The Club: Ethan

by Jenna Elliot

  Sir.

  My stomach knots and clenches. I swallow hard, still tasting the remnants of the whisky in my throat, the glow inside that was fueling my courage. But I can’t allow alcohol to make this decision. Not when I don’t understand this game, and the new edge to him both attracts and terrifies me. I am so out of my depth here. And that truth more than anything challenges me.

  “Sir.” One word that comes out in such a tremulous whisper.

  His expression eases up. A slight smile touches his mouth, and I know I’ve pleased him.

  “So, Mia.” He says my name like a caress. “What kinds of dangerous things do you do?”

  Finally, a question for which I have a ready answer. “I once had sex with a total stranger on the side of a dark and lonely road.”

  “The best sex you ever had?”

  Okay, I’m back on familiar ground with the male ego. “Maybe.” I shrug noncommittally.

  He chuckles, a rough-velvet sound like the whisky in my throat.

  He leans an elbow against the bar in a deceptively casual pose that doesn’t mask his intensity. “What else do you do that’s so dangerous?”

  “Sky dive.”

  “Really.” Definitely surprise. “A lot?”

  “No, just a few times.”

  A few men crowd me. Ethan protectively steps between them and me, and rests his hand on my elbow, his thumb moving back and forth in a slow motion. His touch is deceptive, too. An electric touch that reaches inside of me.

  He barely moves, but suddenly, I feel as if he’s too close when he whispers in my ear. “How does free-fall make you feel?”

  “Alive. That’s why I like snowboarding and kite sailing, too.”

  He leans back, contemplating. “So, you like excitement. I enjoy outdoor sports, but I prefer indoor sports even more. The kind of sports where all those sleek muscles of yours can be put to good use.”

  I lift my chin. “Is that so?”

  A man approaches us. “How about an introduction?”

  With a growl, Ethan slides his hand up my arm, my shoulder, my neck, and yanks back my head, claiming me. The other guy backs off. I’m twisted enough so the bar catches me mid back. There’s nowhere to go as Ethan’s mouth seals with mine. For one wild moment, I feel as if I’m in free-fall with no parachute.

  And can this dude kiss. His mouth slants over mine. His tongue tangles with mine, demands a response. My whole awareness is filled with him, and I don’t care that he forces me onto my toes, pinning my back against the bar. I don’t care that my scalp tingles with pain. All I can think about is how delicious it feels for him to trap me against him. His chest crushes my breasts, and my nipples harden. I’m aware of all the people around us, strangely titillated by the fact that Ethan’s revealing his passion for the whole world to see.

  He wants me.

  His erection proves how much.

  And with his lips locked against mine, his tongue plunging the recesses of my mouth, I surrender my will.

  He gives me no choice. With my back to the bar, his body holds me taut. His hand holds my head in place until my neck arches almost painfully. His mouth claims me. I feel a thrill of utter helplessness, a dangerous awareness that he can do whatever he wants to me. And no one will stop him.

  Least of all me.

  He is right again. I don’t want to stop him.

  I only want.

  His kiss is electric, and his mouth a warm cavern that thrills me, ignites my senses, sparks my need. Never before have I felt this way, as if some hunger inside me, under my skin, is awakening and taking over, driving me to grasp every sensation with Ethan, every moment with Ethan.

  My thoughts swirl—danger, danger. But excitement crowds them out. I have never been so alive in my life.

  His fingers tighten in my hair. With his free hand, he reaches under my dress. Memories of the morning assault me as he strokes his fingers across my ass.

  My skin tingles. The arousal starts to build with the insane earlier intensity. Suddenly, I want him to take me right here against the bar. I want him to do everything to me. I’m crazy to have him.

  I groan into his mouth. I groan at the primal feel of him, shudder right down to my bones. I try and lift my hips to offer my pussy. He teases me through my thong. My nerves energize. My breath is no longer mine but his. My senses revel and I want to gorge on him, on these sensations he creates, but I can’t even tell him as his tongue parties with mine.

  But he knows what I want. Experience makes him all the more exciting. His fingers slip along the edge of my thong. I want him so bad. I need him. It’s crazy.

  His fingers tease my willing folds, and my pussy clenches. Suddenly, he pulls back from our kiss, leaving his hand still buried in my crotch.

  “Jack, Glenmorangie for me and my pet.” He orders drinks while my wet folds pulsate eagerly for his attention.

  His pet?

  What the hell? I’m not reasoning too sharp here. Not with Ethan’s fingers idly stroking me. But if Jack thinks it’s at all strange I’m draped over his bar, he certainly doesn’t let on as he sets two glasses beside me and skillfully upends a bottle of scotch over them.

  Ethan inclines his head to the bartender, still not looking at me. Then he reaches for a glass and brings it to his lips at the same time he slides his finger inside me.

  I gasp loud enough to draw the attention of an elegantly-dressed woman seated nearby. She barely looks at me, but her gaze rakes over Ethan as if she wants to eat him.

  He doesn’t seem to notice. He only drinks and swallows before meeting my gaze. “My pet has to follow my rules,” he says matter-of-factly.

  That takes me a second to process. My thoughts are spinning. I’m still caught up in the heat of his mouth, still distracted by the feel of his finger inside me.

  “In this club, you call me sir,” he reminds me. “I only have one more important rule, Mia. It’s very simple.”

  I stare.

  “You can’t cum until I give my permission,” he says.

  He doesn’t actually expect a response, does he? When he doesn’t say anything, I think maybe he does, so I force myself to ask, “What happens if I don’t . . . obey?”

  “We’ll be over. We won’t be together again. Ever.”

  His finger slides out, grazes the wet thong as if already saying goodbye. My pussy throbs in protest. He only stares down at me and takes another sip of his drink. And waits.

  Through the daze of desire and surprise, I wrap my brain around his invitation. That’s really what this is. Not an ultimatum. I know those. I’ve had a lifetime of those.

  My way or the highway.

  This is more of a challenge. I see the dare in his molten gaze, the temptation to explore the way he makes me feel, to become involved in something I don’t understand yet. A game where I can be aroused and tantalized in full view of a crowd that won’t judge me, impose rules on me, rescue me.

  The unknown excites me because Ethan excites me. He knows what he likes, and knows what I like, too. I like how he makes me feel. So much. So if I want him, I have to obey his rules.

  I can’t cum until he gives his permission or he walks. I get it. I’m not entirely sure how that works, because the orgasms I’ve had with Dylan were always fleeting things I grabbed with both hands when I had the chance. Nothing like what happens to me in Ethan’s arms.

  But he obviously knows something I don’t.

  He leans so close our mouths are an inch apart. “Is it such a hard decision, Mia?”

  I can practically taste the scotch on his mouth and breathe in the scent. The scent of danger, I realize, as blood slugs through my veins, my body reacting to his nearness, the promise of his touch.

  That instant and unfamiliar desperation makes every red flag fly. I have never wanted anyone the way I want him. A man I don’t know. A man who makes me throw away reason and good sense. A man who chases away others with a growl. A man who may very well lead me to a dark place. A place that suddenl
y doesn’t feel like a game. A place with consequences I may not understand yet.

  A place I may like too much.

  He leans closer, nibbles my ear. “You agree to my rules?”

  I bite my lip, hesitate. “I think so, maybe.”

  8

  Ethan

  MIA ISN’T SURE. I’m not surprised, only surprised she admits it. But I can deal with indecision. Because when it comes right down to it, she wants my cock. All my pets do.

  She stares up at me, indecision all over her pretty face. And she is fucking gorgeous. Her caramel hair curls around her face like an angel. Her eyes are so green they look like gems in the glow of the bar’s light. Her breath comes in shallow bursts through gently-parted lips. She’s still half drugged with arousal, still feeling the effects of my touch. I could make her beg me to take her right now in full view of this place.

  She’s so in over her head with me.

  She suspects it¸ too, which shows she has a brain. She’s going to require some delicate handling on my part. Maybe that’s what challenges me about her. Her innocence.

  The minute she stepped out of her Jeep, I honed in like radar. If I’d had any questions, which I didn’t, her response to me now tells the whole story. I made her the instant she walked into the club and watched her wide-eyed reactions to all of Command Performance’s unique pleasures.

  Well, not all of them, of course, but Mia’s surprise at the public nudity and bondage paraphernalia was priceless. We’re an eclectic crowd, no question, and she doesn’t have any idea how eclectic just yet. And I want her to let me help her explore where she fits in. Because she does, even though she doesn’t know it yet.

  Just the thought of her eagerness makes my balls pull into a hungry knot. The way she trembled with excitement and confusion and need when I kissed her . . . She is so clearly a virgin to this scene. I want the pleasure of teaching her everything. Everything she wants. Everything she thinks she wants. Everything she doesn’t yet know she wants.

  Poof. There goes my patience.

  “Maybe?” I lean into her impossibly closer, breathe against her mouth. Tempt her. And her reaction is delicious. Her lashes flutter shut. She trembles.

  I can take her right here in public, right against the bar. She’s that dazed. That wet and needy. But I don’t operate like that. Not cool.

  I don’t want just her sweet body to surrender, I want her will. I want her trust—even when she’s scared. That’s what turns me on.

  After a kiss like I’d laid on Mia, the command I gave her, any babe who didn’t belong here would retreat in a hurry. But Mia’s still here, waiting for me to help her make up her mind.

  I haven’t bothered with a virgin in a long time. But something about her combination of rebelliousness and innocence makes me hotter than a Patriot missile about to blow. I know what she wants. I can ease her into letting go.

  She digs me. Why shouldn’t she?

  I give her a good ride. I get under her skin. I have all the skills. And I love to eat pussy. I know how to take charge with my cock. But my best asset is knowing when to push and when to delay.

  Because I don’t retreat.

  “Just maybe,” I prompt.

  Her lashes flutter open again, and her dark green eyes smoke with indecision. “Ethan, I—”

  “Babe, relax.” I rest my forehead against hers, try to sound reassuring when I whisper, “You don’t have to make up your mind this minute.”

  I feel her tension ease.

  “Let’s play a little and see where it goes,” I say.

  Running my fingers up and down her bare arm, I enjoy the texture of her skin, the toned muscle. Mia is fit. I like that, not only her fuckable body, but what her athleticism says about her. That might explain some of her daring, the way she rises to my challenges. She’s used to testing her limits.

  I’ll test her even more.

  Something catches her attention because she glances past my shoulder, and her eyes widen. I look around and see a dom leading his sub along by a chain between her nipple clamps. The clamps pull her tits away from her chest and dark nipples to rigid peaks. The chain connects to a black leather thong riding tight between her thighs. Other than that apparatus and a blindfold, the sub is naked.

  Mia’s gaze lifts to mine again. “Are those nipple clamps?”

  Interest. That’s promising. “Some chicks love them.”

  I cup a breast through her blouse, brush my thumb across her nipple until the tip reacts so I can feel it through her bra. I seduce her. I use her body to assuage her uncertainty. I plan to win her consent, and I’ll use whatever weapons I can.

  My gaze never wavers. I won’t miss the flare of arousal in those bright green depths. And it’s there, a longing for me to issue the commands for her body to perform.

  She wants it. She wants me.

  I pinch her nipple through the fabric.

  “What do you say, Mia?”

  Another guy approaches Mia. Fuck. She’s fresh meat and the hunters sense she’s tasty prey. My prey.

  I shake my head. He backs off.

  I’m usually not such a selfish prick, but Mia is barely hanging in there. Right now, she needs my protection.

  But I’m a lucky shit. There’s no one to protect her from me.

  “Ready to play a little?” I tease her.

  Another glance over my shoulder. Indecision again. I wait. My pulse slows. My dick feels like it’s suddenly in suspended animation, while I wait in suspense for this babe to make up her mind. Haven’t felt that in forever.

  Her pretty mouth tightens an instant before she whispers, “Yes, sir.”

  I resist a smile and reach for the glass on the bar. I rest it on her lower lip and tilt it with the silent command to drink. She’ll need it. I’m not used to playing cat and mouse with an uncertain partner, and restraining myself will test my restraint. I already feel it in my edgy mood, in the tight ache in my balls.

  Mia clearly realizes she’ll need liquid strength, too, because she takes an admirable gulp of the pricey scotch. To her credit, she only swallows hard as it goes down.

  Without a word, I grip her wrist and tug her through the crowd. I need to initiate her to the club in degrees. I don’t want her too freaked, and I don’t have any control of what’s happening on the floor.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asks.

  I see her scanning the crowd for her friend. “Level One. I have a surprise for you. You’ll like it.”

  She looks skeptical but doesn’t resist as I lead her from the noisy floor. We step through a door and plunge into sudden quiet. I direct her into a cubicle.

  “Level One?” she asks, clearly wary.

  She looks around, takes in the high-backed leather chair that faces a dressing room with three walls. Two louvered doors can provide privacy. Or not. The walls are painted shell pink, the lighting soft and seductive.

  “Just a sitting room,” I say as I sit in the leather chair and gesture to the dressing area. “Go inside, please.”

  She arches an eyebrow and enters. Her hips sway provocatively and make me hard all over again. I ignore my discomfort. For now.

  She gets a moment to peruse all the props inside the cubicle, then I tell her again, “Level One.”

  Will she comment on the vibrators and dildos? Does she even know what the tiny whips and bondage tools are used for? I know she isn’t ready to hear about Levels Two and Three of the club yet, both of which cater to a buffet of sexual fantasies and fetishes in escalating degrees of extremes.

  When she doesn’t run out of the room, I know she’s hanging in there, still game, still willing to play. “Pull the louvers closed and face me.”

  Mia spins around on her heel, displaying her quick moves and gorgeous legs. She pulls the louvers shut until I only see her head from the shoulders up, and her shapely calves.

  “What do you want . . . sir?” she adds as an obvious afterthought.

  Her words are as good as stoking my co
ck. I hear excitement in her voice. She gets off on not knowing what will happen next. I wonder if she has a clue.

  “Take off your dress and bra. I want you to stand there in your thong and heels.”

  A frown creases her smooth brow and glances around the cubicle again. Maybe she looks for something else to put on. Or maybe she can’t figure out why I want her to undress when I can’t see much.

  “Just do it,” I snap the order. But before we’re done with tonight’s little game, she will learn about trust.

  Mia looks me in the eyes a little defiantly, which makes me want to release my cock and stroke it myself to take the edge off. I don’t. I just watch as she reaches behind her for the zipper and shimmies out of her dress.

  She faces me with a careful expression. I recognize the uncertainty creeping into her defiance. And the excitement. That’s there, too. I can imagine her standing in her bra and thong and heels, but I haven’t actually seen her nude body yet. Just bits and pieces. Now I’m ready to get acquainted. I want to see her, touch her, lick her, but . . . I press the heel of my palm to my crotch. Down, boy.

  “Now your bra.”

  Her nostrils flare but her expression stays in place.

  “Very good, baby doll. Now tell me how you feel, standing there nearly naked and waiting for my next demand.”

  She shrugs. She hasn’t found her sexy voice yet.

  “Are your nipples erect?” I coach.

  She nods, sending curls tumbling over her bare shoulders in a sexy display.

  “Is your pussy getting wet?”

  “Yes.” The faintest of whispers.

  I bet. “Take off your thong.”

  She bends over until I can only see the top of her head above the louver. I see the scrap of fabric at her feet, and she steps out. No hesitation. Good girl.

  “Now toss your clothes to me, Mia.”

  This requires a little more trust on her part. Naked with her clothes in reach is different than naked without them. She depends on me then, and I’m a wild card.

  “Are you worried I’ll take your clothes out of the room, and you’ll have to walk around naked to find me?”