by Shelly Bell
In his playroom, he’d mentioned a spiritual component to BDSM. At the time, she hadn’t understood what he’d meant. Now she understood it connected them in a way that transcended the physical. As if she, an atheist, had merged with his power.
Later the revelation would probably scare her, but for now, she was too relaxed to analyze it.
A subtle breeze rushed over her skin, and she shivered. She realized the vibration against her clit had stopped. She vaguely registered the sound of running water, but she was too boneless to care. Then Jax and his heat returned, wrapping her in his scent, which always reminded her of home and a time when she’d been happy and innocent.
“You awed me with your submission, my Katerina.”
My Katerina. If she could move her lips, she’d smile.
“Let me care for you.” He towel-dried her damp skin and applied a warm compress on her labia and then between the cheeks of her bottom.
She sighed, enjoying the attention. She couldn’t recall a time when anyone had cared for her with such tenderness.
“You may speak freely,” he said, placing a kiss on the small of her back.
In her head, she thanked him, but she was too blissed out to speak.
He chuckled low in his chest and continued to clean her. Then she was in his arms and flying in the air. He lowered her to the bed, resting her head on a fluffy pillow, and drew the blanket over her. The weight of him made the bed creak when he slid under the covers with her.
He maneuvered her floppy body to a sitting position, using his chest to prop her up. “Drink,” he said, pressing a glass to her lips.
She took a sip. When had he’d gone to get her a glass of water? Suddenly parched, she gulped down more.
Her took the glass from her and rubbed something across her lips. “Open.”
She complied and the taste of chocolate made her groan. He’d obviously found her secret stash of candy bars in her nightstand drawer.
The fog in her mind lifted. As if she was awakening from a deep slumber, she wiped her eyes and yawned. “Hi,” she said, not quite knowing what to say.
He brushed her hair off her forehead and gave her a kiss. “Welcome back. How are you feeling? Are you sore?”
“Yes, but in a good way.” She turned on her side and cuddled into his chest. “I feel deliciously used.”
His fingers drifted down her spine to brush across her behind. “Most of the welts will disappear, but you’ll still have bruises, including the one I left on the back of your neck from my bite. No one will doubt our relationship tonight at Benediction.”
She looked up at him. “Is that why you did it?”
“I did it because it pleases me to mark you as mine. Do you regret it?”
“No. I loved every minute of it. Even when you tortured me. Especially when you tortured me. I’ll never forget it. Thank you for making my first scene so special.” Content, she kissed and stroked his chest, combing her fingers through the springy sprinkling of curls. “How did you get into BDSM?”
He paused and took a deep breath. “Alyssa. We met in college. Through Nick actually. A semester after he and I met in macroeconomics, he tried to set me up on a date with her. I kept refusing. One night he showed up at a house party with her on his arm. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Practically had a heart attack when he introduced us. She and I spent the entire night talking. By the time we said good-night, it was three in the morning.”
“And after, you started dating?”
“No. I left that night without asking for her number. I saw the hurt in her eyes, but I didn’t think I was good enough for her.”
Her fingers drifted over the solid muscles of his abdomen. “Why?”
“We were from two different worlds. Alyssa grew up with wealth and privilege, and I was from the slums of Detroit. But it was more than money. In high school, I’d belonged to a gang, and after initiation you’re in for life. It’s permanently inked on my back to prove it.”
“You have a tattoo?”
She loved tattoos. How had she missed it?
He sat up and leaned forward. There, inked in red at the top of his right shoulder blade, was a series of numbers.
She brushed her fingers across the tattoo. “What does it mean?”
“The numbers are the coordinates for our territory. It’s inked in red to signify we’ll draw blood to protect it.”
A gang member and a socialite. No wonder he felt unworthy. “What happened after you didn’t ask for Alyssa’s number?”
He laughed as he reclined against the headboard and pulled her to his chest. “Nick showed up the next day and practically kicked my ass for hurting her. When he discovered why I hadn’t asked her out, he set my mind at ease. Even then he was an attorney to the core. He argued if I could be his friend when he came from money, then obviously I could be friends with Alyssa. Otherwise, I was saying he was worth less than her, which was an insult, so if I didn’t want to insult him, I had to date her.”
“Sounds like Nick.” She smiled, but her guilty conscience nagged at her. After the phone call, Nick had come running, and how had she repaid him? By sleeping with his best friend. Again.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, Jaxon continued his story. “We began dating. Despite having been raised in a mansion, she was surprisingly down to earth. She insisted she didn’t care about my background.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
“For the first few months, I felt as though she was holding a part of herself back from me. I assumed it was because I was poor. We got into a fight about it. A few hours later, she showed up at my apartment wearing a trench coat and holding a small black duffel bag. She said she didn’t want a lie to end us. She peeled the coat off her shoulders, revealing her naked body underneath, and then she kneeled and told me to open the bag.”
“And did you?”
He sighed. “When I pulled out the paddle, she begged me to spank her. One half of me—the good boy, the one who played by the rules—he called it abuse. How could anyone consent to violence and pain? My other half—the man who’d learned that to survive you have to play by your own rules—he called it love. If I wanted Alyssa, then I had to accept all parts of her as she’d accepted all of mine. And if she needed it . . . I would be the one to give it to her.”
Her best friend from home, Caden, loved her unconditionally, and although it hadn’t been tested, she believed her father had too. Would she ever find it again? In honor of unconditional love, you had to open your heart and allow another to see all of you, even the dirty parts. Parts that stained your soul.
Alyssa had been a lucky girl.
“So that’s how you got into BDSM? She was already into it.”
“She said she’d had an affair with a Dom when she was younger, but it didn’t last. And after they broke up, she hadn’t continued in the scene because she thought she didn’t need it. But she did, and she wanted it with me.”
“You say she needed it. What about you? Did you need it?”
“Looking back now, I see I always sought control in an uncontrollable world. I may have started participating in BDSM because of her, but I soon learned I needed it too. For me, it’s not something I can turn on and off like some people in the lifestyle. It’s ingrained in my sexuality. I didn’t understand why my previous sexual relationships had been unsatisfactory until Alyssa. Having control over her was a drug, and I didn’t want to kick the habit.”
A frisson of unease settled in her gut.
She understood all too well how far an addict would go to feed an addiction.
Lie. Cheat. Steal. And if necessary . . . kill.
How far had Jaxon gone for Alyssa?
Chapter Six
JAXON SCANNED HIS membership card under a laser at a discrete box tucked in the middle of a shrub. The iron gate parted, and he drove them a half mile up a private driveway.
Kate shifted in her seat, her heart hammering uncomfortably. She hadn’t allowed herself a pill, m
indful to remain in complete control while in her surroundings tonight. Ironic since the point of submission was to give up control.
Staring up at the ornate mansion, Kate couldn’t believe it housed a sex club. The modern gray-stone home was one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture she’d ever seen. With its curved staircases winding to an expansive porch adjoining the second level of the home, as well as arched windows, pillars, and turrets, it reminded her more of a museum.
Benediction’s owner, Cole DeMarco, actually lived here?
After a decade-long membership in the club, Jaxon had no problem calling DeMarco for permission to bring her as his guest. Apparently a hefty annual fee and a consent agreement went a long way at Benediction.
They stopped at the end of the road, where a valet opened her car door. It was unnervingly quiet as she stepped out of the vehicle and waited for Jaxon to escort her inside.
In front of the house, a flower garden was lit by floodlights, drawing attention to its blooms. She’d loved to garden as a child, spending hours planting with her mother, who could identify all the flowers by both their common and botanical names. Then as an undergrad, Kate had worked for a landscaper.
This garden was a sensual Garden of Eden meant to tempt and seduce its admirers. The snapdragons, with their crimson lips and white outer parts, resembled the sexual heart of a woman, and the unusual cascading ropes of ruby amaranthus were also known as Love Lies Bleeding.
Mr. DeMarco obviously had a sense of humor.
Jaxon splayed his palm low on her back, leading her up the walkway. “Stay close to me at all times. Since you’re not collared, you’re unofficially a free agent. Some people may get the idea that you’re willing to play their games.”
She trembled in reaction to his possessive touch. “I don’t understand. What happened to consent and safe words? I thought there were rules at this club.”
“Benediction isn’t a formal business. It’s a nonprofit organization with a fifty-thousand-dollar membership fee. You may recognize some of its members. While most people are here to have a good time in an environment that accepts alternative lifestyles, these are individuals who are used to getting their way and not taking ‘no’ for an answer. That’s why we follow the traditional ‘red’ as a safe word. If you’re approached, rather than politely saying no, tell them they must speak to your Dom. If they continue to bother you, tell them ‘red.’ And if the son-of-a-bitch ignores you, scream ‘red’ at the top of your lungs. Someone should come running.”
“Maybe you should have leashed me,” she joked, inappropriately giggling from the excess of nervous energy coursing through her.
“I could, if it makes you more comfortable.”
She stopped, the full cognizance of the situation assaulting her. What the hell was she getting herself into?
“You worry too much. Put on your mask and trust me to keep you safe. Unless you’ve changed your mind . . .?”
Had she? If anyone recognized her, it would at the very least damage her reputation and, quite possibly, destroy her career. It was one thing to come to a sex club where she could potentially run into others in the legal profession. How could they judge her if they were there as well? But it was another to attend a sex club with her client, a man under suspicion for killing his wife.
She slipped her red leather mask over her face to conceal her identity. “I haven’t changed my mind, Jaxon.” She took his hand and squeezed. “Let’s do it.”
A petite Asian woman in a royal-blue PVC dress greeted them at the door. “Welcome back to Benediction, Sir Jaxon. Can I take your coats?”
“Thank you, Gracie.” He handed off his leather jacket and turned to Kate. “I think my lovely sub requires my assistance.” He moved closer to her and covered her hand with his own. “Allow me to undress you, Katerina.”
His commanding tone along with the sudden images of him removing not only her coat but also the rest of her clothes nearly caused her legs to buckle under her. Her pulse raced so fiercely, she wondered if he could see it beating through her skin at her neck.
She acquiesced with a brief nod of her head, keeping her gaze on her feet. He undid the knot of her belt and peeled the flaps back to reveal her outfit.
She caught his quiet gasp. Looking up at him, she saw the fiery desire in his eyes as he took in her attire. Or lack thereof.
She’d toyed with the idea of purchasing an outfit from one of the adult novelty stores until she remembered her old leather skirt. Rummaging through her closet, she found it in a garbage bag filled with clothes she’d meant to donate but had never gotten around to doing. It had been eight years since the last time she’d worn it.
Soft, buttery black leather and too short to wear in public, it fell only an inch or two below her butt. She’d paired it with a red-lace corset she’d bought a few months ago on a whim, hoping to wear it for Tom until she’d lost her nerve and shoved it in the back of her drawer. To complete her look, she had adorned her four-inch-heeled leather boots, which laced up the sides all the way to her knees.
“Do you approve, Jax?” she asked coyly.
“Very nice, Katerina,” he said blandly, not reacting quite the way she had expected. For all the enthusiasm in his voice, she may as well have worn one of her business suits.
The dim entranceway was decorated for Halloween with smirking jack-o-lanterns lit by red strobe lights, realistic-looking cobwebs, and, hanging from the ceiling, half-naked witches doing something naughty with their broomsticks.
Subtle DeMarco was not. The message was clear. While the garden was meant to seduce, once you stepped inside, you were ensnared and there was no turning back.
“Here is the form of consent for your sub, Sir Jaxon,” Gracie said, handing a clipboard and pen to him rather than giving it directly to Kate. Seemed silly, but she’d better get used to it if she was going to pull this off. He passed it to her without a glance. Gracie continued as if Kate didn’t exist. She bowed her head. “I was very sorry to hear about your wife. Do you require any additional subs this evening or anything at all to make your visit more enjoyable?”
Additional subs? Hell no. Kate opened her mouth to give Gracie a piece of her mind. “Jax—”
Jax pinched her arm and shook his head at her. Two minutes at a sex club and apparently she’d already broken a rule. She bit her lip and went back to completing the consent form.
“Thank you for your lovely offer, Gracie, but one sub is enough to keep me on my toes tonight,” he said. “I assume all the rooms are open.”
Gracie looked up at him through her thick fake eyelashes. “Yes. If you’d like one for a scene, I’d be happy to reserve a time for you.”
“Perhaps later, if the need arises.” He took the signed paperwork from Kate’s hands and returned it to Gracie. He slipped a white rubber bracelet on her wrist and a black one on his and then banded an arm around her waist.
“Mr. DeMarco requested I bring you and your guest to his office. May I escort you, sir?”
Jax had warned her that they may have to speak with Cole DeMarco before their foray into the club. He assured her they had nothing to worry about, but the thought of meeting the man who kept several slaves and lived in a sex club intimidated her. Would he see through their charade?
“Yes, Gracie. Thank you,” Jax said.
They followed behind Gracie as she directed them through another door and into the main foyer of the home. Kate felt as though they’d been transported to Europe as she took in the sight of the beautiful marble flooring and twelve-foot ceilings supported by Grecian columns. The space opened to a sunken living room, where several guests sat on red leather couches or stood with drinks in their hands as they mingled with others.
At first glance, it looked like a typical dinner party. But on closer inspection, she noted the obvious differences. A large, mustached man wearing a spiked dog collar, leather harness, and a white rubber bracelet like Kate’s sat on his haunches at the feet of his Mistress. Deep i
n conversation with the older gentleman beside her and at the same time feeding bits of something to her sub directly from her hand, she was dressed in a men’s tuxedo jacket and pants. No shirt.
Kate’s attention was drawn to the peaceful expression on the male sub’s face. His eyelids drooped over enlarged pupils, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was stoned. Was that what she had looked like last night as Jax and she had made love?
A pretty woman around Kate’s age rested on one man’s knee as he spoke to another man who plucked and twisted her nipples. They all wore sky-blue bracelets.
Gracie continued to lead them past the living room and down a hall to a closed door. Before she could knock, a low male voice from inside said, “Come in, Jaxon.”
Kate checked the ceiling for hidden cameras. How else would he have known who was at his door?
Jax turned the knob, and Gracie bowed her head before scurrying away. The door opened to an extravagant office with chocolate-brown walls and gleaming walnut furniture. A lit fireplace and red-and-green damask drapes lightened the space.
Sitting behind the desk was a man who radiated the same type of intense energy as Jax. Bearded with a bald head and a sleeve of tattoos on both of his muscled arms, he looked as intimidating as she’d feared.
He smiled, his stark white teeth a pure contrast to his dark skin, and fixed his piercing, brown-eyed stare on her. “You must be Katerina. Please, you two, have a seat and let’s chat.”
Jax gripped the back of her neck and ushered her to a chair, pulling it out for her and gesturing for her to sit before he took the seat beside her.
As she settled, she caught a glimpse of the computer screen in front of Mr. DeMarco. It was divided into several different smaller screens, and she realized he was watching the feeds from different areas in the club.
The man’s smile widened, reminding her of a shark. “I like to keep an eye on things when I’m in my office. Each night, a couple of members serve as security in the dungeon and upstairs. It’s ideal for voyeurs. Don’t you agree, Katerina?”
