight.” Brax and Travis enter the hallway. “Submissive at the bar says she came with a friend, thought she left to use the bathroom an hour ago, never came back. Tried her cell, went to voicemail.”