by Tl Reeve
“Okay fine,” she said squaring her shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute.” Eric stopped her. “Are you wearing panties, Kennedy?”
From anyone else, his statement would have sounded pervy. Coming from Eric, it made her pause. She knew he’d never do anything to hurt or harm her, but damn it, she still wanted a little piece of her control left intact. “Yes,” she sighed.
“Take them off.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because, I said so. Take. Them. Off.” Narrowing his eyes, he crossed his muscular arms over his chest and waited.
“Oh for God’s sake,” she scoffed, pulling off the barely there underwear. “Happy?”
“Yes, I am. Now we can go.”
Kennedy knew the roads of Reserve like the back of her hand. Antebellum mansions and Plantation homes dotted the area. A holdover from the civil war and slave era, it made the town seem old fashioned and picturesque. Some of the houses were bigger than others, while others sat closer to the mighty Mississippi—farther away from the center of town. As they turned left onto Lafayette St., she could see the outline of the river’s edge and the bridge connecting them to the heart of New Orleans. It was amazing how much of their little town had come back after the hurricane. Of course, it didn’t happen overnight. For the first couple of years, it had been touch and go, and Kennedy worried the place would become a ghost town.
They pulled up to the gates of a plantation house, and Kennedy marveled at the manicured grass as it gave way to carefully placed shrubbery and plants that concealed the sides of the house. Green shutters framed the windows of the mansion, accenting the pearl white walls. The sound of Eric’s deep voice startled her and tore her gaze away from the house. A man, just as big as Eric and just as menacing looking, stood guard at the gate. Eric showed his I.D. to the burly security guy he’d been talking to, and then drove onto the property, following the circular driveway to the parking area. From the passenger seat, she watched couple after couple get out of their cars and walk down the side pathway to disappear behind the house. In a few minutes, it’d be her making the trek inside the club.
Nervous butterflies fluttered inside her stomach. “I changed my mind,” she whispered. There was no logical reason for her to be afraid of what would happen.
“Breath, Kennedy. What you’re feeling is normal.” Eric’s voice calmed her tattered nerves and soothed her. “There is nothing to be afraid of. No one will hurt you, and if they try to touch you, I’ll deal with them.”
“I’m not worried about that, Eric.” She squirmed under his penetrating gaze. “Well, not really anyway.”
“Then what has you so skittish?”
“This,” she pointed at the house. “Why didn’t you tell me this place was a mansion? Better yet, why didn’t you tell me we weren’t actually going to a club per se?”
“It’s not just a house, trust me,” he smiled at her turning off the car. “Come on.”
Could she get out of the car and walk into a viper pit? She sighed and licked her lips. What’s the worst that can happen? Someone hits on you? She snorted. So, what’s stopping you? That’s the million-dollar question. Okay, you can do this, Kennedy. Get out of the car.
“Oh God, I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Kennedy whimpered as she slipped out of the vehicle. She pushed the mini skirt down so not to expose herself and adjusted her corset. Stalling for a moment more, she adjusted her thigh high boots.
“I should make you pull those damn boots off. I swear you love pushing your luck with me,” Eric groused cupping the nape of her neck.
“It’s one of my better sub-like attributes.” She winked. “Besides, if I were always, ‘yes, Sir, right away, Sir,’ you’d be worried something’s wrong with me,” she laughed, nudging him.
“Maybe,” he said and patted her ass.
Taking the well-worn path, they followed the other patrons past the big pecan tree shielding the second floor balcony. Kennedy was mesmerized by the Spanish moss clinging to the branches and leaves of an oak tree just beyond side of the house. Small flower beds surrounded each tree with tiny flowers lifting toward the low light of the evening. To the right, an intricate wrought iron fencing surrounded a set of steps leading below ground. Kennedy paused. “What is that?”
“Step into my lair and find out,” he teased.
“Said the spider to the fly. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Unease snaked through her system, cramping her stomach.
“You’ll be fine,” Eric whispered. His hand slid to the small of her back nudging her forward. “I’ll keep you safe.
The gate squeaked open, and Eric urged her beyond the fencing. For some reason she felt as though she was leaving the real world behind. Walking down the steps, Eric opened the door, and she stepped into the foyer of the club. The deep bass of techno music whispered through the walls. What could have been a storm shelter at one time maybe, had been converted into the opening to an underground club. To the left, a sign pointed people to locker rooms and showers, and to the right was a sign leading them to different play rooms and something called Vulture’s Row.
“Come on, this way. Let’s have some fun.” He led her down the hall that touted Vulture’s Row.
****
Stepping outside the French doors of his bedroom, Phoenix stood on the wraparound balcony facing the back of the property. He lifted his head to take a deep breath of spring air and allowed the slight breeze off the river to blow through his dark shoulder length hair. He needed to clear his thoughts and focus. On nights like these he thought of her, Kennedy Le Roche.
Eighteen years had been a long time for him to be holding a torch for the girl of his dreams. He’d been angry. So damn angry. No matter how many times he sat at a bar, drinking beer or whiskey ’til he could bathe in the shit, he couldn’t forget about her. He’d gotten into everybody’s face and challenged them to a fight. Hell, even thinking about it now made him groan in mortification. What the fuck had he been thinking…Oh yeah, I wasn’t. I was too busy drowning my sorrows in whiskey.
Had Jagger not saved his ass in that bar just outside Jakarta, Indonesia, he would have been pushing up daisies at the ripe old age of twenty-three. He took on the bouncers first and was knocked flat on his ass. Then he went after the owner. Jagger showed up minutes later like a fucking avenging angel or some shit. Already a good ten years older than Phoenix, the man excluded power and confidence, something Phee wished he had. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have cowed down to his father like he had when he was just a kid.
Cool, calm and collected, Jagger strolled—not walked, strolled—over to the owner and pinned him with a penetrating glare. Using the softest of voices to get his point across, he muttered something to the owner before grabbing Phoenix up. It unnerved him. In less than twenty minutes, the man had soothed the strip club owner’s ruffled feathers. It amazed and scared Phoenix all at the same time.
It was also the last night he drank. Jagger put him through the paces. No sleep. Greasy fucking food. He probably spent a good twenty minutes puking up his guts…if not longer. When he sobered, Jagger took him to a club not far from the strip joint he’d frequented. Once inside, Phoenix’s life changed forever. A BDSM club, nothing the likes of which he’d seen stateside. He soaked up every bit of knowledge Jagger fed him as if he were a sponge.
Pretty soon the cool, calm and collected façade fell into place for Phoenix. Being in tune with his dominant streak silenced the worry, the hate and the pain. It gave him focus and clarity, something he hadn’t realize he’d been missing until that particular moment. Cheesy as it sounded, being a Dom became his Zen.
“Hey man, you got a second?” Jacolby filed the entrance to his room. Tall, almost imposingly so, he stood six foot-six and weighed almost two hundred and seventy pounds. If Jagger was the brick shit house, Jacolby was a Sherman tank. High and tight platinum blond hair framed strong, rugged features and piercing blue eyes. The man made intimidation an art
form.
“Sure man, what is it?” He ushered his friend in.
“I think I found something, but I’m not really sure how reliable the source is,” he winced, scrubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay. Don’t be stingy, what did you find out?”
“Well, a chick came into the club earlier. Said she was looking for some good shit,” he snorted. “That she’d been to some club and the ‘vibe’ didn’t feel right and they didn’t ‘produce.’ Some shit about throwing off her y’chi.”
This looked promising. “Okay. Produce what?”
“Well, I took her into my room. I didn’t want the conversation to be overheard, but when I pressed her for more information on this club and the product, she clammed up. She told me if I didn’t want to do a scene with her, to just say so.” Phoenix had a pretty good idea where things went from there.
“You worked her over?”
“Yeah, I did,” he smirked. “The whole time pushing her boundaries, asking questions.” Jacolby shook his head. “Her limits were almost non-existent. She had her safe word and knew the club’s as well. Yet, no matter how hard I pushed, she didn’t use it. Fuck me, she got off on it.”
Phoenix leaned forward. One of two things happened, and he needed to be prepared for either. “And.”
“I got a fucking name and the product name as well.”
With a name they could find the club and figure out what the hell was going on. For a few weeks dealers had been pushing a new kind of drug. It had made its way into the BDSM community and his firm had been hired to figure out what it was, and who distributed it. “Give it to me.”
“Nemesis,” Jacolby bit out. “The drug of choice for all the club kids is; Twilight.”
Nemesis; fitting for a club hell bent on destroying people. Phoenix snorted. In the last couple of years since they’d been home, he still protected the innocent like his father taught him, but he also followed the law to the letter. He wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention to his crew or his private investigation firm.
“Get me an address.” Jacolby nodded. “Oh and Jac, nice work man.”
A predatory smirk kicked up the corner of his lips. “Not a problem boss.” He took a step forward and stopped. “Oh, and boss, there’s a woman here. Eric wanted her to meet you.”
“Did he?” Eric, one of their newest Doms, had a reputation for being fair but never worked with women. He usually took care of Ryder.
“Yep, he has her waiting in one of the rooms.”
“Did he give you a name?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Kennedy Le Roche.”
Chapter Four
Shackled to the cross and completely naked, Kennedy closed her eyes. How the hell did she always end up in these positions? One minute she’d been watching a few scenes while Eric was talking to the Doms in the club and the next moment, she was going over the club rules with Eric as he trussed her up, prepping her for a scene. He removed her collar and kissed her temple. “Don’t worry NeNe, you’re in good hands.”
Testing the resistance, she noticed that he’d tied her up pretty tight. Kennedy took a deep settling breath. Nothing would go wrong, Eric would be with her every step of the way he would never hurt her. “How do I let you talk me into this shit?” she muttered.
Licking her lips, she tried to figure out what was taking Eric so long to begin. The faster they got this done, the quicker she could get out of there. Public display was more his thing. She didn’t like being put on display nor the fact her control had been stripped. The murmurs of people gathering around her drowned out her thoughts.
It rapidly became apparent she was in way over her head. Her heart pounded. Her palms became sweaty and her knees knocked. What the hell was her damn safe word? Horseradish…Pinochle…Arsenic? Shit, I’m screwed. Think, Kennedy. She took a deep settling breath. Marriage. Your safe word is marriage.
“Don’t think and don’t move.” She knew the velvety voice. Silky and smooth like the finest English chocolate melting on her tongue. Phoenix. How in the hell? There’s no way. Deep and a bit more mature, his intonation caressed her like a long-lost lover, enveloping her in its warmth. The familiar scent of sandalwood and leather swirled in the air, embracing her. But, how? Where did he come from, how did he get there? Why hadn’t she seen him when they first arrived? Question after question rolled through her mind. Before she could ask any of them, the world went dark.
Soft satin covered her eyes as she felt the tug of it being tied to her head. Her pulse kicked up another notch. Her breathing grew more rapid. Her pussy ached while her clit throbbed. A fresh rush of her cream coated her sex. In theory this shouldn’t turn her on. “Where?” She licked her lips. “Where did Eric go?” she whispered, striving to contain the mutinous emotions trying to spring free.
Phoenix fisted his hand in her short-cropped hair and tugged, pressing his warm body against her back. He was shirtless. She shivered with desire as the hard muscular planes of his shoulders and chest pressed against her back. He’d filled out—matured in a way. A thrill of anticipation shot through her. Heat radiated where he touched her. His breath stroked the baby fine hairs at her nape when he leaned in to nuzzle the juncture of her neck. She gave a strangled cry as pin pricks of pain and pleasure shot through her system. “I didn’t give you permission to talk.” Controlled, he commanded her attention. Pulling on her hair once more, he released her.
Yes, but…Clamping her mouth shut, she nodded, grateful he let go of her. Who was this man? It couldn’t be Phee. He’d never been this demanding when they were younger. For several seconds she stood there trembling, waiting. Kennedy bit her lip out of nervous habit. The thought of him just standing there and watching her, enraged her but also turned her on. “Do you know what seeing you like this does to me?” Before she could open her mouth and use her safe word, the hard press of his erection fit against the cleft of her ass. Kennedy whimpered. This was wrong, so damn wrong. After eighteen years, he didn’t have the right to touch her, or, or…Rocking his hips forward her, protests were cut off. “Come on, baby. Answer me,” he crooned.
His encouragement yanked at some foreign part of her. “No,” she whispered.
“The proper answer is; No, Sir,” his voice reverberated through her. However, it was the stinging smack to her ass that caught her attention. As he growled in her ear, the scent of leather and sandalwood grew heavier. “You’re mine, Kennedy. You’re mine to fuck and control. You’re mine to bend to your breaking point and thrust you farther into the darkness of your most depraved fantasies, because I know you can take it, and you know it’s what you crave.”
He ran his tongue up her neck and over the shell of her ear. She shivered, moaning his name. He was everywhere yet nowhere. Her skin tingled. Dear God, he was going to be the death of her.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. A fine shiver worked through her while anticipation twined with adrenaline shooting through her veins.
“So pretty,” he groaned. He teased her, getting her used to his touch, before stepping away.
Closing her eyes, she tried her best to relax, but she couldn’t. Too ramped up, a million questions rolled through her mind. She opened her mouth to give voice to those queries but remembered his instruction.
Smack! The whirl of leather had been the only warning she got before red hot pain blistered across her ass cheek. She cried out. In the next second his hand was there, distributing the heat. She pushed her ass into his palm, silently begging for more. She shouldn’t be turned on. She should be angry. Pissed that he left. Pissed that he hadn’t told her he was back. Yet, she didn’t have the ability to muster those emotions right then. Her clit pulsed as he ran his fingers over her abused skin. Her pussy clenched. “Your safe word is Red.”
Kennedy nodded.
“Say it, pet.”
“Red, Sir,” she whispered, before licking her lips.
He waited another beat building up the keen awareness working through her, before moving a
way from her. “Count.”
Count? Kennedy chewed on her bottom lip, wondering for the hundredth time, if she’d gotten in way over her head. The air around her grew tense. Again, the silence of the room had been cut by the sound of leather striking her flesh. The burn, oh God, the burn. Holy shit that hurts. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. The throb in her ass gave way to a gnawing need clawing deep within her. A desire she denied herself for way too long. “One.” She sucked in a breath, tightening her grip of the restraints binding her.
Over and over again, he smacked her ass, back and thighs. Her heart thundered like a herd of wildebeests chased down by a voracious lioness. What the hell is happening to me? She ached, fuck did she ache. Her cunt clenched. Her nipples pearled into hard peaks. If he didn’t touch her soon, she would implode. “Ten,” Kennedy shouted, going limp against her bindings.
Phoenix’s hands were on her again, and she moaned, rubbing against him. “God, Kennedy. I want you so bad. I’m not done though,” he muttered against the shell of her ear. “You can take it, can’t you?” Nipping at her neck he wrapped his arm around her from behind. His deft fingers found her clit, and pleasure detonated inside her. “Don’t cum yet baby. Let it build. Let it sizzle through you, until you feel like you’ll die, before I give you permission to take your pleasure.”
She went to her tiptoes, sucking in deep gulps of air. “Please, Sir,” she whined.
“I’ve waited eighteen years for this moment, baby. I want to savor it.” He hooked his finger inside her opening. “There were nights I dreamed of you pliant and open to me. Your submission pleases me.”
Kennedy stilled. “N-no Phoenix,” she breathed. “You’re not supposed to…”
“Not supposed to what?” He cupped her pert breast and squeezed it.
She moaned, writhing against him. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Oh baby, yes you can.” Smacking her tit, he back away from her. In the next instant, her arms were released from the cuffs, and she fell to her knees. The rasp of a zipper being opened had her lifting her head. “Fucking perfect. Open your mouth and suck me, baby.”
