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Nowhere (Crimson Outlaws MC #1)

Page 19

by Bink Cummings


  Straightening my spine, my head held high, I cast my eyes at the white door ahead of me and accept my fate of taking one for the team—for Garrett. “Fine. I’ll join you there in twenty minutes,” I bite off, casually yank the door open, and strut the rest of the way to my room. It’s going to be a long ass night, and I’ll be damned if I do it being uncomfortable. It’s time to freshen up and change clothes.

  Day 11

  “Put on the red dress,” she said. “Wear a black thong,” she said. “Don’t worry about your shoes,” she said. “Leave your hair down and curl it,” she said. Well, fuck Zoe and all that she said! I should have never trusted her when she coerced me into wearing this skimpy thing. I told myself after the leather contraption that I’d never take her advice again. Apparently, I’ve gone soft because here I am doing it once more, standing at the larger than life entrance of a B.D.S.Fucking.M club, wearing a dress that could fit a toddler. To top it all off, did I mention the B.D.S.Fucking.M club? Yup, I’m here with Wes and a bevy of his blondes. However, they’re already inside and have been for the past twenty minutes while I stand on the front porch of this mansion looking like a moron. Did I mention that this mansion has been converted into a BDSM club? I’m pretty sure I did, twice. I just want to make sure you’re grasping the severity of this situation. This club is for naughty people. People like … me. It’s like standing in front of the cookie jar, and telling yourself you’re on a diet—tempting and scary as hell. I’ve always kept a tight leash on my inner sex-fiend. Yet, here I am in this dress, wearing flats, with my long brown hair draped down my back. And, I’m not wearing a bra. Why? Because this dress isn’t conducive for one. It’s like a Band-Aid; it covers all of the critical areas but leaves the rest bare.

  Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I tap away on Randy’s phone. I’m texting Zoe to give her a piece of my mind. We’ve been duking it out since I refused to leave the limo. However, thus far, the negotiator has talked me out of the car and onto the porch. She’s got mad skills. Kevin Spacey’s got nothin’ on her.

  Z: Just go inside. Aren’t you the least bit curious?

  Me: No!

  Z: Stop being a big baby. There’s nothing to be scared of. Wes is there to talk with Geo. They’re friends and business partners. He would never let anything happen to you that you don’t want.

  That’s the point! That you don’t want. What if I don’t know what I want? What if I want a lot? Or what if I don’t want anything? How will I know? The group sex at Nowhere came out when I was drunk. I can’t get drunk tonight. I have to stay sober so my mind doesn’t play tricks on me. This is fucking with my head.

  Hell, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to keep everything else in check this week. Let’s add my rampant libido to the list. On Sunday, we’d watched a movie after a cheeseburger dinner that the blondes refused to eat. Can’t say I paid much attention to the flick because Amanda was all over Wes, straddling his waist throughout the entire thing. Afterward, Garrett left. I’d walked him to his room, and when I reluctantly returned, the living room was like a scene out of a porno. Wes was eating Amanda’s pussy while Candi rode him. The other two were busy playing with each other, and Wes’s nipples. It was obvious that I was not needed. So I went to my safe space, where I may or may not have cried myself to sleep.

  Honestly, I’m just sick and tired of being surrounded by these women. These hot, sexually untethered women. It’s wearing on my mind, heart, self-confidence, and just about everything else. The only thing I’m loving, even more, is Garrett. His writing progress this week has been slow but steady. We’ve played some fun, educational games. Read more comics. Sunbathed by the pond with Zoe. He’s made me laugh numerous times just by being himself. That part of my life is amazing. Then Wes comes galloping into the picture and obliterates all of that with his sexiness, occasional sweetness, and his collection of blonde hotties. If one’s going, another is coming. It’s an open door policy where Wes and his house is concerned. Those stolen moments we share are what is driving me the most insane. Kisses to the back of my head. A hand around the waist in the morning over breakfast. A forehead peck when Garrett and I are outside working on our tans. It’s those moments that I wrap up into a little present and save for later. For the moments when blonde mayhem wreaks havoc over every part of my day. From their skimpy, bikini-clad bodies traipsing around the house to their never-ending Wes groping. It’s right there in your face all the time. At first, it angered me. Now I’m frustrated and a tiny bit jealous. I wish I didn’t like him at all, but I do. There’s just something special about him.

  Me: I don’t know.

  Z: I do. Wes has had his blondes around more in the past week than I’ve seen them in months. There’s got to be a reason for that. You need to go in there, enjoy yourself, and fuck what anyone else thinks. What if you find your dream man waiting in the darkened corner with a paddle? Do you want to piss off fate by not going in? Obviously, you were supposed to be there, looking as hot as you do, or you wouldn’t be there to begin with. Just suck it up, sister, and get your fine ass some love taps.

  Me: That’s easy for you to say. Have you ever been paddled before?

  Z: Ask Randy. He’ll tell you what I like.

  Oh, I suppose I forgot to mention that Zoe and Randy are sort of a thing. According to her, Wes knows but refuses to acknowledge it. So they continue with their jobs as scheduled, but spend their evenings in Zoe’s bed. They make a cute couple. He’s tall, dark, built, and handsome. While she’s petite and blonde, with a great personality. I’m happy for them. Truly.

  Me: I’m not going to ask your man what you like in bed.

  Z: If you can’t ask someone what they like, how are you going to walk into that club?

  I sigh.

  Me: Stop being a pain. I thought you were my friend. Have my back, chickie.

  Z: I am on your side. That’s why I want you to go in there, strut that hot ass, and get your kink on.

  Me: Whatever happened to the sensible Zoe that I thought I was friends with? Are you secretly a domme?

  I grin, knowing that she’s no such thing. At least she’s helping buy me some time.

  Z: See! You already know the lingo. Get to moving! It’s a beautiful place. I’ve been there a few times with Wes to talk with Geo. Just go inside. There will be a guard that’ll take your shoes. Then he’ll have you sign a form and give you bracelets. Be honest on the form; you’ll thank me for it later.

  Me: I’m not going in.

  Z: Yes. You are. Do it for me, so Randy can call on his break. If you don’t go inside, Randy won’t get a break because he’ll be busy playing babysitter.

  Me: Gee thanks. Guilt me into it, why don’t ya?

  Z: Is it working?

  It is. The pain in my ass is such a good negotiator. She’s peaking my interest when I don’t want it peaked. Earlier when I’d refused to come inside, Wes barely batted an eyelash at my obstinacy. It’s like he couldn’t care less if I’m here. That’s partially my problem. I’m a little hurt by the brush off. Not that I need him to beg me. I’m not a child, and I can make my own choices. But it’s nice to be wanted sometimes. Evidently, today isn’t one of those days. He’s barely looked, or spoken to me all night. On the ride over, he played with the blondes and got another blowjob, while I sat in utter boredom the entire journey. On a positive note, or perhaps not so positive, depending on how ya look at it, I think I’m becoming immune to his sexual proclivities. Same shit, different day.

  Turning my head, I smile at Randy, then hand him back his phone. “Your girlfriend can be a real ballbuster.”

  He barks a short laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. She’s a handful. So what’s it gonna be? Are you going indoors, or back into the limo?”

  Swapping my gaze from the limo out front to the large double doors, I steel myself before replying. “I’m going to go inside. But if I need to come back, will you be here?”

  Randy nods. “Yes. I’ll be out here all night, talking to Zoe and p
laying on my phone.”

  With a parting wave, I see myself indoors, and just like Zoe explained, there’s a massive man seated at a desk in the foyer. He’s wearing a fancy tux. As I approach, he flashes me a wide grin and sets a paper and pen on the desktop.

  “Are these for me?” I pick them up.

  Nodding, the man remarks. “I was wondering when you’d get the courage to come inside.”

  Winking playfully in my direction, he rounds the desk and kneels at my feet. Gently snatching one foot at a time, he doesn’t ask permission when he slips my shoes off like Prince Charming. Then, he tucks my flats under his arm and retakes his seat behind the opulent desk, which matches the rest of the lavish surroundings. It’s rather beautiful in here with marble floors, cathedral ceilings, chandeliers, and a golden, ivory, red scheme that feels oddly romantic.

  Unable to bend over in fear of flashing my assets, I hold the paper in my hand and try to write that way. It doesn’t come without difficulty, but I manage. It’s a simple form. Name, birth date, address, phone number. Then toward the middle, the questions get more personal: sexual orientation, last menstrual period, allergic to latex, ever been to a BDSM club before, and my personal favorite: dominant, submissive, or switch. Then there’s a box to check off things that you’re comfortable with. This is probably the most difficult one to mark. Why? Because it’s not so much the things I’m comfortable or uncomfortable with. It’s what I’m okay with or not okay with doing here. That’s the issue. The options range from light spanking to wax play, piss play, all the way down to double penetration and blindfolding. It’s a broad spectrum. Then at the very bottom, there’s a place to sign after reading their rules and a line to note any hard limits. My only hard limits are scat or blood play, so I mark those. Even though I’m sure those are normal. As for pain limitations, I can take that quite well. I’m not opposed to a good spanking. Although it’s been awhile since I’ve been exposed to that.

  Once I’ve completed the form and handed it over to the big guy, he opens a drawer and produces a set of white cuffs. He places colorful rubber bands on them and explains what they signify. Which means little to me, because I have no plans of doing anything while in here. Concluding our chat, he slips the cuffs on my wrists and latches them into place before calling someone to escort Mr. King’s guest to the main floor.

  A shirtless man, who could easily be Toa’s estranged brother, quickly sees me through the halls, down a flight of stairs, and into the lower level of the house where music pulses and the scent of sex and leather hangs in the air. Dim wall sconces replace ceiling lights. The floor is now a dark travertine. Wordlessly, the brute of a man walks me past a bar filled with half naked bodies, and into a room littered with leather couches and chairs arranged into conversation nooks. In the furthest corner, there’s a velvet rope separating the space. Wes and his blondes are lounging on couches behind it.

  Taking a step in their direction, I’m stopped when an exotic man with light green eyes, and toffee skin, softly, yet, authoritatively grabs my forearm. “I've never seen you here before.”

  His timbre voice fires a shockwave of desire straight to my toes. Squeezing my thighs together, I take in his massive form. He’s built. Big arms, thick abs, a tapered waist, hugged by a pair of made-for-him jeans. He, too, is barefoot. Damn, and even his feet are sexy. Maybe coming in here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Remind me to thank Zoe later, if I’m surrounded by hot men all night. This one is stunning.

  Unsure of standard switch protocol, I meet his gaze with an air of confidence. Where that came from I’m not sure, but I’m going with it. “This is my first time … here.” Sensuality charges my words as his hand travels to my cuffed wrists and stops there.

  “You’re not claimed,” he observes, checking my bands.

  “No. I’m here with some friends.”

  Wrapping his hand around my wrist, he tugs me closer, until my chest is smashed to his abs. Woo, he’s tall. I have to tip my head way back to save eye contact. “I’m Master Luca, and you’re a pretty little thing.” He curls his arm around my waist and splays his hand along the curve just above my butt. A knowing tingle sparks inside my panties. “What’s your name?”

  “Her name is mine. Now back the fuck off!” a familiar voice booms at my rear, sending a shocking tremor down my spine. Wes.

  Undeterred, Master Luca holds me firmly in place like the strong dom he is. I can feel the heat radiating off his body as it seeps through the thin fabric of my dress. His manly scent is a rich blend of sandalwood and leather. My brain swirls as I melt deeper into his arms. He’s exquisite.

  “Ahhh … Master Wesley. I should have known she was with you. Although, she’s not your usual company. A brunette?” The dom’s eyebrow and lip quirk simultaneously.

  “Let her go, Luca,” Wes growls.

  The lip quirk curls into a breathtaking smile. All white teeth, all gorgeous, contrasting with his darker skin. “Now why would I do that? The female apparently likes me, and she’s not claimed. Her bands tell me enough.” His head inclines in Wesley’s direction. “You’ve got yourself four willing females. I have not taken anyone tonight, so I am within my rights to play with this woman.”

  “Gwen,” I intercede so he can call me by name. Why I’m not pulling away from him? I don’t know for sure. Wes’s tone isn’t friendly. Then again, Master Luca’s right. Wes has four willing females, and I’m tired of competing for scraps. If that’s what you’d call it in the first place.

  Master Luca’s eyes drop to mine once more. “Gwen. That’s a lovely name.”

  “Thank you.” I grin bashfully.

  He brushes his fingertips over my cheek. “Would you like to sit and talk for a while, Gwen? Then after you’re comfortable, perhaps we can have some fun? I’m a respectable man. I won’t push ... too far. I’ll play nice.” He sounds like he means it, and for whatever reason, I trust his word. He has an honest face. My gut also concurs when it dances at the prospect of spending some one-on-one time with this handsome master.

  “She’s not spending any fuckin’ time with you, Master Luca. She’s not a masochist,” Wes answers, yet Master Luca isn’t looking anywhere but me for permission.

  “Gwen?”

  The hand on my back presses harder, so I’m forced to slip my feet between Master Luca’s. A thick erection crushes to my belly. That wasn’t there before. Redness speckles my cheeks, knowing that I’ve excited him. I bite the side of my lip. If I had any thoughts of saying no to begin with, those doubts have vanished into thin air. I love the way he feels, smells, and that he genuinely wants to spend time with me. I couldn’t tell you the last time any man has made me feel this way—wanted. Wanted without the lingering thoughts of who’s to come afterward. Kelly? Amanda? Candi? Wes and Nash are always too caught up in their women. I deserve more than to be second rate. I deserve this. It’s time to dip my hand into that cookie jar.

  “I’d love to.”

  Wes curses under his breath. “Kitten, I will not permit this.”

  “She’s not asking for your approval, Master Wes. Now please leave us. You know interfering is forbidden without consent.”

  “Fuck!” Wes explodes. Then all is right in the world again as I hear him storm off. Angering him shouldn’t please me as much as it does. It serves him right for dragging me along, then ignoring me.

  Master Luca guides me over to the private couch where we can be alone. He sits first before pulling me crossways onto his lap. “So it’s your first time here. Have you played in a club like this before?” As he talks, he softly brushes his knuckles over my skin—everywhere. Across my exposed legs, up my neck, cheeks, around my ears, down my arms, and into the top of my cleavage. Goosebumps sprout, trailing his touch, and I lose my breath. He grins. “You’re responsive and quite beautiful. I can see why Master Wesley is so protective of you.”

  “I...” Swallowing thickly, I clear my throat. “I’ve never played in a club before. I’ve dated a few men who’ve spank
ed me, and I’ve liked it. But this wasn’t my idea. I’m working for Wesley this summer. Tonight, he decided his employees were going to accompany him to this place.” Just as I finish, a woman tied to a giant X screams her pleasure when a man snaps her bare breasts with a bull whip. It’s awe-inspiring, in its own way. I’m intrigued.

  Distracted by the scene, Master Luca takes the opportunity to tug my dress to the side, exposing my breast. He begins to knead it with his palm. It feels so damn good that I don’t care he didn’t ask permission. Sighing, I lean further into him instead, my thong soaked in arousal. “Your breasts are perfect. I’d very much like to strip you out of this dress and have you sit on my lap. Will you permit me to do that?”

  Aren’t Master’s supposed to be bossy and domineering? Not sweet like this.

  “Are you always this nice?” I tease.

  “No.” He chuckles. It’s deep and sensuous. Damn. I grow wetter at the sound. “Most of the women here are regulars and know what I expect. You’re different. Which is one of the reasons I’m so attracted to you.”

  Dipping his head, he draws my nipple into his mouth, and that’s all she wrote. Every cell in my body runs on instinct and instinct alone. I submit to this ravenous hunger and straddle his lap with my dress still in place. His rock hard body feels amazing between my thighs. Greedily feeding himself my nipple, he nibbles and sucks it in hard, toe curling pulls as he slips his hand into my dress to fondle the other. Moans of raw ecstasy flutter from my lips. I grab his shoulders for leverage to grind my pussy over his erection. One urgent thrust and Master Luca seizes my hips, forcing me to stop. Sucking my nipple, groaning sensually in his throat, he laves it with his tongue once more before drawing away.

  His fiery eyes meet my lidded ones. “You’re not in control, my dear. I am. It’s time to take this—” Off comes my dress with one swoop, and then we’re off the couch, moving. Master Luca carries me across the floor, my legs wrapped around his waist. He stops at the far wall. A set of long chains dangle from the ceiling, and he grabs two of them, clicking them onto my cuffs before I get a moment to process what the hell is going on. Carefully, he peels my legs from around him and sets me on the floor. Bending at the waist, he clicks two sets of padded shackles around my ankles. They’re attached to chains coming out of the floor.

 

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