Authors: Cheyenne McCray
I sat there for another fifteen minutes before a tickle along my spine told me someone was approaching from behind. Finally.
This one flashed a too-white movie-star grin, and no doubt that was Versace he was wearing. He carried the light scent of a French spa cologne. Hey, I knew my stuff, my training was extensive. This guy had to have loads of cash.
“Would you like to join me at my table?” He had a line that wasn’t original enough for a girl like me even if I was interested.
“No, thank you,” I said, and looked away, dismissing him. Door number five casually made his way to me through the crowd.
“First time I’ve seen you here,” the blond said. Not original but he had the look of a man’s man, so I let it pass. He had the body of a runner, slim and athletic, and wore a button-up blue shirt and Levis.
“First time I’ve been here.” The smile that touched my lips was sultry and seductive. I reached out my free hand and touched the top button of his shirt.
And my, my, my. A bulge started to expand his jeans. Hmmm. Not bad. I adjusted my legs so that the studs on the leather ankle cuff caught sparks of light.
He glanced at it and I fisted my hand in his shirt and drew , him close. “Do you know what that signifies?” I said before I released him. I glanced at his jeans. That man had one nice package.
When my eyes met his he shrugged. “A leather ankle cuff.”
Too bad. “If you don’t know what it means, then I guess you’ll never find out.”
I sipped my lemon drop before I added, “From me.”
He shook his head and smiled before turning away. A low, rich voice came from behind me, a voice I didn’t recognize. “I know.”
I almost spit out the drink I’d just taken.
He placed his warm hands on my shoulders and wouldn’t let me swivel in my seat to face him. Then his mouth was next to my ear and he said in a smooth-as-melted-chocolate voice, “I know exactly why you wear that cuff.” I swallowed, my chin high, and wished I could face him.
“So tell me.”
“You enjoy indulging in certain, shall we say . . . proclivities? The cuff means you’re currently unattached.” He massaged my shoulders and I shivered. “If you were wearing a collar I’d know you had a Dom.”
He slowly turned me to face him.
Lucca Tarantino.
The owner of the Crystal Twilight and target number one.
Dark, handsome, and sexy as an Italian god.
He faced the bartender and I maintained my sensual expression. “I’ll have a martini straight up, and the lady’s drink is on the house.”
When he faced me again, I put all the desire I could into my smile that showed I was interested, very interested. “And who is the gentleman buying my martini?” I said as I leaned against the bar and let my breasts jut out. By the look in his incredible green eyes, it was clear he liked what he saw.
“Lucca Tarantino. I own the Twilight.” He took my hand and ran his finger over my palm in a slow stroke. He smiled. “What is your name, cara?” “Alexi Adams.”
“Alexi...” My name rolling out in that oh-so-hot Italian accent caused warmth to flush beneath my skin. “I understand you have a special invitation for tonight.”
“Yes,” I said, making my voice husky with desire. Lucca Tarantino was sensual and gorgeous so it wasn’t that much of a hardship to pretend. If he were a different man, I might even seriously be interested.
Tarantino didn’t release my hand as he ran his gaze down my body, skimming slowly over my nearly bared breasts, on to my midriff with the diamond piercing, and the minuscule leather skirt. He paused for a moment as he looked at the studded cuff on my right ankle, above my three-inch spiked heels.
He stroked my palm a little more, still not releasing my hand. ‘Tell me, Alexi, why exactly do you think you might find a Dom here?”
I opened my handbag and slipped out the invitation. I leaned closer to let him feel my body heat without allowing myself to actually touch him. Or fall off my seat. “A friend told me that I might find what I’m looking for in the Crystal Twilight” Tarantino slipped the invitation from my fingers. He was a good six inches taller than me so he had to lower his head to move his mouth to my ear. “Bondage? Domination?” “Mmmmmm.” I let my lips barely slide along his jawline and breathed in his sandalwood aftershave. “The whole package.”
When Tarantino drew away, his expression was intensely sexual. He had that 007 and Italian playboy look down pat. “Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy this evening.” I sipped my martini, its flavor tart in my mouth. I lowered my glass and ran my tongue along my lower lip, tasting the sugar left from the edge of the martini glass. I met Tarantino’s gaze. “I’m ready when you are.”
March 30
Saturday night
Tarantino tucked the envelope into his suit jacket before he took my hand and helped me down from the stool. Even while I held my lemon drop martini in my other hand, I managed to move gracefully.
Damn, I’m good.
When I was on my feet, Tarantino released me to take his own martini.
Tarantino got points for making sure he measured his strides to match mine.
He placed his hand on the bare skin at the base of my spine, below my corset.
I gave myself credit for not moving away when he moved his finger in a slow, erotic circle. He was gorgeous, but that didn’t mean every gorgeous guy got to pet me. But I was here to play a role and I’d play it good.
Then the thought flashed through my mind that he could be taking me to be auctioned like the women who’d been kidnapped. But that thought fled as we slipped through a back entrance and past a guard who nodded to Tarantino.
The lounge had definite Italian flare. Robust and beautifully decorated accessories including knickknacks on the strategically displayed tables and end tables gave the room Italian charm. Oil paintings graced the walls, and there were too many carved wood and alabaster items to count. It didn’t look cluttered at all. It was fabulous and made me feel like I was in Old Italy. A full bar also ran along one side of the room.
The room smelled like what I remembered of the intoxicating scents of the Riviera dei Fiori when I did a job for RED in Italy. The River of Flowers.
Beautiful. I gradually returned to reality—
And realized I was virtually on display.
The eyes of every man and woman in the cozy lounge focused on me. Some of the men and women made it obvious they were stripping me with their gazes, while others gave appreciative smiles. None of them wore collars. This was a Dom’s lounge.
Tarantino stood behind me as I swallowed back the desire to turn and run.
No, I could do this.
Men and women decked out in various forms of fairly revealing leather lounged around on the luxurious furniture, while many stood at the bar.
I lowered my eyes like a sub would. And realized my fingers were aching from gripping my clutch purse so tightly. Where was Donovan? He was supposed to arrive before me.
As I adjusted myself to my surroundings, I almost didn’t notice Tarantino’s warm hands on my backside until he started massaging through the soft leather skirt. He murmured close to my ear in his melting Italian accent.
“I’d love to take you for one of my subs.” He trailed his lips along my jawline.
“If I was in the position to, I would,” he added. “But you can have your choice of any unattached Dom you’d like.”
Tarantino nipped my earlobe. “Not only are you one of the most beautiful women here,” he continued, “we’re short on females at the present.” He moved one hand under my leather skirt and rubbed it over one of the cheeks that had been left bare thanks to the thong I was wearing. “I could never imagine any of the men—or women—refusing yow.” I forced myself to stand still and, instead of letting my surprise show, I sipped my martini, then looked at Tarantino over my shoulder. “And if I refuse any of them?”
Tarantino took me by the shoulders and brought me around to face him, but I still kept my eyes lowered like I’d be expected to. “No one is forced to do anything they choose not to at the Twilight.”
I nodded and his fingers slid across mine as he took my empty martini glass from my hand. When did I finish drinking it?
“Sex is reserved for the private rooms. Some of the rooms you can watch or be watched. Other rooms you may enjoy your partner or partners in solitude.”
I could deal with the private room part. Donovan and I could lock ourselves away and do nothing. Or maybe we would end up doing far too much.
Yes, please, my rowdy hormones seemed to plead. Tarantino leaned close.
“Every new Dom and sub go through a ‘test’ that is very public. Entirely revealing. Helps with our screening process.”
Yeager had prepared us on this and, even though the thought still made me nervous as hell, I nodded. “Of course.” Tarantino gave a smile filled with sexual promise. “As they say, ‘what happens in the heart of the Crystal Twilight stays in the Twilight.’”
Then he leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “The other three club owners have one more special provision in our inner circle.” I couldn’t help the little shiver of unease that ran down my spine. What provision? “The three of us get to enjoy all of the new subs at least once, with or without their Doms present. Our club, our rules.”
I nodded. Damn. That wasn’t standard protocol for a BDSM club or relationship.
“And,” he added in that same voice that was making me so hot, “I think I might have to fuck you before anyone else has a chance to.”
Not on your life, I thought, but managed to keep my mouth shut.
He gave me a sensual smile. “But first things first.”
He gave a slight incline of his head to his right and I followed his gaze. A woman with flawless dark brown skin and long, shapely legs approached us.
She was unbelievably tall in her five-inch-heeled thigh-high boots. She had lush red lips, countless long black braids, and a body as great as Georgina’s.
She wore a leather corset and a leather thong—
And she carried a whip. One hell of a whip. “Mistress Danica will have you prepared,” Lucca Tarantino said, and this time there was a little amusement to his tone. “She has a special touch with submissives.” She snapped the whip almost lightly, but still with a cracking sound.
I looked up at Tarantino. “Enjoy, little sub.” He gave another sensual smile and walked away.
Donovan. Where was he? What if he didn’t make it in for some reason?
“Slave.” Danica’s voice was harsh. She sounded like a major bitch. I met her brown eyes and she frowned and snapped the whip. She glanced at my ankle cuff. “You should know better than to look up without permission from a Dom.” Bite me, I wanted to say. But she probably would have. I kept my eyes downcast and stared at those five-inchheeled boots. How the hell did she wear such high?
“I just gave you an order. What do you say, slave?”
Of course, with my research. I knew what she expected. With Perry I’d planned on being on her end of the whip, not on the receiving end.
“Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said, as submissively as I could.
“Keep your eyes down and come forward, slave.” Now I was staring at her rounded backside as it swayed almost hypnotically in front of me. With her height and those heels I was practically eye-to-butt level. The hardwood floor clicked under our heels as Mistress Danica led me through the room. From the corners of my eyes I saw more appreciative glances from men and women, and even heard murmurs about my attributes. “I’d like to spank that cute—“
‘That one’s got fire in her.” “All the better to burn.” “Hot little package.”
Moisture didn’t want to go down my throat as I tried to swallow. We passed one blond woman sitting on the arm of a couch and she pinched me under my skirt as I walked by. I made a little sound of surprise and almost stumbled.
The blond laughed.
“Don’t make a sound without my permission, slave,” Danica said as she continued walking.
“Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said to her butt. In truth, submissives weren’t doormats. They held the power over their Doms, which was something I’d learned right from the start of my research. According to everything I’d read and seen subs held the true power—the power of giving their Dom pleasure.
But as I followed Danica and held onto my clutch, I had a feeling nothing was going to be easy tonight. Danica guided me to a room that smelled of almonds and vanilla, and reminded me of a massage parlor. It had a couple of massage tables, vials of oils, and warmers for hot towels. The clear view of a shower was to my left, and rows of tall and short lockers in front of me. To my right were a man and a woman. Each stood with their feet shoulder-width apart, their hands clasped behind their backs, and their eyes lowered. And each of them wore black leather that didn’t cover a whole lot.
A slow burn rolled under my skin. Here we go.
“Slave Kathy and slave Samuel, this is our newest slave. She hasn’t earned the right to be called by her name. Yet.”
Oh, great. Slave no-name, that’s me.
Danica swung around to face me, and now I was looking at her crotch instead of her backside. Terrific. “Slaves Kathy and Samuel will strip you and prepare you for your first test.”
Strip. Me.
This was real now. It wasn’t practice, it wasn’t something I was still working through in my mind to make sure I got it right. It was real.
Game on.
“Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said, trying to keep my voice respectful.
Danica turned slightly toward Kathy and Samuel. “Put her in that new little crisscross number we just got in. Leave on her heels and her ankle cuff.”
The sigh of relief that they weren’t going to take my ankle cuff almost came out of me in a rush. I managed to hold it in.
“Yes. Mistress Danica,” the two slaves said as one. Danica stepped close to me and cupped my chin in her hand before raising my head so that my eyes met hers. Her long braids swung over her shoulders as she leaned down and brought her face close to mine.
“I bet you’re delicious,” she murmured before she kissed me.
To say I was shocked was an understatement. I’d never been kissed by a woman before. I can’t say it was unpleasant. Her lips were soft, and she slipped her tongue inside my mouth when I opened it in surprise. She tasted sweet and like she’d just had a glass of fine wine, and she smelled like jasmine.