Sugar and Spice (5 page)

Ginny leaned closer and reveled in the feeling of seducing such a handsome man.

Clearly he was accustomed to using his good looks and charm to win women over and she wondered if any woman had ever challenged the dominating edge she could sense beneath the surface. At last, the night seemed to be looking up.

“I’d love a drink,” she whispered huskily.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Ginny winced as Travers barked his question from behind her. She turned slowly, sighing loudly. Looks like the bouncer had arrived after all.

“Hey, Travers,” she said lightly. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

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“Ryan Travers?” Marcus’ voice drifted from behind her and she glanced back in time to see a trace of humor on his face as he looked at her. “Ryan Travers is your friend?”

Ginny was confused by the question, but it didn’t matter. Travers didn’t give her time to answer.

“Yeah, I’m her friend. What the fuck is going on, Brooks? I thought you were just going to the restroom.”

“I got turned around, lost,” she lied.

“Sure you did.” His answer was accompanied by a smirk that merely reinforced the sarcasm in his tone.

“Listen, Travers, I don’t need a babysitter, so I relieve you of your duties. Why don’t you run along and do whatever it is you usually do in this place? I’ll be fine here with Marcus.”

“Marcus?” Travers’ voice was laced with annoyance and anger.

“I had no idea she was with you, Ryan,” Marcus said.

“He’s not
with
me,” Ginny interjected, but neither man seemed to hear her.

“Well, now you know she is,” Travers answered.

“No, I’m
not
,” Ginny insisted, but again she was ignored.

“I’m surprised you left such a lovely woman alone in the Voyeur Room,” Marcus chastised.

“It was an oversight. One I don’t intend to make again.”

“Um, hello, I’m still sitting here. I can hear you talking about me.” Ginny was becoming angry at being treated like a naughty child. “Travers, I don’t know who stuck the stick up your ass tonight but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Marcus and I are going to—”

Marcus rose as she spoke and interrupted her comments. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brooks. I would like to warn you, however, that should you return to visit our 34

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little club, it would be unwise to escape your host. Travers,” Marcus said with a nod, “enjoy your evening.”

Ginny watched with disbelief as the man quickly made his escape. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily. She didn’t bother to open them when she heard the chair beside her move and felt Travers sit down next to her.

“Brooks,” he said softly.

She opened her eyes, surprised to find him leaning in so closely, only a few inches from her. She knew she failed to mask the sadness she felt as she watched the last traces of anger fade from his face.

“Some birthday, eh?” he asked with a crooked grin.

She shrugged, appreciating his attempt at humor. Somehow Travers had always been able to make her laugh, to make her problems seem less serious, her life less stressful.

“I’ve had better,” she whispered. She glanced around, once again besieged by the strangeness of the moment. She looked back at her friend and heard the question she never thought she’d have the courage to ask fall from her lips. “Why are you a member of this club?”

Rather than pull back or shut her out as she expected, Travers leaned even closer and answered, “I was introduced to some alternative lifestyles at college. I met a woman who was into this scene. She invited me to a party and I realized I was into it too.”

Ginny looked over his shoulder and watched the two chained women continue to suck the man’s cock. “This doesn’t seem like you,” she said finally. She couldn’t picture Travers holding a whip or, God forbid, kneeling before a Dominatrix.

Travers smiled. “Brooks, we’ve been friends forever and I honestly believe there aren’t too many people who know me better than you. But the boy you grew up with, the man you know at work, they’re only parts of me. You’ve never seen me in the 35

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bedroom, sweetheart. You don’t know what kind of lover I am any more than I know what kind you are.”

“Sure you know, I just told you. I’m frigid.” She meant her comment as a joke, but not even she could miss the pain lacing the last word.

Travers shook his head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. A frigid woman doesn’t beg to come to a sex club. She doesn’t sit in a room surrounded by people acting out their lust-filled fantasies without even blinking twice.”

Ginny laughed lightly. “You didn’t see me when I stepped out of that bathroom.

I’ve had a bit of time to adjust.”

“A frigid woman doesn’t come on her best friend’s fingers by a campfire, screaming with ecstasy.”

Ginny shuddered at the memory. Travers had never mentioned that night and sometimes she wondered if she’d dreamed it.

Travers reached up and touched the corner of her lips with his finger. “You aren’t frigid—and I can prove it.”

“How?”

“Unbutton your blouse.”

Ginny frowned at his words before deciding he was teasing her. “Ha ha.”

He didn’t smile. He merely raised his eyebrows as if expecting her to obey his command.

“You’re joking, right?”

He shook his head. She looked around at the other people in the room and chastised herself for thinking anyone would even glance their way. Looking back into Travers’ face, she felt a devilish streak begin to emerge. What would he do if she took him up on his challenge?

Leaning back, she reached up and slowly began to slip the buttons from their holes, expecting him to stop her before she got too far. Travers didn’t move a muscle, but his 36

Sugar and Spice

eyes followed her progress and she was a bit unnerved by the desire she saw growing there. Once she finished, she froze, her hands lightly gripping the edges of the silky material, holding it together.

“Take it off,” he whispered.

Again, Ginny glanced around the room.

“Don’t look at them,” Travers said harshly. “Keep your eyes on me, Ginny, and do as I say.”

She sucked in a breath at the sound of her first name on his lips. She struggled to recall the last time he’d called her Ginny. Hell, when was the last time she’d called him Ryan?

Ryan.
The sound of his name resounded in her mind like the pealing of a bell and she was taken aback by the beauty of it.

“Ryan,” she whispered, desperate to feel the weight of it on her lips.

“That’s right,” he answered. “Say my name, Ginny. Call me Ryan and understand what it means.”

She frowned. “What it means?”

“It means you belong to me. Tonight, I’m your master.”

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“Master?” Ginny repeated the word and wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his comment, but it didn’t seem funny. Her affable, easygoing friend had turned into a dominant, commanding stranger. The worst part was, she was so turned-on by his demands she was too afraid to do anything that might remind him of who she really was and what they were to each other. They were friends—that was all they’d ever been. But tonight—Oh God, tonight—she wanted them to be so much more.

Ryan smiled at her question. “You belong to me, Ginny,” he explained as if the fact he was going to take control of her body was a foregone conclusion. “Now take off that shirt.”

Her hands began to tremble, but before her mind could process a single reason why this was wrong, she lifted them and slid the blouse off her shoulders. Ryan reached over and pulled it away from her. She was astounded by the fact she wasn’t mortified to be sitting in a public place across from her best friend in merely a bra. Instead, for the first time tonight—hell, for the first time in her life—she felt like perhaps her world was realigning itself into the correct pattern.

What does that mean?

Ryan caressed her with his eyes, his gaze lingering on her breasts, and she felt her nipples harden in response. How could a single look make her feel so hot, so needy?

“You’re beautiful,” Ryan said, his gaze returning to her face. “You asked me why I was a member of this club.” His words were spoken softly and Ginny leaned forward to hear him better. When his gaze dropped back to her cleavage, she wondered if his quiet tone wasn’t premeditated.

“Perhaps,” he said after a moment, “the better question to ask is why you wanted to come here so badly?”

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Ginny considered his question and rather than avoid it, she decided to offer him the most honest response she had. “I was curious.”

“Curious to see or curious to experience?” he asked.

She grinned ruefully. “I think the fact that I’m sitting topless in a room full of strangers should answer that question.”

Ryan laughed softly and she savored the sound. She’d never noticed how sexy his laugh was or how amazingly handsome he was. He made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world and the power of that emotion took her breath away.

“How far will you go tonight, Ginny?”

She pondered his question and realized that the evening seemed to be built exclusively on truthfulness and on the exposing of deep, dark secrets. “With you?”

He nodded.

“As far as you’ll take me. I trust you, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed a breath of relief and struggled to believe this was truly happening.

The night, thus far, had moved in painful slow motion, everything hazy and unreal until this moment when clarity had come. He felt as though he was seeing Ginny Brooks for the first time, in such crystal clear focus she was almost too stunning to look at.

Slowly, he rose and reached down for her hand. She placed it in his with a steadiness that confirmed the truth of her words. She did trust him. She would follow him wherever he led her. The enormity of that thought should have scared the shit out of him, but instead he felt lighter and happier than he had in years.

Turning, he walked with her to the opposite side of the room. He needed her to understand that with him, sex wouldn’t be a game. It wouldn’t be easy or familiar. He had dark needs that it suddenly seemed only Ginny could fulfill. He could hear her slight intakes of breath as they passed other couples and groups in the room. The 39

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Voyeur Room was a place where club members could play or watch, depending upon their desires. There was a stage in the center of the room and at midnight, the planned entertainment would begin. Ryan glanced at his watch. He had more than enough time to play with his innocent friend before the show began.

He found what he sought after only a moment. Close to the stage was a large, overstuffed armchair. A soft light hung above it, giving the appearance of a spotlight.

Ryan sat in the chair and gestured for Ginny to sit on his lap. He marveled at how easily she acquiesced to his demands. She curled into him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

Bending forward, he claimed her lips in their first kiss since they were twelve years old. He’d wanted to taste her lush, lovely lips since he’d picked her up at her house.

Dipping his tongue into her hot mouth, he explored and teased her. When they pulled apart, he could see the shock on her face as she felt him drag her bra straps over her arms and off. He’d taken advantage of her distraction during the kiss to unfasten the lacy scrap of material. He wanted to see if her nipples were as dark and large as they’d appeared when she’d removed her blouse. He wasn’t disappointed.

She smiled when he reached down to cup her taut breast. That same smile vanished behind a moan when he pinched her nipple roughly.

“Oh Ryan,” she murmured as he repeated the action to her other tight nub.

“Stand up, Ginny, and face me.”

It seemed to take her several seconds to clear away the haze of desire and process his words. He silently rejoiced. She was with him every step of the way in this and he was blown away by her incredible sexuality. Jesus, had she really thought she was frigid?

She rose slowly, her hands hovering around her waist. He suspected she wanted to cover herself and he was pleased to see her fighting the impulse. She was a born submissive and somehow, despite her lack of training, she knew better than to hide 40

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herself from him. Was it instinct? Ryan had no doubt she’d never traveled down the road of Domination and submission, yet she took to it as a baby bird takes to flight.

“Take off your skirt and panties, Ginny,” he demanded, knowing this request was bound to test her limits. If she balked at being completely nude in a public place, what would he do? Ryan wished he could understand the genetic makeup inside him that wanted—hell, needed—this harder edge to sex. He’d given up trying to explain it and had instead embraced the needs, finding willing playmates and bed partners. However, this time, with Ginny, he was besieged by genuine hope and pure fear. He wanted her to want this. He
needed
her to need this.

She took a deep breath as Ryan held his and waited for her refusal. When she lifted her hands and began to undo the button at the top of her skirt, he fought against the urge to shout out his victory. If he’d had a football, he’d have slammed it in the end zone.

He watched as she slowly unfastened the zipper and shimmied the tight leather down her legs in a sensuous movement that have would put a belly dancer to shame.

The sound of the leather lightly hitting the floor brought Ryan back to his senses and he reached up to grip her hips, his eyes level with her pussy. Leaning forward, he breathed in her essence, getting drunk on her spicy scent. It took all the strength he possessed not to lean forward and lick the juices he could see gliding down her inner thighs.

“Turn around, Ginny. Face the room and sit on my lap.”

For the first time, he sensed her hesitance. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine,” he said. “Show them.”

She seemed to gain confidence with his words and she turned slowly, lowering herself onto his lap. He wasted no time in moving her into the position he desired.