Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5)

by Maddie Taylor

  With a wicked grin, his fingers slid inside her collar, hooked it and pulled her gently, but firmly toward him, until his breath warmed her lips.

  “That’s Supreme Potentate to you, my sweet concubine, and don’t you forget it.”

  The tip of his tongue swept out and ran along her lips, before diving inside for a thorough taste. Mara melted into him. When he lifted his head, she was breathless.

  “You gave me the idea for the room, baby. I can’t wait to experience it with you. However, before you enter my decadent harem, we’ve got an hour to explore. Let’s get to it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her skin was alive with sensation, from the velvet ropes holding her arms and legs widespread, firmly bound to the four corners of the soft, plush bed, to the silken, fragrant sheets, the subtle caress of air from the fan overhead and the soft blindfold blackening out the room. She strained to hear him, a footstep, a floorboard creaking or the in and out rush of his breath. There was nothing, not one clue, which told her where he was.

  Out of nowhere, a downy caress brushed over a nipple, it then glided low and encircled the base of her breast. Light, wispy, almost tickling, it sent a shiver through her body, further igniting her skin and beading her nipples.

  “Pretty slave girl,” her Master murmured. “Guess what this is and I’ll give you more pleasure.” The downy touch crossed to her other breast, teasing the nipple into an aching hard peak.

  That’s it… down!

  “It’s a feather, Master.”

  “Excellent, which means you’ve earned a reward.”

  Without preliminaries, something cold, wet and slick slid over her slit and then entered her, sinking profoundly deep. It didn’t stop until a raised area in front nudged her clit. Vibration claimed her next. No. Wait. This was a different sensation all together. It didn’t quiver and shake, it pulsated and actually—holy shit!—it essentially thrust in and out without any external movement at all.

  She groaned as it pulsed away inside her while rhythmically thumping against her clit. Slow torture came to mind. He could leave her tied, blindfolded and filled with the tormenting sex machine, letting it go at her endlessly while keeping her continuously stimulated.

  “Oh, god,” she moaned.

  “No, my slave… Oh, Master.”

  “Mrs. O’Brien?”

  Mara started at the woman’s voice, practically jumping out of her chair. Momentarily confused, she glanced around. Pungent odors of permanent solution and hair dye penetrated her erotic daydream and reminded her where she was, at Hairbenders in the mall.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. O’Brien, but we’re ready to rinse.”

  Mara glanced up at younger woman, embarrassed to be caught in the midst of a sex fantasy. Okay, it wasn’t a mere fantasy; it was a wonderful memory, one she’d replayed often in her head since opening night. Though sometimes her brain added a new twist to the hour she and Sean had spent in the Sultan’s Chamber.

  “If you’ll come this way,” the stylist persisted.

  She nodded and followed, purse in hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m kind of out of it today. I didn’t sleep well.”

  Why she felt the need to explain, she hadn’t a clue. She also shouldn’t be embarrassed, no way could the woman know what she’d been thinking and with the voluminous cape covering her upper half, she couldn’t see her stiff nipples poking like bullets against her blouse. Thank heaven.

  Keeping up a non-stop stream of mundane conversation for the rest of her appointment, Mara avoided any further lapses into fantasy. Before she knew it, she was admiring the subtle golden highlights of her now medium brown hair that had been styled into glossy waves around her shoulders and falling halfway down her back.

  “It turned out quite lovely, don’t you think?”

  Mara smiled at the stylist in the mirror. “I love it. I haven’t been brunette since I was a girl.” She didn’t allow herself to think about that, focusing instead on how nice it would be not to have to cover dark roots every few weeks.

  After paying, and tipping generously, Mara headed out. Every window and mirror she passed drew her eye to her new look. After so long as a blonde, it was hard to believe it was really her. Hopefully, Sean would love it as well.

  While walking out to her car moments later, unsettling didn’t begin to describe the sense of déjà vu that consumed her. The mall had been crowded when she arrived, the sun shining brightly overhead. Near closing now, there were a fraction of the cars left and naturally, hers was in the far lot. In Texas, she supposed it would be called the south forty, put plainly it was a long haul with her hands filled with shopping bags. It was also dark, thanks to the moonless night sky and not enough lights in the lot. Sean would bust her butt for parking so far away and next to trees which shadowed her car.

  A prickling sensation shot up her spine making the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. When she was within range, she hit her keyless entry and ran. Flinging open the door, she threw her bags inside and jumped in, slamming the door—hard. Once the doors were locked, she pressed the start button. As the engine turned over and purred in idle, she searched the rear view mirror and scanned the darkness from side to side for any sign of a threat. Seeing no one around, she heaved a sigh of relief.

  She’d been on edge since Club Decadence opened a few weeks back. Despite Joanna’s reassurances, her presence was an unpleasant reminder of what she longed to forget. Every time she saw her with the general, whether at Decadence or other social engagements, Mara tried not to think about what she alone, out of everyone else in the room, knew about her. She couldn’t. Other times, memories intruded when she least expected it and she’d begun having nightmares, which she thought she’d put behind her a decade ago. She knew it was equal parts past trauma and guilt over keeping secrets from Sean. Hiding her past was an omission that he wouldn’t see as anything other than what it was, a lie.

  However wrong, she couldn’t risk it. The loss of him would devastate her. Further, she’d chosen this path of deceit and the more time that passed the deeper the hole she dug. Even though her fears were entrenched by worries over his reaction, the only peace she found was in Sean’s arms. Maybe she was trying to absorb all of him that she could, before the inevitable happened. Yet, whether cuddling, making love or lying sleepless in his arms, the niggling fear of discovery never quite went away, constantly hovering in the back of her mind.

  He’d come upon her a time or two when she’d been lost in thought, triggered by something innocuous most often. Each time he’d asked where she’d drifted off to, she’d been able to wave if off. However, when she woke him crying out in the throes of a nightmare, often later the same night, it was more difficult to get him to let go of his concerns.

  As she drove out of the lot and turned toward home, she thought about returning to the empty house and dreaded it. It couldn’t be helped tonight, since Sean was out of town on a case for Rossi. She hadn’t wanted him to leave, but couldn’t complain without making him suspicious and she didn’t have the heart to worry him. He’d been so excited about going back to fieldwork at long last. His leg was better, the team of specialists having identified the problem right off, scar tissue and tiny shards of metal lodged in deep tissue and pressing up again some vessels. After minor outpatient surgery, medication to improve circulation and exercises to strengthen the leg, the swelling decreased, the sensation improved and he’d been released to return to duty. She’d been livid, going on about negligence and quacks back in D.C., but Sean had been pleased he was recovering and insisted she let it go.

  Therefore, with her husband happily off protecting, or surveilling, or reconning for some client, she prepared to spend the first night alone since moving to San Antonio. As she turned into the driveway and saw the dark house, she sighed. Maybe it was time they got that cat.

  Pressing her garage door remote, she pulled slowly inside and closed it behind her. Once it shut, she opened her door and got out, freezing as she noticed the ins
ide door to the house ajar. Instant alarm shot through her. She’d closed and locked it before she left that morning; she was sure of it. Immediately, her hand dipped in her purse for her phone.

  “Tamara, I’m so pleased you ditched that tacky blonde hair.”

  Screaming, she whirled at the sound of the familiar name said in lightly accented Spanish from behind her. Not five feet away stood Victor Mendoza.

  Lunging forward, he blocked the car door with his body as she tried to leap back inside, pinning her between him and the open door. Her hands came up and pushed at his chest. A useless effort while he laughed the harsh, bone-chilling sound that had haunted dreams for years. Her mind was numb, unable to believe he was standing in her garage and that he’d been in her house.

  “Mi corazón, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  “Let me go, Victor.” She remembered her keys in her hand and fumbled for her pepper spray on the ring. “I’ll use this mace, I swear.” Let him think she had the illegal stuff.

  “Now, now, let’s not be so dramatic.” Easily, he twisted her wrist, removing the keys from her hand, tossing them away. She could only stand by helplessly as they skidded across the sealed, smooth concrete and under a storage shelf against the wall. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

  Cringing at his words as well as his odious touch, she leaned away, as much as the car behind her would allow.

  “We were never friends,” she all but spat.

  “Business associates then, querida.” She shuddered at his meaningless endearment. He’d use them before, calling her his darling or his love, then turned around and sold her to a senator for the night for two grand. Bastard!

  “Get away from me,” she cried, while struggling to get free. He had other plans and grabbing her by both wrists, hauled her out. When he let go with one hand to slam the car door, she thumbed on her phone, attempting to dial one handed.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. “Or else I might have to have a chat with your husband. Sean, isn’t it?”

  She stopped dialing, her hand trembling too much to hit the right buttons anyway. He pulled it from her fingers, quickly sending it the way of her keys.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, very much afraid of his answer. Victor only meant trouble. This was no social call or friendly reunion. He wanted something, which could only be bad news for her. She should have known he’d hunt her down again; she’d gotten away too easily the last time.

  “I need your help with a little business transaction involving a special client.”

  There it was. Her stomach rolled as dread swept through her. “I won’t whore for you, Victor. Never again!”

  “Ah, such passion, I’ve missed that.”

  “The only thing you’ve missed,” she shot back, barely short of a shout, “is the money I brought in by spreading my legs.”

  “There is that. You were one of my most popular girls, and could be again, bonita.”

  She glared at him, waiting for him to twist his knife. If he wanted something, he went to extremes, often taking painful measures—both physical and emotional—to get it.

  “Fine, if you don’t want to be friendly, I’ll get down to business. Bottom line, you’re going to help me, Tamara.”

  The sound of her real name, sent chills up her spine. “No, I told you, I won’t ever—”

  “Yes, yes, so you’ve said,” he interrupted impatiently while reaching into his pocket. She stiffened, her eyes glued to his hand, afraid he had a gun, or some type of weapon. He pulled out an envelope instead. “You will do exactly what I say or your pretty boy husband gets these by special delivery.”

  Feeling nauseous, she stared at the plain white letter sized envelope, afraid to take it, as if it were contaminated or venomous, like the snake that was its bearer.

  “Were you always this difficult?” he sighed with exasperation.

  “You didn’t allow me to be. It was easier to slap me around.”

  “Tsk tsk, beautiful and bitter, but we had some good times, si?”

  “Not si. You gave me three years of hell.”

  He glared at her, full of irritation as he shoved the envelope at her. When she refused to take it, he muttered in Spanish and tore it open. Mara knew quite a bit and could converse reasonably well, but from his rapid, low grumbling, all she could make out was puta obstinada, as he called her a stubborn bitch. She stepped back, but couldn’t go far with the car behind her.

  As he withdrew a stack of photos, she closed her eyes, a heaviness, crushing like leaden weights, pressed down on her chest. In the back of her mind she always knew this day would come, shattering the beautiful life she had with Sean. She’d overreached, daring to think she could rise above the filth of the gutter she’d come from, to infiltrate the life of a good, kind, generous man.

  “Open your eyes and see what I have for Sean, Tamara.” She turned her head, but Victor wouldn’t let her hide from her past. His fingers dug painfully into her skin as he gripped her chin and forced her to see the proof of her degradation. Dizziness swept through her as acid more bitter than gall rose in the back of her throat. In the low light of the garage, she saw herself, no more than sixteen going down on a man in a finely made suit in the back of a limousine. The hem of her dress was around her waist and the man behind her had his hand buried between her legs. This was tame compared to some of the things she’d done.

  Sean would go ape shit. He’d be revolted, sickened and forever see her differently. If he was repulsed by her, or worse, if he grew to hate her for the despicable acts she committed, she couldn’t bear it. And she couldn’t blame him; she hated herself for them too.

  “There’s video, available to VIPs only, since you were underage, but I’ll happily spare a copy for your old man, querida.”

  Legs turned to jelly, she slumped. He let her, stepping back as she crumpled to the concrete floor. Clutching her middle, she curled forward, letting out a mournful cry like a wounded animal. “Why,” she demanded, her voice brittle and distorted by pain, “after all this time? I’m too old for your clientele.”

  “I’ve got a new business line here in Texas. Wealthy ranchers and oil barons apparently like their kink. With your bondage experience, you’re perfect for my new customers.”

  She stared up at him in horror. “What?”

  “I know about you and your Master.”

  “But how?”

  “You’re mine, Mara. You’re right that you no longer met my client’s needs in Washington, so I let you go. But I kept tabs on you. Remember the night in the parking garage?”

  “That was you,” she exclaimed on a shaky exhale.

  “One of my men. si. Despite changing your name, getting your fancy nursing degree, marrying GI Joe and moving here, I always had my eye on you.”

  “…biding your time,” she whispered in alarm.

  “Exactly. You’ll always be mine.” He bent and grasped her arms. Ignoring her violent recoil at his touch, he hauled her to her feet. “Come, we’ll go for a ride and I’ll explain how you can help your old friend Victor.” Punching the button on the wall nearby, he opened the garage door and dragged her down the drive to where he’d parked on the street. Not an easy task with her body gone limp.

  At his vehicle, he opened the door. When she didn’t climb in, he cursed and practically threw her in. Vaguely, her numb mind registered the plush leather seats and Cadillac logo. The kink business must be paying him well, and now he wanted to use her to line his pockets further.

  He climbed behind the wheel, turning to her before he started the engine. “Buckle up for safety. Got to protect my precious cargo. You, my little dominatrix, are going to make me a mint.”

  She didn’t move or speak, ignoring his shrug of indifference as he pulled away from the curb. Mara turned her head and watched sadly as the lights of his caddy reflected on her home, the one she and Sean had created. Despondent, she strained to see the outline as it faded in the distance. I
t had been her sanctuary, but he’d ruined that too. She would never feel safe there again.

  Her thoughts turned to Sean, her heart aching as she recalled the dreams she had foolishly thought possible: a wonderful man, love, marriage, two kids, a yellow lab in the backyard and a white picket fence. She’d been on her way to achieving them all. A rare tear trickled down her cheek as he turned the SUV onto the main thoroughfare. Like her dreams, she left her home behind in the darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You work too much, Mara.”

  She looked up from her packing, to meet his narrowed eyes. “I’ve scaled back to three days a week as you asked.”

  “You don’t need to work at all. After only a few months, Decadence has a waiting list and Rossi is hiring extra men to keep up with the caseload. We don’t need the money.”

  “I like working.” She crossed the room to retrieve her penlight and keys from the dresser, feeling his gaze follow her around the room.

  He wasn’t happy. If the words didn’t tell her, his rigid stance, crossed arms and dark expression did as he leaned in the bedroom doorway. She gave him a sidelong glance as she shoved more items in her bag. Done, she looked around to see what she might have forgotten and spied her hairbrush on her vanity.

  Walking to it, she continued, “I’m already down to part-time. I don’t want to give up nursing all together. Besides, what am I supposed to do while you’re running around the world fighting bad guys, take up knitting?”

  “Don’t be flippant.” His tone said his patience was waning. As he came up behind her, he buried his face in her neck while she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, the way she always wore it at work. “At least you found something on day shift so we can spend more time together.”

  Although she was almost done and ready to twist on the hair band, he took the brush from her and began pulling it through, gliding his hand down the length with his free hand as he did so. She stilled, enjoying his gentle touch. He was a very tactile man and enjoyed doing these kinds of personal things for her.