“Where’s the fun in that?” Anya complained.
It took only a half hour before Dante was knocking at her door. Colleen let him in but ignored him while she finished the scene for her appointment tomorrow. Her clients were in a committed relationship and wanted an introduction to BDSM.
“How about you lie on the bed and we test out those handcuffs?” Dante stroked his finger around the inside of the cuff attached to the bedpost. “Fleece lined?”
Colleen almost laughed at his sneer. “Don’t fuck up my scene. I’ve got clients coming tomorrow afternoon for their first lesson in bondage.”
“You could have at least started with silk scarves.” Dante sniffed in disapproval.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’ll be doing some scarf play before the handcuffs. I’m going to give them a little taste of everything, enough to whet their appetites for deeper experiences. They bought the six month program.”
“Sounds like fun.” Dante whistled. “But not cheap.”
“Never cheap.” Colleen motioned for him to sit in the wide armchair.
“Are you going to join me?” He patted his lap. “Just lie down across my knees.”
Colleen admired his determination. She put a booted foot on his thigh and leaned down enough that the stiletto point pushed into his leg a bit. “I want to ask a favor.”
Stroking the leather of her boot, he said idly, “I’m listening.”
“I want use of Jake.”
“Who’s Jake?” Dante encircled her ankle with his hand and pulled her closer.
Colleen shifted her weight so it went on that narrow heel, pushing into his thigh. He held up his hands in surrender. She eased back on the pressure.
“One of the benches out in the club. Nice ass. Long black hair.”
“Ah yes. How did you meet him?”
“I was sitting on him at the time.”
“He propositioned you?” Dante’s face grew grim. “I’ll see him punished for that.”
“I did the propositioning. He acquiesced that a relationship would be agreeable.”
Dante smirked. “I bet. So how long do you want him for?”
“Let’s try a month. Maybe longer if I like him. Exclusively.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Dante gently removed her leg from his. “None of my subs want monogamy. You could have him a few nights a week, but he has other duties that he performs for me.”
Well, that sucked. Colleen didn’t want to share. “That’s too bad,” she said, eyeing Dante. He had something else up his sleeve. She just had to give him the rope to hang himself with.
“Is that a deal breaker?” Dante stood up. Colleen decided not to step back to give him room. In her boots she was a few inches taller than him, and she liked that he had to glance up at her.
She crossed her arms under her corset and nodded.
Dante’s gaze lingered on her cleavage, as she knew it would. “Perhaps I can be of assistance,” he said.
“I need a sex slave, Dante. You don’t take orders very well.”
“Hear me out,” he said.
This ought to be good. Colleen indicated with a nod that he should continue. He rested his hand on her hip, and for the moment she let him keep it there. She found it strange that there wasn’t any tickling in her nether regions when she was this close to Dante. No desire to shove him back on that chair and ride him until they were both hoarse from screaming. She was entertained, though. Maybe that could be enough.
“I’d like to learn to be a switch.”
Colleen almost reached for her eyebrows to stop them from flying off the top of her head.
“But I’d like you to switch for me, too,” he added in the next breath.
Biting her tongue to keep from laughing, she fought to remain poised. Dante wanted to be dominated, but only if he could dominate her in turn. It wasn’t unheard of. A lot of Dommes switched to submissive depending on their lovers. But Colleen wasn’t a switch. She was a top and had only been submissive to one man.
Colleen couldn’t give away that gift of control to just anyone. It would mar Alfie’s memory if she submitted to a man just to get laid. Dante had charisma and power. He was a damned good Dom. His subs were the best in the club—which was why Colleen was trying to pilfer one. But Alfie was power.
His illness had sometimes limited what they could do in the bedroom. So he told her exactly how she could please him. How to sit. How to offer herself to him. What to do and when. It was a relief to know he would guide her through their lovemaking and take care of her needs both in and out of the bedroom. It had been a blessing to let go, to stop thinking and just feel. Alfie had been in control. He handled everything. All she had to do was follow orders and orgasm when he allowed it. The first time he dominated her, Colleen came until she thought she would go blind. It was addicting stuff. But now it was gone, and she didn’t want to give that control to anyone else. She wasn’t that twenty-year-old girl searching for direction and guidance. It was her turn to direct and guide.
“Why do you want to bottom?” Colleen asked. Maybe Dante needed to let go as well. He certainly worked hard enough around here.
“I’m bored.”
Well, that was a thrilling admission. Colleen controlled her sigh and resisted telling him to go read a book or something. Luckily, he continued to talk on and didn’t notice her hesitation.
“I want someone to take care of me for a change. Do you think that’s selfish?”
No, she didn’t. So she shook her head. “I’m honored that you trust me enough to do that for you.” It was certainly more than the senator was willing to give her.
“So when do you want to start?” Dante leaned in to kiss her.
For a moment she almost let him. But she turned and stepped away, leaving him hanging. She didn’t want to have sex with him. But she could still dominate Dante. At least she’d be able to fill that need for him.
Alfie had once asked the same thing from her. He had known he was dying, but he didn’t tell anyone. Colleen found out after his death that his doctor had told him he had about a year left to live.
But she hadn’t known any of that. She’d just figured that her husband wanted to switch things up in the bedroom. So she’d let Alfie guide her through domination and control, instilling in her the belief that it was the dominant’s duty to see to the care of his slave. When she mastered his lessons to his satisfaction, he had her switch back to submissive. But it hadn’t been the same. After feeling the rush of being a Domme, it was hard to be content as a sub.
During that time, Alfie had made her CEO of all his hotel properties, knowing that his family would fight her on the inheritance after his death. Then in between watching her get herself off on various tools and devices, having her walk around in his presence naked—or, if she was being punished, clipping clothespins on her body—he taught her how to run those businesses. It didn’t hurt that he had world-class employees who knew their jobs and were loyal to him. Alfie had had a way of bringing that out in people. Just as he’d had a way of bringing out the submissive side that she no longer had. The thought of kneeling at Dante’s feet with a collar and a leash turned her stomach a bit. However, if Dante was at her feet, she could work with that.
“I’ll train you to be a switch,” she said. “But I remain a top.”
He took her in his arms. “No deal.”
Colleen shook him off before he could complete the clinch. “The choice is, of course, yours. If Jake changes his mind about monogamy…”
“He won’t,” Dante bit out.
“Neither will I. You have my permission to leave.” She took precisely one step back and indicated the door with a flourish of her arm.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said over his shoulder.
“I make them all the time.” Colleen forced a note of gaiety into her voice. But the slam of the door almost brought her to tears.
Chapter 7
Chase wondered if it w
as all right to sport wood in Club Inferno—without being taken for a participant. There was skin everywhere. The servers were topless, both men and women. They had nipple clamps attached to a chain. If you wanted a drink, you tugged them over. If you wanted more than a drink, they sank to their knees. This place was off the hook.
And yet he found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of Colleen. He didn’t think she’d be in her little cheerleading outfit, but it bothered him that she might be behind closed doors with someone else. It bothered him a lot. It reminded him of how fast she’d moved on after their last fight ten years ago. If she got married again…Chase broke out in a cold sweat. A part of him knew he was being ridiculous, but the caveman part wanted to get his club and go hunting for his woman. They’d had a stupid fight. He’d been taken aback, and instead of just thinking with his little head, because Colleen meant a lot more to him than a quick fuck in a fantasy sex room, he’d done the noble thing and left to give them some space.
Having space sucked. He was over it as soon as he hit the highway and spent the rest of the drive home cursing himself for being a grade-A jackass. So what if she liked sex a little kinky? As long as she saved it for him, who really gave a fuck if she wanted to be banged wearing a cheerleader outfit? It wasn’t as if she was walking around with her tits on a leash. She owned the place. Chase averted his gawking stare from a few male slaves who were pretending to be horses. Their riders steered them with a bridle and a riding quirt to a starting line marked with tape on the floor.
To each his own, right?
As long as she didn’t expect him to giddyup, they wouldn’t have a problem. Chase took a beer from a redhead with great knockers. Not that he was looking—much. He shifted so his jacket covered the growing bulge in his pants. Chase had to hand it to Colleen. She didn’t do things half-assed. He never would have guessed that she had a thriving sex club down below Couture. The shit that was going down here made the Hot Spot’s spankings seem tame.
“What did you think of your first time on the runway?” Anya sidled up and asked him.
He turned to face her. She was wearing a dancing dress with cherries on it. The bottom of it swung saucily as she moved to avoid the stampede of racing man-horses.
“Why don’t they just stand up on two legs and piggyback the riders to victory?” Chase asked, flattening himself against the wall.
“They’re ponies, not satyrs.”
“I couldn’t tell by the tail. Is that inserted in their…”
“Ass,” she finished. “Yup.”
“Well.” Chase took a large drink. He seemed to be doing that a lot here. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”
“Actually, it is,” Anya told him.
Back in Vegas all those years ago he and Colleen had double-dated with Anya and her boyfriend, but he didn’t remember much about hanging out with Anya. Even back then, he’d been obsessed with Colleen. But from what he could recall, Anya didn’t take any shit and was a lot of fun.
“So you’re a model, too? Got any tips for a beginner?” he asked.
“Take every job you can. No matter how small or weird. Get your name out there. Of course, you already have a name, so it might be a little easier on you.”
Chase was comfortable talking about fashion and Couture. It was safer, and he didn’t feel like such a rube. “The runway wasn’t what I was expecting. The lights are really hot, and the flashbulbs nearly blinded me.”
“That was nothing,” she said, snorting. “At least you didn’t have the designer screaming at you during outfit changes that you’re ruining his career.”
“That sounds like fun.” Chase probably would have told the guy off. At least Max didn’t have a big ego and a chip on his shoulder.
“It’s not always like that. I really dig getting the makeup and hair done. I feel like a human Barbie doll, but in a good way.” Anya frowned. “It’s all about the clothes anyway. You appeared to be having a blast up there.”
“I was a little nervous,” he said. “But then I saw Colleen and it centered me. You don’t know where she is, do you?” People were starting to pair off—in some cases in threes and fours. Yowza. He’d had nights like that. They were few and far between, but he guessed that was the status quo down here.
“Yup.”
Chase waited, but Anya seemed content to eat the cherry out of her drink and watch Clint filming the pony race. The riders were on their second lap. Chase wondered if anyone was taking bets, because he had his money on one chick who was beating the hell out of her horse. After a few more moments of silence, Chase forced himself to sound casual and polite. “Where is she?”
“She’s in her dungeon with Dante.” Anya didn’t even glance back at him. Which was a good thing, because the news hit him in the face like one of Colleen’s slaps.
“What?” So much for polite.
Anya took a step away.
“Sorry. Which room is that?” He looked around the club. It could be anywhere. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention to his surroundings last time. He was going to tie that smarmy bastard’s dick in a knot.
“You’ll never find it. She left orders not to be disturbed.”
“What are they doing in the dungeon?”
“They’re not fucking,” Anya said.
His blood pressure ratcheted down a notch. “How do you know?”
“Well, unless Dante agreed to switch, it’s not going to happen. Although I’d love to be a fly on the wall if he did.” Anya whistled. “Dante’s a pretty hard-core Dom. But Colleen is the prima Domme-a.”
Chase wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what all that meant, so he got to the important part. “What are they doing, then?”
“Last time she whipped him with a bullwhip.” She blinked up innocently at him.
“What?” It came out a little less sharper this time, but louder than he wanted.
“But I think Dante thought that was too sub of him to continue. So I think she’s negotiating with him to borrow one of his slaves.”
“She wants to whip one of his slaves?” Chase wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Aside from Better him than me.
“I try not to get into any of the details. But if she merely wanted someone to whip, she’d just find a pain sub for the evening. No, if she’s interviewing for a slave, then it’s mostly for sex.”
“What?” There went his blood pressure again. He could feel the vein in his head pounding.
“Yeah, her last sex slave wanted another Mistress, so Colleen let him go. After all the trouble of training him. She lost a damned fine accountant, too.”
“She was fucking her accountant?” Absently Chase wondered what the symptoms of a stroke were, because he was sweating and light-headed, and there was a pain in his chest.
Anya shrugged. “If he pleased her. Mostly he lived to serve.”
“I don’t even know what that means.” Chase needed to talk to Colleen about this.
Anya’s hand on his arm shocked him. He wasn’t expecting a friendly touch. It seemed everyone here was hostile or indifferent to him.
“The key is, Chase, do you want to understand it? Because you’re not going to get Colleen without it. You’re too vanilla and she’s too rocky road, if you get my meaning.”
“Why are you telling me this? Colleen and I always end up detonating. I figured since you were her friend, you’d hate me.”
“I did hate you. I was there to pick up the pieces when you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”
“My dick…,” Chase started off saying, and then realized how ridiculous the conversation could get. “That whole situation was a big misunderstanding that took us ten years to sort out. We’re on a different path now.”
Anya sighed. “I can see that. Listen, Colleen needs someone to love her. And not in the she-needs-a-man-to-be-complete way. I mean she should have someone cherish her again, like Alfie did.”
Chase flinched, and Anya’s grip tightened.
“I knew
Alfie. He loved her. He gave her confidence. He was just what she needed at that time. And let’s face it”—Anya let him go—”he was rich and powerful, and he protected her.”
“I could have—”
“But you didn’t,” Anya spat out, drilling him in the chest with her finger. “Colleen isn’t like your little girlfriends. She’s a fucking force of nature. If you get in bed with the tornado, things are going to get shaken up, to say the least. I want to know, are you in it for the long haul? Because if you want a hit and run…” Anya spread her arms to take in the entire club. “Then take your pick.”
“I want her,” he said.
Anya smirked. “Good. Then you’re going to have to be a sex slave.”
A few hours later, Chase made his way up to Shira’s, where he knew Colleen was meeting with the reporter for some French magazine. He’d promised the guy an interview if he spilled the beans about what Colleen said to him. Armed with Anya’s information, some of which Chase wished he could bleach out of his brain—other parts sounded damned interesting—he and Colleen were going to negotiate some hard limits.
Colleen’s conversation with him at the Hot Spot suddenly made more sense. Hard limits: Exclusivity—check. No pain—check. Soft limits: Having sex in public. Not a problem as long as they were discreet. Chase had this. Now all he had to do was convince Colleen to give him another chance.
She spotted him as soon as he entered the restaurant. Her glance shifted to the nearest exit.
Oh no you don’t.
Chase slid into the booth next to her, effectively trapping her in. “How about that interview?” he said to the reporter.
Colleen looked like she wanted to dump her iced tea in his lap, so he put his hand on her thigh. She started, but aside from that didn’t move away from his touch.
“Excellent, Monsieur Fairwood. I’m so glad you could join us,” the reporter said.
“Thrilled,” Colleen said, shooting him a death glare.
Fever Page 8
