by Zoey Marcel
She wondered which of them was more disturbed as she shakily unbuttoned her pants. Joaquin for having such a violent, obscene dream about her or her for guiding the zipper on her jeans down slowly so she could get her hand down her pants.
That’s disgusting! Rochelle shrieked from within. What are you doing?
Claire had tried to masturbate once or twice but became frustrated with her lack of knowledge on it and Rochelle had rebuked her so severely she decided against ever doing it again. This time she didn’t care. She needed to come, and if by chance she did, then who gave a damn if Rochelle had to feel her orgasm too? It might do the prude some good and help shake the stick out of her ass.
Claire refrained from gasping when she cupped her mound and felt her dew-slicked pubic hair. She gaped in awe when she heard Joaquin groan in his sleep and roll onto his stomach, seeming to gently rock against the mattress. He must be humping the sheets while he screwed her in his dream.
Claire’s middle finger dipped into her moist slit and she nearly moaned. How warm and soft it felt. She wished she had more time to explore herself and the absence of Rochelle’s nagging in her mind, but perhaps if she was lucky, she just might be able to give herself an orgasm and get out of there quickly before Dakarai got back or Joaquin woke up.
Joaquin mumbled something into his pillow that sounded like “fuck.”
Claire choked on a tiny mewl as the sound of the filthy word filled her ears at the same moment her index finger found her soft, tender clitoris. His dream was feeding her and if she could just make herself climax, perhaps it would be enough for today. She rubbed the delicate protrusion, delighting in the tiny tingles which grew steadily stronger the more she touched herself and watched Joaquin.
Someone came up behind her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Her startled sound was somewhere between a gasp and a scream as she whirled around to identify the intruder. To her utter horror, it was Dakarai.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked, almost sternly.
If that wasn’t humiliating enough, Joaquin flew awake and saw her standing in his room with her jeans undone. “What the fuck is going on?”
Claire’s face burned and she longed to close her fly but didn’t want to draw attention there if they hadn’t already noticed her opened pants. “I finished my drinks early and you weren’t back yet. I didn’t want to just stand around while on the clock, so I came up here to ask Joaquin for instructions.”
She wished her voice wasn’t so damned shaky right now. They had to know she was lying and see how badly her hands were trembling.
Dakarai’s eyes were black and intense yet unreadable at the moment. His tone said he didn’t believe her. “I see.”
Claire gasped when she felt his hands near her crotch as he slowly zipped her jeans and buttoned them for her, trapping her with his gaze the entire time. She couldn’t tell whether his eyes were disapproving of her conduct or shimmering with sensuality. She only knew she wanted to die of embarrassment.
She hung her head in shame and hurried out of the room without a word. Once safely in the hall, she bolted. If the humiliation didn’t kill her, they probably would. She would grab her coat and get out of there. She would drop off her resignation tomorrow. She couldn’t bear to face them now and knew she was already as good as fired anyway.
Chapter Three:
Nex
Claire ran down the stairs and nearly collided with Cory Taylor.
“Whoa, slow down, girl. Where you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. Your drinks are on the counter.”
He got a huge grin on his face when he beheld the array of liquor waiting for him on the bar. “Wow. Awesome. Thanks a lot.”
“No problem.” She hurried toward her coat and stuck her arms in the sleeves.
“Claire Lynravn,” Dakarai’s voice boomed from near the bottom of the stairs.
She cringed with dread. The man sounded like an angry god of thunder. She reluctantly turned to face him, praying that her welling eyes didn’t open the floodgates. “Yes, sir?”
“Where do you think you are going?” He approached her confidently.
Her head dropped, eyes stinging with guilt and embarrassment. “I was leaving, sir.”
He stood before her and gently angled her chin to meet his deep, authoritative gaze. “Look into my eyes when I’m speaking to you.”
His intense, midnight gaze overwhelmed her. She yearned to pull away from his cold grasp and escape his lingering stare and the awkward silence. His eyes were too powerful and intimidating when they held hers. His touch provoked needs it shouldn’t and he was only holding her chin. Rochelle had been right. She was a slut.
“Why were you leaving?”
Claire couldn’t move her head with the way he held her chin in place, but she let her eyes wander from his to escape the overpowering situation to a minor extent. “I—”
“Do not look away from me again,” he ordered gently. His thumb brushed her jawline. “Now take your coat off and hang it up.”
His touch sent tiny shivers of awareness surging through her body. She slipped the coat down her arms, shoving the carnal thought aside that it was her top she was removing for him, and hung it on the rack nervously. “I thought I was fired.”
“You are not fired. Here, drink this.” He handed her a travel mug of hot coffee that said “Jitterbug Coffeehouse” on it and had little ladybugs near the words.
“You bought me coffee?” The gesture of kindness melted her heart as the hot mug warmed her hands with its searing heat.
“You seemed tired today and I thought it might help wake you up. I got it in a travel mug to keep it hot for you longer.”
A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away. “Thank you.”
“There was an espresso bean that came with it, but I ate it,” he confessed with a mischievous smile. “My generosity only extends so far.”
She grinned and sniffled, trying to keep any more tears from falling. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
Cory sat on a barstool watching them while sucking down the margarita she had made.
Dakarai headed toward the back hallway, motioning with his head for Claire to follow. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
They ended up on a balcony outside on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard below. It was open during the daytime to members and it looked like four of them were down there utilizing the BDSM furniture at their disposal.
“Is that the bouncer?” Claire asked, gaping when she saw the brawny man with his pants down fucking a woman who was locked in the swing that hung from the large oak tree at the far end.
Dakarai donned his coat and pulled the hood over his head until it nearly covered his face. How he could see with it down so low was beyond her. He grinned when he saw them. “Yes, he is also one of the Doms who work here. He trains Doms and subs like we do sometimes during the week, but on Friday and Saturday nights, when the club opens to the public, it gets especially busy, so he acts as the bouncer.”
“Is that his girlfriend with him?”
“No. She’s his newest sub. Brad hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”
“Is he a player?”
“No. He found his soul mate, but now he’s just waiting for her to come around.”
“He doesn’t seem to be suffering during his wait,” she snorted.
Dakarai chuckled. “It has been a long wait for him. I don’t imagine it is easy, pursuing the town bitch.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “You mean Chanel Carmichael?”
He nodded. “You know her?”
“Well, no. I saw her talking with the sheriff when I first got into town. She didn’t strike me as a very nice person.”
“She’s not. They’ve been waiting for her for years.”
“They?”
“Brad and his two brothers, Dawson and Cory.”
“Well, they can’t all have her.”
Dakarai turned to her and the hood shifted just enough to reveal his eyes. They glowed with suggestive intent. “Why not?”
“Well…won’t they get jealous?”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. They have shared women before.”
Claire’s cheeks grew warm and she felt her panties dampen again. Did Joaquin and Dakarai ever share women? “Why don’t they just find someone else if Chanel doesn’t want them?”
“She is their predestined mate. They will wait for her forever if they have to.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are shape shifters.”
Her eyes bugged out again. “Oh. Oh, my gosh, that makes so much more sense now.”
“What does?”
“Is Millie Stein’s husband a moose shifter?”
“He is.” Dakarai grinned. “Did you think she was married to a real moose?”
Claire giggled. “Well, yeah, actually.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“What? I heard this town is very open-minded.”
“Not that open-minded.”
She felt lighthearted from the laughter and turned her attention to one of the spanking benches in the courtyard. She recognized the stocky man as Dale, the man she’d seen walking his human puppy-girl when she got into town the other day. His slim, redheaded sub was with him, bent over the bench, moaning and uttering tiny cries of pain and pleasure as he spanked her bare ass red.
“That is Dale Havarti and his sub, Trish Albright. They are fairly new here.”
“I’ve seen them before. Isn’t she cold, with her bum exposed like that?”
“Then she should have thought of that before she earned herself a spanking. He could just be spanking her for the fun of it.”
Claire savored the sweet, creamy concoction delighting her taste buds when she took a sip of the coffee. “This is a caramel macchiato. How did you know that was my favorite?”
He gave her a knowing smile, but his eyes housed mystery. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”
“Well, thank you. This is delicious.” She smiled at Trish’s attire. “UGG boots, a sweater and a bare, rosy bottom. Is that like the fall postcard for BDSM here in Wyoming or something?”
Dakarai laughed. “It should be. We bring all the furniture from the courtyard in before the snow hits, but some years it comes much earlier than others.”
“You mean no one wants to be disciplined out in the snow?” she teased.
He shook his head with a smile. “Would you?”
She shrugged with a playful smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I think the snow would look pretty with a bunch of lights shining on it and it would provide a nice ambiance while the sound of a whip cracks in the still, chilly night air.”
Dakarai’s face hardened with something she recognized as desire. “Don’t let Joaquin hear you say that. He would take you up on that offer in a heartbeat.”
She snickered, taking a drink of her coffee. “I doubt that. I don’t think he likes me very much. He’s always cold and distant toward me and seems to enjoy bossing me around. I’m sure I’m the last person he would ever consider.”
The blood warmed in her veins when she recalled the raunchy dream Joaquin had of her earlier.
Dakarai bored a hole into her skull as he gawked at her. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
She blushed, knowing he referred to her masturbating while watching Joaquin sleep. Still, he couldn’t have known what Joaquin had been dreaming. Dakarai was only human, after all.
He stood and placed a steady palm on her shoulder. “Come back inside when you’ve had your fill.”
He went back inside while she sat in the cold air watching the people below. Brad Taylor and the woman had finished and were wiping their genitals off with napkins. Claire saw him discard the condom in the trash, and they pulled their pants back on. The woman put her top back on as well before leaving through the large gate. Brad got a spray bottle and wipes to clean off the swing with.
Dale Havarti’s cell phone rang and he answered it, massaging Trish’s pinked butt while he spoke. “Sally? Hi there. How are you?”
His mature face lit up like a Christmas tree when he realized who it was. Claire was touched by his affection and the smile of approval on Trish’s face. She didn’t seem to mind that he had feelings for another woman. Either they had an open relationship or were only in it for the sex.
“What? Josh got sick? Aw, that’s too bad. If it’s just a cold we could still meet at the club tomorrow night like we planned. He’s got a temperature. Yeah, he should rest. We can always breed our puppies another time then. Thanks. You too. Take care, Sally.” Dale hung up the phone with a disappointed sigh.
Trish gave him a look of sympathy. “She can’t make it?”
He shook his head, appearing so bummed Claire wanted to give the poor man a hug. “Josh is sick.”
“I’m sorry. Like you said, though, we can get together another time.”
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get your pants up. Your ass is probably freezing.”
“It’s not too bad. You warmed it up pretty good.” Trish winked at him, waiting until he’d unlocked her hands to reach for his fly. “I know just what you need.”
He grinned and played with her red hair. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Uh, huh.” She pulled out his cock and planted kisses all over it before letting go and looking up at him. “Do you feel better?”
He seemed to be trying to stifle a smile. “Not quite yet. Maybe you should give me a little more.”
She grinned and lapped at the head affectionately. “Like that?”
“Yeah. Why’d you stop?”
“You seem fixed now.”
His eyes narrowed, but he smiled as he pushed her head down and guided his dick into her mouth. “Damn it, Trish. I’m really depressed. Now make me happy, woman.”
She sucked him hard as he fucked her mouth, groaning and playing with her hair while he moved in her.
As tempted as Claire was to stay and watch the provocative display before her, she knew she’d better get back to work. Besides, Dale had been down and Trish was comforting him. They needed privacy right now.
Claire wondered why Dakarai had brought her out here to witness all of this in the first place. He never said why, but she was extremely grateful to him for showing her this. Her energy had been restored and she felt strong enough to work again, partly because of the coffee and partly from the sexual tension she had just fed off of.
When Claire got back inside, her jaw dropped in shock when she saw that four of the glasses of alcohol had been drained and now Cory was working on the Long Island iced tea. He hiccupped, looking like he might fall over.
“Oh my god, did you drink all of those?” She walked toward the bar where he sat, filled with disbelief.
Dakarai shook his head. “You were supposed to taste test a sip or two of each, not down all of them.”
“Oh, they were good.” Cory held a finger up and his head bobbed slightly when he lifted it. “She did a frucking good job.”
“Frucking?” Claire teased him.
He hiccupped and chuckled at himself.
“Remember last time when you had one of the drinks she made and your brothers each had one and everyone had one drink so as to prevent morning drunkenness?” Dakarai reminded him.
“Share?” Cory raised his voice to a comical volume, twirling his straw in the iced tea. “Who wants to share? I’m perfuck…excuse me. Perfectly capable of holding my liqueur.”
“You mean your liquor,” Dakarai corrected him.
“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I should have told him to take a sip of each,” Claire apologized.
“It’s not your fault. He is a big boy. He should know when to stop.” Dakarai shot him a look of disapproval, but he seemed mildly amused.
“Don’t stop believing,” Cory sang in a high-pitched voice that would have lost him any singing competition.
&nbs
p; Claire smothered a giggle and Dakarai smiled at her.
Brad Taylor came in just then. “Oh god in heaven, is my little brother drunk?”
Cory hiccupped and swung around on the barstool, nearly falling over. “Howdy, Brad. I’m about to win American Idol.”
Brad smirked. “You sure about that?”
“I had a butt-load of drinks. There was whiskey with crack. I mean Coke in it. I had a margarita and a Grave Robber.”
“Corpse Reviver,” Claire corrected him.
“Right. And now I’m about to have a Short Island iced tea.”
Brad shook his head and walked over to stop his brother from drinking anymore. “When you can no longer pronounce what you’re drinking, it’s usually a good time to stop.”
“Wait, wait. I also had a pink martini,” Cory confessed before turning his attention to the final drink.
Brad pulled his hand back and Dakarai took the tall glass away.
“Hey! I want my icy archipelago,” Cory complained.
“Come on, little brother. We’ll get you some coffee and dunk you in the rain barrel.” Brad helped Cory to his feet.
“Wait a minute. Do you know who loves pink martinis? Chanel Carmichael,” Cory remembered.
A certain warmth entered Brad’s brown eyes and a subtle smile played on his face at the mention of her name. “Yes, she does. Now let’s get you home.”
“No. I have a better idea.” Cory pulled his arm away from Brad and it swung limply. “I’m going to the bar.”
Claire laughed.
Brad grinned and shook his head. “The bar isn’t open right now, and that’s the last place you need to be.”
“I’m gonna find that sexy bitch, Chanel and kiss her good and hard in front of everybody until she starts kissing me back,” Cory decided, slurring his speech, though he looked proud of himself for the idea.
Brad rolled his eyes and swung his brother’s arm around him so he could help him walk out. “That will be the day. Come on. Let’s go.”
