I’m a Dom. She might think she’s in the same league, but she’s so far away it’s laughable. If she gives me trouble she’ll be paying for it, and in a way I’ll make sure we would both enjoy.
She looks at me, then at the two men at the head of the table. Her breath comes out on a sigh. “I agree to your terms.”
Ben closes the meeting. As the room starts to empty and she stands, I watch her carefully, thinking how well everything has fallen into place. It couldn’t have turned out better if I’d planned it.
Yes, Aiza. You might not know it yet, but you’re going to be mine. As I stand aside for her to precede me out of the conference room, I hide my smile behind her back while allowing my eyes to feast on her delicious ass as she walks away. Mine.
Grade A owns a number of identical black SUVs, and we bring these into play tonight. Although it’s highly unlikely she’s been traced here, we’re taking no unnecessary chances, so employ subterfuge to get her away. Soon there are three vehicles, all with darkened windows, leaving one after the other. I’m driving Aiza in the final one. Even before we leave the underground garage I can feel her simmering with excitement despite the events of this afternoon. Club Tiacapan has a well-earned reputation for being one of the best clubs in Europe, and I can understand that she’s eager to find out why for herself. She’s fidgeting, and her hands are clasping and unclasping in her lap. As I pull out onto the now almost empty street, populated only with the occasional black cab, she speaks to me.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she admits, making me glance at her quickly in the mirror before turning my attention back to the road. “I’ve always wanted to see Club Tiacapan. Apart from my brother being responsible for starting it, it’s got an amazing rep across the globe.”
“But?” I prompt, hearing the but in the words she’s not voiced yet.
“I’m angry, as you gave me away.” She speaks a little sadly, as though what she gets up to is a secret she wants to keep for herself.
It’s true I hadn’t cared whether I did or didn’t. It’s not true I betrayed her. “It was you who asked for temporary membership, Princess. If you hadn’t had said anything they’d have assumed you just agreed that it would be an unlikely place for anyone to think of looking for you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I hate that someone’s been listening and possibly watching me. And, Hunter, you’re not much better. If you’ve seen me in clubs, why didn’t you let me know you were there?”
I sigh. “Because I didn’t think you’d want to know you’d been seen. I get your need for privacy.”
“Do my brothers know?” Another look in the mirror, and I see she’s biting her lip.
“They haven’t heard it from me,” I’m quick to reassure her. I’d never do that. It’s not anyone’s business what she gets up to, she’s an adult.
Clever as she is, she reads between the lines and sighs. “However, they know.”
There’s no point hiding the truth from her. “Yeah, Princess. Well I’m pretty sure Nijad and Jasim do. I don’t think they’ve dared tell Kadar yet.”
She swears. “Bloody hell.”
Knowing she’ll have to face her brothers tomorrow, tonight I’ll try to take her mind off what lies ahead. She’ll have a lot of explaining to do to the Kassis Sheikhs once she’s back on Amahadian soil, and will be receiving several lectures if I’m not mistaken. As she goes quiet while we make our way from East London to the Hampstead Heath in the south, I peruse my options. Sneaking a glance at the woman by my side, I decide to wait until we arrive at the club and go with my gut when I see her reactions.
“Hunter?” Her voice breaks in to my thoughts. I look over at her. “Can we please dispense with you calling me by a title I never use? Please call me Aiza.”
I nod. I’ll try to give her that. What she doesn’t understand is that I’m using ‘Princess’ not so much in recognition of her position, but as a form of endearment.
Having kept a careful check on what’s going on around us I’m confident we haven’t been followed, so I don’t bother making a detour to make sure, just take the turn into the sweeping driveway that leads up to the mansion that houses Club Tiacapan. Located well off the road and hidden by trees, the grounds are patrolled, and the gates opened only by the remote identifiers located in all authorised vehicles. As practically all the top team at Grade A are members, most of the company cars we use are equipped with such devices for our convenience. As I park up behind the mansion I’m as happy as I can be that we’ve managed to keep Aiza’s location quiet tonight.
The car park is about half full, what I would have expected for a weekday. Aiza’s out of the car and standing, looking up at the floodlit building before I can come around to open her door.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Her mouth has dropped open.
I look at the sixteenth-century building now converted for a twenty-first century use, seeing it as though through her eyes, then I look down and grin. “Inside’s better. You want to go around the back way and straight up to the apartment first?”
She looks down at herself and ruefully tugs at the oversized sweatshirt she’d put back on to ward off the cool evening air when leaving Grade A. “I think I’d better. I’m hardly dressed the part.”
My damn cock twitches at the thought of how she’d look if she were properly attired. Making an effort to get myself under control, I lead her around to a door at the side and select a key from the bunch Jon had given to me. She follows me up the back staircase which would have been used by servants in centuries past, and finally to the third floor where Jasim had kitted out a small apartment for himself. Another key selected, and the door opens. As she steps in, I’m curious myself, never having been here before. It’s not large, just designed as a place for her brother to crash. The door opens into a small, pleasantly furnished living room with a bedroom off to one side with an ensuite bathroom attached.
Aiza’s nodding as though she’s satisfied with the arrangements, while I frown. Unless I can get into her bed tonight, and that would be moving too fast, I can see I’ll be having an uncomfortable night lying on the sofa that’s far too small for my large frame. Just as I’m cataloguing the practicality, or lack thereof, of apartment’s furniture, a knock sounds on the door.
Always cautious, I wave Aiza into the bedroom and go to look through the peephole, opening the door as I recognise the person outside. I usher her in, my body only moving enough to just give her room to pass while remaining prepared in case anyone’s followed her, using her to get access to the private apartment.
Behind her the hallway’s clear. Closing the door, I pull Mia in for a hug. As she’s Jon’s wife, I’ve met her on numerous previous occasions. It’s then I notice the bag that she’s brought with her.
“Is it safe to come out?” Aiza calls petulantly from the bedroom.
“Yeah, all clear. Come and meet Mia.”
She appears immediately, coming to an abrupt halt, her face splitting into a wide grin. “Dexie Sanders. I’ve read all your books. It’s amazing to meet you.” I’d forgotten for a minute that Mia writes what’s essentially porn in my eyes. I’ve read a couple myself. Even I have to admit they’re good. Then, she would get the BDSM details correct, she’s married to a Master Dom.
Mia grins, and not for the first time I see what attracted Jon to his wife. She’s stunning, and a natural submissive. I watch, interested in seeing their interaction. If Mia was talking to me it would be more likely she wouldn’t meet my eye. Addressing Aiza, she’s staring her straight in the face.
“I love to meet fans.” Her smile widens. “And I understand you’re having some trouble. Anything interesting?”
I place my hand on Mia’s arm and give a small growl. “Mia takes every opportunity to get ideas for her books,” I warn Aiza.
Aiza’s smiling. “I’ve no clue what’s going on. Just someone seems to be interested in me. Tell you what, if it turns out to be something juicy I’ll l
et you know.”
“Deal.” Mia holds out her hand, and Aiza shakes it. “Jon told me you had no clothes and that you were the same size as me.” She eyes the Arab girl and bites her lip. “Though sometimes I wonder if he needs glasses.”
Which draws my attention to both women. To me they look similar in height and weight. Mia’s clearly seeing something I’m not.
Aiza laughs and supports her ample boobs with her hands. “I think I’ve got a bit more up top.”
Which makes me look, and I find I’m looking at my boss’s wife for comparison. Oh shit, Jon would kill me. I wave them into the bedroom to get them out of my sight. “Go with Mia, Aiza. See if she’s brought something you can wear.”
The girls disappear, and as I hear giggling coming from behind the closed door I’m thankful for Jon’s foresight. At least Mia’s presence is cheering Aiza up, and hopefully taking her mind off the journey she’ll be making tomorrow.
When the girls reappear I change my mind and want to curse Jon instead. Aiza’s dressed as no client of mine should ever be. She’s wearing a corset which, yes, definitely emphasises her boobs are bigger than Mia’s, barely constrained behind the tight laces. Boy shorts complete the ensemble, showcasing long, lean legs which go on for miles. The red satin material makes her olive skin glow, and as for those boots…
Fuck.
Keeping my hands off her is going to be hard. Here I was, planning to take things slow. Just using tonight to plant the idea of us fitting together in her mind. My cock presses against the zip of my jeans. Letting things progress gradually is going to be difficult when all I want to do is throw her down and thrust my swollen cock into her.
Chapter 5
Aiza
I’m so happy Mia arrived, and slightly in awe of her. She’s a renowned erotic fiction writer, and I hadn’t lied when I’d said I’d read every one for of her books. I wouldn’t admit it, but it was Dexie Sanders who got me intrigued in the lifestyle. It was after reading about her Doms and Dommes that I started to get involved in BDSM myself. I wish I could repay her by giving her the juicy details of what’s happened to me today. However, while unnerving, it’s too boring to put it into words. Sure, someone unknown has been spying on me, I doubt that’s much of a plot.
I have to stop thinking about her books. The latest was a menage, and seeing the author brought the story back into my mind, with the result my nipples are hardening and my tiny boy shorts are dampening. I really don’t want to start my night in the club downstairs with a very visible wet spot.
“Mia, I can’t thank you enough.” I indicate the fet wear I’m wearing. Hunter makes a strangled sound, and looking up quickly I now see him staring at me. Being caught out, he quickly turns away. I continue to address myself to Mia. “Thank you so much for the change of clothes. Hopefully Kadar will still have my stuff on the plane, so I shouldn’t need anything else.” While I don’t often fly in the family jet, I do keep a basic wardrobe there.
“You’re welcome.” Mia smiles her engaging smile. “Are you coming downstairs now?”
“Yes…”
Hunter interrupts me, and I notice he’s widened his stance, drawing my attention to a bulge in his jeans. The confirmation I must look good in what I’m wearing makes me suppress a grin. “Mia, when we go into the club I’ve got to go to the locker room to get changed. Can you wait with Aiza by the bar? Is Master Ralph on duty tonight?”
“I’ve got to go change myself,” Mia replies. Hunter frowns, obviously so engrossed in what I’d put on, he hadn’t noticed she was still in street clothes.
“Hunter,” I snap. “I’m no sub that needs to be watched out for.” I hope he knows that from the times he apparently spied on me. I’ve gone to the clubs on my own, after checking their reputation thoroughly, of course. I’m no stranger to being unaccompanied. “If you can fix me up with someone to talk to about seeing limits lists and the club rules, I’d be grateful.”
His brows come down to meet in the middle, and as he gives me another look I see I’ve surprised him. Confirmed when he goes to speak, then looks like he is, for once, at a loss for words.
I link my arm through Mia’s and start taking charge. “Come on then, show me the club. I can’t wait to see it, I’ve heard so much about it…” As we walk through the door I hear an exclamation which makes me smile, and then running feet as my bodyguard comes to his senses and catches up. Hmm. Toying with Hunter is fun.
“Wait up.” Hunter’s annoyed voice makes us pause, and he brushes past, throwing a look at me as he does. Taking point, he leads us down the stairs and pauses at the bottom before opening a door that leads into the back of the club. The door is obviously soundproofed. As soon as he pushes it open familiar sounds come to me like music to my ears—actual music of course, the rhythm punctuated by cries of satisfaction and screams. The air throbs with the cacophony of sound and is tinged with odours of sweat and arousal. I pause for a moment, taking it in. Since coming to the UK I haven’t indulged in playing, too worried about being recognised. As a princess of Amahad, I do have a reputation to maintain. While this club is exclusive and my identity would be hidden, not having realised Jasim’s giving up his stake in it, I’d assumed it was off bounds. Although I probably wouldn’t join anyway. I’d baulk at the sky-high membership fees. There’s far better things I can spend my allowance on, my charity projects being one.
Mia takes my hand and leads me to the bar. There, sitting on a stool, is Jon Tharpe, who I’d left not that long before in the headquarters of Grade A.
“Jon.” I greet him with a nod of my head while noticing his wife is standing before him with lowered eyes.
“Go change,” he tells her softly, then turns to me, examining me head to toe, his eyes landing pointedly at my thigh-high boots.
I say nothing. I’m no sub, I don’t need to go barefoot or totter around on six-inch heels. Others do that for my satisfaction. When his eyes again meet mine, he’s got a smirk on his face.
“Take these.” He hands me two wristbands. “If you intend to play tonight, there’s a two-drink limit.” That’s fairly standard. In some places I’ve been in the consumption of any alcohol is prohibited.
A bartender’s been watching me carefully, and seeing Jon’s action, comes across. “What can I get for you, pet?”
I meet his eyes and raise a brow but answer politely enough. “I’ll take a scotch.”
“On the rocks?”
“Neat.”
Within moments I’ve swapped a wristband for a measure of the amber liquid I’ve developed a taste for.
Without waiting for an invitation I slide onto the bar stool next to Jon, and after taking a sip of my drink place the glass back on the bar. “You’re my babysitter for now, I take it?” I spend a moment examining him. He’s wearing tight jeans and a leather waistcoat which hangs open, revealing a very fit body underneath. Mia’s one lucky woman.
“Have you been trained?”
“Yeah. I trained as a Domme at a place in the States.” I give him the name as I nod my head towards a seating area where I can see a few women and a couple of men lounging, seemingly unattached and looking up hopefully as Doms and Dommes walk past. “Subs area?”
“It is, though don’t get your hopes up.”
My eyes snap to his. “You going to censor me here, Jon?”
There’s a twinkle in his eye as he nods his head in the direction behind me. “I’m not, but I’m pretty sure he is.”
As I swing around I see Hunter sauntering up. He’s changed into leather jeans that mould to his legs and a leather waistcoat which, like Jon’s, hangs open. I have to stop myself from licking my lips as a six pack comes into view. If I was in the market for a man for the night, Hunter wouldn’t be far from the top of the list. His tousled reddish hair flops forwards, and it’s hard to resist stretching out my hand to sweep it back.
“Jon.” He greets his boss with a chin lift.
“Hunter.”
Having exchanged their
manly greetings, Hunter holds out his hand towards me. “Allow me to give you a tour?”
Still wondering about Jon’s cryptic comment, I finish my whisky then slide off the stool. It would be interesting to see the place which I’ve heard so much about, from friends in the lifestyle as well as what I managed to eavesdrop on those rare occasions I was home in the palace of Amahad.
Hunter starts to lead me around the enormous room which must have been constructed by taking down original internal walls, replacing them with steel supports instead. Stages are set up along the sides, equipped with a variety of apparatus. One wall is set up with rigging, and I watch as a Shibari expert gives a demonstration. He’s just completed binding his sub and is now hoisting her into the air. I pause to appreciate the look of bliss on her face, and wish it was me who had put it there.
“Will you let me tie you up, Hunter?” I ask, half turning so I can see his face. His eyes also have been captured by the scene in front of us. While his attention is elsewhere, I imagine wrapping rope around his naked body, tracing patterns as I bind him both physically and metaphorically, gradually bringing him under my spell, taking his trust, seeing him swollen with arousal…
“No fucking way.” His curt dismissal breaks the thrall the scene had placed me in.
Hmm.
A gentle tug on my hand, and we’re moving forwards again. Now pausing in front of a scene where role play is taking place. A female teacher castigating a female student for some infraction, the latter leant over the desk having a ruler applied to her bare arse, her punishment obviously having gone on for a while, as her fair skin is a lovely shade of pink. The pair are exhibitionists for certain, the pupil conveniently placed so anyone passing can see her arousal glistening in the spotlight.
Another stage where there’s a spanking bench, and the next two have tables—one where someone’s using a violet wand, and the other dripping wax, the sub’s body already a colourful canvass.
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 5