Afterlife (44 page)

wearing at first sight, but

of course she’d tried to choose

something more

conservative, a moderately sexy

black cocktail dress. Jon

had simply taken the black dress out

of her hands, pointed

to the one on the display that Rachel

had truly liked. He’d

had her try it on, but had forbidden

her to look at herself in

the mirror in the dressing room. It

had been difficult to obey

the directive, enough that she’d

closed her eyes and turned

her back to the mirror as she was

dressing. When she

stepped out, it had been worth it. One

look at his face had

been a hundred times better than any

mirror. That, and the

fact that the young assistant manager,

doing inventory at

the blouse rack, had almost dropped

his jaw on the ground.

It was the color that had caught her

eye. Midnight blue

and black, a swirling pattern that

looked like brushstrokes

and splatters of paint across the

extremely snug fabric. Al

those toned yoga muscles were clear

to see under the mini

dress that stopped so high on her

thighs that bending over

would reveal she wore absolutely

nothing under it. The top

was a straight neckline barely above

the line of her nipples,

with a long two-part sash. One pul ed

up from the outside of

her right breast, framing it, the other

coming from behind,

both threaded into a ring on her

shoulder. The tail draped

down her bare back al the way to her

thigh, a floating,

dream-patterned scarf.

Her hair was piled high on her head,

held with a pair of

polished sticks that had whimsical

onyx gemstones shaped

like cat heads. She’d loved them, not

surprised that Jon

bought them, but surprised that he

wanted them as part of

the outfit. It seemed to be a message,

that this night was

about her, who she was, both as a

woman and submissive,

as much as it was about his desires

as her Master.

She’d dusted powder blue glitter

over her arms and

back. Her skin beneath it emanated

scents of lavender and

vanil a, from a new lotion Jon had

picked out for her

specifical y, tasting it on her flesh

right there in the store.

She was pretty sure that the

salesgirls’ toes had curled,

watching him. She knew hers had,

feeling it.

More than a little self-conscious at

the memory, what it

did to her body and mind, she took

the two silk ends of his

tie and began to knot it for him.

Doing the domestic task

shifted her focus, but not so much in a

good way. She

remembered how much she’d

anticipated being a wife,

taking care of a loving husband.

Believing in so many

things that had turned out not to be

true, she’d clung to the

fantasy so desperately, for so long.

That jagged feeling in

her stomach bloomed, but then Jon

bent his head, gripping

her wrist as she finished the knot.

He spent a good five minutes teasing,

nibbling and

suckling her wrist until her knees

were weak and her thighs

were damp. The seesaw of her

emotions slammed her

back down into the dream she never

wanted to end.

He glanced out the window as the

limo pul ed into view. “I

figured we’d have Max drive us. I

assume you have no

objections?” He gave her a look.

“You’re blushing a little bit,

sweet girl. I think from now on, I

better keep you and Dana

apart. She’s a bad influence.”

“Terribly bad,” she agreed, with a

shy smile. “She’s

wonderful. I’l have to invite her over

more often.”

Jon affected a resigned sigh, but

caressed her lower

back, giving her ass an unexpected

but thril ing smack

before he guided her to the front

door, held it for her. Max

let out a wolf whistle as she came

down the steps, and she

blushed even harder. Her legs

trembled, somewhat

because of nerves and residual

weakness from her earlier

shattering experience, but Jon’s hand

was on her elbow,

the other around her waist, guiding

her down the steep

wooden stairs in her dark blue

stiletto heels. She also

noted Max moved to the bottom and

held out a hand as she

took the last step. It made her

remember something else

Dana had said during her visit, while

they were busy

making the salad for that memorable

dinner.

I think they got dubbed the Knights

by that columnist for

a whole different reason. You spend

any time around

these guys, you’ll find they act like

you read about in old

poems. If a woman comes into a

room, they all stand up.

Every one of them is solicitous of

her needs, her comfort,

her safety. Dominating a woman

isn’t just about sex for

them. It’s about protection,

cherishing, guiding. If they

think something’s bad for you, you

may win the point, but

you’ll have to fight tooth and nail

over it. It’s way deep into

sexist territory, but they don’t

apologize a bit for it.

And truth, it really overwhelms you.

The whole time

you’re trying to stand your ground

and tell them you’re not

going to be treated like an egg, it’s

like struggling out of a

Godiva chocolate fudge bath.

“Come on, Max,” Jon drawled.

“You’ve seen me in a suit

plenty of times. No need to get al hot

and bothered over it.”

It made her laugh, helped ease that

tension in her lower

bel y, especial y when she saw Max

grin. She felt included

in something, content, excited… Dare

she say it? Happy?

Max led her to the open door of the

limo, offering her a

warm, reassuring smile that told her

she stil looked a little

keyed up. Jon underscored it when he

got in, drawing her

close to his side. A slight tap on her

knee and meaningful

glance from those steady blue eyes

reminded her, and she

parted them, the gesture helping to

draw her mind to other

things, though things no less capable

of putting butterflies in

her stomach. Especial y when he

curved his warm palm

high on her bare thigh.

This dress was far shorter than the

one she’d wore to the

coffee shop. If Max adjusted his

mirror, it was entirely

possible he could see there were no

panties beneath that

scant covering. He didn’t, but the

idea that he could, that

she’d parted her knees specifical y to

give Jon access to

that part of her, whenever he desired

it, made her restless

in a primal way. It al swamped her

senses—her

appearance, where they were going,

everything they’d

done so far leading up to this

moment. Trying to calm

herself, she took her mind back to the

balcony, when she

and he had done the sun salutations,

side by side,

everything synchronized.

As they drove to the club, Max and

Jon spoke, not

excluding her but not requiring her

participation, and she

was grateful for that. She couldn’t

help getting a little more

nervous, remembering Club More,

but from the moment

they pul ed up to Surreal, the club the

K&A men preferred,

the worry ended. The club was a

large, attractive structure

of white stucco, clean blue and silver

lights bathing a front

awning that showed doormen who

looked like Secret

Service professionals, in suits cut

wel over their broad

shoulders. They wore hands-free

radios and watched the

arrivals and departures through the

valet parking area with

careful eyes.

Unlike Club More’s seedy

surroundings, the nearby

businesses were respectable

establishments. She

recognized the name of the

steakhouse that Cole liked for

his beers and nachos after playing

eighteen holes, though

he’d never taken her there. She

pushed that out of her

mind. Tonight wasn’t about any of

that. Though it did give

her a twinge to realize that he’d been

close to a place like

this so often, known of her longings,

and yet never tried to

take her there. Like Club More, she

hadn’t known much

about Surreal except that it was far

more exclusive, an

expensive membership or hefty guest

fee needed to grace

its doors. Stil , that hefty guest fee

could have been a nice

anniversary present or birthday or…

Stop it, Rachel. What’s the matter

with you?

Jon’s hand closed on hers again,

rubbing her palm,

obviously picking up the distress that

had appeared in her

body language. She made herself

relax. This was another

once-in-a-lifetime experience. She

wasn’t going to lose a

minute of it because of old

resentments or hurts. Instead,

she focused on their destination as

they pul ed into the

parking lot.

Those who chose to park their own

vehicles and walk up

to the club entrance were mostly

couples or groups. While

some sported sexy fashions she might

see outside any

nightclub, she noted some were likely

wearing more blatant

fetish wear, evidenced by the fact

they approached the

door in velvet cloaks or light wraps.

No blatant BDSM attire

outside the club wal s. Others were

carrying travel bags,

suggesting there was a changing area.

“Lucas, Peter and Ben wil be here

tonight,” Jon said as

Max pul ed into the lane opposite the

main entrance. “I’m

looking forward to introducing you.”

He squeezed her thigh, an unspoken

message that could

mean a variety of things. She

wondered if Dana would be

there as wel , but she simply nodded,

trying to hold onto that

earlier euphoria with both hands.

As he helped her out of the car and

gave Max some

instructions, she studied the people

passing her in the

parking lot. This was a world on

whose outskirts she’d

stood for a long time, looking in, so

she admitted the

curiosity was competing with nerves.

It was easy to pick out

Masters or Mistresses, because those

were the ones that,

when their direct gazes turned to her,

she automatical y

shifted hers, an instinct that she

supposed told them clearly

what she was.

The submissives gazed back at her

with as much

interest, most of it openly friendly,

sometimes downright

appraising. As if they knew they

might come into intimate

contact within the wal s of the club,

suggesting such shared

play was part of their relationship

with their Master or

Mistress. She stil wasn’t entirely

sure where Jon stood on

such boundaries, though he was

obviously okay with hints

of it to drive her to distraction. But

the actuality of it? She

wasn’t even sure how she felt about

that tonight.

However, when she’d looked up at

him from the

cushioned sanctuary of his bed, felt

him release inside of

her, it had formed a bond. Right now,

despite her excited

nervousness in this whol y new but

achingly familiar

environment, she felt safe with Jon,

able and wil ing to

explore or be curious about anything

without fear of

misstep. She hoped she could hold

onto that feeling,

because she real y, real y wanted to

do so.

Gripping her elbow, Jon turned her

toward him then,

pressing her back against the side of

the limo. “I told you

not to wear a necklace for a reason

tonight. Lift your chin.”

She did, her eyes glued on him as he

produced a col ar

in a midnight blue velvet that

matched her dress. She

wondered how he’d gotten it so

quickly, but she was

starting to accept that Jon had

amazing resources at his

fingertips. Like her earlier chains, the

col ar had a heart-

shaped padlock in the back as a

fastener. It also had a

dainty silver D-link embedded at the