What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (32 page)

When she blinked up at him blearily, she managed to ask, “Is this how you’re going to win every fight?”

“Did it work?”

“God, yes.”

The warmth of his laugh brushed over her wet skin and she moaned at the torment. “Then count on it, baby.” With a last feather-light touch of his lips against hers, he straightened. “Sadly, that’s enough playing for now. We need to eat and get a move on.”

He set her away. When she made no move toward the table, he turned her around and with a gentle pat, sent her in that direction.

“Coffee,” she mumbled, making a beeline to the pot.

“Warm me up, will you, darlin’?”

Once she’d poured and carried both of their mugs to the table, something occurred to her. “Uh, T? About tonight. What if I had other plans?”

“We’d rearrange things.” She watched as he slid perfectly fried eggs onto two plates—four on one, two on the other—along with golden brown buttered toast and crispy bacon. With a plate in each hand, he came to the table. “Do you? Have other plans, that is?”

“No, but—”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“For future reference.”

“Angie, quit messing around and thinking up problems that we don’t have.” He bent sideways, enough to kiss the top of her head as he set her plate in front of her, then took his seat across from her. “I’m not such a hardass that I don’t know how to compromise.”

“Yeah? What about Dan being hands off? Was that compromise or penis shit?’

He barked out a laugh. “I think you know, darlin’, but I prefer to call it Dom shit. Now eat up. You’ll need your strength to keep up with me when I have you flat on your back.”

“In more ways than one,” Angie murmured under her breath.

Her under wasn’t under enough because he replied, “I was referring to Rossi again. You’ve got a one track mind, baby.”

She acted as though she hadn’t heard that last bit. “I’ll keep up with you, Sarge. Never fear.”

“You didn’t fare so well in the past if you recall.”

Her gaze arched slowly up at him. “How could I forget? I fondly remember having your balls in a vice, don’t you, sweetie? I think of that day often and have always yearned to relive it.”

“You think you can pull off that move a second time, little girl?”

“I’m only little to you, because you’re ginormous. To everyone else I’m above average, and I’ve learned some new moves, I’ll have you know.”

“Money says I have you crying uncle in under an hour.”

“You’re so cocky. I’ll take that bet!” As she took in his confident, teasing grin along with the breadth of his massive shoulders, she swallowed hard, instantly regretting her impetuosity. But she powered through, boldly asking, “How much do I get if I win? I need to go shopping.”

“If you win, I’ll take you shopping myself. When I win, you can forget about cash and goods. I’ll collect in services rendered. In fact, you’ll pay off your debt in the flesh… tonight.” With a self-assured expression, he tucked into his eggs.

As for Angie, the idea of servicing T in the flesh made her heart rate kick up a notch and caused moisture to gather in still tender places. Maybe, she decided, having her dominant lover as her trainer wouldn’t be all that bad. His shit eating grin while he chewed his toast watching her, told her it was going to be worse.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mesmerized by the sheer beauty of what Jonas had created, Angie barely noticed T shift behind her or his whispered reply to the man by his side. Lexie, who was draped artfully in a brilliant sapphire blue swath of fabric while suspended high above the crowded main floor, had her full attention. She’d never seen anything like it. Her friend appeared to float in midair, her back bowed sharply while both arms arced over her head, one leg in counter point, she formed an incomplete circle. As limber as she appeared, Angie had no doubt she could have closed the ring with her body, but Jonas had chosen to finish it, about a quarter of it, with his ropes. Fashioned like the spokes of a wheel, the ropes linked her body to a center hub, Lexie’s sleek form acting as the outer rim of the circle as she spun slowly from a suspension cable in the ceiling. Her free leg was pointed downward, the end of the sapphire silk wrapped around it, lightly flapping in the breeze made by a fan far beneath her.

She looked like an ice skater in a spin at the end of a performance, who with stunning flexibility, pulled one leg over her head. But her skate leg wasn’t touching down. Instead, she flew weightless and fluid overhead, as if the ropes that held her, rather than lifting her up in suspension, were really constraining her. That without them, like a free spirit, she would take flight or drift free.

“Beautiful,” Angie whispered under her breath.

“Agreed.” T’s deep rumble came next to her ear. “Jonas really is a master at his craft and Lexie his perfect subject.”

From their vantage point at the second floor railing, Angie had a perfect view of the Shibari demonstration. Everything else had ceased in the club as all eyes were directed to the beautiful, graceful woman suspended in the middle of the dark space over the main playroom. Soft light spotlighted her from several angles, the display breathtaking in its uniqueness and beauty.

Awestruck, Angie could hardly look away, taking in every nuance of Lexie’s seemingly effortless pose. She did briefly follow the long line of her free leg, passed her pointed toes, and along the taut rope that was held securely at the end by the skilled hands of her Master. Jonas’ attention was aimed skyward, never taking his focus from his beautiful dorei, which T had told her meant rope slave. He worked the rope so she slowly revolved allowing the rapt audience to view her beauty from every angle, all three-hundred sixty degrees of it.

The only interruption of the scene was an occasional flash as the photographer who was capturing it all, snapped pictures from different points in the room.

“When does their second book come out?”

“I think they’re just starting on this one, so it will be months, possibly next year before it’s published. I heard the first was up for some kind of award for the photography.” Like Angie, T pitched his voice to a low whisper, unwilling to disturb the magic Jonas and Lexie had created. “Jonas told me he expects this one will take longer, having to up the ante with more intricate poses than the last. He’s doing a chapter with two slaves for this book and still looking for the second model.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered in awe. “She’s beautiful.”

“He was hoping you might be interested.”

Twisting in his arms, she blinked up at him in shock. “In modeling? Why me?”

“You could be Lexie’s twin, beautiful. Has no one ever told you? Except for the difference in hair color, you’re both tall, fit, both with killer curves and a graceful bearing. He’s watched you train and thinks with a little work, you’d be ready. Jonas says he plans to have Lexie take the brunt of the workload as far as suspensions and inversions go since she’s an experienced rope model. He mentioned a pose he had in mind, a side suspension parallel to the floor with the other model, you perhaps, reflecting her pose from the floor. He wanted to do several poses, mirror images he called them, and name the chapter reflections or mirrors, or something like that.”

“Me posing in ropes,” she murmured aloud, trying to wrap her head around such a farfetched idea. “That’s something we haven’t done.”

“Baby, there are tons of things we haven’t done. As for Shibari, I know the basics. If you’re interested, I’ll arrange a session in the rope room soon and you can try them on for size, so to speak. I enjoy it. If you do as well, we can add that to our play on occasion. I’m nowhere near the skill level of Jonas—he lived in Japan for several years and trained under a Shibari Master—but I can hold my own with amateurs.”

“The photos would require me to be naked, right?” She had turned back, watching while she relaxed against T’s chest, her attention once again riveted on Lexie.

“Yes, but look closely. Do you see a naked submissive in bondage when you do? Or a thing of beauty, a work of art?”

Silently, she observed for another moment mulling it around in her head. To be considered to be a part of something so artistic was an honor. “The way he has her posed and draped and tied, I barely see her skin. It all blends perfectly together into, as you say, a beautiful work of art.” It was also sensual and exciting, and the thought of T tying her, posing her, touching her naked skin as he did so, and fucking her while she hung immobilized and vulnerable to his control and possession...

“When can we get that room for a trial?” she blurted out, nearly convinced to do the photos already.

The lights dimmed on the stage, an indication that Jonas and Lexie’s demonstration was over. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the applause. “Soon, but if you’re as into the real thing as much as the idea of it, I’m thinking Jonas has a new model.”

She beamed up at him and he hugged her to him, his lips swooping in for a searing kiss. As he led her away from their place at the railing, she marveled at how vanilla Angie had taken to BDSM and its many nuances like a duck to water.

“I’ll make it happen, baby. For now, however, we have a room reserved upstairs.”

“Are you going to tell me which one or make me guess?”

“Patience, little bit. I think you’re going to like my surprise. Let’s go.”

*****

“Strip.” The one word order said in his deep voice sent a warm thrill racing through her body. Authoritative, yet husky with arousal, she longed to see the face that bespoke so much emotion. She’d have to wait, the blindfold he’d slipped over her eyes in the hallway blocking out everything except the sound of his voice, and the closing of the door as he guided her inside the mysterious theme room. Eager to find out what he had in store for her, she obeyed. Slipping her thumbs in the narrow straps of her dress, she pulled it free of her shoulders, giving a slight wiggle at her hips as she let it fall to her feet.

“Panties, too,” T prompted when she paused.

Whisking the miniscule scrap of lace over her hips and down her legs, she kicked them and her dress away, unfolding her body to stand naked and trembling, impatiently awaiting what came next.

“Very nice,” he murmured as his fingertip circled first one nipple, then the other. Both were poking out arrow straight from the chill of the A/C in the room. When he next spoke, she startled slightly, finding he had moved behind her. “Link your hands at your back.”

The familiar ratcheting sound of metal handcuffs rang out as he locked her wrists together. “Be careful with these. I prefer fleece lined leather, but these fit the theme of the room so well. No pulling or tugging that will leave marks. Any lingering redness or stripes on your gorgeous skin will be intentional and by my hand, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Kneel.”

Awkwardly, she lowered herself to her knees, not realizing until now how much her arms played a role in balance. The floor was cold and hard, not heated as it was on the main club floor. She heard his footsteps as he moved again and knew he stood in front of her as his hand cupped her jaw.

“There is the matter of repayment on our bet.” He slipped off the blindfold.

Angie’s eyelids fluttered as she adjusted to the light. Standing close, nearly touching, he was all she could see and all she wanted to at the moment. He shifted slightly and something smooth and cool touched her nipple. Glancing down she sucked in a ragged breath as she watch him circle the taut ruched tip with a polished, side-handle, wooden knight stick. Having carried this exact kind during her stint as a beat cop, she knew it to be a formidable weapon of self-defense. Like the handcuffs, seeing it as a prop in a scene room at a sex club, well, her dirty mind thought up all manner of naughtiness for their usage.

She looked passed the baton to the big hand that guided it gently, using it to caress her breasts which were thrust forward by her cuffed position. As he teased her, her gaze traveled beyond his hand and up the muscled forearm to the short sleeved black t-shirt that conformed to his rippling biceps, broad shoulders and chest. He was fully clothed, but she undressed him in her mind and eagerly anticipated the point in the scene when imagination became reality and he wouldn’t be.

Her greedy perusal of his body was interrupted when he crouched, bringing his face level with her own. The stick moved as he did, gliding down the midline of her body, the destination now unmistakable. Her tongue came out and licked her dry lips.

Their eyes clashed, his watching her response as he moved the baton into the dampness between her thighs. As it road along her slit, slowly parting her lower lips ever so slightly, Angie’s mouth fell open on a gasp.

“Are you ready to pay up?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“It seems, ah—” The wood hit a particularly sensitive spot and she stopped, having to swallow in order to continue. “It seems I don’t have much choice.”

“There’s where you’re wrong, my gorgeous prisoner. You always have a choice.” The wand slid further inward until the handle and the backs of his fingers bumped against her mound. He began a slow, teasing glide backward along the same seductive path. “Do you recall your options?”

“Yes, Sir. Submit—” The torment continued as he reversed course once again, applying more pressure, creating such a delicious friction against her tender parts that she forgot what she was saying.

“And the other choice?” he prompted, but couldn’t possibly expect her to answer when he changed the angle enough for the tip to glide with excruciating slowness right over and around her clit. She moaned, swaying a bit at the pleasure, then it abruptly went away. He caught her chin with the end of baton, lifting her face up to his. The scent of her wetness on the wood surrounded them.

“No rewards if you don’t cooperate. Answer my question.”

Her sluggish brain replayed their disjointed conversation—pay up, choices, submit, or— “Safewords,” she blurted out as it came to her. “I can submit or use my safewords, Sir.”