Longing: Club Inferno (7 page)

A screech from the crowd brought her back to her senses, and she panicked. Hands back on his shoulders, Anya looked around. The crowd was cheering for whatever Leila was doing. Clint wasn’t distracted. He nipped at her throat and continued his hot kisses at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Unzipping her jeans, he pushed his fingers inside her panties.

“Yes, just like that,” she said as he tickled up inside her. She widened her stance to give him better access. “Clint,” she moaned as he left her throat to place another blistering kiss on her lips.

“So as I was bucking into her,” he said in between kisses, “the noose around my neck grew tighter.” His flicked his fingers over wet folds.

Anya’s eyes nearly crossed with pleasure. “Don’t stop,” she begged, each little touch a torment of ecstasy.

“I couldn’t breathe.”

He stared at her now, holding her gaze.

“My cock grew harder. The pleasure was so intense. I wanted her to tighten it more.”

He had her clit now and was rubbing it like they were in a race. Grasping at the back of his head, she pulled him in for another one of his deep kisses and screamed into his mouth when the pressure built up and she shivered and quaked on his fingers. The crowd was clapping and the lights came on.

“Thank you,” Leila said.

Clint wrenched his mouth away. “I’ve gotta go,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Anya nodded. “What happened with the tie noose?”

“Later.” He kissed her again and darted out the door. Anya strove to get her breathing back under control, while Leila called a few volunteers to the stage to practice some of the basic moves. Dazed, she could only gulp breaths and come to terms with the fact that Clint had given her an incredible public orgasm. Feeling her face heat up, she eyed the people on either side of her. They were more interested in Leila, who Anya had just noticed was stark naked except for her piercings.

“Wow,” she breathed, but it was more for Clint than Leila.

Realizing her bra and pants were undone, Anya fixed herself as discreetly as she could. When she looked up, Rita was glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Anya mouthed.

Anya wobbled back to her room on shaky knees and lay down on her bed. That was the most sex she’d had since Cesare, and it was good enough to put a goofy smile on her face. She wasn’t sure where tonight was going to take her, but she was definitely going to shove some condoms in her purse. Did one even take a purse into the dungeon?

She had glided through the dungeon a few times, more content to watch and blush than be an active participant. Anya liked the clothing-required events more than the clothing optional. She loved to dance and couldn’t wait to rock out this weekend with Switchblade. Speaking of which, she called Colleen.

“Are you still pissed at me?” Had it only been this morning when she called her all frantic about Istvahn?

“No. Thanks for being there for Tee.” Colleen’s voice was lowered.

“It was quite an adventure.” Anya stifled a yawn. If she was going to be up to anything tonight, she probably should take a nap. “I take it she told you.”

“Yes, and handed in her resignation.”

Anya bolted up to a sitting position. “You can’t accept it.”

“I didn’t,” Colleen assured her.

Sinking back to the bed, Anya sighed. “That’s good.”

“I told her I wouldn’t say anything to Istvahn. We’ll work it out. She didn’t really want to leave. And I’d be lost without her.”

“So a baby,” Anya said, smiling.

“That’s a new thing.” Colleen’s voice was light, but Anya could sense the sadness underneath the tone.

“Maybe you should get knocked up too. For solidarity.”

“Not funny,” Colleen said with a trace of a smile.

“We could interview baby daddy candidates in Club Inferno.”

“Do you want me to hang up on you again?”

Anya’s stomach growled. Rubbing it, she realized that she hadn’t eaten since the little salad this afternoon. She squinted at the clock; she’d be better off with a nap and a meal replacement drink. Groaning, she went to the mini fridge.

“What’s your problem?” Colleen asked.

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

“I never do vanilla,” Colleen said. “What are we talking about?”

“Dinner.”

Anya popped the top and chugged it. It wasn’t so nasty if you did it in one gulp.

“I hope you’re talking about Godiva and not Skinny Quick.”

Shuddering from the chalky taste, Anya tossed it in the trash can. “I’ve got a line on a Broadway part, but I’ve got to drop some weight.”

“Oh bullshit,” Colleen said. “Unless you’re playing Fantine you’re fine the way you are.”

“I’m actually going for a part Marilyn Monroe played.”

“Well, there you have it. You’re the same size as she was.”

Anya kicked off her shoes and went to the bathroom scale. “Actually, the sizes were bigger then, so I’m close, but she still was a few sizes below me.”

“Oh, who gives a shit?”

“The director.”

Anya frowned at the number on the scale. It hadn’t budged, but then again she was wearing clothes. And you’re always lighter in the morning, so…Anya closed her eyes and calculated. She was probably down five pounds.

“What are we going to do about Istvahn?” Colleen interrupted her thoughts.

“Tee has to be the one to tell him. But she’s not going to do that until he either confesses his love for her nonpregnant self, or it becomes way too obvious. I’m still cooking up a plan, but I think he’s a little possessive and jealous of her.”

“Istvahn?” Colleen stage-whispered. “Are we talking about the same man?”

“Hear me out. Maybe we should play matchmaker and see if that forces his hand.”

“This has all the ingredients of a recipe for disaster.”

“Does Nefertiti ever go into the dungeon?”

Colleen sighed. “I guess. I don’t make it a point of tracking my employees’ whereabouts if they’re not working, but yeah, I’m sure she does.”

“So maybe she can hang a bit and see if Istvahn makes a move.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot, I suppose. I’ll run it by her.”

“I’m heading down there tonight.”

“Oh really.” Colleen drawled the last word out. “Who are you meeting there?”

“Clint Reyes.”

“Not another one of my Doms.”

“What are you talking about? He’s my first—unless you count some flirting with Master Dante.”

“You call Dante ‘Master’?”

“Everybody does.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s because you’re his master.”

“He’d disagree with that statement.” Colleen gave a husky chuckle. “But we’ve had discussions together.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

“Anyway…” Colleen cleared her throat. “How serious is it between you two?”

“This is our first date. Wait, maybe second.” If a guy got you off, that probably should count as a date.

“Uh-huh. Is this going to be a fling, or am I going to have to start interviewing another Dom?”

“Jesus, Colleen, I’ll make sure he gives two weeks’ notice.” Anya rolled her eyes. “Besides, I’m secure when I’m in a relationship. He can strip and dance all he wants, just as long as he doesn’t touch.”

“He doesn’t just teach a class on pole dancing,” Colleen said. “He fulfills a kink for some of my clients.”

“What type of kink?” Anya wasn’t sure if that tingling feeling was alarm or desire.

“I’ll let him explain it to you. Just remember to have the talk with him first.”

“What talk is that?”

“He’ll probably go over it, but make sure you tell him your hard limits. He’ll stick to them or I’ll kick his ass.”

“Whoa,” Anya said. “I’m not going to be his sub, I just want to bone him. Speaking of which, I need that corset dress.”

“Well, be careful. Did you talk to Marisol?”

“I forgot,” she admitted.

“Then you’re shit out of luck.”

“What am I supposed to wear tonight?”

“It’s not like you’re going to be dressed for very long. Wear something sexy that’s easy to get out of in a hurry.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “You’re a big help.”

“Clint’s a player,” Colleen said after a thoughtful pause.

“What do you mean? He seems so sweet.”

“Maybe he’ll be sweet for you. His specialty is playing games. Just make sure you know you’re playing a game.”

“He said it was game night tonight. Is that a euphemism for something kinky I haven’t heard about yet?”

“It’s role-play night, so there will be costumes and fantasy fulfillment.”

Anya thought back. “Like a crazy billionaire BDSM-ing a flighty ingénue?”

“If that’s your thing,” Colleen said. “It’s been very popular.”

“Clint plays the billionaire?”

“Sometimes he plays the ingénue.” Colleen laughed. “Whatever kink the customer wants to follow.”

“Does he sleep with the women or just play a game with them?” Anya was suddenly wondering if she should be so excited about tonight. Maybe she was one in a crowd, the new thing he hadn’t slept with yet. The disappointment hit her. Maybe he really wasn’t interested in her.

“Every submissive is different. You’ll have to ask him.”

Anya heard her crack open a soda.

“He’s clean, though. All my Doms are. No one plays without a clean bill of health.”

“I know that,” Anya said. “You made me get a bunch of tests.”

“So that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“It all sounds so unromantic.”

“Are you in it for the romance, or are you in it for the sex?” Colleen asked.

“Sex,” Anya said. “I don’t have time for that love bullshit.” Anya’s heart ached with a different tune, but she ignored it. It was too fragile of an organ for her to risk again. “Oh, speaking of which, thanks a bunch for letting Rita Lewis try out for a membership.”

“Who the crap is Rita Lewis?”

“The devil.” Anya made horns with her fingers and stabbed them in the air.

“I must have missed the memo.”

“Seriously, she’s evil.”

“Are we talking the kicking-puppies type of evil or robbing banks?”

“She’s sleeping with Cesare.”

Colleen barked out a laugh. “Oh, honey, that’s its own punishment.”

Anya couldn’t stop a grin. “Well, she’s also lost a ton of weight.”

“I’ll have Istvahn assemble a firing squad. Does dawn work for you?”

“She’s after my part in the play.”

“She won’t get it,” Colleen assured her. “You’re much more talented.”

“Cesare is bankrolling the play.”

“You’re screwed then.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Anya, let it go. She has no power over you. Forget about her. Have a good time with Clint tonight. Just go in with your eyes open. Unless, of course, you want to be blindfolded.”

“Blindfolded? Have you seen Clint’s abs?”

“You see one six-pack, you’ve seen them all.”

“Oh, to be as jaded as you. I’m going to take a nap.”

“Good idea. Nothing says sexy like falling asleep in your restraints.”

“There will be none of that.”

“Whatever you say. I don’t need the details.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re right, I do. We can talk tomorrow.”

Anya hung up the phone feeling a little scattered. Her stomach growled again. After drinking two glasses of water, she stepped on the scale again.

The red numbers were two pounds higher than before.

“That’s impossible.” Logic told her that there was no way she’d consumed seven thousand calories in the past fifteen minutes, but the numbers still hurt.

She cast off her clothes and pulled the covers over her head before more doubts and unhappiness were able to touch her.

Anya didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have been tired, because the next thing she knew her phone was blowing up.

“Yeah,” she croaked, aware that the room was now pitch-dark.

“Are you standing me up?” It was Clint. His voice was as dark as the room and sexy as hell.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Shit,” she said, throwing the covers off and springing to her feet. “I fell asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay. The party is just getting started. I’ll meet you at the dungeon entrance.”

“I’ll be there in a half hour.”

“Make it fifteen minutes.” His voice was a commanding growl that sent shivers over her.

“You can’t hurry perfection,” she said, her voice light even though part of her wanted to rush to him.

“Make me wait at your own peril,” Clint said, hanging up.

“Yeah, hard limits,” Anya said to herself as she emptied her drawers looking for something to wear. She settled on a black corset with matching panties and a red garter belt. Attaching black silk stockings, Anya wished she had the guts to just wear that and a pair of heels. But she slipped on an ASOS red swing dress with a low crisscross back. Leaving her hair bed-tossed and wild, she ran her fingers through it with a drop of styling product to give it some texture. She did her eyes big and smoky, with eyelashes you could see from the space station, and topped it off with ruby-red lipstick. Her shoes were killer pumps that had a band of sparkly crystals across the toes.

She made it to the dungeon in what she considered a compromise, twenty-five minutes.

“Hi, Axe,” she said to the bouncer, who was running the elevator.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he said. “You doing anything tonight?”

“I’m going down,” she said suggestively, and reached across him to press the button to the dungeon level.

“Who’s the lucky fellow?”

Anya shrugged one shoulder just as the doors opened. Clint stood there, his bare arms crossed over his naked chest.

She expected him to be glaring at her or doing the “Dom thing,” but his wide, appreciative grin had her preening.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Some guys have all the luck,” Axe said as he pressed the elevator button.

Clint hooked his arm through hers.

Shivering as his bare flesh hit hers, she pressed in closer. “I hear it’s role-play night. Do I dress up as Red Riding Hood and you get to be the Big Bad Wolf?”

“My, what big…” Clint dropped his eyes to her cleavage.

He caught her hand when she went to whack him. A tingle of that fear/arousal thing went through her again, and she caught her lip between her teeth.

“Why don’t we find a private place and we can discuss our scene.”

“Scene?” Anya balked. “I’m not putting on a show for people. I told you I’ve got stage fright.”

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “You mean that? I thought Doms liked to get their own way.”

“We do. It’s just that your pleasure is going to be my pleasure.”

Stumbling, she felt her face redden. He led her through dark corridors that echoed with the sound of the whip and lash. Tortured and ecstatic shouts cried out in the dark. Anya nearly bumped into him when he stopped to open a door that she didn’t even know was there. The room he guided her into was about the size of a large closet. A king-size bed took up most of the room. He tumbled her onto it, following her down. Leaning up on his elbow to look at her, Clint eyed her from the top of her head to her already curling toes.

Anya smoothed her dress, which had ridden up over her thighs, but Clint brushed it back up. “Why did you wear the garters if you didn’t want me to see them?”

The garters, yes. Her thighs, not so much.

“So now what?” she asked, trailing her fingers over those washboard abs.

Stretching, he let her pet him. “Tonight is a role-playing fantasy. We can stay here and act it out, or we can get dressed up in costume and walk around for a bit.” His fingers caressed her under the garter.

“I want you to finish the choking story.”

Clint rolled on his back. “It’s a better visual.” He tapped his thighs. “Straddle my legs.”

“Are you serious?” Anya said. She knew better than to be shocked, and after he’d fingered her to an orgasm in a room full of people, she really didn’t want to be shy. Hiking up her dress, she threw her leg over him.

His hands went to her waist and settled her closer so her core rested on the hard bulge of his cock. Anya froze. Was she crushing him?

“So she was on me, like this—only I was deep inside her.”

Anya was mesmerized by the sensual look in his eyes. She traced the full curve of his lower lip and he nipped at her fingers.