My Wicked Valentine (Club Wicked 1) (5 page)

They made their way down the hall of her second-floor
apartment to the front door. She kept her coat clutched tight in the hopes none
of her elderly neighbors would be looking out their windows. On Thursday
afternoons she usually had tea with the old lady across the hall and her
friends. If they saw her tonight, she knew they’d ask about it during tea, then
tease her mercilessly with stories of the naughty things they did when they
were young. The old women were like her adopted, perverted aunts.

“Let’s take the stairs. It’s quicker.”

He glanced down at her feet. “You can climb stairs in
those?”

“Honey, I can do a lot of things in these shoes.” She
realized how utterly dirty that sounded and flushed when he gave her a wicked
grin. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

His laughter echoed as they entered the stairwell. “I’m sure
you didn’t.”

She wanted to glare at him, but if she turned around, she
might bust her ass on these stairs.

When they reached the front door, she inwardly groaned at
the sight of the black limousine parked in front of her apartment complex. He
held the door open for her, and she stepped out into the chilly late-winter
air, her breath puffing white in the glare of the sodium security lights. A
quick glance behind her confirmed a great deal of the windows facing the
parking circle were filled with curious faces watching them. Mrs. Goldbitz on
the second floor actually waved when she noticed Lucia looking.

Lucia waved back, then made a shooing gesture, which
everyone pretty much ignored.

A good-looking dark-haired man in a chauffeur’s uniform
opened the door to the limo with a smile. “Good evening, Ms. Roa. My name is
Marcus, and if you need anything, please let me know.”

“Thank you.” She carefully stepped into the limo and chose a
seat on the long bench that took up one side. The car leaned slightly as Isaac
got in and took a seat at the back. He blew into his hands and smiled. “Thank
you for joining me this evening. I realize this is a rather unconventional job,
and I appreciate your willingness to think outside the box.”

She shifted as the limo pulled away from the curb. “I’d say
this outfit is rather outside the box.”

He grinned. “Compared to what most people wear, you’re dressed
like a nun.” He leaned over and pulled a small black box she hadn’t noticed out
of a compartment in the beverage area lining the opposite side of the limo. “By
the way, I thought you might like this as well.”

Curious, she took the box and lifted the lid. Inside lay a
beautiful half mask shaped like a cat’s face on a bed of red silk. It would
cover the upper portion of her face while leaving the bottom exposed. “Is there
a costume party tonight?”

“No, this is to give you some anonymity. Some of our members
wear similar masks to keep their identity a secret. However, most members want
to be seen and noticed. Getting accepted into Wicked is harder than getting
into the Illuminati and considered a great honor among our members.”

“That makes sense.” She turned the box so the black sparkles
lining the eyeholes shimmered in the passing lights outside of the limo.

“The mask is made out of a special foam that will conform to
the shape of your face, so it should be rather comfortable.”

Intrigued, she lifted the mask and noted there wasn’t any
string to hold it on her head. “How does this work?”

“Here, let me help you.”

He scooted over, and their knees touched as he leaned
forward. Just that little bit of contact started a tingle low in her stomach.
When he took the mask from her unresisting grasp, she had to fight the urge to
brush her fingers over his hand, to feel the slight dusting of hair beneath her
fingertips.

“Close your eyes. It fits better that way.”

She complied and almost sighed at his gentle touch pressing
the mask to her skin. With his wrist by her nose, she could smell his crisp
cologne and the slight sent of soap. He continued to stroke and press the mask
onto her face, tracing the line of her cheekbones and molding it to the curve
of her brow. Neither of them said anything, and when he finally pulled back,
she was glad she’d worn underwear, because her panties were already wet with
desire, and all he’d done was touch her face. She had to get ahold of herself.
At this rate she’d be on her knees begging him to take her before they even
reached the club. It was embarrassing how easily she got revved up around him.
Really, he wasn’t all that. So he was handsome, sophisticated, smart, and so
fucking sexy her teeth hurt. That didn’t mean she had to act like a cat in
heat.

She opened her eyes and found him staring intently at her.
Nervous, she ran her fingertips over the mask. “How does it look?”

“Well, I haven’t seen the full effect of the outfit yet, but
I’m pretty sure we’re going to need you to wear something to keep me from
having to beat off the single Doms.”

“Doms? You mean dominants? Like the guys that get off on
being called Master?”

“Did a little research this afternoon?”

She grinned and liked how the mask moved with her face.
“Let’s just say I hope my mom never sees the search history on my computer and
some of my new bookmarks.”

“Good, then you’ll know what this is.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a black velvet ribbon with a small gold disk dangling
from the end of it.

“Um, I’m not sure what that is.”

“It’s my personal collar.” He must have seen her panicked
look, because he smiled. “No, I’m not claiming you as my submissive or anything
like that. At least not in private. In public this will keep the Doms off
you…or at least in theory it should.”

“This is doesn’t mean you own me or anything like that,
right?”

His pale blue eyes glittered in the passing lights, and his
smile seemed almost predatory. “No, that collar doesn’t mean you belong to me.”

Their fingers touched as she plucked the medallion from his
hand. Inscribed on the gold circlet was the simple word Mine. She couldn’t help
but giggle as she tied the velvet ribbon around her neck. “Seriously? ‘Mine’?”

He grinned, and her heart fluttered. “Keeps it simple. Can I
ask you a question?”

She snorted and fingered the medallion. “Sure.”

“Do you really speak the five languages you have listed on
your résumé?”

She looked up at him in surprise, having expected a more
intimate question. “Yes. French, Italian, Spanish, English, and passable Portuguese.”

“I must say I’m impressed. Why so many?”

“Because I want to do international parties, and I would
love to travel.” She settled back into the seat and continued to stroke the
medallion. “Plus it allows me to speak with the staff of various decorating and
catering companies. I can calm down a French chef and at the same time tell the
Italian florist exactly what I want.”

“Very smart.” He glanced down at his watch, a strand of his
dark hair falling over his forehead. “We should be arriving at the club soon.
Let me tell you what I have planned tonight.”

Hot, kinky sex with
you?
her libido whispered hopefully. “Okay.”

He laughed. “How long has it been since you last bartended?”

“Last week at my family’s restaurant.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure you were up to making a
variety of drinks.”

A little tingle of nerves moved up her spine. “Will you be
nearby?” God, she sounded so needy, but the thought of being alone in a sex
club for the first time almost sent her running into the street.

“Yes, I’ll be hanging out at the bar with you. I won’t
always be right in front of you, but I’ll be nearby if you have any problems or
need anything clarified. This will be a good opportunity for you to get a feel
for the club and its members as well as staff. Do you have any questions?”

“About a million.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Is this
club high protocol?”

“You have been doing your homework.” He gave her a pleased
smile that caused an unexpected warmth in her belly. “We leave that up to the
members. Some do insist on the whole rule set of high protocol while others
could give a crap. Just remember that as far as the club members are concerned,
you are my submissive, and you follow whatever rules I dictate. That doesn’t
mean you should be rude, but please let me know right away if anyone is giving
you any trouble.” He leaned forward, and his voice took on a dark tone. “While
I may not be your real Master, I will look after you and protect you as if I
am.”

Normally she would have been offended and made some snarky
remark about being able to protect herself, but something about the way Isaac
said it made her feel all warm and glowy inside. “Got it.”

“And if you are curious about anything, please let me know.
I’ll do my best to…educate you.”

Her heart thumped against her breastbone at the sensual tone
to his words. Then again, he could probably read the back of a box of cake mix,
and it would sound carnal. She wasn’t sure if he meant more than what he said,
so she settled for a simple reply. “Thanks.”

“Oh, one more thing. Do you want me to use your real name?”

“Um, what do you think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t bother to hide who I am or what I
enjoy. If anyone has a problem with it, they’ve been told to fuck off a long
time ago. But I’m in a position where I can do that pretty much without fear of
retribution. With you I might err on the side of caution and suggest a nickname
for now.”

She traced the line of her mask. “How about Cat?”

“You seem more like Kitten to me.” He must have caught her
narrow-eyed look, because he held up his hands. “I meant that as a compliment.
Cats are so aloof and jaded. You remind me more of a kitten. Cute, inquisitive,
and unafraid of the world.”

She blushed and looked down at her hands. Good Lord, he
called her cute, and she got all flustered and giggly inside. So much for the
urbane and sophisticated persona she’d been trying to cultivate. “Well, when
you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad. Kitten it is.”

The car slowed to a stop, and her mouth went dry. She leaned
back to look out the windows, but she couldn’t see much beyond some type of
parking lot and a bunch of trees. “Are we here?”

“Yes, welcome to Club Wicked, Kitten.”

She fidgeted with the fit of the corset beneath her jacket.
“This thing was not made for sitting down comfortably.”

“I’ll set you up with an account at the costume shop my
friend’s wife owns. You might meet her tonight. Her name is Laurel, and she’s
about five-five with red curly hair and a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and she’s
a submissive, so feel free to ask her about the lifestyle.” The shadow of the
driver moved past the window, and Isaac leaned closer until he was almost
within kissing distance. “Once we are inside I will become a little
more…demanding with you. It is in part of the role I play as a Dominant, but
also because I find myself rather protective of you.” He brushed the edge of
her mask where it met the skin of her cheek, and she almost moaned.

A moment later the chauffer opened the car door, and the
bitterly cold January air blasted through the warmth of the limo’s interior.
Isaac stepped out and offered her his hand. She placed her palm against his and
hoped the sudden stiffening of her nipples would be attributed to the chill. A
quick glance down showed they indeed stuck out, and every little bump was
visible behind the latex.

Isaac made a pained sound and pulled her jacket closed.
“I’ve changed my mind. We’ll find you something else to wear.”

She stepped away from the car and tugged her jacket out of
his hands. “I’m sorry. I thought it looked okay.”

“Okay?” He gave her a wicked smirk that looked right at home
on his handsome face. “You’re going to cause a riot. Just wait and see.”

A couple of hours later, Lucia found herself behind the most
fabulous bar of the most fabulous place she’d ever been in.

Kinky but fabulous.

Though she’d only seen the public lounge and the staff area
so far, she still had gotten more than an eyeful of both seminaked men and
women strolling around as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A
series of golden silk couches gathered in small circles spanned the room that
she was in for the night, the Louis the XIV Bar. True to its namesake, this
portion of the club boasted gold everywhere in a stunning display of warmth and
wealth. Floor-to-ceiling windows in between golden columns made up one portion
of the room, while the opposite side had massive mirrors reflecting the scene
before her in a variety of angles.

The arched ceiling overhead was painted with classical
figures doing rather naughty things. Here a voluptuous woman knelt on a cloud
as she gave a man clothed in a white toga oral sex. Next to them a group of
three women twined together in a mass of long hair and plush limbs. Elaborate
chandeliers hung down, throwing a forgiving light over the crowd. They needed
this kind of lighting in the dressing rooms at her local mall. It made everyone
look good.

But not as good as the dark-haired man in an impeccable
black suit smiling at her.

She made a gesture of closing her open mouth, and Isaac
laughed before lifting his drink to her. Sunny, the other bartender, was
handling the busier area where he sat while Lucia took the occasional waitress
coming into the room with a drink order from the private area of the club they
called the Dark Shadows. Evidently it was modeled after a famous dungeon in
Italy where people had been tortured during the Inquisition. Sunny had quickly
assured her that no one was getting tortured in that room who didn’t want it,
and they weren’t using burning-hot pokers or anything like that.

She leaned over the bar every time the door opened, but all
she could catch in the reflection of the mirrors was a wooden rack holding what
looked like a variety of whips. She swallowed hard at the thought of how much
it must hurt and wondered how anyone could ever get into that. Now if Isaac
wanted to tie her up and spank her, gently, she could definitely give it a try.