Club Prive: Sweet Escape (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

Slowly, he pulls my hair until I’m forced to step back, closing the gap between us. He pulls my head to one side, and I smell whiskey on his breath as he leans down, the brush of his beard touching my ear.

“Join me.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrates to my toes and swirls back to settle between my legs.

Join him?

I know what that means. I know what we’ll do when we get there.

My breathing is shallow, making me lightheaded as I consider the possibilities. He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t ask again or try to convince me in any other way. That’s what convinces me to try, to break out of the tight shell I’ve held myself in for so long.

Just one night.

One night with a man I was immediately attracted to.

One night with a man I’ll never see again.

A sweet escape from decision and control.

Mustering all of my courage, I turn around and am saddened when my movement forces him to let go of my hair. His hand falls to my shoulder, then down my arm until our fingers are linked together.

Looking up into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, I say, “I’m Avery. Who are you?”

One side of his mouth lifts into a grin as he brings my fingers to his lips. His teeth nip at my knuckles then he soothes the slight pain with his tongue.

“You can call me Sir.”

Chapter Five – Gray

I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this glorious creature to say yes to my invitation. I can feel her nerves; she’s almost vibrating with indecision. And want. And need. And fear.

Which will win out?

As she turns and I let go of her hair to touch her skin for the first time, the softness and strength beneath my fingers nearly bring me to my knees. I want to drag her into a room, or to the floor, or against a wall. I don’t care. I want to feel more of her, see more of her. When her green eyes lift to mine, it’s like a punch in the gut.

Her name’s Avery, and I like how her eyes flare when I tell her to call me Sir. Flare with desire, but something else … temper? She’s clearly not a submissive. Curious maybe? Just wanting to play?

That’s good because I want to play too.

She licks her lips and swallows hard, pulling her shoulders back, standing tall. “I’ve never done this before,” she says, her eyes not leaving mine.

“Are you a virgin?” Dear God, please let the answer be no. She’s young but surely not so young as to be innocent.

“No,” she says, and her blush darkens her olive skin. She lifts her chin. “Are you?”

The question makes me laugh. “No. Not hardly.”

She wipes fake sweat from her forehead. “Whew. That would have been awkward.”

She’s precious. Beautiful yet unassuming. Funny with a quick sense of humor, and I can see intelligence in her face, her eyes, the way she holds herself.

“Is that why you’re here tonight? To experience something new?”

Her eyes drop to my mouth, and she nods. “Yes.”

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I turn her until she’s facing the stage again. The Dom is sliding the base of the candlestick into the Sub.

“Does that turn you on?” I ask Avery, my lips in her hair, my hands resting lightly on her hips.

She shudders. “I don’t know.”

“You’re conflicted?”

She nods and leans back against me. “It seems wrong.”

“Yet it’s right for them.”

“Yes. I keep watching her face. I’ve never seen anyone experience such … bliss.”

“Do you want to experience the same?”

Silence pulses between us. I wait. Hope. But say nothing. If she wants this, she will come to that conclusion on her own.

She turns and looks up at me again, her green eyes shimmering in the light.

“Yes.” She swallows and tangles her fingers with mine. “Sir.”

Blood drains from my head and balloons in my cock as something innate and primal takes over. “Join me,” I command, more aggressively this time.

She nods quickly.

“Say it.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. I’d like to join you.”

“Let your friend know where we’re going,” I tell her and wait as she does as I say. The blonde turns to me, her eyes widening before a smile blooms. She takes Avery’s face in her hands and kisses her cheek, pulling her into a long hug. When she lets her go, she gives me a “better take care of her” stink eye and holds up two fingers. I nod, agreeing to the two-hour limit.

I find myself grinning and hurriedly wipe the smile away as I take Avery’s hand and lead her to the steps.

***

The private room is bigger than some New York apartments with a bed large enough for several people. Glancing at Avery, I’m amused at her wide eyes as she tries to look at everything at once, including the cross on the wall. The bench and the hooks with long cords coming from the ceiling.

“Are you going to hurt me?” she blurts out, whirling around to face me, her eyes huge.

“Perhaps,” I tell her honestly. When her face pales, I go on, “But nothing beyond what you can endure or what also brings you pleasure. Has your friend told you about safe words?”

Avery nods. “Red, yellow, and green.”

“We can use those. If I do anything that you’re unsure of or decreases your pleasure, say ‘yellow,’ and I’ll ease up. If I do anything you don’t like, say ‘red,’ and I’ll stop immediately. I won’t be mad or think less of you. I’ll simply take us down a different path of experimentation.”

Stepping over to the buffet, I pull a bottle of champagne from the ice and pour us both a tall flute. She accepts it eagerly, and I smile when she tosses it back. “Only one more,” I tell her when she hands it back to me for a refill, “I want you acutely aware of what happens between us.”

Her fingers are trembling when I hand the fresh glass back to her.

I lift a silver dome to reveal strawberries, some natural and some dipped in white or dark chocolate. “Strawberry?” I ask and hold the tray for her to choose. She takes a dark dipped one, and my balls tighten as she slips it between her lips to bite down on the tasty fruit.

Lifting the dome of another tray, oysters are revealed. I raise an eyebrow, but she blanches. “I’m sorry, I’m allergic to shellfish, crustaceans in particular, but I avoid mollusks as well.”

I lower the lid and stride over to the sink to wash my hands thoroughly in case any trace of the food happened to find its way onto my fingers.

“Thank you,” she says, seemingly pleased at my thoughtfulness.

“I have ulterior motives for keeping you healthy,” I tell her as I walk to stand just inches in front of her, brushing the backs of my fingers down her cheek. Her skin is soft and warm, her lips parting in anticipation. I want to kiss those lips, suck the lower one into my mouth, chew on it with my teeth. Plunder the sweetness of her mouth, exploring every crevice.

I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with me?

Turning abruptly, I order sharply, “Follow me.”

Expecting her to obey, I move to stand beneath a hook with silk ribbons dangling from it and to the floor. I wait, watching her fuel her courage. She sets her glass down and takes a tentative step toward me. Then another. Soon, she’s inches from me once more.

“I don’t play with urine or feces,” I tell her and watch her eyes widen in surprise, “nor do I do blood play. No children or animals. Light breathing restriction only. No drugs, cutting, or needles. Is that clear?”

Her breath whooshes out of her. “Yes, thank goodness.” She makes a face. “Feces? Really?”

“You’d be surprised at what turns some people on.”

She looks as if she’s tasted something bad.

I take off my jacket and toss it over a chair. Unloosening my tie, I pull it over my head and toss it on the chair as well. I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. Her eyes never leave my fingers as I roll up my sleeves.

It’s time to get to work.

“I’m going to tie you with these bonds, but in a way that you can easily escape if you choose. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Her eyes fly up to mine, her pupils dilating rapidly. “Yes, Sir.”

“What are your safe words?”

“Green, yellow, and red.” I stare at her, and she adds softly, “Sir.”

“Step forward and lift your arms over your head.” When she hesitates, I snap, “Now.”

Her arms are up in an instant, and I bind one wrist, then the next, giving her little play to move them up or down. “Pulling this allows you to escape, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words are offered quickly this time.

With long, leisurely steps, I walk around her a full circle and stop when I’m standing behind her. “You have lovely hair,” I tell her, stroking it before pushing it to the side to reveal her back. “And skin.” She shivers as I trace the vertebra down her center. The muscles shift and move as her hands fist and open above her head.

Lifting my fingers to the tie of her halter, my cock swells uncomfortably as I pull the string. The front falls away, and I look into the mirrored wall in front of us. Small, yes, but beautifully formed with dusky nipples tightened into sharp points. They fit perfectly on her lean frame.

“Look at yourself,” I instruct her and meet her eyes in the mirror. “Can you see how beautiful you are?” I notice the angel wing tattoo low on her belly, the lines of tattoos on her right ribs. Unexpected and elegant, just like the woman in front of me.

Sliding my hands around her waist, her stomach clenches as I touch her flesh there, then she quits breathing as my palms travel up her ribs until I’m cupping her breasts.

“Breathe,” I tell her, running my tongue down her arm and to her shoulder, then up her carotid, feeling her pulse pounding beneath my lips.

Air burst from her, and she cries out as I pinch her nipples. She throws her head back when I pinch them harder, then lift a hand and slap the underside of one breast. Watching her reflection, I gage her reaction. Shock and confusion at my sudden movement is followed by a low throaty groan. It goes straight to my dick, and I slap her again, the other breast this time before kneading them both with my fingers and palms.

“Feel it,” I command. “Absorb it. Let it bring you fully alive.”

She writhes in front of me, her beautiful body twisting from side to side. I want to make her stop, but that lesson will need to wait for another day.

No.

What the fuck am I thinking? I don’t do other days. Other days lead to expectations and promises. I want none of that, especially now. So I need to feed the hunger I have for this woman tonight. Fuck. I look at the clock. In the next hour and forty-five minutes.

I lift my hand, and she braces for another slap. Instead, I lower my hands to the dress still hanging on her hips. I push down, and black panties are revealed. Inexpensive lace, but lovely. I imagine her wearing Carine Gilson, Zanottis on her feet, diamonds at her throat and wrists.

She could wear anything. The latest haute couture or running shorts paired with tennis shoes.

Pushing down farther, the dress falls to pool at her feet, revealing well-muscled legs and a gloriously curved ass. “You run,” I say, making it a statement, not a question. I admire the pop of her calf muscles as I circle around her once more.

“Yes, Sir.”

“How far? How often?”

“Three to five miles, almost every day.”

I walk over to a large chest and open the doors, easily finding what I’d hoped would be there. I take the flogger off its hook and unwrap it from its packaging before turning around. Her eyes grow wide as I tap the handle against my palm.

“Running hurts, yes? Then you move into a zone where euphoria kicks in and the pain shifts into passion. Isn’t that right?”

Her eyes never leave my hands. She licks her lips. “Yes, Sir.”

“Avery, do you trust me?”

Her entire body shudders, goosebumps rising on her skin. A fascinating reaction that pleases me a great deal.

“Yes, Sir,” she says, and her breath hisses from between her teeth as I trail the tresses of the flogger up her leg and hip, up her belly and over her breast, around her ribs and the tattoos I find so fascinating. When I’m behind her again, I pull her hair out of the way and over her shoulder, exposing her beautiful back.

“Pain is part of sex. The satisfying part.”

I step back, pulling the tresses of the flogger tight. Her eyes are huge in the mirror, but she doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t pull the ribbon that will instantly free her.

Taking that as consent, I bring the flogger around, and she jerks as it connects with her skin.

Chapter Six – Avery

Pleasure. Agony. Ecstasy.

Fear heightens my senses. Lust and passion sharpen it more.

“Don’t close your eyes or stop looking at yourself in the mirror,” he instructs and brings the flogger around again, the tails striking my flesh, the sting bringing endorphins to the surface to surround me in their bliss.

What I thought would be degrading … isn’t.

What I thought I would hate … I don’t.

This is what Brooke has spoken of so many times. I’m beginning to understand now as I watch myself in the mirror. The red marks on my breasts, the sweat glistening on my skin. My hands holding tight to the ribbons over my head, the only things giving me the strength to keep standing.

The tails strike me again, and I welcome it this time.

He was right.

Each morning when I run, I dread it as I slip into my tennis shoes. The first hundred steps hurt everything, every joint and muscle scream at me to stop. But soon, my body settles into the pace, the rhythm, and begins to crave another step as I slip into the euphoric zone where there’s nothing but me and the wind on my face. No thoughts. No dreams. No memories.

The same zone is approaching me now as the flogger once again takes possession of my back.
Yes.
I want to scream the word, but I don’t. Because it’s not only me here.
He’s
here, and I’m not so high that I don’t forget his presence. I hold tightly to that bit of control. It surprises me that he knows it.

“Let go, Avery,” he whispers as he drops the flogger to the floor and walks around to face me. His palms cup my cheeks, and he looks at me with unexpected tenderness. “You’re safe here, you can let it all go.”