Authors: Morgan Ashbury
“All right. You’ve succeeded in making me feel sorry for her.”
“Good. She’s always been very pleasant to me. She’s one of my customers, too. Quite well read, with very eclectic tastes, and a willingness to try new things.”
Jordan wondered at the odd note in Marcus’s voice. Then he let it go. He hungered. He hungered both for food, and his lover.
Setting down his glass, he slid closer, caressed Marcus’s face, then leaned forward, placing his mouth on his. Marcus opened wide for Jordan’s tongue, and his lover’s generosity, as always, fired his
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blood. Jordan took the kiss deep, his tongue swirling and commanding, an edge of need, greed and demand seeping in.
Marcus groaned in a way that told Jordan the sub in him relished the change in mood.
“On your knees.” Jordan couldn’t keep the raggedness out of his voice. Marcus hurried to obey, turning around, kneeling on the submerged bench, his hands gripping the edge of the tub. Jordan noted the shaking, the almost unconscious way Marcus lifted his ass higher, spreading his knees—offering himself to Jordan.
Reaching above his submissive lover, Jordan grabbed a condom out of the box they kept on the shelf.
He donned the protection quickly, then teased Marcus by brushing his latex covered cock over his anus while his right hand pressed the dispenser of the bottle of waterproof lubricant sitting next to the condoms.
Sex in the hot tub had become a favored thrill for them both.
Applying the cool gel, preparing the way with a finger, Jordan leaned over Marcus’s back, placing kisses on his neck, using his tongue to taste and tease his earlobe.
“What do you want, Marcus?”
Marcus trembled and groaned as Jordan worked his finger in and out of him. “You. I want your cock buried in my ass. Please, Jordan.”
“Do you? I don’t think I quite heard what you said. Why not try asking again, properly this time?”
Marcus fell into the role, into the game, as naturally as breathing.
Jordan never had to wait for his lover to weigh his options or consider his choices. Jordan demanded. Marcus submitted.
“Please, master. Please fuck me. Fuck my ass.”
“Yes.” Jordan pressed forward and the way Marcus’s sphincter gave way, opened, allowing for immediate and complete penetration, thrilled him.
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Morgan Ashbury
He buried his cock deep and felt it held in a tight, hot clasp.
Reaching forward, he grasped Marcus’s penis in a firm and steady grip.
“Take it, Marcus. Move. Pleasure us both.” Jordan groaned as his lover began a slow back and forth swaying of hips, a movement that not only precipitated a heavy fucking of his ass by Jordan’s cock, it moved the cock in Jordan’s hand, too. Sliding, melting, caressing, all worked together to feed the flames of Jordan’s passion. He wanted more, needed more.
“Faster, Marcus. Move faster. Service your master.” The rhythm increased and Jordan relished the hot, hard slide, the incredible glide. He put his weight on his lover and reached his other hand around so he could cup the man’s balls at the same time he pumped his cock.
“Oh
yes
.”
Marcus’s hiss of pleasure filled Jordan’s heart with equal parts lust and love. Unable to restrain himself a moment more, he said only,
“Hold on.”
Marcus stopped moving, grabbed the edge of the tub more securely, and held on. Jordan would have laughed if the need to take, to rush headlong to climax, wasn’t so strong. He relinquished Marcus’s sac, grabbed his hip, and began to pound into him with a fast, biting cadence. Reaching, driving, he felt his lover’s cock begin to twitch and jerk in his hand just as his own ejaculation shot hot semen into the sheath that protected them both.
Collapsing on Marcus, trusting in his lover to support him, Jordan struggled for breath. His heartbeat slowed, and tenderness filled him.
He brushed a gentle kiss on Marcus’s neck.
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“Never. You’ve never hurt me. It’s always so good between us.”
“It is.”
He moved carefully, withdrawing from Marcus and reaching for a small towel to help him with the aftermath of climax.
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“Do you want more wine?” Marcus asked.
Jordan smiled at the heavy lidded, sated look on his lover’s face.
“Yes, but in the living room. Much longer in here and I’ll either turn into a prune or fall asleep. I’ll get our robes.” Jordan grabbed a large towel as he got out of the tub and dried himself briskly. Then he padded to the closet, took out identical white, thick terry robes.
Handing one to Marcus, he pulled on the other.
“You could use the sleep,” Marcus commented as he shrugged on the soft garment. “Are you going to the club tonight?”
“No. I want to stay home with you, eat that incredible-smelling dinner you’ve cooked, and relax. Tomorrow is soon enough to go in though I may need to spend most of the afternoon and evening there.”
“Of course you will. I’m glad you’re staying in tonight. We could watch a movie after dinner.”
“That sounds perfect.”
And it did. Yes, he might still be on the young side to relish hearth and home as much as he did. But if experiences and trauma added years, then he figured he had already slid into advanced middle age.
22
Morgan Ashbury
For the first time in her life, Chastity Sawyer called in sick to work. Since she was the boss, she thought it probably a pretty bad thing to have done.
That would make it her first bad thing, ever.
She’d awakened feeling as if a bubble of thick gooey gelatin had formed around her. Her eyes felt scratchy and her throat raw. She could almost believe she’d indulged in a first-class crying jag the night before—except she hadn’t.
No tears had come as she’d sat for hours in one of the exquisitely designed imported Finkeldei chairs that graced her living area. The occasion marked another first for her. Never had she spent an entire evening sitting in one chair, doing nothing.
She’d been raised to utilize every spare bit of time as if failing to do so constituted the greatest sin known to mankind. Idle hands and all that. Grandmother had been unrelenting in her discipline and her life lessons, until Chastity had grown into a—what?
As she’d sat and watched the shadows lengthen outside her wide picture window, she re-lived every moment from the instant she heard Blake’s voice until she had fled to the sanctuary of her own penthouse. She revisited her grandmother’s reaction to her revelations and one question formed, drowning out every other thought:
What
about me?
She’d done her best to please her grandmother in every endeavor, because it had been the
right
thing to do. She’d made that effort secure in the knowledge that despite Gertrude’s seemingly cold and unfeeling ways, she always had Chastity’s best interests at heart.
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When Chastity had at last fallen into a fitful sleep, she’d been accompanied by the realization that Gertrude didn’t truly care for
Chastity
nearly as much as she cared about herself, her reputation, and the family name.
Words chased her in her sleep, not the words whispered post-coital by Blakey and his floozy, Miranda, but those overheard earlier in the day. The entire scene played out in her dreams, as if she lived it over again.
She had ten minutes before her scheduled meeting with Ms.
Harper, the special events coordinator of the Royal Marquise Hotel.
The Sawyer Trust would be holding its annual gala and fundraiser
there again this year, and as director of the Trust, a charitable
foundation, the legacy of her father’s family, seeing to the details of
the event was her responsibility.
Taking advantage of the opportunity before the meeting, Chastity
availed herself of the ladies room.
From inside the stall she heard the sound of the restroom door
opening, admitting two giggling, chattering and unseen women.
“Oh my God. You have got to be shitting me.”
“I am not. Jackson took me there last night.”
“Jackson took you to Reckless Abandon? Who would have
thought he knew about such a place? Jackson!”
“He learned one of his friends had a membership there and so he
arranged for a guest pass without telling me, as a surprise. And boy,
was I ever surprised!”
“So, what’s it like? I’ve heard so many rumors about that place.
Could you hear people screaming? Did you see anyone walking
around with whips and chains? Is it really a sex club? Did you, like,
see people doing
it
?”
“We saw a lot of wild things, let me tell you.” The female voice
dipped conspiratorially and Chastity could barely make out the next
words. “I had the best orgasm of my entire life.”
“Oh. My. God.”
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Morgan Ashbury
To Chastity it sounded as if the second woman, the one who
hadn’t gone to Reckless Abandon, was having her own orgasm right
then and there.
“I have got to go to that club!”
“Couples only, with a membership. It’s all legal and everything.
Single men can’t join. From what Jackson told me, if a woman goes
there alone she might as well be wearing a sign advertising ‘Master
wanted, fuck me please.’ It is not a scene for good girls, if you get my
drift.”
“Maybe I am ready to be bad. Very, very bad.”
Chastity heard the sound of two toilets flushing, then water
running in the sinks before the two women left the bathroom, still
giggling about Reckless Abandon.
Chastity had awakened, awash in embarrassment, and strangely lethargic. So she took the day off, but had no idea whatsoever what she would do with the vast plain of time stretching out before her.
The memory of her dream, however, and of the actual incident yesterday, wouldn’t leave her be. A wild idea began to take shape.
She had spent a lifetime being a good girl, doing all that had been expected of her and more, and what had been her reward?
Betrayal by the only two people in the world she loved.
Maybe the time had come to stop being a good girl. Maybe the time had come to stop putting everyone else’s happiness ahead of her own.
If I’m going to be bad, I should dress the part
.
She had no concept of what kind of club Reckless Abandon was, really. There’d been clues in the whispered confidences yesterday.
Whips and chains and sex. That sounded extremely bad to her—and extremely bad sounded like
just
what she needed. The time had come to turn a page in her life, to emulate her grandmother and her former fiancé, who didn’t yet know he had been kicked into the “former” category. The time had come for Chastity to think only of Chastity.
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25
She liked the name of the club. Perhaps that would be the hallmark of how she’d live her life from now on, with
reckless
abandon
.
Chastity doubted the club really had sex being practiced on site.
She’d never heard of a sex club operating in the city. Not that she would have heard about one, necessarily. Private club or not, she couldn’t imagine that indulging in orgies was legal. Likely the whips and chains had been only props, part of the costumes the patrons wore. All that aside, it might still be a good place to meet a handsome stud.
One who would do delicious things to her with his cock.
Chastity slapped a hand over her mouth to contain her giggle.
Well, why the hell not? Before she could think better of it, she dashed into her bedroom and yanked open her underwear drawer. A sea of staid and boring intimate apparel in white and pastel pink stared back at her.
Not good. Not good at all
.
What she needed was some sexy, kick ass fuck-me scraps of nothing in black and hooker red. Refusing to allow another thought to form, telling her logic and her principles to go get screwed, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
Chastity knew just the place to shop. She’d never actually gone into the store, but so what? She had a feeling she stood on the edge of a precipice, about to embark on a whole lot of new experiences, starting right now.
* * * *
Jordan worked steadily through late afternoon and into the evening, taking care of the myriad details of club ownership neglected over the week he’d been in L.A.
He’d developed a workable rhythm, his eyes focusing every now and then to the television monitors that showed him the activity at the
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Morgan Ashbury
door, at the two bars, and upstairs in the ‘play’ area. He usually took a stroll through the club a few times a night, acknowledging longtime members, keeping an eye out for troublemakers, and sometimes just enjoying the atmosphere.
On occasion, he would step into a game, if invited. Mostly these days, he just watched.
He’d opened Reckless Abandon four years ago, and it had proven a lucrative investment. Who better to run a BDSM club than a man who indulged in the fetish?
He understood his need to be in control of his life, his environment, and his relationships. He knew where it came from, and because he did, he’d been able to deal with it to a certain extent.
He still enjoyed playing out a scene every once in a while, and so did Marcus. His lover liked to hand over the reins of control. When he thought about that for any length of time, Jordan couldn’t help but smile. Knowing Marcus trusted him absolutely gave him a wonderful feeling.
Motion on one of the monitors caught his attention. He looked up and went perfectly still. He’d never seen the brunette dressed quite that way before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognize her.
Chastity Sawyer stood just inside the club entrance, trying to talk her way past Philip, his chief of security. Nervousness radiated off her in waves, but he read the look of determination in her eyes. He imagined what Philip was saying to her—that this was a private club, and she could only gain admittance either by accompanying a member, or after applying for membership, which would have to be sponsored by a club member.