Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) (21 page)

“A loft is all that’s up there?”

“No, in fact, I think you’ll like the rest of the second floor. Remember how we always wished for private areas at the club in D.C. Somewhere quiet if we were in the mood to play, just the two of us? Dex and I expanded on the idea and built private rooms, six for now, with room for expansion to twelve. Each has a specific theme. There is also access to the third floor, reserved for the owners only. The apartments are the only thing still under construction.”

Intrigued, she scanned the darkness. Unable to see a thing, she glanced to the back of the room and the stairs where a DM stood as if on guard.

“Aren’t you letting anyone upstairs?”

“Yes, but only those who have a room reserved. They’re all booked through midnight, and have been for months. Afterwards, those who want to explore will be allowed up in small groups.”

Struck by the idea of the private playrooms, Mara pushed for more information. “What kind of themes?”

“Let’s see, there’s the CEO’s office for those with a Christian Grey/Fifty Shades fantasy, a Victorian study where the Lord can wield his birch rod on naughty behinds, a classroom, which is self-explanatory, stocked with many whippy canes and stout paddles, and of course, a fully functional doctor’s office with an exam table, stirrups included…”

Mara breathed heavily, conjuring up an image of each room in her mind.

“There is a mini-dungeon,” Sean continued, clearly enjoying her interest in the second floor, “with a lot of the equipment you see down here, for those who want to have a little more privacy with their play. The last room is a Sultan’s chamber complete with a gilt throne where a slave may entertain her Master with the dance of the seven veils. There is a claw footed tub big enough for two, scented oils, plush towels, grapes waiting to be peeled, and the center point of it all, a huge four-poster canopied bed complete with handy pre-mounted restraints where the Sultan may impress his concubine with his prowess, dominating and chastising as he pleases.”

Her mouth was agape, imaging herself tied spread eagle on the silken bed. “Uh, they all sound fascinating. Can we explore after midnight?”

“Nope.”

Instantly, she deflated, feeling her face fall in disappointment. Chuckling, he lifted her chin, his lips gliding over hers that were set in a pout.

“Why should we wait until midnight when I reserved us a room at ten sharp?”

“Sean!”

“Uh-uh, sub, remember your manners.”

“Sorry… Master! You’re a big tease.”

Grinning, his face radiated his high spirits. “I had a feeling at least one of the rooms would appeal. Guess which one and I’ll give you a special treat.”

She peered up at him, her eyes narrowed in thought. Did he select a room for his preference tonight—the dungeon, of course, without question—or did he choose to please her? Knowing the generosity of her man and that he’d find pleasure no matter what room he chose, she beamed up at him as she guessed. “I can’t wait to dance the seven veils for you, oh mighty Sultan.”

With a wicked grin, his fingers slid inside her collar, hooked it and pulled her gently, but firmly toward him, until his breath warmed her lips.

“That’s Supreme Potentate to you, my sweet concubine, and don’t you forget it.”

The tip of his tongue swept out and ran along her lips, before diving inside for a thorough taste. Mara melted into him. When he lifted his head, she was breathless.

“You gave me the idea for the room, baby. I can’t wait to experience it with you. However, before you enter my decadent harem, we’ve got an hour to explore. Let’s get to it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Her skin was alive with sensation, from the velvet ropes holding her arms and legs widespread, firmly bound to the four corners of the soft, plush bed, to the silken, fragrant sheets, the subtle caress of air from the fan overhead and the soft blindfold blackening out the room. She strained to hear him, a footstep, a floorboard creaking or the in and out rush of his breath. There was nothing, not one clue, which told her where he was.

Out of nowhere, a downy caress brushed over a nipple, it then glided low and encircled the base of her breast. Light, wispy, almost tickling, it sent a shiver through her body, further igniting her skin and beading her nipples.

“Pretty slave girl,” her Master murmured. “Guess what this is and I’ll give you more pleasure.” The downy touch crossed to her other breast, teasing the nipple into an aching hard peak.

That’s it… down!

“It’s a feather, Master.”

“Excellent, which means you’ve earned a reward.”

Without preliminaries, something cold, wet and slick slid over her slit and then entered her, sinking profoundly deep. It didn’t stop until a raised area in front nudged her clit. Vibration claimed her next. No. Wait. This was a different sensation all together. It didn’t quiver and shake, it pulsated and actually—holy shit!—it essentially thrust in and out without any external movement at all.

She groaned as it pulsed away inside her while rhythmically thumping against her clit. Slow torture came to mind. He could leave her tied, blindfolded and filled with the tormenting sex machine, letting it go at her endlessly while keeping her continuously stimulated.

“Oh, god,” she moaned.

“No, my slave… Oh, Master.”

“Mrs. O’Brien?”

Mara started at the woman’s voice, practically jumping out of her chair. Momentarily confused, she glanced around. Pungent odors of permanent solution and hair dye penetrated her erotic daydream and reminded her where she was, at Hairbenders in the mall.

“Excuse me, Mrs. O’Brien, but we’re ready to rinse.”

Mara glanced up at younger woman, embarrassed to be caught in the midst of a sex fantasy. Okay, it wasn’t a mere fantasy; it was a wonderful memory, one she’d replayed often in her head since opening night. Though sometimes her brain added a new twist to the hour she and Sean had spent in the Sultan’s Chamber.

“If you’ll come this way,” the stylist persisted.

She nodded and followed, purse in hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m kind of out of it today. I didn’t sleep well.”

Why she felt the need to explain, she hadn’t a clue. She also shouldn’t be embarrassed, no way could the woman know what she’d been thinking and with the voluminous cape covering her upper half, she couldn’t see her stiff nipples poking like bullets against her blouse. Thank heaven.

Keeping up a non-stop stream of mundane conversation for the rest of her appointment, Mara avoided any further lapses into fantasy. Before she knew it, she was admiring the subtle golden highlights of her now medium brown hair that had been styled into glossy waves around her shoulders and falling halfway down her back.

“It turned out quite lovely, don’t you think?”

Mara smiled at the stylist in the mirror. “I love it. I haven’t been brunette since I was a girl.” She didn’t allow herself to think about that, focusing instead on how nice it would be not to have to cover dark roots every few weeks.

After paying, and tipping generously, Mara headed out. Every window and mirror she passed drew her eye to her new look. After so long as a blonde, it was hard to believe it was really her. Hopefully, Sean would love it as well.

While walking out to her car moments later, unsettling didn’t begin to describe the sense of déjà vu that consumed her. The mall had been crowded when she arrived, the sun shining brightly overhead. Near closing now, there were a fraction of the cars left and naturally, hers was in the far lot. In Texas, she supposed it would be called the south forty, put plainly it was a long haul with her hands filled with shopping bags. It was also dark, thanks to the moonless night sky and not enough lights in the lot. Sean would bust her butt for parking so far away and next to trees which shadowed her car.

A prickling sensation shot up her spine making the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. When she was within range, she hit her keyless entry and ran. Flinging open the door, she threw her bags inside and jumped in, slamming the door—hard. Once the doors were locked, she pressed the start button. As the engine turned over and purred in idle, she searched the rear view mirror and scanned the darkness from side to side for any sign of a threat. Seeing no one around, she heaved a sigh of relief.

She’d been on edge since Club Decadence opened a few weeks back. Despite Joanna’s reassurances, her presence was an unpleasant reminder of what she longed to forget. Every time she saw her with the general, whether at Decadence or other social engagements, Mara tried not to think about what she alone, out of everyone else in the room, knew about her. She couldn’t. Other times, memories intruded when she least expected it and she’d begun having nightmares, which she thought she’d put behind her a decade ago. She knew it was equal parts past trauma and guilt over keeping secrets from Sean. Hiding her past was an omission that he wouldn’t see as anything other than what it was, a lie.

However wrong, she couldn’t risk it. The loss of him would devastate her. Further, she’d chosen this path of deceit and the more time that passed the deeper the hole she dug. Even though her fears were entrenched by worries over his reaction, the only peace she found was in Sean’s arms. Maybe she was trying to absorb all of him that she could, before the inevitable happened. Yet, whether cuddling, making love or lying sleepless in his arms, the niggling fear of discovery never quite went away, constantly hovering in the back of her mind.

He’d come upon her a time or two when she’d been lost in thought, triggered by something innocuous most often. Each time he’d asked where she’d drifted off to, she’d been able to wave if off. However, when she woke him crying out in the throes of a nightmare, often later the same night, it was more difficult to get him to let go of his concerns.

As she drove out of the lot and turned toward home, she thought about returning to the empty house and dreaded it. It couldn’t be helped tonight, since Sean was out of town on a case for Rossi. She hadn’t wanted him to leave, but couldn’t complain without making him suspicious and she didn’t have the heart to worry him. He’d been so excited about going back to fieldwork at long last. His leg was better, the team of specialists having identified the problem right off, scar tissue and tiny shards of metal lodged in deep tissue and pressing up again some vessels. After minor outpatient surgery, medication to improve circulation and exercises to strengthen the leg, the swelling decreased, the sensation improved and he’d been released to return to duty. She’d been livid, going on about negligence and quacks back in D.C., but Sean had been pleased he was recovering and insisted she let it go.

Therefore, with her husband happily off protecting, or surveilling, or reconning for some client, she prepared to spend the first night alone since moving to San Antonio. As she turned into the driveway and saw the dark house, she sighed. Maybe it was time they got that cat.

Pressing her garage door remote, she pulled slowly inside and closed it behind her. Once it shut, she opened her door and got out, freezing as she noticed the inside door to the house ajar. Instant alarm shot through her. She’d closed and locked it before she left that morning; she was sure of it. Immediately, her hand dipped in her purse for her phone.

“Tamara, I’m so pleased you ditched that tacky blonde hair.”

Screaming, she whirled at the sound of the familiar name said in lightly accented Spanish from behind her. Not five feet away stood Victor Mendoza.

Lunging forward, he blocked the car door with his body as she tried to leap back inside, pinning her between him and the open door. Her hands came up and pushed at his chest. A useless effort while he laughed the harsh, bone-chilling sound that had haunted dreams for years. Her mind was numb, unable to believe he was standing in her garage and that he’d been in her house.

“
Mi corazón
, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Let me go, Victor.” She remembered her keys in her hand and fumbled for her pepper spray on the ring. “I’ll use this mace, I swear.” Let him think she had the illegal stuff.

“Now, now, let’s not be so dramatic.” Easily, he twisted her wrist, removing the keys from her hand, tossing them away. She could only stand by helplessly as they skidded across the sealed, smooth concrete and under a storage shelf against the wall. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

Cringing at his words as well as his odious touch, she leaned away, as much as the car behind her would allow.

“We were never friends,” she all but spat.

“Business associates then,
querida
.” She shuddered at his meaningless endearment. He’d use them before, calling her his darling or his love, then turned around and sold her to a senator for the night for two grand. Bastard!

“Get away from me,” she cried, while struggling to get free. He had other plans and grabbing her by both wrists, hauled her out. When he let go with one hand to slam the car door, she thumbed on her phone, attempting to dial one handed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. “Or else I might have to have a chat with your husband. Sean, isn’t it?”

She stopped dialing, her hand trembling too much to hit the right buttons anyway. He pulled it from her fingers, quickly sending it the way of her keys.

“What do you want?” she demanded, very much afraid of his answer. Victor only meant trouble. This was no social call or friendly reunion. He wanted something, which could only be bad news for her. She should have known he’d hunt her down again; she’d gotten away too easily the last time.

“I need your help with a little business transaction involving a special client.”

There it was. Her stomach rolled as dread swept through her. “I won’t whore for you, Victor. Never again!”

“Ah, such passion, I’ve missed that
.
”

“The only thing you’ve missed,” she shot back, barely short of a shout, “is the money I brought in by spreading my legs.”