by Desiree Holt
Suddenly she sat upright and moved one hand to clamp it over his wrist.
“Stop,” she commanded.
Every muscle in Linc Stoddard’s body locked up with the effort to hold back his climax. A soft gasp whispered through the audience. Clint looked at Montana, knowing this was one of her favorite forms of play. She was leaning forward even more, hands clenched into fists between her thighs, her mouth partly open, her high breasts rising and falling. Her tongue came out to slowly lick her bottom lip, and Clint nearly lost it right there.
“Do you wish to come?” Melora asked, her hand still rubbing Linc’s balls.
“Yes, Mistress. I do.” The words grated from his throat.
“Then beg me,” she commanded.
“Please, Mistress.” It was impossible not to notice how dark the head of his penis was or how the muscles of his stomach flexed involuntarily. “I beg you. Please let me come.”
Melora leaned back in her chair, using both hands to lift her breasts even higher.
“Yes. Now you may come. On my breasts. And do not lose a drop.”
As the man threw his head back and spurted from his cock onto Melora’s breasts, Clint looked at Montana. Her face was flushed, a delicate rose visible even in the subdued lighting.
Her eyes flashed with heat. She squeezed her thighs together, the play of muscle visible beneath the very short skirt, and he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees between those creamy thighs and obey whatever commands she gave him. He ground his teeth until he was sure his molars would turn to powder.
Jesus. He needed an orgasm more than he needed to breathe.
Taking care of things himself wouldn’t work tonight. Just as soon as he checked with Devyn, he had a phone call to make. And a trip to Austin after he closed for the night. He just hoped he didn’t bump into anything and damage his very rigid shaft before then.
He headed for his office, trying his best to kill an idea that was germinating in his brain. He had a feeling he was about to do something he’d probably regret. He could already feel the quicksand sucking at his feet.
Montana was seated at a small table in the lounge in conversation with the Hallidays when Clint walked up to them.
“I hope you enjoyed your first evening at Rawhide.”
His voice was professional and formal. But she couldn’t miss the heat in his eyes that he didn’t seem able to conceal.
But was it the aftereffects of watching the performance, or that compelling power that sizzled and snapped between them? That threatened to destroy all her carefully constructed shields?
Run, Montana.
“Yes, thank you.” She tried to match his tone, somewhat difficult with the high level of sexual energy still racing through her system.
“If you’d like to join me in the office, we’ll get your application for membership taken care of and your provisional card issued.”
She looked at Reece. Somehow, because he was her connection here, she’d expected he’d be the one to process her. She wasn’t sure being alone in a small room with Clint Chavez would be good for her mental well-being.
But Reece just smiled at her. “Clint handles all the paper work. He’ll take good care of you.”
“Well. Okay, then. Nice meeting both of you.”
She slid the thin strap of her purse over her shoulder, rose from the chair, and followed Clint as he wove a path through the crowd. Several things registered as she made her way through the lounge. The excitement of the performance still lingered in the air, obvious by the hum of conversation and the number of people engage in stroking and petting each other. Faces were flushed with arousal, and the scent of sex lay heavy in the air.
And the man walking in front of her probably had the finest ass she’d seen in a long time. His slacks had obviously been custom-tailored, and she could see the flex of muscle as he walked. More cream drenched her already soaked thong as an image of that ass exposed to her special cane popped into her brain to tease her.
They passed the performance area as well as the hallway to what Montana knew had to be the private rooms before reaching a heavy carved door. Clint pulled a key from his pocket to unlock it, then opened it and stood aside for her to enter.
The room had a warm personality, with rich chocolate carpeting, soft beige walls, and tastefully framed erotic art on the walls. A massive oak desk and credenza were angled into one corner, with two armchairs upholstered in butter-soft leather facing them. In another corner was a long couch matching the chairs, and mounted so they could easily be seen were flat screens that obviously connected to a club security system. Montana saw views of the lounge, the hallway to the rooms, the entrance hall, and the performance rooms.
“I think it’s important to keep an eye on what’s happening,” he told her, noticing her glance at the screens.
“Devyn is an excellent manager, but ultimately, Reece and I are responsible for what happens here. I don’t like to leave things to chance.” He gestured toward a chair. “Please. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”
Yes, she would. Her mouth was dry as dust, but as edgy as she suddenly was, she was sure she’d probably spill it all over his desk so she just shook her head.
“All right, then.” He sat down in the big desk chair, opened a file, and slid two sheets of paper toward her. “This is all basically very simple. Probably just like the one you filled out at your previous club. They were kind enough to give us access to your information.”
Their fingers bumped as she reached for the forms, and the sparks between them were nearly visible. Clint’s hand tightened slightly, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. This was some incredibly powerful chemistry between them that simply swept over all barriers.
Keep it together. Keep it together.
She kept repeating it over and over in her brain.
“I told them to go ahead. Figured it would speed up the process.”
She tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt, fidgety as a virgin. Clint’s eyes dropped briefly to her breasts before he dragged them back to her face. As heavy as her breasts felt, she was sure her nipples had swollen into huge points and was glad for the concealing fabric of her leather top.
He flashed that deadly smile, and electrified heat zinged to every erogenous zone of her body. She imagined those firm lips and very white teeth clamped around an appropriate gag while she slid a well-lubed dildo into his delicious ass before applying the cane.
Stop it! You’re liable to come sitting right here if you’re not careful. Then where would you be?
“Are you all right, Miss Steele?” Clint looked at her strangely.
With an effort she pulled the frayed edges of her control together. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. Just still…intrigued by the couple tonight.” She pulled the forms toward her, took the pen he handed her, and began filling them out.
Deliberately she avoided looking at Clint. There was so much sexual awareness in the room she wondered how either of them ignored it. What was he thinking? Did he want her as a Mistress, to sample her brand of play? Almost unconsciously, she slowly licked her lips.
Her eyes kept straying to his hands, so lean and masculine, with just a smattering of dark hair. Oh, the things she could order him to do with those hands to pleasure her.
She could almost feel them gently kneading her breasts, stroking the lips of her cunt, his fingers teasing her clit.
Bringing her to climax before she allowed him his own release.
She hadn’t realized he’d stood up until he was beside her, placing a glass of water on a coaster.
“You look a little flushed. The heat factor on nights like this can be…extraordinary. I thought you might like something cold.”
Heat. Yes. Only now it was due to embarrassment as she lifted the glass and sipped the icy liquid.
“Thank you.” She went over both forms, signed them and pushed them across the desk. “I believe I’ve filled everything in here.”
He lifted
the sheets of paper and glanced over them.
“Excellent. We’ll get you in the system.”
“Well. I guess I should leave then.”
He put a hand on her arm, and she felt as if a brand burned into her skin.
“I’m not sure if you’re prepared for this yet, but we have had a cancellation tonight for one of the private rooms.”
The muscles in her pussy clenched, and her pulse rate escalated. Tonight? Really?
“A Domme who had reserved it for after the performance suddenly had to leave,” he continued. “I have an available room and a very able sub if you’d like to take advantage of club hospitality tonight. As our guest, of course, for your first time here.”
A thrill raced through her. She knew this wasn’t the usual procedure. She assumed it was because Reece had vouched for her, but she hoped it was because Clint wanted to give her the chance to play. Too bad it wasn’t with him.
Big mistake, Montana. He’s pure danger.
If you’re smart, you’ll say no thanks and go home until your brain is working instead of your pussy.
But tonight she couldn’t seem to be smart.
“Thank you. I appreciate the courtesy.”
“If you’d like to change we have a facility for that.” He paused, letting his eyes roam her body. “Or not.”
“I’m good. Thanks. What is the sub’s name?”
“Drake. He’s one of our best. He enjoys being restrained and accepts any form of punishment. You’ll find most of what you need in the room. We haven’t had a chance to order anything specific for you so I hope what’s available will suit you.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself. And I’ll have your membership card waiting for you up front when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you. Very much.”
Montana was afraid she’d disintegrate from the heat surrounding them as he led her down the corridor to the private rooms until he came to the door he wanted. He swiped a key card in the slot, pushed open the door, and ushered her into the room.
The man standing there was somewhere in his late thirties and in excellent physical condition. A fact she couldn’t miss, considering he was completely nude. He was dark, like Clint, with midnight black hair that curled at his neck and eyes like ebony. Montana wondered briefly if that was why Clint had suggested this. Because the sub so closely resembled him.
“Drake, let me introduce your new Mistress for the evening. I know you’ll take good care of each other.” Clint pointed to a panel on the wall. “If you need anything, just push the black button and someone will respond.”
The door closed, Montana let out a slow breath, and took a good look around the room.
Clint stood in the secure private hallway from which he or Reece could slide a tiny panel and see into one room or the other. Originally, they’d instituted them as a safety procedure, in the event they were concerned about a particular client or sub. But he knew that when Katie and Reece had first reconnected and they were dancing around their relationship, she’d taken the opportunity to “spy” on him. Whatever she’d seen had lit a fire under her because within two weeks they had become a couple again.
Now he stood there trying to justify in his own mind what he was doing. Because the moment he’d seen her in the entrance hall, Montana Steele had hit him like a punch to the gut. Despite his determination, he felt himself sucked into the vortex of her incredible sexual presence…and something more. Something more elemental. Something that reached deep inside him and dragged out all those emotions he’d buried as deeply as he could.
He watched her now, aware that his pulse rate had elevated as his heart thudded against his ribs. Montana Steele was every inch the Domme, self-confident, assured, and so sexually attractive his mouth watered. But he had absolutely no right to be lusting after her.
For one thing, she was a client. For another, he had no intention of revealing his true sexual nature to anyone remotely connected with the club. Reece was here. He could turn things over to him and Devyn. Make his phone call. Take off for Austin and the relief he needed.
But instead, he stood with his eyes glued to the opening, watching the woman he wanted rub her hands over a man too good looking for his own good. Trace her fingers over his muscles. Touch his lips. Reach for his cock.
She had placed a number of instruments and other items on the small table set up for that, and Drake stood next to a padded sawhorse with leather cuffs attached to each leg.
Montana walked around him slowly, stopping in front of him to massage Drake’s cock and balls. Clint heard her speak to Drake in a low but commanding voice, ordering him to bend over the padded horse. Crouching down, she fastened the cuffs around his wrists and ankles.
As soon as Clint saw her hands smooth over Drake’s ass, he knew what she planned to do.
And his own body tightened in anticipation.
She studied the instruments on the table as if trying to decide which one to choose. Finally, she lifted a smooth butt plug with a wide flange, opened a tube of gel, and applied it liberally to the toy. Next, she stepped back to the sawhorse and bent her head to kiss both cheeks of Drake’s buttocks before spreading those cheeks and applying the gel to his exposed anus.
Her finger circled slowly round and round the tight ring of muscle, teasing until Clint himself wanted to shout for her to penetrate him. When she finally pushed one finger inside and all of Drake’s muscles tightened Clint’s cock jerked. Unable to help himself, he unzipped his fly, slid his hand inside, and wrapped his fingers around his painfully swollen shaft. He couldn’t remember the last time a Mistress had aroused him so quickly and to such an extent, especially when it wasn’t even him she was playing with.
Two fingers slid into Drake’s ass, and threads of fire shot through him, his balls tightening excruciatingly. He knew he should slide the spy-hole closed and walk away, but he couldn’t have moved if someone had put a gun to his head.
“Take a deep breath,” she commanded Drake as she picked up the plug and pressed the head of it against his well-lubed opening. “Now let it out slowly.”
The sub exhaled as Montana inserted the plug until it was fully seated and the flanges pressed against his skin.
“Very good,” she crooned. “What a good sub. You took that so well.”
She stalked around his body—that was the only word for it—and to Clint, she looked like a magnificent goddess, auburn hair cascading down her back, long legs emphasized by the high boots and short skirt, head slightly thrown back so the slender column of her neck with completely visible. He rubbed the tip of one finger over the tingling head of his dick and found a drop of fluid already gathered there.
“I think the edge of pain always enhances pleasure, don’t you?” Montana asked the sub in her musical voice. She picked up a slender bamboo cane from the table and brushed her fingertips over the length. “Do you know a single cane can deliver an entire range of sensations? For example.”
She snapped the cane quickly against his thighs, pulling back just a bit before impact. Drake tensed slightly.
“A blow like that delivers a wonderful surface sting. Did that arouse you, my pet?” She crouched slightly to reach between his legs, fingers stroking his engorged cock. “Ah, indeed it did. And remember, no matter how aroused you are, you are not to come except on my command. Do you understand?”
His “yes” was delivered in a husky voice. Clint knew that caning was one of Drake’s favorite forms of punishment, one reason he’d immediately known he’d be a good match for Montana.
“I usually prefer to gag my subs,” she continued, “but since this is our first time I want to hear your responses.”
This time, when she wielded the cane, she didn’t pull back, carrying it instead past the point of impact. Clint knew from experience that kind of blow delivered much more penetrating pain. His ass began to sting as he imagined Montana Steele
wielding it on his flesh.
“Count to ten for me,” she commanded. “That’s how many I wish to deliver.”
As the first heavy blow fell, Drake began to count aloud.
Clint noticed Montana only used the top third of the cane against the sub’s body, the part that delivered the greatest intensity. The part that left the mark. And it did, bright red stripes appeared on Drake’s taut flesh.
When she reached ten, Montana took a step back and took in a deep breath and released it. Her color was high with the flush of arousal, and she looked so magnificent he had to stop himself from barging into the room and tossing the sub out so he could take his place.
“Now ten more,” she went on, “on that magnificent ass. Is your cock straining?”
“Yes, Mistress.” His voice was deeper, rough with the edge of lust.
“Excellent. Excellent.”
This time, she used the part of the cane closer to her hand. From experience, Clint knew this allowed her to maintain a steady rhythm, the blows delivered with an almost massage-like feeling, guaranteed to bring a man to the point of orgasm. He felt each blow as if it were his ass being caned.
His body serving her pleasure.
Which he damn well wished was the truth.
This time, when they reached ten, she stopped and ran her hand over the glowing skin of his ass and thighs. Then she reached to test his cock again. When Drake groaned, she laughed in a low, sexy voice.
“Your ass looks so very perfect, especially with that plug in place.” She prodded his erection with just the tip of the cane before stroking it down the inside of one thigh and up the other. “I am going to release you now, my willing sub, and we will see just how ready you are.”
She tossed the cane aside and unfastened the leather cuffs, helping Drake to stand upright. Then she pulled a chair in front of him and sat down, legs splayed wide. Clint had a full view of everything. He stroked himself, unable to keep his hand still.
“You have aroused me a great deal,” Montana went on. “I need relief. I want you to watch me masturbate with your hand on your shaft. You may rub it slowly while you watch me, but you may not come until I do. Understood?”