Make Me, Sir (Doms of Decadence Book 5)

by Laylah Roberts

  “Looks like we’ll need that gag.” Instead of reaching for a ball gag or a scarf, Sloan picked up an oversized pacifier.

  “Open up.”

  With a whimper, the sub opened her mouth. Sloan leaned down and said something to her quietly. She seemed to melt slightly, staring up at him as though he was her world.

  “Aubrey doesn’t like to be gagged,” Reagan whispered.

  And the pacifier meant she could spit it out easily if she needed to use her safe word. Tiny’s estimation of Sloan went up.

  He moved around to stand between her spread legs and grabbed hold of the thermometer, pulling it in and out. In then out. Reagan moved restlessly beside him. Tiny drew her around in front of him. Reaching down, he pulled her breasts free of the corset. She gasped but didn’t say anything. Cupping each breast, Tiny rubbed her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers as they watched Sloan lube up a butt plug then push it slowly into the sub’s ass.

  Tiny lightly pinched each of Reagan’s nipples before tucking her breasts back into the corset. As soon as the danger to her was over, they would be coming back here. To play. And the medical corner was where they’d head first.

  He guided Reagan away. Alex waved at him from across the room, and he led Reagan over. Tara knelt between his legs, looking very happy as she leaned her head against his thigh. Alex ran his hand through her dark hair.

  Across from Alex sat Roarke. A blond, handsome man knelt to his right, and a slight, dark-haired woman knelt on his left. He knew Roarke had two submissives. But he couldn’t for the life of him remember their names.

  “Have a seat,” Alex gestured at an empty armchair.

  “You know Roarke, right?”

  Tiny nodded as he sat, gesturing to Reagan to kneel next to him. “Roarke, thanks for the hospitality.”

  Roarke smiled slightly. “My subs, Sam and Ava.”

  Both subs glanced up at him. Ava smiled. Sam looked him up and down and winked, which was an odd reaction. Then he gave Reagan the thumbs up.

  “Sam,” Roarke warned. “Behave.”

  He picked up a glass of water with a straw and held it out to Ava. “Drink, love. You need to keep hydrated.”

  “How is the baby?” Tiny asked, pleased with himself for remembering they’d just had a child.

  Ava frowned.

  “She’s fine.” Roarke seemed to be speaking more to Ava than him. The other Dom looked over at him with a wry grin. “Tonight is the first time all three of us have gone out and left her. But Lily is in good hands, Ava’s three best friends are babysitting her.”

  Sam snorted. “More like spoiling her to death.”

  “Sam.” This time Roarke’s voice was more forceful. It held a definite reprimand, and Sam lowered his head. Although, the grin on his face told Tiny he wasn’t that repentant.

  Sam was obviously trouble.

  “Alex, watch Reagan while I get some drinks?”

  “I’ll go, Sir,” she immediately offered.

  Tiny gave her a firm look. “I wasn’t talking to you. Wait here.”

  He waited for Alex’s nod then rose and moved to the bar. As he waited for the bartender to finish another order, he turned back to watch Reagan. He knew Alex would watch her, but he found it hard to keep his gaze off her.

  “You’re new.” A pale, slim-built Dom dressed in tight leather pants and nothing else moved in next to him.

  “Yep.” Tiny turned back and ordered his drinks.

  “You’re with Reagan.”

  This guy seemed to like to state the obvious. Tiny grabbed the drinks with a nod of thanks to the bartender. The smaller Dom grabbed his arm. Tiny looked down at the hand on his arm then up at the other Dom. He immediately snatched his hand away, looking slightly nervous.

  Then he sneered. “Good luck with her. You’re gonna need it. She’s a cold bitch.”

  The pasty-faced Dom turned to stride away, and Tiny resisted the urged to hurl one of the drinks he held at the other man’s head. Anger strummed through his veins. Caution. Control. Sometimes you learned more by standing back and watching.

  Of course, if the other man said something to hurt Reagan then he’d intervene.

  Nobody upset his girl.

  Nobody.

  He walked back over to where Reagan waited for him. She smiled up at him as he sat, placing his drink on the small table beside his chair. Then he drew her between his legs, wanting her close. He held the gin and tonic he’d gotten for her up to her lips and waited while she took a sip. He’d gotten himself juice. He wasn’t much of a drinker.

  “Who’s that guy?” he asked Alex, nodding his head over at the Dom he’d run into at the bar. Although calling him, a Dom might be a stretch. “The rooster in the leather pants.”

  “That’s Paul,” Reagan told him. “Why is he a rooster?”

  “I didn’t ask you.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she lowered her gaze.

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  Tiny was aware the others were staring at them in amazement, but he couldn’t think why.

  “The rooster?” he asked Alex.

  “That’s Paul Henderson.”

  “I gave him a membership because he’s friends with a couple other Doms here who vouched for him,” Roarke told him. “But he doesn’t fit in that well? Why?”

  Tiny glanced down at Reagan. “He said something about Reagan. He doesn’t like her.”

  “Oh, quite a few Doms don’t like our Reagan,” Sam said cheerfully. “She’s like a bloodhound, she can sniff out a pretender, and she ain’t afraid to tell ’em what she thinks.”

  “Sam,” Roarke said quietly. “You and I have a date with the spanking bench as soon as it’s free.”

  Sam didn’t look the least bit daunted.

  “You hoping the intruder is going to strike tonight?” Alex asked.

  Tiny felt Reagan stiffen and placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly while giving Alex a frown. Reagan was near the edge of her tolerance. He’d brought her here hoping she’d relax. Talking about what this asshole wasn’t going to help her stress levels any.

  “Yes, we are,” Reagan finally replied, obviously thinking Tiny was taking too long. “If the alarm is turned off it sends an alert to his watch.”

  “Reagan,” Tiny said sternly. They might not be playing tonight, but he was still the Dom. Her Dom.

  She glanced up at him. Damn, those blue eyes of hers were mesmerizing.

  “Was Master Alex addressing you or me?”

  “You, Sir.”

  “And had I given you permission to speak?”

  “No, Sir.” A light flush covered her cheeks.

  “Up here. That’s ten.”

  He patted his lap.

  “Sir? May I ask a question?”

  His cock hardened at the submissive tone of her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought we weren’t playing tonight.”

  “We’re not. But I think Master Alex and Master Roarke can watch my back while I take care of your discipline.”

  Her eyes widened at the word discipline, her breathing quickening. She was aroused by his words, and he was fucking aroused by her.

  She climbed up, placing herself over his knee. He lifted the pleated skirt, exposing her red G-string. He hadn’t given her any instructions about what to wear, but damn, he approved. He ran his hand over the firm, pale globes, wishing he could take his time.

  He smacked his hand down quickly. Hard. This was discipline, after all. She let out a small squeak. He smacked his hand down again, loving the way her skin pinkened. Smack! Smack! He kept the pace steady, covering her butt in hard spanks. When he had delivered the final smack, he turned her on his lap to kiss her gently.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she whispered.

  “All is forgiven. Kneel again.”

  She moved down and knelt at his feet. Damn, he loved her.

  Fuck! Where had that thought come from? He couldn’t love her. They barely knew each other. Yeah, he wanted her. He
liked being with her.

  But love her?

  A beeping noise interrupted his thoughts, and he jumped to his feet. Reaching down, he grasped hold of Reagan’s wrist.

  “The alarm?” Alex asked standing and grabbing Tara.

  Tiny nodded, already moving. He raced across the playroom floor at a run, keeping Reagan close. He was aware of Alex and Tara following them. People stopped and stared, but he didn’t give a shit. He ran out the door, his gaze watching his surroundings as he moved to Reagan’s car.

  Alex and Tara jumped in the back. Reagan climbed into the passenger seat. He was screaming out of the parking lot in seconds.

  “Reagan. Seat belt.” He cursed as he hit red lights.

  “Roarke and Sam are following,” Alex told him.

  “Stay here with Reagan,” Tiny ordered him.

  “You got it,” Alex said grimly. “But take Roarke and Sam with you.”

  He didn’t need backup. He screeched to a stop. Another set of lights. Shit.

  “You stay with Alex,” he ordered Reagan. “No arguments.”

  “Please, be careful.”

  He noticed he hadn’t gotten her agreement.

  “Reagan. Promise me.”

  She sighed. “Fine. I promise.” There was clear disgruntlement in her voice.

  “I’ll call Jack,” Alex told him.

  “Maybe you should wait for him to get here,” Tara said worriedly.

  Tiny snorted. Like fuck.

  He screeched to a stop outside the apartment. Jumping out, he hit the ground running. As he neared the apartment, he just knew he was too late. Those two red lights had held him up. He unlocked the door and stepped quietly inside. The alarm was back on.

  Fuck.

  He moved through each room anyway.

  “Tiny?”

  He recognized Detective Wyatt’s voice and moved back into the living area to find Jack in the doorway, his gun pulled.

  “Gone,” Tiny told him, moving past him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get Reagan.” He needed to check on her. Fury thrummed inside him, needing release. He pushed it down, trying to calm himself before he saw her. When he stepped outside and strode toward the car, the passenger seat opened and she practically fell out in her haste to get to him.

  “Wait until I get there,” he said harshly. Too harshly. Pull yourself together, man.

  Reagan didn’t seem to notice, though. She waited until he was just a few feet away then launched herself into his arms. Instantly, he calmed. He ran his hand through her hair, trying to soothe them both. She shook against him.

  “Was he there?” she asked.

  “No, he’s gone. Come on.”

  He gestured at Alex to follow him. Roarke and Sam approached. “We searched around, just in case,” Roarke said. “Couldn’t see anyone.”

  Tiny led Reagan inside, keeping her firmly against his side. When they reached the corridor outside her apartment, her shaking grew worse.

  “I’m really starting to hate this place,” she murmured. No one else would have heard, she spoke too quietly. He growled softly. Her home should be her sanctuary. Not a place she feared.

  “Tiny, I can’t go in.”

  She stepped away from him, shaking her head. When she hit her back against the wall of the corridor, she slid to the floor, her face deathly pale.

  “Reagan!” Tara cried out.

  Tiny waved her back, moving forward to crouch in front of Reagan. Her breathing was coming in shallow gasps.

  “I—I—I—”

  “Panic attack,” Roarke said. “Have you got a paper bag?”

  “Kitchen. Next to the fridge. Third drawer down.” Tiny grabbed hold of her chin, raising her face. “Reagan. Breathe. Deep, slow breaths.” He took the paper bag Roarke offered, holding it to her mouth. “Slow. Long. Slow. Long. Good girl. Eyes on me,” he snapped when her gaze went over his shoulder.

  Her breathing began to slow, and she tugged at his wrist. He moved the bag away, watching her carefully.

  “Will this ever end?” she asked hoarsely.

  “Yes.” He cupped her cheeks. “I will get this bastard.” He hated this. Hated that she looked so lost. So scared.

  “I can’t do this any longer.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “I can’t.”

  “Then we won’t. We’ll pack up. Move.”

  “Move?”

  “Yep. Leave town.”

  “I can’t leave town.”

  “You’d be safe. Solve the problem.”

  Some color entered her cheeks. “Just run away? I’m not running away. I’m no coward.”

  “No, you’re not.” He kissed her forehead then drew her close. “You’re strong. Tough. Resilient. And mine. I’ll get him.”

  She sighed, relaxing. “Never doubted it.”

  He glanced up at the others who watched Reagan with concern. “We need to check the cameras, see if we got this bastard.”

  They moved into the apartment and huddled around Tiny’s computer as he brought up the video feed. He went back to fifteen minutes before the alarm on his watch went off. He pressed the forward button, stopping when he spotted a figure walking down the corridor outside Reagan’s apartment. The person was dressed in jeans and a hoodie. They kept their face lowered, the hood s up, further sheltering their face. It was hard to tell much else.

  The person drew something out of their pocket.

  “What’s that?” Tara asked.

  “A jammer, I’m guessing,” Tiny answered.

  “A jammer?” Reagan asked.

  “It sends out radio noise to interrupt the signal between the sensors and control panel. Then the perp can enter without the alarm going off, do what they have to and when they remove the jammer the alarm goes back on,” Jack said grimly. “Some alarms also make a noise when they detect jammers.” They watched the intruder attempt to enter Reagan’s apartment. “Did you turn that off?”

  “Yep,” he replied.

  “Why?” Tara asked.

  “Didn’t want to scare bastard off.” He was itching to get his hands on him. Come on, turn around.

  Obviously frustrated, the intruder kicked the door. Then started hopping around, clasping hold of their foot.

  “Idiot,” Sam said.

  Suddenly, the person looked up, their mouth moving as they probably cursed. Everyone gasped at the clear view of the intruder’s face.

  Tiny paused the feed.

  “Oh, my God,” Tara muttered.

  “It’s a woman,” he said, surprised. He hadn’t considered that angle. “Do you know her?”

  “Oh, we know her,” Roarke said grimly. “She damn well works for me.”

  “It’s Maddy,” Reagan told him. “The club’s receptionist. She said she had an emergency.”

  “You have a run-in with her?” Tiny asked her, drawing her onto his lap. The others stepped back. Roarke was furious, his whole body tense, as he leaned back against the wall. Sam leaned into him, obviously trying to comfort him.

  “No.” Reagan looked up at him, bewildered. “I’ve barely spoken to her, other than to say hello.”

  “How would she get a key to your apartment?” Tara asked.

  “Where do you put your key when you’re at the club?” Tiny asked.

  “In my locker.”

  He turned to Roarke. “You got cameras in there?”

  Roarke shook his head. “No, apparently, I’m not allowed to put cameras in changing rooms. I tried.”

  Damn. Tiny strummed his fingers against his thigh.

  “But there’s a camera on the door. You can see who goes in and out,” Sam pointed out. “And Maddy has access to the spare keys for the locker room. She could grab one, go into the women’s room when Reagan was busy and take her key.”

  “But my key never went missing while I was at the club,” Reagan pointed out.

  “No,” Alex replied. “But you can get a mobile service to come out and cut a key. They could’ve been waiting
in the parking lot.”

  “We need to check the cameras at the club,” Jack said.

  Roarke nodded grimly.

  “Can anyone else think of a reason she’d do this?” Jack asked. “Would she be jealous of Reagan? Mad at her for some reason?”

  “I can’t think of anything,” Reagan told him. “I don’t understand it at all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “There. There she is,” Sam said.

  Van, Roarke’s head of security, rewound the camera feed. They’d been searching through the camera feeds for the last two hours, trying to work out when Maddy might have taken Reagan’s key. It helped that Reagan only came to the club on Saturday nights. They’d begun with the Saturday prior to the first break-in and were working their way backward. They couldn’t get footage of Maddy actually taking the key, but they might spot her leaving with it.

  “Has she got something in her hand?” Roarke asked.

  “Can’t tell,” Van said with frustration.

  “I don’t think this is doing us any good.” Jack stretched. “I’m going to bring her in and question her. I’ll soon figure out why she’s doing this.”

  Tiny glanced over at Reagan who sat on a small sofa in the security room. Tara sat beside her. She looked pale and listless. All he wanted was to get her home and comfort her. There were still loose ends to tie up, but nothing he could do tonight. That was up to Jack. He needed to focus on Reagan.

  Tiny stood and strode over to Reagan then bent and picked her up, cradling her against his chest. She gasped slightly.

  “I’m taking Reagan home.”

  Alex helped Tara up, supporting her as she swayed. They said their good nights then he carried Reagan out to her car.

  Once they were back in her apartment, he reset the alarm then taking hold of her hand, pulled her into the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” she asked dully.

  He watched her with some worry. She was clearly in shock.

  “Running you a bath.”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm as he leaned over to turn on the taps. “I want to shower. With you.”

  Reagan needed to feel him against her. To have him close. She was still reeling, thoughts running through her head, like a hamster on a wheel, never getting anywhere. She’d never suspected that anyone at Club Decadence might be doing this to her. But truthfully, that wasn’t the only reason she felt so upset.