by Grace Morgan
I swiped my wrist across my brow, pushing the sweat from my eyes. Most people avoided running in Austin’s searing midday heat, which was exactly why I preferred it. Once I got out of the downtown area, I had the streets to myself. It was easier to focus on my form and my pace. Or¸ as the case may be, on a certain ballsy reporter whose tits and perfect, heart-shaped ass seemed to be permanently etched onto the backs of my eyelids.
Glancing at my watch, I picked up my speed. Lola was throwing a fucking wrench in everything, including my split times. Why had I even suggested that she stay with me? The last thing the club needed was someone snooping around, just when all of the controversy had started to die down. And the last thing I needed was … what? A sexy, strong woman who had absolutely no interest in me beyond what I could contribute to her story? Who had made it clear by walking away from me on multiple occasions that the brief, sexy as fuck encounters we’d shared hadn’t been as mind-blowing for her as they had been for me? Who might single-handedly bring this business I’d spent the last five years of my life building from the ground up crumbling right back down? No. Lola was definitely not what I needed.
And then, like clockwork, an image of Lola, naked and wet on the bathroom counter, her head thrown back with passion as I teased her cunt with swift, sure fingers, flashed through my mind. She couldn’t deny wanting me. I’d seen it. Seen how her nipples hardened and her skin flushed under my hands. Felt how her inner muscles tightened around my fingers as I thrust them inside of her. Heard her moan when I tasted the soft, delicate skin of her neck.
“She’s fucking lying,” I said aloud.
I stopped to rest for a moment, my hands on my knees, breathing hard. I knew Lola was dying for me to fuck her. But so far she’d been able to find that tiny crack in the moment and wiggle out. What I needed to do was get her so hot and wet that she couldn’t think. She had to get outside herself. Get to that blissful, mindless place where she could give herself over completely and let me take control. And I think I knew exactly how to do that.
I hope you’re feeling inquisitive, Lola. Because I have something I think you’re going to want to watch.
Smiling to myself, I picked my run back up, heading toward the apartment.
I entered the front of the club, temporarily blind in the shadowy room.
“So you decided to show up?” I heard Carter’s voice from over by the bar.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw him seated on one of the stools, his laptop glowing and a stack of papers in front of him.
“Fuck.” I had forgotten that we were supposed to do inventory.
“Now who’s the irresponsible one?” Carter asked teasingly.
“That’s different,” I protested. “I don’t make a habit of it. And besides, you’re usually late because you’ve been up all night fucking some girl.”
“And that’s different how?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’ve been a ghost ever since Lola got here. I can only assume…” Carter grinned.
I leaned against the bar next to him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit that she’d been keeping me at arm’s length. The rivalry between us had always been friendly, but very real. It set my teeth on edge thinking about Carter flirting with Lola. Putting his hand on her ass. Getting to her first. Because he was so goddamn charming that it just might work. Realizing that he might succeed where I’ve so far failed made me feel like punching something. Repeatedly.
“You’re the exhibitionist, not me,” I deflected. “Did you already get started on the inventory?”
Carter snorted, pushing the inventory sheets out of my reach. “A ridiculously sexy girl comes to our club, I give her a tour and convince her to stay after you were a complete dick, and then somehow she agrees to be your personal concubine for thirty days? You owe me some dirt, man.”
A wave of irrational anger suddenly seized me. “She’s not a fucking prostitute, Carter.”
“Whoa, Burke, calm down.” Carter leaned back, putting his hands up. “I was just joking around. You know, concubine, sex club, a sort of Arabian Nights-type thing…”
My blood pressure returned to normal. I knew he hadn’t meant to be a dick—he rarely did—but I found myself strangely protective of Lola. Because I don’t want him to spout off some bullshit and piss her off, I told myself. Yeah, that was it.
“I know. I’m just a little worked up after my run. I need to grab a drink.” I went behind the bar, hoping that he’d let it go.
“So now that we’ve established that Lola is definitely not a concubine, do I get to hear about what’s under those tight little skirts she’s always wearing?” Motherfucker. He just couldn’t drop it, could he? “Come on, I told you all about the contortionist.”
“Yeah, against my will,” I muttered. But I knew if I kept dodging the question, he’d be even more curious. So I gave him a quick and dirty run down of the encounter in the bathroom…changing the ending just a bit. “…Right up against the mirror. She could barely talk by the time I was done with her.”
“So when are you going to bring her down to the club? I have a feeling she’d be very popular.”
“When I feel like sharing,” I said, walking toward the elevator. “We’ll take care of inventory tomorrow.”
“Yeah, as long as you don’t get distracted again,” he called after me.
I stopped by the security office on my way to the elevator. Marcus was looking intently at the monitor, scrolling through footage at top speed.
“What are you doing?”
He jumped, looking like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Just, ah, got a call from a member who thought she left something here. Trying to see if I can find where she might have dropped it.”
“Oh really?” I said, making my voice dangerously casual. “What did she lose?”
“Her, uh, her whip…thing…” He avoided my eyes, a slight flush creeping up the dark skin of his neck.
I nodded. “Well don’t spend too long looking for it. We’re not a kindergarten. People need to keep track of their own shit. I’m sure you have more important things to be doing,” I said pointedly.
“I was just about done.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Then you have time to help me with something.”
Ten minutes later, I strode into the apartment.
“Lola?” No response. Good. That would give me time to set the scene.
* * *
I was sitting on the couch, my back to the door, when I heard her enter. Almost like Pavlov’s fucking dog, my cock jumped. All she had to do was walk into the room, and my body was instantly attuned to her. I needed to get this reaction under control … which meant this plan had to work or my worth as a Dom and goddamn man were in question.
My laptop sat open on the table, video from the security camera in our lounge already rolling.
“What is that?” Lola asked as she came up behind me. On the screen, a woman with long, thick blonde hair sipped a martini at the bar. She finished it and raised her finger to the bartender, indicating that she wanted another.
“I thought all your bartenders were women?” she said. The man behind the bar was tall and ripped, and I’d yet to meet a woman—or a gay man—who didn’t think he was attractive.
“They are. Those two,” I nodded at the screen, “are Max and Anya. They rent out the lounge sometimes for their scenes.”
Max leaned across the bar to hand Anya her drink. He listened to her for a moment, then smiled broadly.
“Who are all the other people then?” Lola asked, never taking her eyes off the screen.
“Max and Anya are both exhibitionists. They always invite some of their friends from the club to come watch.”
Lola was too enthralled to wonder why I was watching this footage by myself in the apartment. As any good budding voyeur would be, I thought.
Anya slowly, torturously, uncrossed her legs, hiking her short skirt up even higher. Max smirked and whispered something in her ear, running a finger along th
e glossy wood grain of the bar, and she laughed. He nuzzled the side of her neck, his face buried in her hair, and Anya closed her eyes, throwing herself into the moment like she always did. Max caught her earlobe between his teeth. Around them, the other people in the scene were staring, some waiting impatiently for drinks. But Max and Anya seemed to only see each other.
Lola came around the couch and sat next to me—so close that every time I shifted, our legs brushed together. She was wearing tiny grey shorts, revealing miles of smooth, creamy skin just begging to be teased.
In the video, Anya smiled coyly at Max and pushed him back across the bar. She reached into her purse, apparently looking for her wallet. Max whispered something to her, and she laughed, ignoring him. After a moment, though, her search became more intense. She looked up at Max and said something, her expression worried. He shook his head and walked away, asking another customer what they wanted. Anya stood up, pushing her pale hair back over her shoulders. She turned to walk out of the bar, and suddenly Max was beside her, gripping her wrist.
Lola gasped involuntarily. As she did, her perfect tits rose and fell right below me, and I felt myself getting thicker. Slowly, I ran a hand across the top of her thigh, just barely grazing the skin. Her breathing stopped and she tensed, but then ever so slightly she leaned against my leg. She kept her eyes on the screen as I began tracing slow, lazy circles on her soft skin.
Anya struggled against Max’s grasp, but he held firm. She said something to him, waving at the door with her free hand, but he just shook his head. It was clear to us observers that he wasn’t letting her walk out without paying. Anya threw her head back with obvious frustration, her long hair flaring out over her shoulders. The fabric of her blazer strained as she twisted against him, trying to free herself as she argued vigorously. Then Max whispered something in her ear, and she went still. Her head lifted slowly as she met his gaze, her eyes wide but intrigued.
Max loosened his grip on her wrist and waved her back to the bar. Not taking her eyes off him, Anya walked tentatively over to the stools and set her purse down. She stood, her chin in the air and her jaw set, as Max circled around her, the other customers forgotten.
“What’s he going to do?” Lola whispered. In response, I inched my fingers up to play with the hem of her shorts. I was getting harder by the second, my dick begging to be released from the confines of my pants.
“Do you want to keep watching?” I asked, my lips brushing against her ear. I nipped at the delicate skin of her neck. She nodded, her body pressing against me as her breathing deepened.
Slowly, Max ran his fingers along the deep neckline of Anya’s jacket, toying with the button and then tugging it open. Underneath she wore a skimpy lace camisole that hugged the curves of her small, firm breasts. Max tossed the blazer to the side, looking her up and down. The other customers also stared, seemingly enthralled.
Anya said something to Max, her eyes narrowed. He just laughed, though, and grabbed her breasts through the thin fabric. They fit perfectly into the palms of his hands, and as he toyed with them, Anya’s eyes closed. He reached behind her and unhooked her skirt, tugging it to the ground in one fluid motion. Her lace underwear cut high over the round cheeks of her ass, displaying the sensual curves where they met her thighs. Anya looked at him defiantly; she refused to try to cover herself.
As Lola watched their dance, I dipped two fingers past the fabric covering her inner thigh, and I heard her gasp when I found her swollen clit. I could feel how wet she was even through the thin cotton of her underwear. As I increased the pressure, she arched, her body responding to me, her pussy desperate to be stroked.
“Spread your legs,” I ordered. Without a word, Lola complied and I let out a low, guttural groan as I increased the speed, my fingers pressing hard and fast on her clit.
On the screen, Max hooked a forearm under Anya’s legs, sweeping her up in his arms, and set her down on one of the stools, kneeling in front of her. He pushed her thighs apart roughly and tugged her underwear to the side before lowering his head. Anya’s mouth fell open and her back arched as Max tasted her. Her hands groped blindly, grasping his hair and pushing him closer. With one hand, he reached down and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock. He stroked himself as he teased her with his mouth. Anya’s head was thrown back, and I could imagine her moans filling the air of the lounge. Her body bucked and arched as he devoured her,
Next to me, Lola was trying to hold back her own cries as I slipped my fingers inside her. The slick, hot walls of her cunt clamped down as I thrust into her. With my thumb, I pressed down on her clit as my fingers fucked and stroked her, dragging shudders and gasps from her with every movement.
Anya’s body rocked like she was riding out the orgasm of the century; she clutched at Max’s head, no longer in control of her movements. Max stood, his cock stiff and ready, and with one swift movement, buried himself inside her. She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist as he thrust into her again and again, the muscles in his back straining as he clutched her body to his own. He pushed one of the straps of her camisole down, exposing her small, hard nipple, and lowered his head to take it in his mouth as he slowed his rhythm, drawing in and out of her in smooth controlled movements as her body went wild.
I could feel Lola’s orgasm building. Her hips bucked against my hand as I drove my fingers into her tight pussy and stroked her clit with every pass.
Max’s pace picked up, and he hooked his arms under Anya’s legs for a different angle. He plunged into her over and over. Even a bystander could tell the couple had blocked out everything except for the wild lust driving them both to the finish.
“Tell me what you want,” I commanded Lola, picking up my own pace. She cried out, her voice ragged with desire.
“Fuck me,” she gasped. “Please. I need you. Now.”
On the monitor, Max stilled, and Ava collapsed against him.
I stood up and pulled Lola roughly to me. “What they did? That was nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.”
I wrapped my hands around her by the waist and lifted her over my shoulder; a surprised cry tumbled from her pretty mouth. She weighed nothing, and the sight of her exposed ass was almost too much to bear. I carried her to my bedroom, throwing her down on the bed without bothering to shut the door or the curtains. The whole fucking world could watch for all I cared.
“Strip,” I ordered. Moments later she was displayed before me on the bed, her breathing quick and her dark eyes shining, with only the slightest hint of apprehension. I took her in: long, pale legs leading up to perfectly curved hips. Sheer, cream colored fabric stretched across her hipbones. Her breasts were high and full, and her taut pink nipples showed through the lace of her bra. I licked my lips, imagining her taste on my tongue—and how she was going to scream when I filled her. I almost groaned at the mental image of her wrists tied to my bedframe.
“Don’t move.” I went to my dresser and returned with a black silk tie. My steps were slow and deliberate as I approached the bed; I wanted her to feel every one of them.
“Burke—” she began, but I put my finger over her lips. She responded by dragging her tongue across my finger, a slick, sassy stroke that set my nerves tingling and I couldn’t suppress a small groan, thinking about her running that tongue over my aching cock.
“Burke, wait,” she said. This time, I stopped even though I didn’t want to entertain the possibility that she would call a halt to this again. “You know I don’t have a submissive bone in my body.”
My laugh was quick and unguarded. “Which means your giving yourself over to me is that much more satisfying.” I reached and stroked her hair away from her face. “Now, are you ready? Or do you want to use your safeword?” She knew the club safeword was red, and she knew that that single syllable would stop me cold.
“I’m ready,” she breathed. And I thanked every deity known to man.
Cupping her shoulders, I flipped her over onto her stomach without wa
rning and took a moment to admire her. I ran my hands down the sides of her waist, and Lola’s muscles shivered under my touch. My palm skimmed around the curve of her ass, and I finally did what I’d wanted to do for so fucking long: I spanked her gorgeous ass, watching as my handprint appeared in relief under the sheer fabric of her underwear.
Lola gasped.
I grinned. Fuck, this was going to be the hottest encounter of my life, with nothing but my hands and a silk tie at my disposal. At the thought of the tie, I trailed the black silk over her exposed skin. Her skin was so sensitive that she squirmed under even my slightest touch. I looped the silk in front of her eyes and tied it behind her head, smooth and shiny against her mussed hair, and turned her back over to face me.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” I said to her.
Lola’s throat worked as she swallowed. “I’m lying on your bed. I can feel you sitting next to me, and I can feel the blindfold on my skin.”
I trailed a finger down her cheek, and lowered my lips to tug sharply at her earlobe. “Pay attention. I don’t want to know about your surroundings, I want to know what you’re feeling at this exact moment. Every sensation. Every thought.”
She swallowed again. “I, ah, my ass stings where you spanked me.” She took a deep breath. With one hand, I traced down her jaw, along the top curve of her breast and circled around to her nipple. God, I’d waited long enough to have her at my mercy. I grasped her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and increased the pressure until she moaned.
“Keep going,” I said, as she became distracted by the pleasure I was giving her. “Tell me what else you’re feeling.” I rolled her nipple over the pad of my thumb, and she arched her back into my touch.
“My nipple—it aches. But I don’t want you to stop. I can feel the pressure turning to pleasure and shooting through my whole body.” Once again, she lifted toward me, wanting more. It was my sign that we were ready to move on. I released her nipple, gratified by her whimper of protest, and tugged off my shirt and dropped my pants, leaving just my black boxer-briefs, stretched tight across my rock-hard cock. Picking up Lola’s hand, I slid her palm along my length, inhaling sharply as her fingers wrapped around me. Fuck, just her grip was enough to make me almost come.
