by Lynda Aicher
Of course, no one but her would see them. They would be her little secret and a reminder that her body belonged to her and no one else.
The dress was last, a cotton and lace sleeveless number in the same royal blue of her lingerie. Naughty, but demure, it hugged her form and skimmed over the stocking line, allowing for glimpses of the garters when she moved.
The knee-high, black leather boots were the finishing touch on the outfit. The purr of the zipper as she pulled the leather closed around her calves was like a siren’s song. Her breathing deepened, her mind settling lower into that quiet space.
She stared at herself in the mirror, her pulse increasing to shatter the nugget of peace that had started to form. It wasn’t hard-core BDSM attire, but it was the closest she’d come to it in a very long time. Her stomach flipped and twisted, the acid churning on emptiness. Dinner had been a skipped event from fear of it making an embarrassing return later.
The sharp chime of her doorbell made her flinch before she forced out a long breath in an attempt to relax. She grabbed the last item off the counter, the final touch, and slipped it over her head. The Mardi Gras mask covered the entire top half of her face from nose to hairline and fit firmly to her cheeks. It was the same royal blue as her dress with gold and silver sparkles that swirled into a fringe of small, white feathers.
Her eyes looked dark and sultry behind the confinement, the makeup blending with the colors of the mask to give her the mysterious look she’d been going for.
Camouflaged in plain sight. That was the only reason she’d finally agreed to go to the club. Behind the mask, she could hide.
Even from herself.
Chapter Two
The sea of bodies spread out from the already cramped dance floor to the more open bar and lounge area of The Den. Brightly colored sequins and feathers added an unusual slash of color to the normally predominant black that their clientele tended to wear. Even the normal bump and grind of the music was edged with a trace of jazz for the occasion.
Deklan Winters stood on the small balcony overlooking the ground floor of The Den, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles down his back feeling as tightly pulled as the material of the black cotton T-shirt that covered them. Nights like this put him on edge. And not in a good way.
Seth insisted it was good for business, but it was a royal pain in the ass for security. Allowing a large number of guests into the private BDSM club always resulted in problems. No matter how careful they were.
Their annual Mardi Gras bash was only one of two times each year that they opened the doors to a larger than usual number of guest. Otherwise, they limited the number of guests members were allowed to bring into the club each night. The Den’s security was more detailed and extensive than the Pentagon, guaranteeing the privacy of their members.
He sensed more than heard the click of the door closing at the bottom of the stairs behind him. The music booming over the crowded room below covered the minor sound, but Deklan’s military training had tuned his senses to pick up on even the smallest changes in the environment around him.
The tread on the steps was doubled, indicating both Seth and Jake were encroaching on his coveted spot. The two men were like brothers and Deklan was closer to them than the family he’d been born into. He’d give his life for either man, which was one of the reasons he’d agreed to go into business with them.
The slap of a hand on his shoulder wasn’t a surprise, and Deklan didn’t react. He kept his eyes glued to the activity below, scanning back and forth, looking for anything that would indicate trouble.
“Loosen up, Dek.” Seth’s voice was raised to be heard over the grinding thump of the music. “You’ve taken every security precaution possible. It’ll be fine.”
“Not your ass over the fire, Mathews.”
Seth squeezed his shoulder before letting his hand drop. “Just as much my ass as yours.”
“As long as you keep my ass out of it.” Jake’s retort came from Deklan’s other side, the two men having flanked him on the narrow ledge.
Deklan grunted. “Nothing new about that.” He felt Jake’s hard glare on his side but didn’t acknowledge it.
“Who’s Cali bringing tonight?” Seth asked Jake in his patented way of changing the subject to defuse tension. The pattern of banter between the three of them established long ago.
“Allie and Kendra.”
“Allison English. Thirty-seven. Lawyer at Wilson, Pakish and Marrow,” Deklan recited. “Kendra Morgan. Thirty-one. Shelf-stocker at Target. Former middle school counselor.”
“Christ. Don’t tell me you know the stats of every guest.”
Deklan didn’t answer. Seth knew he did. There was very little about every person in the club that he didn’t know about. Details had kept him alive for many years. Let one slip, and it could cost your life. Or worse, someone else’s.
“When are they arriving?” Deklan directed his question to Jake, the man only recently having claimed Cali Reynolds as his sub. A move the other men thought he’d never make. As the oldest of the three men, Deklan looked out for the other two. It was as ingrained in him as eating. And that responsibility now included Cali.
“They’ll be here at nine.”
“You’ll take care of the other women?”
Another glare. “Do I look that incompetent?”
“No,” Deklan conceded. “Just preoccupied with your sub.”
“How many guests will be here tonight?” Seth interceded once again, even though they’d gone over the information earlier.
Letting the subject change, Deklan unfolded his arms to rest his hands on the metal balcony rail. He tightened his grip and leaned forward to take in the already packed space. “We maxed at the one hundred limit.”
The club had over five hundred active members, only a quarter of which showed up on any given evening. But this night always drew a crowd. The attraction of new faces, combined with the anonymity the masks provided, was too enticing for most to skip. That also accounted for the large crowd at such an early hour. The doors closed when they hit capacity.
Seth’s shoulders lifted, his chest expanding with his inhale. Yeah, the tension was heightened in all of them that night. “It’ll be fine.”
Easy for him to say. “I’ll confirm that when the night’s over.”
Jake shifted to pull his phone from his pocket, a smile curving his lips. “Cali’s here.”
In unison, their focus shifted to the lobby entrance. A few seconds later, the door opened, and three women filed through. Deklan scanned the first one, appreciation settling in his chest. “Did you select Cali’s outfit?”
“Of course.”
“Nicely done.” The praised was edged with admiration. Cali was dressed in a leather corset. The dark green color looked stunning against the pale skin of her breasts, pushed up and rounded on display. The black leather skirt hugged her hips to calves and restricted her stride to a half-step. She turned to speak to the woman behind her, revealing the ties that ran up the back of both garments. “Did you lace her in?”
Jake stepped back to leave. “Before I left,” he answered with a smirk. A flash of possessiveness sparked in his eyes before he gave a quick salute and bounded down the stairs. Jake had arrived at the club at three that afternoon, which meant his sub had been bound tight for the last six hours. Every restricted movement reminding her of whom she belonged to.
Deklan ignored the flare of longing that flashed within him. He had more than enough responsibility at the moment. Caring for the needs of a permanent sub wasn’t on his radar. But it didn’t stop him from being happy for Jake.
“She’s stunning.”
The longing in Seth’s voice pulled Deklan’s attention back to the room. “Cali? Yes, she is.”
Seth shook his head. “No. The one behind her.”
Deklan glanced to the next woman dressed in deep red silk. The halter-style top clung to her breasts before draping down to cinch at her waist. The full skir
t was made of teasing strips of gold and ruby that brushed her knees and allowed for tantalizing glimpses of her legs as she walked. Her dark brown curls tumbled in ringlets to her shoulders, hiding the string of the sparkling gold Mardi Gras mask that covered the top half of her face.
“How can you tell?”
The other man laughed. “There are some things you just know.”
“And you know that?”
Deklan had met Cali’s guests before at the condo complex where they all lived and knew that her friends were both attractive. The fact that he owned a condo in the same unit was a stretch of coincidence that still bothered him.
“Without a doubt,” Seth affirmed, a smile lingering on his lips. “Too bad she doesn’t have the first clue about what she’s walking into.”
His observation finally pulled a grin out of Deklan. The three women had moved to a spot along the wall next to the bar. Led there by a bouncer, their location was secured by Jake. The regulars all knew Cali by now and, more importantly, to whom she belonged. The only one of the three not wearing a mask, there was no hiding Cali’s features or the collar around her neck.
Standing between the other two women, the one in red maintained a constant swivel of her head, her body leaning back and forth as she moved to take it all in. The experienced eye pegged her immediately as a novice. Every Dom or sub in the place would see her for the BDSM virgin that she was.
“Jake needs to keep an eye on them,” Deklan said. “Allie’s too fresh to be let loose on her own.”
Seth stiffened before he nodded. “The wristband will keep her safe.” All guests wore a thick black band around their wrists while at the club. It marked them for who they were and let everyone know their visitor status at a glance. A light on the band indicated their boundaries within the club. A red light restricted them from participating in any of the more explicit activities behind the red doors without the consent of one of the three owners. They could watch, but playing was prohibited. A green light gave them full access to participate in every aspect of the club.
The middle one wasn’t who Deklan was concerned about though. His gaze consumed Cali’s other guest, the one he’d expected not to show. He paused to admire the silver three-inch heels on the black boots before continuing to the hem of her royal blue dress, the peek of garters teasing and tempting with every movement of her long legs.
She drew attention, not because she stood taller than the other women. Or because her dress hugged every willowy curve of her figure and scooped low enough to pool in layers over the swells of her breasts. It wasn’t even the mystery of who she was behind the blue and gold mask she wore. No, she drew the eye of every Dom in the club. Just as obvious as the other woman’s newness were the subtle movements of her knowledge.
It was a curveball in his assessment of her that made Deklan’s jaw clench in irritation. How had he missed that? Or had he?
“I’m not so sure about the other one, though,” Seth said, as if reading Deklan’s mind. “But then, she doesn’t look like she needs protecting.”
Hell. Everyone needed protecting in some way. Life had taught him that. And that one down there needed more than most. “How do you figure?”
Seth tilted his head, his lips thinning in concentration. They both watched as Jake approached the trio. Cali smiled, her focus holding on her Dom as he bent to kiss and claim her. Jake’s hand smoothed around to hold the back of her neck, his mouth driving hard until she melted into him, her body going lax against his.
Deklan straightened and cleared his throat against the sudden dryness.
“There,” Seth said, tilting his chin up in indication. “The one in red is staring openly. The one in blue has her eyes diverted, her head titled down in respect, even if it’s only incrementally. Her spine is straight, her hands clasped behind her back, but the pose isn’t forced. It’s natural enough to be ingrained. A habit I doubt she even recognizes, but every Dom here does.” Seth gave another hard shake of his head. “Nope. That one knows exactly what to expect. The hard nipples say she’s ready for whatever happens tonight.”
Deklan’s focus shot directly to her breasts. Of course he’d noticed that detail earlier, but hearing the other man state it so bluntly fired something protective and possessive within him. “She’s not a piece of meat to manhandle.” His voice held the sharp edge of reprimand.
“What the heck?” Seth jerked back, his angry glare landing on Deklan. “Get the stick out of your ass and stop being such a dick, Winters.” Seth turned and pounded down the stairs, the loud slam of the door at the bottom punctuating his exit.
The guilt hit fast. Seth hadn’t deserved that. In fact, of the three men, Seth was the least harsh, preferring straight Dominance over the harder forms of sadism and masochism. Most people outside of the BDSM world assumed they all went together, when in truth there were varying degrees and levels for everyone, just like most things in life.
Deklan was drawn back to the cause of their quarrel. Kendra Morgan. Jake was leading the women through the crowd to a reserved table located in an alcove under the balcony. Kendra brought up the rear, her hips swaying with each step, her head held straight ahead with her eyes downcast. She’d dropped her resting pose to let her arms move naturally at her side, but her shoulders were back, her hands loose in a posture defining obedience.
Christ. Jake looked like he was leading a small harem to his private lair. The parting sea of people seemed to recognize the same thing, making the procession even more noticeable and drawing the attention of half the room. Deklan’s jaw tensed as he caught more than one Dom assessing the women with clear appreciation. Their eyes traveling over the three the same way he’d done earlier. The way they all paused and held on Kendra, a few leaning together, heads nodding in indication, left no question that they were drawing the same conclusion as Seth. The lady in blue was a very experienced sub who knew exactly what she was doing in this world. It smacked of trouble for reasons he couldn’t define but had learned long ago to trust.
She projected a smooth image of confidence. But he caught the quick fist of her hand, the slight shift of her chin as her gaze shot to the side before jerking back to the ground. The facade of assurance was underscored by little signals of doubt and nerves.
She jerked her head around to stare directly at him, as if she’d known he was watching her. His breath stilled as he was consumed by the challenge he saw in her eyes, throwing away every submissive indication she’d been projecting just seconds before.
Kendra didn’t smile. No taunting curl of her lips in flirtation or request. It was like she was daring him to stop her.
Or claim her.
Chapter Three
Kendra’s heart raced in a beat that flushed her with heat, the liquid warmth rushing through her, making her hands clammy and her nape damp. The slow, forced breaths did nothing to calm the tight fist of nerves that balled in her stomach.
She couldn’t let him get to her. Deklan Winters—club co-owner, condo neighbor, Dom. The man had been watching her for months, something he probably assumed she didn’t know about. She almost laughed out loud at that thought. Maybe she wouldn’t have if she weren’t so aware of him.
What the hell was she thinking to challenge him like that on his turf? She knew better than to look a Dom in the eyes, and wasn’t that exactly why she’d done in? Damn it. She shouldn’t be here.
She cut off her thoughts and gripped her hands in her lap to keep them still. She sat at the edge of the booth, the concave circle of seats providing a clear view of the dance floor and bar area. The privilege of being in the VIP seating area also meant they were on display. She realized it was Jake McCallister’s way of establishing his territory over the women. Not in dominance but as protection. The added attention increased her unease, yet she welcomed the safety of being attached to one of the club owners.
The room was full of distractions, and Kendra attempted to find one. She’d been surprised at how standard the main area looked. Exp
ectations and past experience had her envisioning a large room full of blatant displays of submission, dominance and everything that went with it. The dance bar atmosphere they’d walked into was calming and spoke to the sophistication of the place. It was just one more reason why people were willing to pay so much for a membership.
The dance floor was large enough to encourage the activity without overtaking the space. The bass of the music vibrated through the vinyl seat, enticing with a rhythm that inspired the sultry grind playing out between couples, but the volume didn’t prohibit the conversations taking place around the room.
Despite the elements of normalcy and the brightly colored sequined outfits and masks that stood out among the black leather, there was no question what The Den’s main attraction was. She looked over at two submissives dressed in skimpy spandex, kneeling with their heads bowed as their Masters talked. Another couple passed them, the man being led by a chain that snaked out from his tight leather briefs and pulled taut over his chest before threading through the loop on the collar around his neck. Each tug on the chain made the sub’s eyes glaze over with that heady blend of pleasure and pain.
Kendra licked her dry lips, forcing her attention from the intoxicating sight and back to her table. Cali and Allie were engaged in a spirited question and answer session on what went on behind the big red doors.
“They do what?”
The startled gasp made Kendra smile. If Allie was shocked over a ménage voyeur Scene, then she would probably pass out cold at seeing the Dungeon.
Dungeon. Just the thought of it had Kendra inhaling against the wave of longing that tingled through her, tightening her nipples and making her pussy clench. She shifted on the seat and crossed her legs to hold back the rising flush. She couldn’t go there.
But her body so desperately wanted to.
After so many months, she’d hoped that maybe she’d outgrown it. Forgotten even, though she’d known that wasn’t so. Her nipples were aching, hard nubs sliding against the teasing fabric of her dress, pulled gently by the weights. The crotch of the tiny thong was wet, her clit ripe and needy for stimulation. She squeezed her thighs together in a failed attempt to ease the almost painful desire.