“Have a good one.” He gave her a little wink and reached around her for the card of the next person in line.
Three more hours until midnight, and the club was already starting to fill up. The lounge area was already standing room only, and plenty of scenes had played out in the main rooms. The crisp crack of a whip followed by a scream could be heard over the mumblings of those chatting in the common areas.
She made quick work of checking her coat and purse into the locker room, dumping in the few quarters and taking the key before going back out into the club.
Since she’d already determined Jamison wouldn’t be there, and she wasn’t going to think about him anymore, she focused on the men who were in the room.
After her long shift, she’d showered and primped her hair as best she could without making the curls frizz. Deciding to go with a long braid, she’d maneuvered her long red hair into a plait and gone about stuffing herself into the new dress she’d bought for the evening.
She wasn’t man hungry. Well, no more than any other single twenty-seven-year-old. She didn’t need to find someone to take care of her, or to take on her problems for her. No, she wanted something more. Something deeper. Someone who would take care of her and meet those darker needs of hers, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. A companion, a lover. But she wasn’t naive. Relationships that start in a dungeon didn’t continue down the aisle. No matter what she wanted, she knew what she’d be getting.
Get a grip, Carissa. It’s a dungeon party. Get your spankings and go home.
Another long day at the hospital awaited her in the morning. Making it all the way to midnight didn’t even register as a concern. She wanted the release her body craved. There wouldn’t be any long-term matchmaking at the party. Just like there hadn’t been at Mistletoe Madness.
Jamison had been a perfect playmate. He gave everything she needed, without a long-negotiated talk. He seemed to know, and she’d followed him right through the night.
Carissa closed her eyes and took another breath.
“Good girl,” he had whispered when he laid her over his lap at the Christmas party. She remembered every tingle his fingertips had given her as he had lifted her skirt over her bottom, exposing her white thong. He had tsked at them. “Little girls don’t wear panties like this,” he had said, then gone so far as to snap the thin fabric between her butt cheeks. She had blushed. Oh, how everything he had said and done made her blush, and wet. So fucking wet. It had taken exactly three passes of her vibrator across her clit when she had gotten home that night to make her body explode. Three passes. But it still hadn’t quenched her thirst for him.
Stop thinking about it!
Music filled the play space, ramping up the energy with heavy beats and smooth rhythms. Carissa needed to have some fun. She was ready to stop agonizing over what she couldn’t have, and start being more realistic.
She moved through the lounge toward the nursery. Not sure about playing in that particular room for the evening, she hesitated in the hallway. A few couples were already inside. A baby girl was getting a hard spanking with a ruler, and a middle stood in the corner with a butt plug prominently displayed between her red cheeks, while her daddy stood beside her, running his hand in circles over her back.
“Not tonight,” she told herself and turned around. She hadn’t squeezed into the little black dress to spend the night in that room.
The moans of a woman finding her climax drew Carissa to the main playroom. She found an open spot in the crowd to watch the scene. A woman’s ass, sporting dark red welts crisscrossing her upturned bottom, faced the crowd, while the rest of her stayed tethered to the spanking bench. Her Dom’s hand was between her legs, stroking her pussy while he spoke softly in her ear.
“You missed it,” the girl next to Carissa whispered. “I’ve never seen such a hot caning scene in my life.”
If she judged by the darkening welts covering the sub’s bottom, it would be the harshest Carissa had seen. Her ass clenched in sympathy for the poor globes. Although the far away, glassy look of the bent-over sub spoke to how much fun she’d had under her Dominant’s stern hand.
Jamison probably had a stern hand, but she wasn’t going to start thinking about that. Except it was too late. Her mind played all the scenarios she had toyed with over the past two weeks.
The little spanking he’d given her the night of the Mistletoe Madness only whetted her appetite for more. More in the way of his dominance, and his body.
Growling at her own stupidity, she decided to get a drink to settle her nerves.
Even if he did show up at the party, she’d just spent the last two weeks ignoring his calls and not responding to his text messages. He’d gone silent three days ago. He’d gotten her message loud and clear.
“Can I get a Pino, please?” Carissa waved down the bartender.
A slender woman with long blonde hair pinned up in ponytails nodded. A dark red collar clung to her neck, and her black romper accentuated the slight curve of her hips. “Sure thing,” she answered and went about pouring a glass for her.
“I’m not sure you should be drinking, little girl.”
A warm hand wrapped around the back of her neck. And that voice. Her body already knew who it was, but she forcibly told herself to relax.
“Oh, I think it’s fine. It is New Year’s Eve, after all,” she responded but didn’t turn. When she brought the wine glass to her lips, his hand tightened.
“I think you should put it down, Carissa.”
She didn’t put the wine down, nor did she take a sip. Pulling free of his grasp, she turned around and pressed herself against the bar. The edge bit into her back. She had nowhere to go. Jamison butted up against her chest. The scent of his aftershave filling the small space between them. How odd that a scent, a tiny little smell could ease rattled emotions.
“A bit overdressed?” She slid into her comfortable armor of snark and wit.
Just as she had fantasized, he wore a tailored tuxedo. Every bit of her mind had been right as to how devilishly gorgeous the man would be in such clothing. Not a single man present could compare. He looked like he owned the room. Hell, from what her online digging told her, he did own a portion of it.
“It’s New Year’s Eve, like you pointed out.” His lips curled into a grin, though any amusement was well hidden. “I’m supposed to be hosting a big bash with Garrick tonight.”
Still gripping the wine, she was tempted to gulp it down before he could snatch it from her. Her nipples tightened, going against her mental refusal to react to him.
“Oh.” At least all of her social skills were still intact. Get it together, Carissa!
“There was something I had to do, though, so I left.”
She swallowed.
“You’ve been ignoring me.” His eyes darkened with the accusation.
“You stopped messaging a few days ago. I assumed you got the hint.” She lifted her right shoulder and put on her best disinterested face.
“Oh, I got the message you wanted to send just fine. But, you see, it’s rude to ignore someone.”
She shifted down the bar enough to put another few inches between their bodies. “And you’ve never ignored a girl you weren’t interested in?”
He huffed a laugh and moved toward her, putting his hands on the bar. Perfectly trapping her against it. “You can pretend you aren’t interested. But we’d have to add lying to your list of naughty behaviors.”
Her stomach twisted. Only wine would cure what ailed her at the moment.
“If you take even one sip of that, little girl, you’ll regret it. Now, put it down.”
She couldn’t let him think he had the upper hand. They hadn’t spoken in two weeks, after all, and she’d blown him off during that time. The edge of the glass slipped between her lips while she kept her eyes focused on his. Tiny wrinkles formed around his eyes as she tipped it and poured the liquid happiness into her mouth.
“I see.” He nodded
and removed the glass from her hand after she’d taken her sip. Before she could protest his audacity, he gripped her arm and pulled her forward. The crowd of people seemed to part for him as though he were some god. Though it probably had more to do with the dark glare he gave everyone. She’d seen it when she tried to yank her arm free. One glance back at her, and she gave no further protest.
When he dragged her down the hallway, she kept her eyes on the nursery door, sure he was leading them there. But he pulled her past and on to the next door.
“I don’t think we’re allowed in there,” she said as he jiggled the handle.
He pinned her with another glare. “Stand right there.” He released her arm and dug through his pockets, pulling out a key ring and fumbling through the set until he found the one he wanted.
Once the door was unlocked, he moved to the side and waved her in.
She could run. She could turn around and head back into the main room and out of the club. Even if he caught up to her, a simple word uttered loud enough would keep him away.
“Looks like you’re thinking, which is good. Something you haven’t been doing much of these past weeks.” His eyes darkened, the pupils expanding and covering up his iris.
“That’s not fair.” She managed to stop the pout in her voice, but the dampness in her panties was beyond her control. Damn him and his deep, unyielding voice. “I was thinking.”
His shoulders rolled back, and his jaw released some tension. “Come inside, Carissa. We’re going to talk.”
“And that’s it?” She tilted her head to one side.
The crease deepened around his mouth with his grin. “You’re adorable. Get inside.” His smile dropped, and he jerked a thumb in the direction of the empty room.
She forced herself to move forward, past him, and through the doorway. A desk sat prominently in the middle of the room with two chairs, and in front of it a circle of folding chairs. The familiar smell of chalk and leather hit her.
“Is this supposed to be a schoolroom or something?”
He shut the door, flipping the lock on the handle. “It’s a meeting room. The club offers educational classes, tutorials, and support groups for members.”
She nodded, looking around for something to concentrate on. All of her earlier pretending that she could hold her own with him vanished the moment he touched her. Because she craved his touch more than anything.
“Carissa, why have you been ignoring me?” he asked.
She spun around to face him. Any irritation he may have been holding over the past few minutes didn’t show in his casual stance. He leaned against the door, crossing his ankles and his arms.
“I—” She took a deep breath. This is where the strong Carissa was supposed to take over, but, apparently, she’d taken the day off. “I don’t know.”
“Sure, you do. You actively ignored my messages, didn’t respond to my texts. What made you do that? If you really weren’t interested, you could have said so—or blocked my number. But you didn’t do either of those things.”
His hard stare consumed her. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her throat tightened. He deserved an answer. She had avoided him without cause or at least any that he knew about. Although she had perfectly sound reasons, she hadn’t explained any of them to him.
“I told you at the Christmas party you didn’t have to take my number.” She had said exactly that, right before he went into a short lecture about after care.
“I didn’t take your number, I asked for your number. Stop stalling.” The muscle in his jaw tightened.
Little to no chance existed she’d be leaving the room without explaining herself.
“Potato, patato.” She shrugged, promising her stomach the largest bowl of ice cream ever eaten if only it would keep the contents of her dinner locked up.
“I see. Well, if you’re going to act like a little girl.” He grabbed her arm and brought her over to the desk, kicking the chair out and planting himself in it with little effort.
“No. No, Jamison!” She struggled as he flipped her over his lap, but he easily trapped her, wrapping one arm around her waist.
“We’ll see about no no.” His hand struck hard on her upturned bottom. The flimsy fabric of the little dress she’d worn for the evening offered no protection against his firm palm.
“I didn’t say you could spank me!” She pushed against his thigh, trying to shove off his lap. He only responded by gripping her waist tighter and spanking faster.
“Jamison!” She slapped his calf.
His hand came down on the upcurve of her ass and stilled.
“Did you just hit me?” The deep, dark voice didn’t brook disagreement. The type of voice she used to dream about, but now—hearing it firsthand, she swallowed hard and froze in position.
“I asked a question. Did you hit me?” His fingers dug into her ass. Even through the material, she could feel the bite of his grip.
“I—uh, it was a reaction.” She tried to rear up enough to look over her shoulder, but when she saw the glower on his face and the strong tick in his jaw, she went back to staring at the floor.
The skirt of her dress flipped over her back. Cool air brushed across her exposed bottom, emphasizing the burn of her freshly spanked ass.
“A thong?” He laughed, sliding one finger beneath the little string, pulling it away from her bottom, and letting it snap back down, just like he had their first night. “I was pretty clear about what a little girl should be wearing.” He rubbed his hand over her backside, washing away the lingering sting.
His fingers trailed lower, pressing between her legs until he found what he sought, and what she needed him to find. For two weeks, she’d brought herself to pleasure at the idea of his fingers doing exactly this.
“And this wetness here.” He slid beneath the thin material of the thong and gathered her arousal on his fingers. “What’s this for? Because you were being spanked like the naughty little girl you are, or because you’ve been dreaming of me doing this.” Two fingers pushed through her folds and into her passage.
She held her breath, remaining still. Maybe if she didn’t move, he wouldn’t remember he was upset with her.
“I’ve been worried, irritated, maybe a little pissed, but mostly worried about you. Two weeks ago, we had an amazing evening together and then you vanished on me.” His fingers pumped into her, distracting her from his words.
“I promised myself if and when I caught up with you, I’d make you regret your actions.” His fingers pumped faster, harder. She spread her legs and arched her back, giving him better access.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a hard breath. Her heart raced; lungs pumped to take in air as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. “Oh. God.” The pressure. The pleasant buildup to the impending explosion.
“Oh. I’m sure you think you are, but not yet.” He unraveled his hand from her waist, and spread her ass cheeks, thrusting harder and faster into her. The chair squeaked from the force of their movements.
“Oh! Oh!” She sucked in air, waiting for the dam to burst.
His hand. The forceful, thick fingers of his hand disappeared.
She cried out, “No!” and tried to wiggle off his lap.
He wrapped his arm back around her waist and laid into her ass again, delivering twelve stinging swats before he stopped. She wiggled and cried out, but by the time he’d gotten to the last smack, she was a puddle on his lap. Tears ran down her face, either from the loss of the most explosive orgasm she’d been so close to having or the raging sting taking over her ass. It didn’t really matter. She was miserable.
When she finished crying, he pulled her up to her feet and moved her to stand between his knees. He held her hands in front of her, stopping her from acting on any ideas about rubbing the soreness away or finishing what he started.
“Do you not want to see me?” Vulnerability weaved into his words.
“No!” So much for the suave demeanor. “I mean, that’s not it. I do
—did—do want to see you. I just…” She sniffled. “It’s not going to work, Jamison. It was fine for a fun night like the Christmas party, but not for long term, not in real life. These things don’t last.”
He sat back in the chair, pulling her into his lap. “What things?” He produced a handkerchief and wiped away her tears and beneath her nose.
“These things. Couples who meet at the dungeon. They don’t last, and I’m tired of pretending they do. And besides that, you’re uptown, and I’m, well, not. What would your family think? What would your friends think?”
“Don’t bring money into this. That’s a line of bullshit, and you know it. As for the other—I know plenty of couples who have lasted a long time,” he said.
“What? They dated for a few months, maybe even a year, but that’s it. Once the fun wears off, it’s over.”
“Garrick and Jade are making a go of it,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “Yeah, but they’ve known each other forever. They aren’t the same as people like us.”
He tweaked her nose. “You are the first woman ever not to want to date because she was afraid of commitment. Most girls I’ve known started hinting at collars and wedding rings a few months in.”
“That’s because they know if they don’t get that ring on, it’s not going to last. Hell, even if the ring goes on—” She sniffled and shook her head. “Look. Long term doesn’t work in this kind of relationship, and I don’t want a vanilla relationship, so it’s better if we don’t pretend. I mean we can play when we see each other but other than that—” She shrugged to finish her sentence.
“You’re serious about this? You’re just looking for a play partner?” He pinched her chin between two fingers and pulled her face closer to his.
“If that doesn’t interest you—”
“I don’t think it interests you.” The firm way he spoke got her attention. “I’ve seen you, Carissa. Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen you here in the club. Guys come up to you, you talk with them a bit then ditch them. If what you were really looking for was some quick session, you wouldn’t have turned them all down.”
“How did you see me? You weren’t here.” And all her cards were shown.
Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series Page 3
