Cheyenne McCray - [Lexi Steele 01]

by The First Sin

The room smelled like what I remembered of the intoxicating scents of the Riviera dei Fiori when I did a job for RED in Italy. The River of Flowers. Beautiful.

  I gradually returned to reality—

  And realized I was virtually on display.

  The eyes of every man and woman in the cozy lounge focused on me. Some of the men and women made it obvious they were stripping me with their gazes, while others gave appreciative smiles. None of them wore collars. This was a Dom’s lounge.

  Tarantino stood behind me as I swallowed back the desire to turn and run.

  No, I could do this.

  Men and women decked out in various forms of fairly revealing leather lounged around on the luxurious furniture, while many stood at the bar.

  I lowered my eyes like a sub would. And realized my fingers were aching from gripping my clutch purse so tightly.

  Where was Donovan? He was supposed to arrive before me.

  As I adjusted myself to my surroundings, I almost didn’t notice Tarantino’s warm hands on my backside until he started massaging through the soft leather skirt.

  He murmured close to my ear in his melting Italian accent. “I’d love to take you for one of my subs.” He trailed his lips along my jawline. “If I was in the position to, I would,” he added. “But you can have your choice of any unattached Dom you’d like.”

  Tarantino nipped my earlobe. “Not only are you one of the most beautiful women here,” he continued, “we’re short on females at the present.” He moved one hand under my leather skirt and rubbed it over one of the cheeks that had been left bare thanks to the thong I was wearing. “I could never imagine any of the men—or women—refusing you.”

  I forced myself to stand still and, instead of letting my surprise show, I sipped my martini, then looked at Tarantino over my shoulder. “And if I refuse any of them?”

  Tarantino took me by the shoulders and brought me around to face him, but I still kept my eyes lowered like I’d be expected to. “No one is forced to do anything they choose not to at the Twilight.”

  I nodded and his fingers slid across mine as he took my empty martini glass from my hand. When did I finish drinking it?

  “Sex is reserved for the private rooms. Some of the rooms you can watch or be watched. Other rooms you may enjoy your partner or partners in solitude.”

  I could deal with the private room part. Donovan and I could lock ourselves away and do nothing. Or maybe we would end up doing far too much.

  Yes, please, my rowdy hormones seemed to plead.

  Tarantino leaned close. “Every new Dom and sub go through a ‘test’ that is very public. Entirely revealing. Helps with our screening process.”

  Yeager had prepared us on this and, even though the thought still made me nervous as hell, I nodded. “Of course.”

  Tarantino gave a smile filled with sexual promise. “As they say, ‘what happens in the heart of the Crystal Twilight stays in the Twilight.’ ”

  Then he leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “The other three club owners have one more special provision in our inner circle.” I couldn’t help the little shiver of unease that ran down my spine. What provision? “The three of us get to enjoy all of the new subs at least once, with or without their Doms present. Our club, our rules.”

  I nodded. Damn. That wasn’t standard protocol for a BDSM club or relationship.

  “And,” he added in that same voice that was making me so hot, “I think I might have to fuck you before anyone else has a chance to.”

  Not on your life, I thought, but managed to keep my mouth shut.

  He gave me a sensual smile. “But first things first.”

  He gave a slight incline of his head to his right and I followed his gaze. A woman with flawless dark brown skin and long, shapely legs approached us. She was unbelievably tall in her five-inch-heeled thigh-high boots. She had lush red lips, countless long black braids, and a body as great as Georgina’s. She wore a leather corset and a leather thong—

  And she carried a whip. One hell of a whip. “Mistress Danica will have you prepared,” Lucca Tarantino said, and this time there was a little amusement to his tone. “She has a special touch with submissives.” She snapped the whip almost lightly, but still with a cracking sound.

  I looked up at Tarantino. “Enjoy, little sub.” He gave another sensual smile and walked away.

  Donovan. Where was he? What if he didn’t make it in for some reason?

  “Slave.” Danica’s voice was harsh. She sounded like a major bitch. I met her brown eyes and she frowned and snapped the whip. She glanced at my ankle cuff. “You should know better than to look up without permission from a Dom.”

  Bite me, I wanted to say. But she probably would have.

  I kept my eyes downcast and stared at those five-inch-heeled boots. How the hell did she wear such high—

  “I just gave you an order. What do you say, slave?”

  Of course, with my research, I knew what she expected. With Perry I’d planned on being on her end of the whip, not on the receiving end.

  “Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said, as submissively as I could.

  “Keep your eyes down and come forward, slave.”

  Now I was staring at her rounded backside as it swayed almost hypnotically in front of me. With her height and those heels I was practically eye-to-butt level.

  The hardwood floor clicked under our heels as Mistress Danica led me through the room. From the corners of my eyes I saw more appreciative glances from men and women, and even heard murmurs about my attributes. “I’d like to spank that cute—” “That one’s got fire in her.” “All the better to burn.” “Hot little package.”

  Moisture didn’t want to go down my throat as I tried to swallow. We passed one blond woman sitting on the arm of a couch and she pinched me under my skirt as I walked by. I made a little sound of surprise and almost stumbled. The blond laughed.

  “Don’t make a sound without my permission, slave,” Danica said as she continued walking.

  “Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said to her butt.

  In truth, submissives weren’t doormats. They held the power over their Doms, which was something I’d learned right from the start of my research. According to everything I’d read and seen subs held the true power—the power of giving their Dom pleasure.

  But as I followed Danica and held onto my clutch, I had a feeling nothing was going to be easy tonight.

  Danica guided me to a room that smelled of almonds and vanilla, and reminded me of a massage parlor. It had a couple of massage tables, vials of oils, and warmers for hot towels. The clear view of a shower was to my left, and rows of tall and short lockers in front of me. To my right were a man and a woman. Each stood with their feet shoulder-width apart, their hands clasped behind their backs, and their eyes lowered. And each of them wore black leather that didn’t cover a whole lot.

  A slow burn rolled under my skin. Here we go.

  “Slave Kathy and slave Samuel, this is our newest slave. She hasn’t earned the right to be called by her name. Yet.”

  Oh, great. Slave no-name, that’s me.

  Danica swung around to face me, and now I was looking at her crotch instead of her backside. Terrific.

  “Slaves Kathy and Samuel will strip you and prepare you for your first test.”

  Strip. Me.

  This was real now. It wasn’t practice, it wasn’t something I was still working through in my mind to make sure I got it right. It was real.

  Game on.

  “Yes, Mistress Danica,” I said, trying to keep my voice respectful.

  Danica turned slightly toward Kathy and Samuel. “Put her in that new little crisscross number we just got in. Leave on her heels and her ankle cuff.”

  The sigh of relief that they weren’t going to take my ankle cuff almost came out of me in a rush. I managed to hold it in.

  “Yes, Mistress Danica,” the two slaves said as one.

  Danica stepped close to me and cupped my chin in
her hand before raising my head so that my eyes met hers. Her long braids swung over her shoulders as she leaned down and brought her face close to mine.

  “I bet you’re delicious,” she murmured before she kissed me.

  To say I was shocked was an understatement. I’d never been kissed by a woman before. I can’t say it was unpleasant. Her lips were soft, and she slipped her tongue inside my mouth when I opened it in surprise. She tasted sweet and like she’d just had a glass of fine wine, and she smelled like jasmine.

  Still, I was happy when she drew away. Women just didn’t do it for me and I didn’t really have any desire to repeat the experience, though, honestly, it looked like the night was young yet, and who knew what would be required of me while I was tested.

  But then I thought about the girls I was trying to save and knew that this was nothing. I would do what I needed to do to save them.

  Danica smiled at me, thinking my stunned reaction was due to her prowess and not my shock. Well, whatever did it for her.

  “Here the sub chooses her Dom, if the Dom reciprocates,” she said. She ran her finger down the side of my throat and rested her hand on my breast. “I’d enjoy having you for a sub.”

  She kissed me with her soft lips again before she nodded to the other two slaves. Then she turned and strode out the door.

  The imprint of Danica’s mouth seemed to remain on mine, and my lips tingled. The sound of a zipper and air caressing my spine brought me to the present in a hurry.

  Kathy slipped my clutch out of my hands, which left Samuel as the one stripping me. His grip on my waist was firm and the corset was already falling away. It landed in a pile on the floor with a soft brushing sound.

  Samuel unzipped my leather skirt and let it drop around my heels. “Nice.” He was behind me so I couldn’t see his expression. “But I prefer dick over pussy.”

  Oh, good. Then his pulling my thong down around my ankles wasn’t arousing him.

  Sometimes this job was insane. Beating my head against the wall felt like a real idea right now. I was insane for coming up with the infiltration idea.

  But really, what choice did we have?

  I stepped out of the thong and skirt, and Kathy grinned up at me as she knelt and gathered my stuff. She folded everything neatly, arranged my clutch on top, and pushed the pile into one of the shorter lockers.

  The smells of almonds and vanilla grew stronger as Kathy and Samuel had me lie facedown on one of the massage tables and my preparations began. By the time they were done with me, I had been massaged, oiled, and trussed up in mere strips of leather. I hadn’t been crazy about it, but at least I’d had the complete wax job done earlier, or they would have done it. I could smell the melted wax they used for that purpose.

  I was so getting extra pay for this. No idea how I’d turn it in, but I’d figure something out. Hazard pay? The look on Oxford’s face would almost be worth the current embarrassment. Good thing I wasn’t a regular Fed. The newspapers would have too much fun with an exposé on something like this.

  Agent gets Brazilian wax on the clock. Your tax dollars at work . . .

  Thank God my lower part was covered with the strips of leather, even though the bottom half was just a thong so my butt was completely bare. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be wearing any skirt to cover myself.

  Samuel and Kathy raised more strips and crossed my nipples with about one inch of leather, and fastened the straps over my shoulders.

  “Perfect,” Kathy said as she looked at me.

  My entire backside and belly were bare, and only thin leather strips covered my nipples. That was it.

  I absolutely did not want to go strutting through a room of people dressed in the equivalent of three leather tongue depressors.

  Samuel put his hand on his chin and twirled his fingers in a way that told me he wanted me to turn around. I did as he said, sure that certain leather parts would fall away from all of my important parts, but it stayed put. Good sign.

  When I met Samuel’s gaze again his expression was almost serious, appraising. “Excellent. Stunning.”

  “And with your backside bare like that, it’ll be perfect for your test,” Kathy said.

  “I haven’t been told yet.” I cleared my throat. “What’s the test?”

  “You’re going to love it.” She smiled. “A good flogging in front of the whole club.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Ouch

  March 30

  Saturday night

  I had broken out into a sweat and it and the oil was slick on my skin as my arms brushed my sides while I walked, with Karen and Samuel on either side of me, toward . . . toward what? The scent of almond was so strong, it blocked out any other kind of smell. Must have gotten some of the oil up my nose.

  How strange my mound had felt all day, waxed and bare, and even more so now that I was oiled. The roiling sensation in my belly accompanied the pain in my chest that could have been from the pounding of my heart.

  Christ, Steele. When you worked narcotics, you were in knife fights with drug-dealing gangs—and managed to escape with a few slashes before taking the assholes down with other RED agents. A lot you’ve taken down yourself. You’ve had to smoke pot, snort coke, all in the name of playing an undercover part.

  And you’ve killed, Steele. Many times. Many, many times,

  You can do this.

  My tits were going to fall out of those straps, I just knew it. If I moved the wrong way I’d flash anyone who passed us while we made our way through a maze of high-ceilinged, arched hallways.

  The ankle cuff was a constant reminder that I needed to find a way to download info off Tarantino’s computer. Not that I needed a reminder, because thinking of saving those girls from being auctioned was what kept me going.

  It was almost painful to swallow as I managed to walk with what looked like confidence down a long hallway. Whenever we passed a Dom, I lowered my gaze.

  Faking illness didn’t sound like too bad an idea right now. Of course that would ruin my chances of getting “in” with this BDSM crowd.

  Where was Donovan?

  Kathy and Samuel hadn’t spoken, but Kathy took my hand and squeezed it briefly before she let go. I looked at her smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  No doubt she felt the tremors in my hand. I nodded.

  “Master Tarantino believes only in pleasure for the sub.” She gave one more squeeze before releasing me. “You can always use your safe word.” She frowned. “But then you’d fail the test and we wouldn’t see you around anymore.”

  I blinked. Were women who didn’t make the cut taken to the auctions?

  I’d better make the cut. That’s all there was to it.

  At the end of one long hallway was my virtual doom. Through the tall, wide-open double doors, I saw what looked like a casual party. Apparently it was a very private party considering the number of uncovered breasts of women wearing collars and the men in skimpy thongs that barely covered their packages while they walked behind their Doms. Some of the subs were being tugged along with chains or leather leashes attached to their thick leather collars.

  We walked closer.

  And closer.

  At the threshold.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me.

  In the crowd of onlookers, I registered Benjamin Cabot and Jason Strong, our other two major suspects. Strong really did look like a buff Vin Diesel in a sleeveless shirt, with muscles in all the right places, including the one in his tight leather pants.

  Cabot was better looking in person than he had been in the photo we had on record. I’d been right about him being classically handsome, but he was much more of a snob—or looked like one—than I’d gathered from his pic. Like Tarantino and unlike all the leather and lack thereof on the people around us, Cabot wore a suit. Armani.

  Cabot had a satisfied smile and as he studied me, and I knew he was taking great pleasure in what I was about to go experience. I glanced at Strong
and Tarantino, and saw the same expressions of pleasure on each of their faces.

  I remembered the part about the three of them having the option to use my body, with or without my Dom, as part of the club package. Christ.

  Samuel touched the base of my spine and gently propelled me forward, guiding me to the center of the room. The plush evergreen-shaded carpeting muffled the sound of my three-inch heels.

  When we reached the center of the room, I knew the drill. I immediately took a sub’s stance. My feet shoulder-width apart, my breasts thrust out, my hands clasped behind my back. I wouldn’t raise my eyes unless I was told to.

  I’d been beaten in the Cuban and Mexican jails, whipped, punched, knocked out. This was nothing.

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  Samuel and Kathy moved away. With my eyes downcast, it was hard to make a sweep of the room with my gaze to analyze it and look for Donovan, but I did my best.

  The scent of sandalwood met my senses just before Lucca Tarantino stood before me, still dressed in the suit that was obviously tailored and made just for him. Was he going to do what he’d said? Fuck me before anyone else could? I have to admit I’d take him over anyone else I’d seen.

  Except Donovan.

  Where’d that come from? Maybe because I’d fantasized about him too many times to count since meeting him.

  “Very good, Mistress Danica,” Tarantino said in his smooth Italian accent. He reached up—and pushed aside one of the straps, completely baring my breast. I barely held back a gasp. He stroked my breast, my skin still moist from the almond oil. “You had your slaves prepare her well.”

  He pushed aside the other strap and that breast felt the coolness of the room.

  Now everyone could see my breasts and my nipples, which hardened and stood out.

  I deserved a bonus for this.

  Tarantino hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my head back, forcing me to look at him. With a sensual smile, he brought his lips to mine.

  His kiss was slow, inviting. But it was a kiss of ownership. I felt it in every cell of my body. He’d decided he owned me, no matter what Dom I chose.

  But nobody owned me.