Too Much: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (All or Nothing) (7 page)

Toby winced. “Both of you.”

Copeland nodded. He understood that. Toby was her brother and Copeland’s best friend. The man had seen the best and worst of their relationship. He turned to once again look out over
the sprawling city of Atlanta. Fall was bearing down, and the trees the city was so known for were turning colors. Reds, oranges, yellows, and browns—they were all beautiful when tossed by the wind. From fifteen stories up, Copeland watched the trees sway in the breeze.

Toby sighed behind him. “Stanton will make sure she gets home.”

He nodded once. “How many people are signed up for tonight?”

“Ten scenes,” Toby answered automatically.

“The Black Dungeon is mine. Whoever was slated for its use needs to be rescheduled.”

“J.C., I don’t think—”

He held up his hand and cut Toby off. “I don’t need you thinking, Toby. Reschedule whoever had the BD.”

“Yep.”

“As far as David goes, I need to know his caseload the last year. Being the district attorney now, he’s probably pissed some people off the last couple of years. I want everything on who he’s put away and who he’s in the process of prosecuting.” Jeremiah noticed Toby’s surprise by the sudden switch in conversation, but he didn’t miss a beat.

“I’ve already got somebody gathering the information you just requested. Should know something by tomorrow at the latest. Also have his financials coming to us.”

Copeland glanced at the man he called his friend and right-hand man. “I need to know Ruthie’s safe.”

“She is. I checked on her first,” Toby answered.

Copeland raised an eyebrow at that, then breathed deeply. Of course Toby had checked on her. Toby and Jeremiah’s sister had a certain history. The band around Copeland’s heart eased. Daly hadn’t been the only one to suffer the first time he’d bailed David out of trouble. Ruthie had too. It was why she’d ended up leaving Atlanta a year or so after Daly had left him. She visited frequently, but he never saw her enough.

“Don’t worry about the wall, Toby. I’ll fix it myself,” Copeland said.

“Believe it when I see it,” Toby replied and opened the door to leave. He stopped and turned back to Copeland. “One more thing—Dante Shaw has requested membership to The Underground.”

Copeland’s neck tightened. Shaw was the new leader of the Dixie Mafia. They had grown up in the organization together but had never been close. Dante Shaw was now a very powerful man with a ruthless streak a mile wide. His reputation preceded him.

“Why here?” he asked Toby.

Toby shrugged. “Says your place is the best at protecting identities.”

“He just instigated a coup for leadership of the DM. I wouldn’t think he’d be too concerned with identities. He’ll need to talk to me. I’ll have to make it clear I won’t be dipping
my toe into any illegal ponds for him. Schedule something for next week.”

Toby nodded and left.

Copeland rubbed his forehead and sighed, Shaw quickly forgotten. The pain that played over Daly’s features earlier bit into his heart. She was his, damn it. Nothing could change or erase that.

He’d watched her sleep last night and everything raw inside him had eased. When her skin was under his hands it soothed everything primal in him. Now that he’d tasted her again, felt her body move with his, he couldn’t let her go.

Copeland allowed her to walk away three years ago because he’d broken his word to her. He’d vowed never to hurt her and she’d entrusted all she was into his care. He shamed them both when he withheld information about David’s situation from her.

It wouldn’t happen again. He refused to let it. The truth was simple. He needed her like the air he breathed. She’d come to him tonight and he’d do the only thing he’d ever gotten right between them.

He’d cherish her submission and bring them both to a place where they were whole.

Daly got out of the car, locked it, and walked across the street. Normally, Atlanta experienced mild weather in the fall, but it had turned cold quickly this year and the wind blew ferociously tonight. She hugged her coat tighter around her frame. The red silk dress she wore did nothing to protect her from the chill of the air.

Cars pulled to the curb in front of her, dropped off people, and then pulled away. She’d shunned the car Jeremiah sent, telling the driver she would drive herself. Should this go horribly wrong, she needed the ability to get away from here. She’d questioned over and over why the hell she was returning here tonight.

Because he told you to.
She shrugged off the thought, desperate to retain some measure of control over her own actions, thereby maintaining emotional distance from Jeremiah. Her body still hummed with need. It happened every time they came together—too much was just never enough.

“Ma’am,” the same dungeon monitor she’d passed the night before said as he inclined his head. He was a really big man, larger than Jeremiah. His blond hair held a sexy surfer-dude look that made her want to smile. He held the black lacquer door open for her and the desire to smile vanished. She took a single step over the threshold and panic smacked her in the chest.

Daly took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she stood there alone for a moment in the foyer entrance of the club. The music, oh good Lord, the music invaded her eardrums, threading through her brain and settling in the pit of her stomach. Its heat spread through her body, softening her, preparing her.

Though she’d never heard this song before, in every note she felt Jeremiah’s intent urging her to come closer. He knew she was here by now. She was wet, nipples already hard, and her breathing was so shallow, she wondered if she’d pass out from arousal.

And she hadn’t even seen him yet. This was why she’d come here tonight. Because the only man she’d ever called Dom demanded it. He’d taken her so high last night. Jeremiah had reminded her of everything she’d had and then walked away from.

She straightened her spine and opened her eyes. She glanced through the entryway of the club. Everywhere her gaze touched held the tools of pleasure. Saint Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, padded platforms and sex swings. Her breath caught. The swing held her attention.
Note to self
, she thought with a smile.

Chains hung from the ceiling, and floggers and whips of all sizes hung on the walls.
There were spreader bars, paddles, and other accoutrements of the lifestyle all around her. Excitement coursed through her body as desire coiled tighter and tighter.

She’d heard rumors of dungeons and playrooms. Candace liked to tease her that even though Daly had been Jeremiah’s sub, she’d seen only a tiny portion of the lifestyle. Being in The Underground opened her mind to limitless possibilities.

Toby entered the foyer. She supposed he was her escort to Jeremiah. “You’re ready?” Toby asked.

Daly stepped forward and took the hand he held out. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“For the record, I think this is a really bad idea.”

“For the record, there’s a chance you could be right.”

Toby sighed and tucked her hand in his, squeezing it before leading her out of the foyer and into the club proper.

Her gaze fell on the mirrors above the bar and skated away. “He spared no expense, did he?”

Toby stopped in the middle of the dance floor and glanced down toward his feet. Confusion had her cocking her head at him.

“He spared not one damn dime, Daly,” Toby said in a deep voice filled with … regret.

She wondered at his tone, the reason behind his regret, and her gaze sliced to him. He looked down again. She followed his action and her knees weakened.

“Oh my—”

Beneath their feet the wood of the dance floor was gone. It was now clear glass, giving a view into a room below.

“The Black Dungeon, Daly. If you’ll follow me,” Toby murmured.

Her head swiveled and she looked to the mirrors above the bar. Surely not—

No way would he—

No.

The hair on the back of her neck rose.

Yes.

She was about to find out how far she’d go. How far he’d take her. She shivered and couldn’t look away from the mirrors. He was up there, gauging her reaction, waiting to see if she’d run or stay. In the marrow of her bones, conviction solidified. He thought she’d run. She knew she wouldn’t.

Daly was different now, and she was about to show Jeremiah Copeland how much she’d changed in the years since she’d left him. In the back of her mind was the worry that perhaps Jeremiah would own her when tonight was over. Her heart mocked her. His ownership of her body had been proven by his mastery last night.

It was her heart she sought to protect. She could gird that organ from the pain, couldn’t she?

She glanced at Toby, who took in her reaction and held out his hand again.

“Can you handle him this time, Daly?”

Once more she looked to the mirrors, then back to Toby. “It’s something I just don’t know, Toby.”

Toby winced and patted her hand before placing it in the crook of his arm. “Well, I guess the entire club is about to find out.”

Her gaze automatically dropped to the floor. He’d always known this was a desire of hers. Had he put this here for her? She’d left him. Surely this hadn’t been for her?

Daly had never been taken in front of others before. Their play in the past had been private. They had visited play parties before in private residences, and Jeremiah had once asked her if she wanted to participate. His eyes had twinkled at her, then his gaze had turned hot as her cheeks pinkened and her breathing accelerated. She’d wanted it but hadn’t been confident enough in her own submissiveness to play in front of others.

He’d taken her home and made love to her in front of the windows of their loft, ten stories above the streets of Atlanta. Anyone could have seen them and that thrilled her. A closet exhibitionist, apparently.

He knew her better than she knew herself. He had been the one to realize she needed to give over control. He was a natural dominant. Whether it was something programmed into him or something he’d become because of his childhood, dominance was ingrained in Jeremiah. He’d recognized her submissiveness before she even knew what it was. He’d shown her, and she’d fallen into his arms and his will. It had been like breathing. Her pleasure fueled his. Pleasing him had been what she’d lived for.

“Daly?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m ready, Toby.”

They made their way to a door and walked down two flights of stairs. Toby led her to another door and opened it for her.

“You can change in here. Copeland will open the door when he’s ready for you.” Toby turned, then stopped. “You have a safe word, and though I feel sure you’re too stubborn to use it, you just may have no choice tonight, Daly.”

“I won’t need it.”

“He’s in rare form, Daly. Three years will do that to a man.”

“Imagine what they’ll do to a woman,” she shot back and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m leaving the building. Use it if you have to,” he warned her.

She didn’t blink.

Toby snorted and left. Daly heard the door at the top of the stairs close and lock. She turned and glanced around the small room. It had to be directly off the dungeon room she’d seen under the dance floor. There was a leather couch and a chifforobe on the wall closest to her. Another door led to a bathroom, complete with claw-foot tub and double vanity sinks. No mirrors.

She turned back to the small room and felt a tendril of fear work its way through her body. Insidious, it began in her brain and moved south to her stomach. She pressed a fist to her abdomen and tried to breathe through the panic.

She hadn’t signed on for this madness. She’d come here the night before last to give Jeremiah his brother’s ring. Damn him for not answering her calls to begin with, forcing her to venture into his territory. He’d invaded her home, taken her so high she’d splintered with orgasm, and then left.

He’d taunted her and she’d responded as she always did—recklessly. Then last night had happened. As she stood there in the midst of the biggest case of nerves she’d ever experienced, Daly recognized she’d wanted last night to happen. So much so, she’d returned here tonight for more.

She missed Jeremiah. She missed how he played her body. She missed how his body curved over, around, and into hers and how her heart flew when she was in his arms. For once she would let her brain take a backseat to her body. She wouldn’t think. Bottom line … she needed him. Her body ached to submit to the only man she had ever loved.

Daly reached for the buttons on her coat and slipped each one through its hole. Tremors shook her thighs and lust tightened her nipples. She shrugged the coat from her shoulders and tossed it on the couch.

She balanced on her stilettos and had just stepped out of her red silk dress, leaving her in her bra and panties, when the door opened behind her. She turned and gazed over her shoulder. There he was. Tall and so heartbreakingly masculine it took her breath. Dressed in a white dress shirt, the cuffs rolled to his forearms, and gray business slacks that molded the strength of his thighs to perfection, he was everything she’d ever wanted and the only thing she’d ever run from.

She turned, facing him because she had no choice. Her abdomen clenched and he smiled. Jeremiah raised his hand, the gesture a request in and of itself.

Put yourself in my hands
, he asked without words.

Her heart fell over in her chest and she raised her hand, placing it in his. Electricity arced between them, tingling up her arm and zipping through her body.

His eyes flared, but he took a deep breath and led her to the room beyond, then stopped.

He sighed. “I need you to give me the rules of play between us, Daly.”

She gazed at him, though she’d not been given permission to do so. For just that moment
they were not Dom and sub. They were Jeremiah and Daly. Enemy combatants. Former heart mates.
Lovers.
His stare was electric as he squeezed her hand. It was time.

She lowered her gaze, staring at his chin. “Rules are naught between us. You have my everything because you will give me yours,” she whispered, repeating her words from that morning.