Sweet Pain (The Club)

by Rebel Adams

  Epilogue

  I pulled him along. It was just as much fun to tease Sir as it was to be teased by him.

  “Gianna.” It was his Dom voice, and that was exactly what I wanted.

  “Come on, come on. You’re walking like a slow poke.”

  “Darling, it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

  “I don’t want it to wait.”

  I was so excited. I shouldn’t be. We hadn’t talked enough about our futures yet. But I was ready. So very, very ready for all of it.

  The roof of the Club had become one of our favorite spots to have sex. Just sex. Nothing dirty, nothing kinky. No masochism, no dominance. Just wonderful sex under the Texas sky, and that’s why I had picked it. I stopped him in the hall and put up a finger to hold him there. “Give me two minutes, Sir. Just two.”

  The sexy man I called Sir, Master, and Nate gave me a look of impatience, but then melted into indulgence. “Hurry, darling. You know the rules.”

  I smiled and skittered out onto the roof, shedding clothes as I went. I knew the rules. In the club, he was always Sir, and he was always in charge. Other places we spent time, it could go any way we wanted at that moment. But he had been firm about Sir at the Club. I knew I was going to get paddled.

  Good.

  I folded all the clothes I had pulled off and put them on the table next to the bed—bed being a loose interpretation of some of the others in the Club and at home. This was a sprung platform with a waterproof cushion on it, under a small canopy. While the roof was open and available, the cushions were topped with an extra cushion. It was a great place for a good fuck.

  But I didn’t have time for that right now. I neatened everything up and pulled up my big girl garter. Sir loved these naughty good-for-nothing outfits, and I had one of his favorites. I dropped to my knees, touched my forehead to the ground, and waited.

  The click-click-click of Sir’s shoes made its way across the roof. I loved his Club attire. Always dressed to the nines to counteract the dirty and grime he worked in during the week.

  And the first time he let me see him filthy from work still burned in my brain. I never knew how those lowlifes had figured out where I was that day. But when Nate had gotten home—once his house, now ours—and I wasn’t there, he had first gotten pissed that it seemed I had left.

  I hadn’t. I had finally gotten up the courage to go to the community college and try registering—but on the way, Melissa’s little posse found me, dragged me back to Darnell’s place, and tried to beat me up for money. Apparently, the news that my new “dealer” had money had gotten around, and they wanted a piece.

  Except Nate wasn’t a dealer and he wasn’t about to put up with their shit. He busted through that front door like the incredible Hulk, ready to yell at me. Then he saw them and completely changed tack. From what I had heard, once their bones had mended, they had left town.

  That was the first night Nate and I made love. We’d had sex, we’d fucked, we’d played scenes, but when Sir busts a door like it’s made of paper to save his little subbie, things get very different. And I made up my mind to stay with him as long as he would have me. He had collared me the very next night. I was his.

  The cement I was on was still warm from the hot sun, but it was kind of nice. I waited.

  “Gianna?”

  Abernathy was directly in front of me, waiting. I didn’t move, but I answered. “I am at the mercy of your heart, Sir. While I wear your collar, I do not have the strength of being your wife. But I will do my best to serve your child as a mother.”

  I heard him suck in a breath. “Stand up, darling.”

  I rose carefully, keeping my eyes downcast. I needed to be a perfect submissive, and I didn’t want to upset him. He tucked his fingers under my chin and raised my eyes to look in his. He suddenly seem to grow short—and that was when I realized he was down on one knee.

  “I am at the mercy of your heart, sweet Gianna. And I want to give you the strength of being my wife. Marry me.”

  “Yes, yes!” I practically crowed.

  He slipped the ring onto my finger and pulled me down to his chest.

  “You’re really pregnant?”

  “Yes, I am. And you really want to marry me?”

  “I’m in love with you. Of course I do.”

  “I guess we all get a happy ending.”

  Abernathy cocked his head and gave me his sexiest, most mischievous smile. “I’d call it a happy beginning.”

  Thank you for reading!

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  About the Author

  I am Rebel. I am a rebel. I am a writer. I am lover of good prose, better cigars, well-aged whiskey and fine women. Not always in that order.

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