A Club Esoteria Wedding [Club Esoteria 11] (Siren Publishing Classic) (9 page)

“What the hell happened?” she demanded as she crossed the parking lot to stand in front of the wheelchair.

“Language, angel,” Dane warned with a slight frown.

Sloan wrinkled her nose at him before turning back to Taurus, who looked relaxed and in no pain despite the sling and bulky bandage on his right arm from fingertips to elbow, and the air cast that covered his left leg from his knee down.

“Master Taurus? What happened?”

Taurus’s head bobbled as he turned to look up at her. He blinked and then smiled. “Had a close encounter with a ladder, but not to worry, I’ll be fine.” He slurred his words, proving he was not quite as fine as he appeared to think.

He pointed to the door that led into the club. “Mush, Merlin. I’ve got a wedding to prepare for.”

Then he began to sing, off rhythm and out of key, “I’m getting married in the morning…” as Dane began to push him across the parking lot.

Dane looked at her and winked. “We’ll take care of him. You go help Whitney get ready for what might not be the wedding night of her dreams.”

“Yes, Master.” Sloan nodded as her body responded automatically to the Dom’s iron-toned voice.

The massage and having her hair and makeup done relaxed her morning-of-the-wedding jitters enough that Whitney was able to pick at the house salad and crab-stuffed mushrooms she ordered for lunch. They returned to the club with just enough time to change and primp before heading down to Jenna’s garden where they would meet the minister, wedding guests, and their men for the wedding.

When Sloan joined them in Taurus’s apartment, she had a few words with Jenna in the living room while Whitney changed into the wedding dress that she and Taurus had decided upon.

The white, lace-covered corset pushed her barely there tits up and together, giving her the illusion of cleavage. The short, matching skirt was full enough that if she twirled too fast, it would flare out and show off the teeny-tiny thong that barely covered her newly waxed mound. The skirt’s hem ended just inches below her pussy and showed flashes of the garter she wore on her bare thigh. She only hoped she had no reason to bend over, or she would be flashing anyone who cared to look. Just before they left the apartment, she would put on white stiletto pumps that she had finally gotten used to walking in after hours of practice over the last few weeks.

Stepping out of the living room with her arms wrapped around her middle to hold her corset in place, she found both women looking unusually solemn given the occasion.

“What’s wrong?” Whitney asked, her stomach clenching tight enough to eject the delicious lunch she had just eaten.

Sloan smiled, but it was a falsely bright expression that looked forced. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Just fine.”

Whitney knew better. “You’re lying. What’s wrong? Has something happened to Taurus?”

Whitney watched as the cousins exchanged a glance before Jenna stepped in. “Sit down, sweetie. We have something to tell you.”

“He’s disappeared, hasn’t he? He’s decided he doesn’t want to marry me after all,” Whitney said, blinking fast as tears welled up with tears.

“No, no, no. Of course not. But there has been an accident, and he’s been hurt,” Jenna said.

“Hurt? How bad? Where is he? I need to see him. Now.” Whitney’s fear of being left at the altar immediately shifted to worry over her man.

“He’s busy getting ready for the wedding, and it’s bad luck for him to see the bride before the ceremony,” Sloan pointed out.

“Fuck tradition. I need to see him.” Whitney headed to the front door.

“Slave, stop,” Jenna ordered in her iron-laced Domme voice.

In response, both women froze before turning to face Jenna. Whitney automatically dropped her gaze to the floor just in front of her bare feet and knew Sloan did the same. Over the past years, they had become well-trained slaves of Masters and would respond to any dominant who used the right tone of voice.

“Sloan, go get dressed,” Jenna said, sending the other submissive scurrying to the bedroom before she moved to stand behind Whitney. “We will take you to see him after we finish getting ready for the wedding.”

“Yes, Mistress Jenna,” Whitney said before sniffing to keep her tears at bay.

“And no crying. No raccoon eyes allowed.” Jenna quickly did up the back of the corset before walking a complete circle around the bride. “You make a beautiful bride.”

Whitney dropped her head again, this time out of embarrassment. “Thank you, Mistress Jenna.”

“And your collar is the perfect accessory to such a sexy little wedding dress. Now don’t go anywhere and don’t sit down while I get ready,” Jenna ordered before turning and heading to the bedroom as well.

Though she wanted nothing more than to race to her Master’s side, Whitney knew that disobeying Jenna would earn her almost as big a punishment as disobeying Taurus himself. They were business partners, cousins, and best friends, and to go against the dictates of one was to offend the other as well.

Whitney began to pace as she waited for the others, her mind contemplating the worst possible scenarios before she forced herself to stop. If he were too badly hurt, the hospital would have kept him. Stopping in the middle of the living room, she forced herself to take deep breaths and calm down. She could not go to him all wound up and panicked. That was the last thing her Master would want. She used every calming technique she had ever heard of, and by the time Jenna and Sloan joined her, she had cleared the panic from her mind and was back under control.

Jenna looked spectacular in her copper-colored corset and skirt, while Sloan seemed to sparkle in blue. Their dresses were similar, having been designed and made by Jenna’s friend, Lace Santeen, at some point during the past two years. Only Whitney’s was new, since Lace had been inundated with orders at the club’s kink convention.

The women spent a moment admiring each other’s dresses before Whitney said, “Can we please go now?”

Jenna checked the time before nodding. “Yes, we can go, but you’ll only have a minute before we have to be downstairs.”

Whitney barely heard the other woman say yes before she was hurrying to the door. She was across the hall and pushing into the guest apartment before the other women could stop her.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Gentry squealed as he quickly pulled his pants up.

The apartment was full of men in various states of dress. Those wearing little turned their backs as Whitney hurried through the apartment.

“Where is he?” she asked but did not wait for the answer, instead continuing through the living room.

At the bedroom doorway, she stopped with a gasp. “Master? Oh my God, what happened?”

Taurus wore a pair of black cargo shorts with a black sock and dress shoe on his right foot. His left foot was bare except for the air cast. He had his dress shirt half on, but the bulky bandages on his right arm prevented him from pulling on the other sleeve.

“Should we cut it?” Antony asked Taurus.

“Hell, no, it’s silk,” Taurus growled just before her saw her. “Damn, mouse, you are beautiful!”

Not caring about anything but him, Whitney hurried to his side. “What happened, Master?”

“I fell off a ladder,” he said, using his good arm to pull her close so he could nuzzle against her neck and shoulder.

As soon as he touched her, the rest of the world fell away, and it was as if they were alone. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, running her hands over his shoulders as she cuddled his head close.

“No, I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to look all hot and sexy for you, and now we can’t get me dressed.”

Whitney pulled away, earning herself a frown as Taurus muttered something under his breath. Turning to Dane, she said, “Is it warm enough outside to go without shirts?”

He looked at her then at Taurus and then at the clothes still draped over the bed before nodding. “Yes, yes, it is. Antony, have the wedding party put on vests and bow ties only. Everyone else can do as they please.”

“Yes, Sir.” Antony gave a snarky salute before strolling out of the room.

Whitney then helped Taurus out of the shirt and into the vest of his suit. Then Whitney tied the emerald-green bow tie that matched his eyes.

“How do I look?” Taurus asked once she stepped back.

She smiled at him before running the back of several fingers down his cheek. “Beautiful, Master. Absotively beautiful.”

“Good. Let’s go get married.”

“Yes, Sir,” Whitney said with a grin and a salute.

She turned to walk away, but before she could take two steps, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Come here, you,” he said as he pulled her closer.

“Master, no,” she protested once she realized what he wanted.

“Mouse, yes. My ankle is only sprained, and they pumped me so full of painkillers I can’t feel anything. Dane, help a fella out, please.”

“My pleasure,” Dane said.

With that, Whitney found herself picked up and set in Taurus’s lap sideways. She had just enough time to make sure her skirt was covering everything it should before he rolled them out of the bedroom, through the living room, and out to the lobby. The others who had finished changing followed, teasing both bride and groom.

Taurus took the teasing easily while Whitney blushed and wanted to crawl inside Taurus’s vest and hide.

Though the pain medications were super effective, Taurus was able to remember every minute of the wedding, from Dane rolling them up a makeshift ramp into the gazebo where the minister watched in stunned disbelief, through his vows to love, honor, cherish, and command, to the long, deep kiss that had Whitney squirming on his rock-hard cock once the ceremony had concluded. Though not exactly how he had hoped, the wedding was a success. Whitney stayed in his lap through the picture-taking and the reception afterward. Every time she tried to leave him, he would wrap his arms around her and nuzzle the back of her neck with a power-threaded “no.”

After several hours, Taurus released her long enough for her to change into a white leather vest, similar to the silk one he wore, and a short denim skirt. At his request, she kept the white stilettos on.

Once she returned, he pulled her back onto his lap, and then Dane wheeled them out of the garden and to a waiting limo through a hail of birdseed, laughter, and good wishes. Whitney helped him inside then directed the driver to put the wheelchair in the trunk before following him.

Once the door closed them in, Taurus pulled her across his lap once again, only this time he did not restrain himself, but slid one hand up under her skirt and between her thighs to cup her cunt.

“Sweetheart, you’re all wet down here,” he said, kissing her as one finger traced up and down over the sopping wet lace of her itty-bitty thong.

“And you’re all hard,” she returned as her hand brushed over the long, thick erection that filled the front of his shorts.

“Yes, I am.” He sucked a breath at the same time his hips canted up, pushing his cock more firmly into her palm. “I can’t wait until we’re alone.”

“Where are we going?” Whitney asked as she planted a string of kisses down his neck.

“Not far enough,” he said as the limo turned off the road and drove down a driveway to a large brick mansion just a few miles from the club. The house sat on the river but was secluded from its neighbors by a thick forest of trees and underbrush. “But in just a few minutes we’ll be alone. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven,” Whitney said as she slipped off his lap and straightened her skirt before the driver came and opened the door.

The driver helped her get Taurus inside before he unloaded the luggage and set it just inside the door. After congratulating them, he left, and they were alone for the first time as man and wife.

“Lock the door, mouse,” Taurus ordered from his wheelchair just inside the living room. As she attended to that, he slowly worked the chair across the living room to the wall of doors that led to the back deck overlooking the Trent River.

He had just reached them when Whitney joined him. “What now, Master?”

Taurus looked her up and down, his green gaze growing more heated by the second. The bulge in his shorts, which had softened while the driver helped them unload, reinflated as well. “Now I think should we go out on the deck where you can dance for me while the sun goes down.”

Whitney’s cunt gushed more of her juices as she pushed the wheelchair out onto the deck then helped Taurus to stand.

“Strip me, mouse,” he ordered as he balanced on one foot and used a lounger to keep himself upright.

She attended to him quickly, not lingering on body worship as she normally would. Instead, she pushed his shorts down his legs. After easing them off his injured foot and pooling them around his uninjured one, she rose and helped him sit down on the side of the lounger that was big enough to hold an orgy on. Once seated, she divested him of his shorts, shoe, sock, bowtie, and vest before helping him move back so he was lying in the center of the lounger completely naked.

His erection pointed up his belly, its deep-crimson head calling to Whitney. She started to crawl between his legs to attend to his erection when he grabbed her by the hair.