by Linzi Basset
He kept to his word and paddled her ass ten times with only a soft to medium impact. Courtney felt the sensation of each slap rush directly to her clit, which had started to pulse with need by the fourth hit. She clenched her jaw and grit her teeth. Lord, have mercy! She needed to come!
Damn him for knowing it too!
As soon as the tenth strike was complete, he stepped closer and stroked her ass. She had been trying to catch her breath and desperately clamped her thigh muscles tight, her pulsing clit begging for release. Courtney had gasped when his fingers moved beneath her panty line. Ignoring her angry huff, he stroked her wet lips with a chuckle and pressed his fingers inside her. She jerked.
“No. Untie me!”
“Ah, no, darling. It would be remiss of me not to give you what you need at this point.”
And he did. He rubbed her clit expertly and she exploded, her cry at the unwanted climax spurring him on to keep rubbing her, prolonging her pleasure.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!
Courtney had been placed undercover as a model for the Da Vinci Fashion House in an effort to infiltrate a drug smuggling ring. Devlon Sanders, one of the key players in the Syndicate, noticed her almost immediately and he began dating her. He was a high flyer who ran Nationwide Logistic Company, which dealt exclusively with the De Vinci house. His business was used as part of the drug distribution for the Syndicate.
Courtney accepted the undercover assignment with the full realization that it could lead to intimacy that she did not want. At the same time, she knew it might be necessary to ensure that his trust in her continued to grow. To this point, she had managed to keep contact limited to above the waist, claiming she needed time to get to know him first. She played the beguiling, sensual, innocent part well. He accepted it as such and told her that someone so precious was worth waiting for.
They had been dating for three months and he became considerably more relaxed around her, even taking calls from Syndicate members in her presence. His responses were guarded and one-sided. Her FBI training, however, allowed her to be able to read between the lines and she had been key in a number of arrests.
The Syndicate was troubled by the number of busts and placed a great deal of pressure on Devlon, urging him to solve their problem. In turn, he became more demanding. When he took her to the private BDSM club in Manhattan, she was secretly in Seventh Heaven. At long last, she got to go inside one of those clubs. She had always found sex lacking and knew that she needed something more. Courtney even tried to get her asshole of a husband to give her more, but of course, he accused her of being a slut for wanting kinky stuff like that! Little wonder their marriage did not survive long after that.
Her sister, Lindsey, became involved with Jason Barrett, cousin of the renowned businessman, Ruark Greer. People in the Lifestyle referred to him as the King of the BDSM scene, because he was so respected as the Chairman of the Global BDSM Forum. Through them, Courtney had learned what the Lifestyle entailed and it intrigued her. It made her crave that which had been missing in her life. Freedom to express and act to your deepest desires and needs. Some of the things she had seen when they walked through the club that night made her cringe. Other activities made her so wet that she had to clench her thighs together to keep her juices from running down her legs.
Devlon had taken advantage of her reaction and that was how he had managed to get her draped over the spanking bench.
At the same time, she had always declined previous invitations from Lindsey to join them at the club. She was an FBI agent. Sex clubs were off limits If only she had known! Her own bosses were members at what was apparently the most exclusive BDSM club in the US.
Sloan glanced at Hagan as soon as Courtney left their office and asked with a frown, “Do you think we should warn Ruark?”
“No. The fewer people who know, the better - both for him and for everyone at the club. You know what he’s like. The moment he sees Courtney and realizes the danger she could be in, he would turn into all macho male protection mode and everything would be lost.”
“Do you think Sanders chose Club Alpha Cove for a reason?”
“I thought about that, yeah. He must have a contact to have wrangled an invite to the Pirate’s Ball.”
“Could be they chose the club to become a meeting place. Away from all eyes. Private island. Utmost secrecy.”
“Fuck! You’re right. I didn’t think that far. We might be closer than we think, Sloan. Much closer!”
“Our little Courtney sure did well. How about that damn sexy voice of hers? Bowled me over!”
“No joke. I still have a hard-on!” Hagan looked at Sloan speculatively. “Are we really going to partake in her training?”
“Hell yeah! I can’t wait to spank that ass of hers!”
“Are you looking to make her our sub?”
Sloan frowned and then chuckled, after a while.
“No, but I know someone who would be perfect for her.”
Hagan looked at Sloan and saw the glitter in his eyes. Realization hit instantaneously.
“Hell, yes! Perfect, Bud! Perfect!” Then he frowned and said, pensively, “You do know he is a bit of a sadist?”
“Yeah, but I don’t believe our little Courtney is just a reluctant submissive, but likely a bit of a masochist as well.”
“You could be right. She is one hell of a tough cookie.”
Sloan picked up his cell phone and dialed Jason’s number. After the usual back and forth ribbing, Sloan became serious.
“Jason, we have a problem. You know Lindsey’s sister is with us?”
“Yeah?” The question clear in his voice.
“She is currently deep under cover and we need your help.”
“Shoot.”
“She has infiltrated a drug ring and is dating one of the key players as part of her cover. He wants them to join Club Alpha Cove.”
“Oh fuck!” Jason was not happy and it was clear in his explosive response.
“They will be at the Pirate’s Ball on Friday and we have talked her into getting the man to join the training program.”
“Are you crazy? We’ve tried to get her to go with us hundreds of times! She’s always balked. BDSM is not her scene, Sloan.”
“Come on now, Bud. Think carefully. I did a little test. That firebrand of a future sister-in-law of yours is a natural sub.”
Jason was quiet for a bit and then sighed, acknowledging what he too had already realized.
“What do you need me to do?”
“First, do not tell Ruark. You know what he’s like and he would insist on protecting her at the club. The fewer people that know, the better. We wouldn’t even have told you, if it hadn’t been for Lindsey.”
“You do realize you’ll be at the mercy of his wrath when he does find out, right?”
“Acknowledged, but we’ll deal with it then. You need to talk to Lindsey. She has to realize how critical it is that she does not acknowledge Courtney. She must act as if she has never seen her before and does not know her from a bar of soap. Courtney will have our heads if something happens to her little sister.”
“And how, exactly, am I supposed to get her to agree to that? Those two are very close.”
“It’s either that or keep her away from the club until we bust the Syndicate.”
“Hell! In how much danger is Courtney, Sloan?”
“It is a drug ring, Jason. If her cover is blown, she is a dead woman.”
Club Wicked Cove Series
Of course, it could not end there and I started a spin-off, CLUB WICKED COVE, featuring a sibling of one of the Masters of Club Alpha Cove as the owner of the club. This series has also become a bestseller with all the books reaching the top 5 ranking on Amazon although it’s much darker and contains a lot of violence, so be warned!
Club Wicked Cove is a very exclusive, underground BDSM club on a farm located thirty miles outside of Jacksonville, Texas, on the banks of Lake Jacksonville. It’s a place where people go to
escape and lose themselves in their own kinks and pleasure. In such a small, close-knit community, people treasure their privacy, therefore they wear masks, wigs and even colored contacts to ensure their identities remain intact.
Colt Fargo is the owner of Fargo Produce, one of the most successful farms in Texas. He’s also the owner of the club, which stands on the outskirts of his farm on a separate plot of land. No one associates him with the club, which suits his need for plausible deniability.
Club Wicked Cove is a series woven around Colt, his best friend and co-owner of the club, Nolan Shaffer, along with four of their friends, Parnell, Seth, Kent and Jay. Colt’s dark past and the Occiphinti crime family wove an evil web around the club and its Masters. Each to be challenged in a different way as violence, sex and death scattered their paths to happiness.
Find the complete series here:
AmazonCom: http://amzn.to/2weCYOI
AmazonUK: http://amzn.to/2x3oONF
Excerpt: Desperation: Ceejay’s Absolution
CHAPTER ONE
NOTE: Although this is a suspense thriller with an erotic BDSM twist, it is first and foremost a thriller. It is a DARK series involving mafia crimes, hate, revenge, violent acts and deaths.
PLEASE NOTE: This book involves the dark traits of the American Mafia and there are details to the murder of a small child throughout the story. Please do not read this book if such content will trigger or upset you in any way.
* * * * * * * *
“I see Lady Silver is back again,” Nolan grumbled as he watched the brutal flogging and whipping taking place in one of the private rooms in the dungeon. Shaking his head, he turned away listening to an update from his second in charge.
The automatic door lock to the security control room hissed and clicked open admitting the presence of a large man into the room. Anyone not familiar with Colt Fargo was taken aback the first time they set eyes on him. His towering stature beggared belief.
Powerful, Nolan thought, as he watched Colt’s biceps ripple under the snug black shirt. He was perfectly proportioned for his enormous size.
Having a big friend was beneficial to Nolan when they were at school together. Seeing as he, himself, was a late bloomer, all Colt had to do was appear by his side and the bullies disappeared.
Nolan flashed him a wide smile and snorted facetiously, “It’s about time you got your lazy ass back here.”
“Can it, Nol.”
Nolan smiled at the gruff rebuke that rumbled from the big man’s throat - his usual countenance. He and Colt Fargo had been friends for as long as he could remember. Their fathers had been schoolmates and as a result, the two of them had grown up attached at the hip since the day they were born.
Colt had been away for a two-week break in New York to attend the wedding of a friend named Ryder Whitmore. Ryder was one of the co-owners at Club Alpha Cove, along with Colt’s cousin, Quade Cutter. Colt's farm and the club kept him on the go twenty-four/seven. Since his divorce two years ago, he hadn’t taken a break and Nolan was glad he took the time to go away.
Nolan Shaffer, along with Colt, are co-owner at Club Wicked Cove. He also acted as head of security. With a shrug, he rumbled a quick rundown on the evening so far. A deep frown formed between his brows as he glanced back to the scene he’d been staring at on the monitors.
“Problem?”
Nolan shook his head. “No, not really. They’re keeping within the boundaries of the scene she asked for, but fuck . . .”
Colt looked closer and a harsh expletive croaked from his throat. “Why the fuck isn’t she safewording out?”
“Because it’s what she asks for every time she comes here,” Nolan responded.
“What? Who is she?”
“She’s a new member,” Nolan explained. “She came on recommendation from Dom Eagle. I verified all the background checks from previous clubs that she attended in Seattle. All of them reported that she had been an asset, but mostly kept to herself. She only did scenes with sadists and then left immediately after the scenes.”
“That’s a red flag, Nolan,” Colt muttered with annoyance. “Why is it I don’t I know about her?”
“She joined the week you left. She’s been here four times, every time demanding the same scene. She strips down to her panties, is tied face down and spread eagle on the bed and is then whipped simultaneously by two sadists.”
“And you allow this?”
“It’s what she wants, Colt.”
“Does she get fucked afterward?”
Nolan shook his head, and Colt’s cheeks bulged with anger.
“Damn it, Nolan! You’re a fucking Dom. You should know better than to allow a sub to manipulate a scene, and so should Darren and John for that matter. Has anyone bothered investigating her desire to be whipped into oblivion without being sexually aroused?”
Nolan’s cheeks flushed as he realized that Colt was correct. He frowned as another thought came to mind.
“She also never wants aftercare and leaves immediately once the scene is done. Fuck, you’re right, Colt. I’ll go and–”
“–No. I’ll go.”
Anger boiled inside Colt. The closer he got to The Baron Room, the angrier he became. His stride lengthened at the thought of what was taking place behind that door.
“Enough!” he thundered, as he stepped inside the room.
With tense expressions contorting their faces, the two doms quickly moved away from the bed. Colt realized that they hadn’t enjoyed the scene either. Even a sadist needed to feel a connection with the sub. Subs they scened with were always masochists. This sub clearly wasn’t.
Colt’s glare promised retribution as he waved them toward the door. His voice sounded ominous, “I will deal with the two of you later.”
“Master Dom, it’s what she–”
The dark look in Colt’s eyes warned them not to pursue that line of defense and prompted them to leave flustered.
Colt didn’t move at first, but instead quietly watched the woman shuddering and sobbing on the bed. Red welts covered her back, buttocks, and thighs while her hands and feet twitched in the bindings.
He stepped closer, traced a finger over the slope of her buttocks and noticed a tattoo of three butterflies in various sizes at the base of her spine. The innocence and beauty of the butterflies in flight was in stark contrast to the angry welts rising and thickening all over her back. Her skin twitched beneath his touch as an angry wail burned his ears when he brushed his hand past her panties and inserted his index finger deep into her pussy. The dryness he found there proved that she didn’t need pain to become sexually aroused as was the case with masochists. She needed the pain as a conduit for something else.
“What the fuck are you doing? You know that’s not part of the scene,” the woman sobbed in a husky voice, racked with pain.
“Yes, so I’ve been told. I want to know why not.”
Her head swung around; her eyes blazed angrily through the lace of the mask that she wore to hide her identity.
“Just who the hell are you?”
“Quite a filthy mouth you have, sub. Now answer my question.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit. I didn’t agree on this scene with you. Un-fucking tie me!”
Colt’s eyes narrowed, his anger slowly dissipating to make room for curiosity about what drove this intriguing woman to be subjected to so much pain. She was tall with a beautifully proportioned body. From what he could see of her face, she was exquisite, with delicate features and an enticing, pouty mouth. Reaching out, he fingered the black hair framing her face. It was a wig. Not unusual. Not at Club Wicked Cove.
The club was exclusive to members who had received a personal invitation after passing a series of background checks. An attorney in the city handled all the applications and legal processes that were required to become a member. They also maintained the only records of the member’s real identities.
The mystique of the club drew people like bees to honey. Masks we
re compulsory, offering members and the club protection. Most females preferred to wear wigs as an added layer of disguise to further protect themselves from being recognized. Club members only removed their masks in the privacy of the playrooms once both parties involved had agreed. To date, no one had broken the rules in the ten years that the club had been operating.
Aware of the furious eyes following his every move, Colt moved toward the bureau in the corner of the large room.
“I told you to untie me! If you don’t, I’m going to scream this whole place down.”
“Go ahead, my pet. All these rooms are soundproof. But, why don’t I just spare you the effort? Red. I’m calling red to this scene. There. See how simple it is? Something, you should’ve done ages ago.”
She eyed him as he walked back to the bed with a tube of salve in his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to smooth some arnica mixed with a soothing cream on all your welts.”
“No! I don’t want it! I need to feel . . . just get away from me and leave me alone! Better yet, send the Doms back to finish the scene!”
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. What’s your name?”
“Stop! I don’t wanoooww!”
Her angry retort ended in a painful cry as Colt smoothed the gel all over her back, buttocks and thighs. He didn’t stop until every welt was covered with a thick layer of balm. By the time he finished, her body was trembling. He sat down next to her on the bed and brushed his large hand up and down her legs.
“Ta-take your hands off me.”
“What do you call yourself here?”
“It’s none of your business. Now untie me so I can leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I have answers.”
“You have no right to pry into my personal life. I’m a legitimate member of this club and I can come here for my own particular brand of kink, which you’ve just interrupted.”
“You didn’t come here for kink, kitten. You asked for a brutal beating, and from what I hear, it’s all you ask for every time. You’re clearly not a masochist, so what you’re asking for is nothing but your own personal abuse.”
