by Lainey Reese
“Great, to be honest.” She smiled on a huge exhale that indicated to Cade she’d been more nervous than she’d let on.
He was about to speak up, caution her about the importance of using her safe word even if she was just nervous or unsure of what was coming, so her Dom could be aware. But he needn’t have bothered. Her Dom was on it before he could even open his mouth.
“Shy, you gotta let me in on what’s going on in your head. I can’t read your mind, and this is new territory for the both of us. We’re a team. A unit. I depend on you to hold up your end of this bargain. Don’t let me take you down a path you’re not ready for.”
“Okay,” she said. “I promise. I’ll be calling for Batman so much he might just show up.”
He smiled at her attempt to tease him, then looked at the rest of them. “I think that about covers it. We’re ready to go if you all are.”
Inside, the club was an elegant lobby filled with over-stuffed furniture and heavy velvet drapes done in warm earth tones. A hostess greeted the group and asked them to sign in. Cade and Trevor had already gotten their temporary memberships in order, along with Riley’s. Brice and Terryn had taken care of theirs, and had secured a visitor pass for Faulkner and Shy. Therefore, it was a simple matter of showing IDs, signing the guest book, and they were passing through the heavy gold curtain.
Inside was like stepping into another world. The club was already in full swing. People filled the place, dressed in club and fetish wear that ranged from peek-a-boo lingerie to silver-studded leather.
The small dance floor was packed. Bodies churned and pulsed to the deep, throbbing bass of the music pumping from the overhead speakers.
Everything was wood. Deep, gorgeous and golden, polished until it looked as lustrous as stained glass. All the time he and Trevor spent on building projects for their charity endeavors had given Cade an eye for lumber. He recognized the quality in the Douglas fir and knotty pine—the latter clearly chosen for its beauty. Whoever had built this place was a true craftsman.
Passing beyond the dance floor, they came to the public play area. Cade thought it was no accident that each section looked like barn stalls for million-dollar thoroughbreds. As they slowly walked the length of the room, it occurred to him that he wasn’t surprised by the layout because the owner was an avid racing fan and owned several winning stallions. Watching a latex-adorned Mistress take a single tail to her muscled and straining sub while he gnashed at the ball gag in his mouth like a bit, it was easy for anyone to get the impression they were in a stable.
Black iron-wrought work was used flawlessly to add detail and contrast. Twists and whorls of it snaked along the dividing walls like gothic garland. Cade saw too that the black iron was also the metal used for the hooks and bondage equipment.
A hunger started making itself known in the pit of his belly as he eyed a hook and pulley system in the ceiling of one of the stalls.
“This one is ours for the evening.” They stood staring at the reserved sign hanging from the burgundy velvet rope that closed off the opening. Cade slowly tilted his head to one shoulder and then the other, the crack and pop of his neck loosening his muscles for the work ahead.
It was time.
Chapter 8
Cheyenne walked alongside Faulkner, feeling the very last thing she thought she’d feel her first time in a sex club. Powerful. Embarrassed, awkward and self-conscious were all things she’d felt before while fully clothed and in normal everyday situations. It seemed only natural that in this situation, with everything considered, she should be experiencing all of the above. But instead, she felt like she was the sexiest thing on two legs. Every step she took built this completely foreign yet completely welcome runway-model vibe, and she planned to bask in every moment.
“Let’s take these, here,” Brice said. He indicated with his chin a pair of plush-looking recliners right in front of the stall Riley and her men had just entered. Each one looked big enough to seat four and Shy could easily see herself snuggled comfortably with Dude in one of those.
“Take the one by the wall, Shy,” Dude told her, and waited until she did before adding, “I’m going to get our drinks. What would you like?”
After he took her order, he offered to grab the first round for the rest of their group too. With a parting kiss that left her brain cells in meltdown, Dude turned and walked out of sight.
Shy might have been concerned that strange men would try and hit on her all alone in a place like this. In the past, Shy had a hard time standing up for herself. For others? You bet, she could stand toe to toe with the devil if it was to save someone else. She reminded herself all it took was a polite no—it didn’t help soothe the frogs that were doing acrobatics in her tummy the second Faulkner was out of sight, though.
She needn’t have wasted the energy. One man—tall, built and looking very sinister in his black leather pants and biker boots—started toward them. She’d noticed his eyes on their group when they had walked in. Shy had assumed he was watching them as a whole; it never occurred to her that he was in fact singling her out.
Until now. He walked straight toward her, his eyes never wavering from where she sat. Shy took a deep breath, sat up straight and squared her shoulders. She could do this. Tell this big, muscled, intimidating guy—who was no doubt a Dom—no.
Before meeting Faulkner she would have been invisible to men like him. She’d been so closed off to life and all its adventures. He’d opened her up to more than just kinky adventures, though. Faulkner also showed her love and compassion and what real family does for one another.
In her own family, she’d been the scapegoat, the one who never quite made the grade no matter how hard she’d tried. She was always her mother’s example of what not to do. As a result, she’d often been the one to sacrifice, to give up her seat on the bus, or pass on the last piece of cake because surely, someone else would want it so they’d deserve it more.
Her thoughts drifted from there to Miguel Delgado, as they often did these days. She couldn’t say exactly why he was never far from her thoughts. Maybe it was because she saw so much of her old self in him. The way he too seemed to be always in the shadows of his family’s limelight, but she hoped that one day, he’d find the strength and freedom that she had now.
Her strength came from loving a man who truly valued her and taught her to value herself. Wherever Miguel found his strength, she hoped he found it soon. Found the strength to decide that he was worth fighting for. His life was what he wanted to make out of it, not what circumstances or family said it had to be.
Just like now, with this big imposing man headed straight for her, she was no longer the invisible nobody in the corner. And she was no longer the type who couldn’t stand up for herself either. If this Dom took one more step in her direction she was going to show everyone in this room just how new and improved she was.
Another deep breath. Yeah, she could do this.
Trevor, Cade and Brice turned as one from what they were doing and spoke practically in unison the moment the stranger stepped one foot past Riley’s stall.
Cheyenne was a little surprised at the intimidation levels coming from all of them. They were striking and handsome as sin. Each one over six feet, built, and obviously powerful Doms. The three men she knew stood facing off with the one she didn’t and it reminded her of the Fast and Furious movies, only the men were the cars. Muscled and sleek, the aggression and testosterone pumped off them like engines revving and roaring as they rumbled into position. Where they faced off, three to one.
“Something you need?” Trevor asked, naked from the waist up, loosely coiling a bullwhip.
“She’s taken,” Brice said as he kept his hands to his sides and rocked on the balls of his feet as though he was ready to spring into action.
“You want to go back the way you came.” This from Cade, who stood deceptively still with his arms crossed and his feet planted firmly in the newcomer’s path.
At first Shy th
ought the guys were overreacting, because come on, she could say no all by her little lonesome. But then the stranger did the last thing she expected—he planted his own feet and squared off with them. Shy felt her jaw drop.
“I thought in places like this everyone was thoroughly screened and safe,” she leaned over and whispered to Terryn, who was watching with the same wide-eyed interest.
“It is,” Terryn whispered back. “The guy was watching you like a hawk the moment you walked in the door, though. Our guys must have known he’d make a play.”
“But again,” Shy asked, a completely immature part of her secretly flattered to have the men stand for her, “isn’t the screening process supposed to stop stuff like this from happening?”
“Well,” Terryn said, stopping a moment to ponder as the men continued to eye each other like combatants. “The screening is a good filter, but you still will get creeps. And this guy could be just a guy and not a creep. Maybe he thinks your Dom will loan you out for a scene, or that your Dom likes to share or watch, or sheesh, in this lifestyle he could be thinking anything.” Terryn smiled at her and shrugged a shoulder. “Brice and the others just aren’t willing to take the chance that he is a creep. That’s all.”
“The lil’ subbie can tell me no herself.” The stranger took a moment to look each of them in the eye. “Or her Dom can. But since he decided to walk away and leave her uncollared and unattended, I’m going to ask you boys to step aside.”
Instead of meeting his request, the three men closed ranks and stood shoulder-to-shoulder. The cockiness in the other man’s expression only intensified, transforming him from imposing to belligerent in a blink.
She’d seen firsthand what belligerence looked like up close and personal, maybe that was why Miguel had come into her thoughts. She was looking at a virtual clone of his brothers. And she was no longer embarrassed by the fact that the others were sticking up for her—she was grateful for it. Profoundly.
“She wasn’t left unattended,” Brice told him.
“Obviously,” Cade said and gave one of those short, manly head-tilt things that seemed to indicate the three of them guarding her.
“No,” the stranger said, unmoved by their show of unity. “What’s obvious is that you don’t know the rules in this club. All subbies left alone are up for grabs if they don’t have a collar. If her Dom didn’t want to share her or have her stolen right out from under his nose, then he should have left her kneeling and cuffed to her seat. Since he just walked away doing neither, I’m going to ask you gentlemen one more time to step the fuck aside.”
“What a jerk,” Terryn said. Loudly.
“Should I say something? I can tell him no right now and just avoid this.” Now that the tension level had risen, Shy hated the thought of a confrontation on her behalf. The surprisingly pleasant feelings she’d had a moment ago had vanished as soon as she’d realized there might be a real conflict brewing. She was not going to just sit here like some empty-headed damsel in distress and let these men take a hit for her, and that was exactly what she feared was coming as her new champions faced off with Mr. Belligerence.
Shy shoved herself to her feet. Rules be damned, she was going to put a stop to this before things got out of hand.
But just at that moment, Faulkner came back and Shy flowed back into her seat with a sigh of relief.
Not only was her Dom here now, so she was no longer unattended, but even if the D-bag wanted to push, not many men had what it took to stand toe to toe with her SEAL.
He had wine glasses in one hand for her and Terryn, two beer bottles by the necks for him and Brice in the other, and water bottles for everyone else tucked under his arm. Yet Shy knew if the situation called for it, he could take the other man down without spilling a single drop.
“Problem?” His voice was like chocolate for the ears and Cheyenne felt that electric tingle flare to life that he always evoked in her. It was like a shower of sparks in her belly.
Like most bullies, the creep had his head too far up his ass to see he wasn’t getting past Brice, Cade and Trevor, but Faulkner was lethal. He was a soldier who fought to the death for his country each time he went on a mission, and it showed in every line of his body.
The other man must have seen this, thankfully, because he came to his senses and backed down. “No. No problem. You have a lovely sub. If you’re open to it, I would love to f—” He stopped the F-bomb he’d been about to lob when Faulkner did no more than lift an eyebrow. “—scene with her.”
“Look,” Dude said and Shy smiled because she was very familiar with that look; somebody was about to get their ass handed to them. “I get the whole club scene has rules and shit. But here’s my rule.” Faulkner stepped into the man’s personal space until they were practically nose-to-nose. What was left of the other guy’s bravado disappeared in a blink. “She’s mine. Anyone lays a hand on her and I’m breaking it off and shoving it up their ass for them. Now. Back the fuck off.”
There was a tense silent moment where Cheyenne could see the guy consider his options. Mr. Belligerent didn’t like being intimidated, and he looked as though he wanted to make some sort of stand or comment to save face. Thankfully, he finally realized there was a lot more than a bar fight in the eyes of the man staring him down, and he didn’t have what it took to meet what he saw. Not even close. He turned and walked away without sparing a glance or a word for any of the others.
Nobody spoke until he was around the corner and out of sight.
“Sorry about that, Dude,” Trevor said and shook out his arms like he’d held them tense for too long, then took the water bottles. “Guy was outta line. Honest, don’t know how he hasn’t got bounced from here. In our club, we’d’ve eighty-sixed his ass for a stunt like this.”
Faulkner waved that off. “No need. Guys like that aren’t exclusive to club life. Assholes come in every lifestyle.” He handed Shy and Terryn their wine, then Brice his beer. “I will say this, though—that D-bag is a walking assault charge waiting to happen. Right, Brice?”
“Oh yeah, without a doubt,” Brice agreed and took a swig from his beer. They clinked their bottles in salute, then Brice turned to look at Terryn. “Now then. Where were we?”
Twenty minutes later, Cheyenne thought she was going to die. She was on the seat in front of Faulkner, his legs on either side of her hips. The recliners were designed for two and equipped with all sorts of gadgets and brackets for restraints. Dude hadn’t strapped her down though.
“I won’t tie you up tonight, Shy,” he’d whispered when he had her settled all snug between his legs. “You are going to be your own restraints.” He’d kissed her softly. “Will you do that for me? Will you keep your hands where I want them just because it pleases me, Shy?”
“Yes, Sir.” She’d never called him that. But in this setting, on this night of exploring and discovery, the title felt right and true on her tongue.
“Mmm, I like the way that sounds,” he’d hummed in between light nibbling kisses on the back of her neck. “I liked that a lot coming from you.”
“I liked saying it,” Shy had admitted. And she did. There was something that clicked when Faulkner got into Dom mode. Everything inside her just melted. All Cheyenne wanted was to follow wherever and however he led. She’d follow him into hell itself if that was what he asked of her—she trusted him that much.
And tonight had been anything but hell.
Cheyenne never really cared one way or another when it came to public displays of affection. She thought it was sweet to see an elderly couple hold hands and share a gentle peck of a kiss. And when young girls clung to their boyfriends with dreamy smiles on their faces, she’d always thought it was heartwarming—it made her feel kinda misty and wistful.
If people got carried away, she was firmly in the if you don’t like it, don’t look at it camp. Shy would always just look the other way if it was too much intimacy for her comfort.
So, with that as her frame of reference and know
ing her mindset, Cheyenne was completely unprepared to discover she was a voyeur. Or at least she thought she might be after watching Riley and her men.
Sweet lord above, those three were hot.
They stood Riley at an angle so their small audience could clearly see her in profile. Cheyenne was not ashamed to admit complete and total jealousy of her remarkable ass, not to mention her other lovely curves.
Her arms were restrained separately in thin rope that Cade had wrapped around them from elbow to wrist, then looped over the middle finger of each hand until it looked as though she were wearing thick, woven fingerless gloves. Cade had strung the ends of her ropes through metal rings in the ceiling, but not right above her—they were off to her sides so she was standing straight with her arms outstretched as though waiting to embrace someone.
She had a matching set of ropes on her legs that Cade had spent the time and care to make into intricate thigh-high stockings that matched her makeshift gloves. Those were connected to floor posts that kept her legs spread almost as far as her arms.
Then Cade did something Shy had never even heard of—he tied her hair up. That long chocolate mass of curls had been gathered into one fist, then he’d bound it up like a pony tail and tied it to a rope directly above her.
Riley was wholly restrained. It was mesmerizing. And more than a little scary to Shy, but scary in a fun, rollercoaster kind of way, she thought. It was the most erotically beautiful and intriguing thing she thought she’d ever seen.
Then they dimmed the lights and brought out a neon tube.
“Know what that is, Shy?” Faulkner whispered in her ear. “It’s called a violet wand. Looks like we are in for a light show.”
“Light show?” Cheyenne was confused and more than a tiny bit concerned for her new friend. “What do you mean? Is that a laser? What are they going to do? Are they going to shock her?”