Knots (Club Imperial Book 4) (15 page)

“I tried to get away from all of it, but I moved to another plastic world,” Paul sighed. He looked at her. “You’re not going to be offended if I say I don’t want to marry you.”

“Not at all,” she shook her head. “I am not really in a place in my life get married either.”

“I will have a friend get on the pre-nup that guarantees our freedom in two years, and we both walk away with equal assets,” he offered.

“Two years.” She arched a brow. “Separate bedrooms?”

He laughed. “Is there any other way?” After a pause, he narrowed his eyes. “Do you have someone?”

Cece looked at her wine glass. “In mind, yes.”

Paul quirked an eyebrow. “Just mind?”

“Do you really want me to answer that? Isn’t this whole thing going to be uncomfortable enough as it is? I won’t make a mockery of marriage by cheating on you even if this is sham marriage. It’s disregarded and rendered moot enough as it is. What I want with someone someday is better served by not acting the ass the first time around.”

The expression on his face was astonished; apparently he’d been of a mind to fuck around with whomever they saw fit. She wasn’t going to be part of that. Killian had changed her mind on that. The whole point of this arrangement was to get out of the arrangement with her dignity in tack. She was a goddamn kinbakushi, and she would not dishonor that by cheating on even false husband.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.” Cece nodded.

Christ, the money she was going to use on batteries.

“Alright,” Paul agreed. “It’ll be motivation for us to stop this before it gets that far.”

Cece felt the astonishment on her face. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Paul had someone he’d want to see. She shook her head, heading back neutral. “If you’ll agree to it, we’ll make the pre-nup a year. I don’t much feel like waiting years and years to see if we can get out of this and into the lives we want.”

“Agreed. I’ll have my lawyer on it tomorrow.” He reached into his pocket. “I don’t want to sully what should someday be amazing for you, but I know people will wonder if you don’t have a ring. I had planned to be more elaborate, but… simplicity seems to be our common ground.” The black velvet box sat under his hand and he slid it across the table. Lifting his hand he pushed it just the last little distance. “I know it’s not the romantic gesture that all girls dream of, but I don’t want to take that away from your secret paramour.”

Cece stared at the box. For some reason, she knew that opening this box was going to make it far more real than signing a piece of paper. She slowly reached for and pulled it over to her. Carefully, and with a huge measure of disbelief, Cece opened the top of the black velvet box.

The ring was gorgeous, a perfect princess solitare. It sparkled in the dim light of the bistro and was almost too pretty to actually wear.

“I feel like a fraud.” The words were barely a whisper, and worse, she wanted someone else to give her this ring. She wanted Killian sitting there across from her, even if it was the unromantic gesture that this was.

“I’m sorry,” Paul whispered back, grabbing her hand before she went any further. “But Cece. We’re in this together. And together, I think we can get out.”

“You might as well just collar and leash me,” she stated and stared at him dead in the eye. It was a double edge sword, that statement. She wanted to see his reaction. If they wound up married, there was no way he wouldn’t find out about the Club.

“I’d rather think of this as a pretty manacle,” he answered. “One that we both have the key to, and we can both unlock when the time comes.”

The diamond sat sparkling in the box. There was no way to avoid this, not if she wanted her sister safe and healthy and able to make her own decisions about life and love. Temporary, Cece reminded herself. Paul didn’t want this either. And he wasn’t nearly the monster that everyone had made him out to be.

She lifted the ring out of the box and slipped it on to her finger. Her brain supplied the sound of a jail door being shut, but she knew that she was being overly dramatic. Both of them weren’t going to be in this forever. They had a purpose and reason for this, and together they could get their goal accomplished and get out of the marriage without irreparable damage.

Paul slipped his hand into hers, looking at the ring. “It does look good there, Cece.”

“It’s a beautiful ring, Paul.”

“Hardest substance on the planet,” he smirked. “Kind of like our will to see this out?”

The grin Cece couldn’t contain was completely genuine. “Absolutely.”

Cece walked around her creation. Mister Smith was bound up, blind folded, and trussed in wonderfully magical knots she had been anxious to use, after the week she’d had. He was suspended and was breathing slowly, just as he ought to be. He was completely in subspace, and Cece realized he was one of the few clients she had who really sought this place out, sought out his subspace. This John Smith was meant to be dominated by rope.

She stopped near his blindfolded eyes, and leaned into him. She spoke soft so she would not pull him out of his subspace. “Mister Smith, thank you for this. It is a rare man who can truly find the ability to let go of everything and let the ropes control the moment.”

“Mistress.” His answer was quiet, reverential, and the one word carried all the thanks she needed.

There was a drink waiting for her on the sideboard near her Queen Anne chair. She sat down and picked up the glass of white wine, considering the low candlelight through the pale liquid. Only a week and she felt oddly naked without the engagement ring. Sipping the wine, she placed it back down on the sideboard and notice the envelope there. Address to her, Dusty Rose Milan, in precise, male hand writing. The flap wasn’t sealed, so she opened it and unfolded the paper.

Mistress,

Through these last few months I have greatly enjoyed our time together. Your talent for shibari has made me a very satisfied man, pleasant and calm. Many of my friends have commented on how much more agreeable I am.

I would however request a discussion with you about the possibility of meeting you in an arrangement offsite. I find myself more and more drawn to you. I know this is a forward request but I can’t help that feel our mutual pleasure would be better reached alone where we could be unfettered by the contracts that make Club Imperial able to operate.

My time is your time; I would ask that at the least you inform me that you received this letter and have decided not to pursue my suggestion.

Humbly and Sincerely Yours,

John Smith

Cece sipped the wine and read the letter again. Her entire body hummed the yes she wanted to shout, but her mind kept her in the chair swirling the wine in the glass. Placing the letter on the sideboard again, she sat back in the chair and looked over at the man she’d intricately woven into the suspended creation. It was hard to keep herself under control as she wound the jute ropes around his more than supple and well-defined body.

It wasn’t the right thing to do. But there was a good chance that she was going to have play the part of the faithful wife. She hadn’t thought to ask Paul if they were going to stick to the game
before
they were married.

She didn’t even want to ask. This was going to break Everett once the ban went into effect. She shouldn’t be considering this either. Still there was something about this man she couldn’t get out of her head. He had never spoken except when spoken to, except for the very rare occasional request. She could imagine him writhing beneath her, finally getting to touch that body with abandon.

Cece could also hold out a hope that once they were together, there would be no sexual chemistry and it would be a one-time thing.

You are fooling yourself, sweetheart
. The only thing she wanted more than John in her bed, was Killian. And Killian was a whole other category at this point. Since she couldn’t have Killian the way she really wanted, maybe taking up an arrangement with John was the right way to go. Even if it was a short term.

The suspended body there breathed evenly, and Cece watched, enjoy the easy rhythm he had fallen. The ropes didn’t swing at all, they merely trembled as he pushed the air in and out. The delightful subspace he was in brought a calm to the room which Cece had hoped for. She need the peace, the feeling of floating after the week she’d had.

The wine lasted nearly half an hour, without a sound from John. Once she finished it, she pressed a small call button, to alert the bartender on duty that she was going to need the usual water and Gatorade for her client, and another glass of wine for her. She considered John for another moment, then stood and walked to the creation of which he was the centerpiece. Her words were whisper quiet as she spoke next to his ear. “I’m going to start to release you, John. We’ll talk about your letter.”

It wasn’t hard to miss the twitch inside his briefs. Cece smiled to herself. She knew that his cock was usually very hard the whole time he was in the ropes, but it was the first time she’d seen his clearly impressive length stir.

Her body responded in kind, and a long deep breath was needed to center and calm herself. She walked to where she had fastened the last of the rope and unbound it. The jute wasn’t as deliciously soft and satiny as the braided silk, but John had asked for the jute. It was stiffer and left stronger marks in the skin. She slowly worked her creation backwards, untying and unbinding John. He knew when to put his foot down, when to support himself with his hand. She had seen very few other men with such control and understanding of their body.

It took Cece just over half an hour to release John from the ropes. She hadn’t even heard the bartender come in and leave the drinks in the room, she’d been so deep in her own Domspace. Cece removed the blindfold that was part of his mask and John walked, steady as a rock over to the settee in the corner. He lowered himself carefully down and Cece offered him the Gatorade.

As much as she could manage to remain composed, Cece walked to her own chair and sat down. Her body was humming with desire; she had tried to stay detached while binding him, but it wasn’t working. She didn’t understand what it was about this mystery man that attracted her so much, that made her entire body thrum.

She glanced over to where John reclined on the couch. He had pulled on the usual hoodie, pulled up, hiding even the mask he was wearing. It was still an odd thing, his mask. She wondered why he had to hide, but Cece knew she’d never find out unless he chose to reveal himself and his motivations.

“Do you need anything, Mister Smith?” She tossed the casual question over her shoulder.

“No, Mistress.” His answer was quiet in his gravelly, oddly sexy voice.

Cece waited a moment, taking a sip of the wine. She turned in the chair so she could see him on the settee, sipping the Gatorade. His eyes were closed as he sipped slowly. She finally decided the full-headed mask resembled one a ninja would wear.

“I wish to discuss your letter, Mister Smith.” She saw his eyes opened slowly. He was wearing colored contacts, to make his eyes blue. He didn’t say anything, but looked at her with equal parts interest and submission—letting her know that he was waiting for her to broach the subject.

He was so deliciously obedient.

“I am curious about where you heard of these arrangements.”

John didn’t race into an answer. “They were mentioned in passing while I was waiting for the Mistress one night.”

“Inside these walls.” Cece nodded, relieved it wasn’t common knowledge. “What makes you interested in something like this with me? Or that I would be interested in such?”

“A feeling,” he answered briefly. “I have found myself fantasizing about your ropes, and I would adore the chance for an occasional encounter to be unfettered by Club rules.” He sipped the drink again and let his eyes close. “I feel Mistress’s frustration at the end of our sessions.”

“That is not of your concern,” Cece said, quietly.

“I wish it to be.” It was a strong statement. “Mistress is able to deliver such pleasure to me, and I wish to be allowed to give her just as much in return.”

Cece felt her heated sex surge at the suggestion. She forced herself to still and took a sip of the wine again. “And what of your mask, Mister Smith?”

“Regretfully, it would have to remain. I cannot yet take that chance.”

She studied him, with his eyes now downcast, and hand wrapped around the bottle. She knew what was under the hoodie. She was intrigued by everything about him. But she shouldn’t be thinking about this. There was no way she should be entertaining this. There were too many complications and too many aspects of this that could go wrong.

Cece didn’t know where Paul stood on the matter of a fling before the wedding. And there was Everett—she knew he wouldn’t really care one way or another, but she wasn’t going to abandon him until she had no choice.

The strongest of her arguments against this was Killian. She knew Killian was off limits no matter how much she wanted him, or how much he wanted her. She wanted nothing more than to give all of this up and be with him alone. But Cece couldn’t deny that she loved sex . She loved being in control and to have so perfect a submissive in her reach was temptation she wasn’t sure she wanted to pass up. If Killian came to her tomorrow and said he was hers and hers alone, she would walk away. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Despite all of that she found herself wanting to agree to this. At level she’d never experienced before—she was drawn to this man, sucked in and pulled under. She was a Domme and she shouldn’t feel this way. But, here it was.

“And what is your suggestion for an arrangement?” Cece found herself saying.

“Just once a month, Mistress,” he said. “I would be there ahead of time to make sure that the room was ready and I was fully prepared. I would make all payment arrange--”

“No,” Cece stated. “If this is to happen, I will make all payment arrangements.”

“Mistress--”

“That’s the way this works with me, Mister Smith.” Her words were biting. “I am not going to have you pay so I’m your whore for the night.”

His head tipped lower. “I wouldn’t imply such, Mistress.”

Cece sipped the wine once more. “I agree, Mister Smith. Once a month in a hotel of my choice. You will call the office here for the name of the hotel. The hotel will be holding your keycard for you and you will be ready in the room by eight p.m. I will not spend the night. There is no cuddling. The point of this is a total power exchange outside of the confines of this room. And, Mister Smith, there will be protection.”

“I would never presume, Mistress,” he answered. She could hear the delight in his voice that she agreed to his proposal.

“What day would you suggest for this, John?”

He kept his eyes down. “I admit that I am anxious, Mistress, and would like to suggest next Friday.”

Cece shook her head. “Not possible, I have a previous engagement. I would offer up Sunday as an alternative.”

She watched him as he took a few breaths. Cece figured he was thinking about his calendar and trying to figure out if it was clear. He answered a moment later. “Sunday is agreeable, Mistress.”

“Good,” she smiled, and stood. “Then you will rest here until you are ready to go. You will call the office on Monday and they will give you the name of the hotel. I will be there at 8 o’clock. I am not responsible if you’re not ready, John. If I walk in and your mask is off, I will not be turned off, turned away or deterred from our charted course.”

“Of course, Mistress.” He bobbed his head in ascent. “I look forward to it.”

She gave him just a hint of her anticipation. “As do I, John. Good night.”

“Good night, mistress,” he answered quietly.

Cece walked out of the room and headed to the locker room. She needed to get away. She was more than thrilled he had made the proposition, but she really wished that her mind wasn’t so fucked up about everything going on. There was so much to think about and so much to do.

The locker room provided a temporary sanctuary from everything fluttering and flickering around on the top floor. Saturday night was incredibly busy, and looking at her schedule, she didn’t have anyone else on the list. Technically, she could go home. But since Tessa had stepped down, it was her job now to make sure that everything with the ladies went well. She shared the duty with Darcy L’amour—Peter, in everyday parlance. He would keep the guys in line, and well provided for as she would do for the women. Darcy was the most fiercely tender Dom she’d ever met, and she knew that’s why he was the Prime Sir.

Sitting on the bench for a moment, allowing herself to just fall completely out of her club character, she laid back on the bench and stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t getting any easier to juggle life and her secret passions, as well as now a fiancé, a paramour, and a forbidden relationship—and all the while pining for another man entirely.

“Tough night?”

Cece picked up her head. Amaryllis was standing there, smirking at her. She put her head back down. “Ever have so much on your mind that your head feels like it’s going to explode?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded and sat down on the bench at Cece’s head. “You should come with us on Friday night.”

“I have something to do on Friday,” she answered.

“We’re not leaving until ten,” Amaryllis said. “You really should come with us. It’s Emmy’s Bachelorette.”

“They got it together?” Cece was surprised.

“Yes!” Amaryllis said. “We’re going to Downbound.”

“Oh,
Wisconsin
put it together.”

Amaryllis laughed. “No, Ally did. But I think Dee and Luscious had something to do with it. They are all going. Come with? Please? The whole idea is a vanilla night out.”