by Qwillia Rain
Noting her curiosity, Ben sipped at his own glass of water. “Interesting collars, huh?”
“Collars?” Lyssa voiced the question for her.
“The neckwear some of the members have on.” Ben shrugged. “They identify who the owners are.”
“Owners?”
Ben looked at Lyssa’s stunned expression. “You really are a virgin to all this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Lyssa choked on her drink and turned red as she tried to regain her breath, but she nodded. “I’ve only skimmed a couple of books on the lifestyle.” Her elbow dug into Mattie’s side when she started to laugh.
“The collars are visible proof of ownership that a master will provide for his or her slave. Here at the Club, many of the members choose distinctive styles to identify their slaves to the other members.”
He glanced around the room and continued, “Without looking too hard, any collared slaves can safely be left alone and none of the other masters will approach them. No matter how they might beg for attention.” Dropping his gaze to Mattie’s throat, then her sister’s, Ben grinned. “If it weren’t apparent that you two are newbies, any number of masters would be clamoring to claim you.”
Curious, Mattie asked, “So each of the masters has a distinctive collar?”
“Depends on the master.” He nodded toward Dayton. “Kringle doesn’t collar his subs. The Hendersons, on the other hand, they both have a penchant for velvet and leather.” He subtly pointed out a petite blonde with a man, nearly twice her size, settled at her feet like a pet. “Mistress Lana likes the studded leather.”
“What about Bryce Halsey?” Lyssa asked.
Mattie could have reached out and smacked her, but her own curiosity was demanding an answer to that question as well.
Ben chuckled. “Now, that’s a man with style.” He gestured to the blonde sprawled in David Henderson’s lap as he whispered something into the woman’s ear. A delicate diamond chain winked at the base of her throat. “Most of the time it’s diamonds. Once it was rubies. He never goes for the functional collars, only decorative.”
“Are you saying she’s his sub?” Mattie demanded. Angry and humiliated that Bryce would have the audacity to approach her when he was already involved…
“No, no. She’s old news when it comes to Halsey.” Ben excused himself to grab a drink for another patron.
Mattie avoided looking at Lyssa, knowing in her blue eyes would lurk a hint of compassion and curiosity for her. Absently, her hand strayed up to her throat and stroked the bare skin there until she realized what she was doing and immediately dropped her hand to grip the half-empty glass of soda.
Ben returned and continued as if the conversation had never been interrupted. “No, Halsey’s collars carry a small lock on them. Once he’s released a sub, he removes the lock, and they can choose to keep the collar or not.” Motioning with a nod to the blonde whose breasts were now being fondled by David, he said, “She just hasn’t found the right master yet. She tends to drift from member to member more than some of the others.”
“You mentioned some of the slaves beg for attention?” Lyssa appeared confused. Propping her arm on the bar and her chin in her hand, she asked, “If they’re owned by one master, why would they beg for attention from another?”
Ben smiled wickedly. “Some of the masters test their friends by seeing if they can coax them into breaking one of the Club’s hard and fast rules.”
“What rules?” Mattie turned away from the sight of a collared male clad in little more than a black leather thong meticulously lapping at the exposed pussy of a woman sprawled in a chair.
“The rules that each member agrees to when they join the Diablo Blanco Club,” Ben informed her.
Her expression must have reflected Lyssa’s confused one, which seemed to amuse the bartender as he smiled and ticked off several rules on his fingers.
“The number one rule is, no messing with another master’s slave, unless given permission by the master.” With a shrug, he added, “The second most important rule is, what happens in DBC stays here. After that the rest of the rules are relatively common: no abuse, no blood play, no forced play.”
“Those sound rather vague,” Lyssa muttered.
Mattie watched her sister lift her drink only to halt it halfway to her lips. Before she could follow the direction of Lyssa’s gaze, she was distracted by the answer the man in front of them was offering.
Ben shrugged. “Most of the members have their own rules that they use. The Club rules supersede those, which makes everything run smoothly.” A call from a customer at the end of the bar had him excusing himself again.
As he moved away, Mattie swung her gaze upward toward the spot Lyssa seemed fascinated with and cursed silently. There, on the landing above the bar, stood Bryce’s brother. She’d forgotten Mike was still in San Diablo. That he was a member of the Club wasn’t a surprise, but apparently it was news to Lyssa. The glare she received from her sister had Mattie fighting her grin.
“I thought you said he was out of the country,” Lyssa grumbled before she swallowed the last of her drink and set the glass close to the inside of the bar, signaling her request for a refill.
Mattie finished her own drink and winced when she turned her attention back to Mike—only to find him descending the stairs, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “He came back into town earlier this week. I didn’t mention it because it slipped my mind.”
“I am so killing you when we get out of here, Mat,” Lyssa promised. “If he even hints at wanting to take pictures of me, I swear I’ll scream.”
She couldn’t stifle the chuckle at her sister’s displeasure. “Nude or dressed?” The pinch Lyssa gave her beneath the edge of the bar made her wince, but Mattie couldn’t help but notice the flush on her sister’s face as she watched Bryce’s brother approach.
* * *
Fingers working the supple black leather, Bryce relaxed in his chair, his gaze focused on the painting he’d left propped on the easel. With the oils dry to the touch, he would be able to finish attaching the bindings to the painted rope wound around the image of Mattie’s hands. In less than twenty-four hours she’d be making her final decision, and he had no doubt it would be a yes. Once he’d convinced her that submitting to him would enhance their marriage, it wouldn’t be much longer after that the image he’d long imagined and committed to canvas would be enacted.
The ring of his telephone drew his attention from the painting. “Halsey,” he answered, glancing at his watch, surprised at the late hour.
“Do you know where your fiancée is?” Mike queried.
“Considering it’s after ten o’clock, I’m assuming she’s at home. Why?”
Mike’s chuckle vibrated against his ear. “If she is, then her twin and her sister are cozied up to the medic behind the bar here at the Club.”
Bryce cursed beneath his breath. “How long?”
“I have no idea. I just came downstairs and found them. Ben seems to be keeping them entertained, but there are a few sharks circling your tuna.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“Should I try to keep them here?” Mike asked.
“Definitely. And tell Ben I’m going to need room three.” Snapping the cell phone closed, he set the rope on the table, took one last look at the painting, then shut off the light and left his studio.
Chapter Ten
“Lawrence.”
The cool drawl had Mattie stiffening in her seat. Even though she’d been careful to avoid being touched by any of the men who had approached her and Lyssa as they chatted with Ben at the bar, Mattie still knew she’d skirted the rules by coming here. The hope that Bryce wouldn’t discover her little excursion was too much to hope for, especially after Mike had taken up residence on the stool beside her sister twenty minutes earlier.
Taking a moment to prepare herself, Mattie settled her glass very carefully on the coaster before turning. The expression in his cool green eyes sent a shiv
er of arousal through her.
“Come here.”
Several patrons shifted in their seats to view the exchange. Mattie could see most of them in her peripheral vision. The hush was filled with the rasp of her slacks against the leather of her bar stool as she stood and followed Bryce’s command. Beside her, she watched her sister’s instinctive shift to protect her forestalled by Mike’s grip on her arm. Moving the few steps separating her from Bryce, Mattie held his gaze despite the urge to drop her eyes.
“Would you like to explain yourself?”
He towered over her, his muscular thighs straining the worn jeans, broad shoulders stretching the black T-shirt over his chest like a second skin. The way he held his legs braced apart and his arms folded across his chest, Mattie was reminded of a pirate steadying himself on the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Even the shadow of his evening beard and the way his hair settled around his shoulders had her seeing him clad in leather with a cutlass at his waist.
She realized she hadn’t responded in a long time when he snapped, “Key!”
The bartender tossed something to Bryce.
Snagging it out of the air with one hand, Bryce gripped her left arm above the elbow and turned her toward one of the staircases. A gush of fluid and heat spilled through her center, wetting her panties and hardening her nipples, so they scraped erotically against the silk of her bra.
She should have known Lyssa wouldn’t take Bryce’s handling of her calmly.
“Now, you just hold on…”
“Stay out of it,” Mike cautioned Lyssa, his grip on her shoulder keeping her on her stool.
“It’s okay, Lys,” Mattie assured her at the same time.
Bryce ignored them both and continued towing her up the stairs.
“Bryce,” another male voice interrupted, but Bryce didn’t stop their ascent.
Glancing back toward the double doors leading from the reception area into the lounge, Mattie flushed with embarrassment to see Richard Bennett watching them.
By the time they reached the landing, Richard’s voice echoed again, this time the tone more determined, if not demanding. “Halsey.”
Swinging to face his friend, Bryce hauled Mattie around too. His expression alone must have warned Richard, but it didn’t deter the other man from continuing.
“The rules? No forced play, remember?” Richard’s gray eyes drifted from his friend’s face to Mattie’s, then back again.
Mattie waited for Bryce’s response.
He looked at her. “Tell them.”
Looking up, she met his gaze for a moment, seeing the heat of arousal and the barest hint of amusement causing the green of his eyes to fluctuate between forest and emerald. Swallowing, she turned to face the audience below. She could swear her face burst into flames from the attention directed her way. Focusing on reassuring both her sister and Bryce’s vice president and best friend, she met each of their gazes and spoke as clearly as her dry throat would allow.
“He’s not forcing me.”
Richard’s stance relaxed, but Lyssa kept pushing at the grip Mike had on her. Wanting her sister to settle down, Mattie called down, “Lyssa, it’s okay—” Bryce propelled her up the second flight of stairs before she could finish reassuring her.
Just before they rounded the corner to head down the hall, Mattie looked back toward her sister and winced. Apparently, Lyssa still hadn’t believed her and must have tried following them, but Mike had decided on an unusual method of stopping her. The last thing Mattie saw as Bryce hauled her down the passageway was Lyssa held close to the younger man’s chest, her fists pressing against his shoulders but gaining no ground as Mike kissed her.
Yup, she thought. I’m gonna pay for this one. Lys is never gonna forgive me for getting her mixed up in this situation.
Bryce pushed open a door and pulled her inside. The snick of the lock engaging registered in a distant part of Mattie’s mind, but the rest was occupied with taking in her surroundings. Low light spilled from two black-shaded lamps. The one closest to the door sat on a small table and was joined by the key to the room, while the other graced one of the matching nightstands beside a large four-poster bed.
“Strip.”
Bryce’s order broke her stunned appraisal of the room. Mattie slid the buttons of her blouse free. Knowing it was useless to deny her arousal, she continued to remove her clothing, taking the time to fold each article before setting it on the floor beside her.
Once naked, she bent to retrieve her clothing and met his gaze. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured him, even as she calmly handed him her slacks, thong, bra, and blouse.
“Nothing wrong?” He turned his back to set the clothing inside a black-lacquered armoire.
With his back to her, Mattie took a moment to reexamine the room. She fought the grin tugging at her lips, knowing Bryce would not take her amusement well, but she couldn’t help it. It was so over-the-top with its black padded leather walls, and a black suede duvet spread across the twisted, black wrought-iron four-poster bed. The smile flattened out when she identified thick silver chains dangling from eye hooks bolted into the ceiling.
“Did I tell you to come here?” Bryce faced her again, eyes carefully examining every inch of exposed skin.
When they halted at the juncture between her thighs, Mattie swallowed heavily, realizing one moment of truth had presented itself. Now she’d find out his reaction to her overriding his instructions to the aesthetician at the spa.
If she’d expected a response, she was disappointed. He continued his discourse as if the waxed, smooth surface of her mound was nothing new. “Did you or did you not draw the attention of nearly every man in this place?” He waited patiently for her answer.
“Not every man. There were a few who approached me and Lyssa, but when we said we were just checking things out…”
“That’s one.”
“One what?”
“Rule you’ve broken.”
“No, I didn’t…”
“Were you or were you not alone with another man?” Bryce demanded.
“No.” Mattie met his gaze without flinching. “My sister was with me at all times.”
“Not good enough, Lawrence.”
Planting her hands on her hips, she glared right back at him. “No way, Halsey. You said rule number one was that I can’t be alone with any man or former lover. I wasn’t. My sister was with me at all times.”
“Not. Good. Enough.” Stepping up to her, Bryce gripped her chin, his pale green eyes boring into hers as he retorted, “Alone means without your master, Lawrence. And since, for all intents and purposes, during this trial week I am your master, you were here alone.”
From the bed, Bryce grabbed two black leather cuffs. “Hands.”
Mattie didn’t bother fighting him. Hell, her tits were getting warm and her nipples were hard as pebbles at the thought of the black leather in his hands. Verbal resistance was one thing, but physical? No. Especially since the idea of his delivering another spanking had her so aroused she was already reminding herself she wasn’t allowed to climax without his permission.
She watched Bryce take his time buckling each of the black leather cuffs onto her wrists before he grabbed another set and fastened them around her ankles. Bryce returned to the armoire to remove a few more items, all of which had Mattie breathing just a tad more quickly.
He tossed the length of black leather with silver clasps at each end on the bed, along with two shorter silver chains sporting the same clasps at each end, and had her shifting her feet to ease the ache between her thighs. In his hands he carried an unusual black belt, easily three inches wide with small stainless steel O-rings attached at intervals around it.
Without a word, he threaded it around her waist and cinched it closed. Running a finger between the belt and her skin, Bryce seemed to be checking to make sure he hadn’t made it too tight. She didn’t protest anything he did. Her curiosity overrode her fear as much as her arousal was dr
iving her need to find out what he had planned for her.
Stepping away from her once he’d cinched the belt at her hips snugly, Bryce motioned her to follow him toward the bed. Gathering the black leather strap from the mattress, he pointed at the floor directly in front of the high-perched bed.
Feet planted where he directed, Mattie waited, silently fuming over his stubborn point of view. At the same time, she couldn’t still the zing of arousal tightening her nipples into stiff peaks or coating her sex with cream that threatened to leak onto her thighs at any moment.
“Hands,” he ordered again.
Holding her hands up, Mattie watched as Bryce secured the clamp through the steel D-rings on the cuffs. “This isn’t fair,” she muttered, unable to keep silent as he moved away from her.
The leather strap landed on the bed again, but remained there only long enough for Bryce to round the end of the bed and pick it up. Facing her across the black suede expanse, he didn’t bother responding to her comments. Instead, he tugged on the strap until Mattie found herself bent over the bed, the suede soft against her sensitive nipples, the pinch of the plug she’d put in place before leaving to pick up Lyssa sending a jolt of arousal through her ass and into her pussy.
Opposite her, Bryce squatted beside the bed. The sound of metal and leather scraping against each other had her pulse racing. He’d actually bound her to the frame of the mattress. Pulling back slightly, Mattie realized there was very little play in the strap securing her in place.
The stroke of his hands along her arms and over her shoulders had Mattie staring up at him. “Not too tight?” His touch smoothed between her belly and the comforter she rested on, before skating upward to cup her swollen breasts and lightly pinch the firm crests of her nipples.
“Bryce?” She swallowed again, hoping the crack in her voice didn’t betray the strange mixture of arousal and fear snaking its way along her spine. “What are you going to do?”
“Spanking doesn’t seem to be working on you, Lawrence.” His tone was casual as he eased onto the bed, his fingers threading through her hair, pulling it away from her eyes and off her neck.