She's All In: Club 3, Book 1

by Cathryn Cade

  Another of the single men, an extremely fit guy with his head shaved, walked toward her. Strutted was more like it. He was attractive, and he knew it, but it was the twinkle in his eyes that made her smile back. That, and his dark goatee. It suited him perfectly.

  “I’m Mason,” he said in a gravelly voice. He sounded like a rock star after a concert.

  “Hi, I’m Daisy.”

  “You are the most beautiful thing to walk through those doors tonight,” he told her, his eyes still on her face. “How about I buy you a drink?”

  She started to nod. She liked this man, liked the fun dancing in his gaze and the way he was focused on her face and not her boobs. She wouldn’t mind having a drink with him until Dack showed up. Then she remembered the blond guy, who was going to be coming back, expecting to have a drink with her.

  She opened her mouth. Mason lifted his hand and laid one forefinger over her lips. It was warm and calloused against her skin. She stared at him over it, shocked. He was certainly the bossy type. Was he a dom?

  “You like margaritas?” he asked. “It’s margarita night.”

  Daisy nodded slowly. He took his finger from her lips. “Good. Have a seat over there, and I’ll bring you one.”

  Daisy looked in the direction he pointed. The lights in the room were mainly discreet wall mounts over the bar and colored lights pulsing around the DJ. The back of the room was wreathed in shadows, but Daisy could make out a sitting area with big leather sofas and chairs.

  “Here.” Looking back at Mason, she found him holding a key out to her. It was black.

  A petite, curvy blonde in a tight blue leather dress was walking toward them. She paused, looking from Daisy to Mason to his key. Her full mouth sliding into a disappointed pout, she turned and walked away.

  The key thing again. Daisy took it with a shrug, since he didn’t seem to want her to talk, and he winked at her. “Go on. I’ll be right over.”

  Daisy put Mason’s key in her small purse and skirted the dance floor, looking for Dack. He wasn’t on the dance floor or among the people seated at the small tables beside it.

  She wandered back, passing two more of the condom stands. She sank onto one end of the sofa facing the back wall, since a couple was making out on the other. She looked at them and then away. She’d seen worse than that at college parties. She tugged at her short skirt, which had ridden up nearly to her crotch when she sat down. Not much give to leather, and although she was wearing undies—sort of, under the skirt—she really didn’t want to flash everyone.

  The pretty blonde sat in one of the chairs, swinging one of her crossed legs. She looked bored. She gave Daisy a halfhearted smile, and Daisy returned it. She wondered if the other woman would answer some questions, like what the deal was with the keys.

  But she heard a deep laugh behind her, and her heart thumped with excitement. Dack. She turned, her leather skirt swishing on the leather sofa. He was walking toward her through the tables and swirling lights on the dance floor, listening to a younger man in jeans and a leather jacket, who was gesturing and speaking quickly, telling some story.

  Dack wore leathers too. Daisy looked him over, excitement flooding her. He looked dangerous in a way that thrilled her clear to her core. Tight pants hugged his muscular thighs and outlined his impressive package in a way baggy shorts and T-shirts never did. He wore a leather vest, this one hugging his impressive torso and highlighting his huge shoulders and arms. His long hair was tied back.

  Daisy waited for Dack to see her, acknowledge her presence. But he was wearing another pair of those damn sunglasses, and she couldn’t see his eyes in the dim light. Still talking, he stopped beside her sofa, and then turned and perched his ass on the broad arm of the sofa, right at her elbow.

  He was ignoring her. Hurt and pissed, she scowled at his long back. She wanted to elbow him right in the kidneys. Catching the blonde’s eye, Daisy gave her a what-the-hell look, and the blonde giggled, her hand to her mouth. Daisy grinned back, shaking her head.

  Dack was talking now, his deep voice a pleasant rumble. “Tony, I know, man, but you’ve got to take your time with it. Can’t rush some things.”

  Daisy eyed his tight, leather-clad ass, wondering if she should go ahead and give him a smack for being rude. He could have said, Hello, how are you, don’t you look pretty, or something. She’d gone to a lot of trouble and cleaned out her next month’s fun budget to buy this outfit. The other guys certainly liked the way she looked in it.

  Dack had something sticking out of the single back pocket of his pants. One of those keys—this one silver-toned. Suddenly, she wanted it, much more than the two others she’d received. Even more than the margarita Mason had promised, and she loved margaritas.

  Grasping the ornate head, she tugged on the key. It slid free, but then Daisy realized it had an attachment, a thin, stretchy silver chain of some kind. Oops. She didn’t want to keep pulling if it meant breaking the chain.

  Still talking, Dack reached back with one big hand, tugged the chain from his pocket, and offered the key to her in his cupped palm. A giggle bubbling up, Daisy took the key from his hand. She held it up to get a better look at it. It was like the others, but lighter, of delicate make. The chain, now that it was not being stretched, had sprung back into a wide, ornate band about the right size for a choker. Pretty.

  Seeing a sharp movement, she focused on the blonde, who was gazing at her with evident consternation and what looked like anger too. The other woman shook her head as if in warning and then sat back, her eyes wide as Dack turned on his perch. He crooked one leg up on the arm of the sofa, reaching behind Daisy to plant his hand on the sofa back, his warm forearm brushing her bare back. She caught a whiff of his delicious scent—that soap, clean man and shaving-cologne scent that was uniquely his, now combined with the faint scent of leather.

  He looked down at her, unsmiling. “You sure?” he asked, his voice deep and rough.

  Daisy peered up at him. Then she scowled. It wasn’t fair that he could see her eyes, watch every nuance of her expression—not to mention down into the deep vee of her halter—and she couldn’t do the same. She looped the key chain over her wrist to free her hands, rose onto one knee and twisted to face him. The blonde and her silent warning were forgotten.

  “Enough with the shades,” she told Dack. She reached up and pulled them off his face, carefully, because it could hurt to have sunglasses yanked off, especially with long hair. “I can’t talk to you if I can’t see you.”

  She lowered the sunglasses, forgotten in her hands as she gazed into his eyes. He had beautiful eyes, deep set under his heavy, arching brows, with thick lashes. The white slash of an old scar ran through the outer end of his left eyebrow, down his eyelid, then appeared again on his high cheekbone to disappear into his short beard.

  But it was the look in his eyes that held her transfixed. Heat and danger glowed in their depths, a scary-sexy combination that made her heart race, her legs quiver with the urge to run and hide, or maybe just collapse at his feet.

  Still holding her gaze, he lifted his hand, his warm, calloused fingertips brushing the back of her neck. What was he doing? Holy crap, he was going to untie her top, right here.

  Daisy’s eyes widened in alarm. She grabbed his brawny wrist. “Hey, wait a minute.”

  His brows snapped together. “Why?”

  She couldn’t believe he needed to ask. Heat flooded her face and throat. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in public here.”

  That didn’t seem to impress him much. Daisy blushed even harder, her cheeks scalding as she remembered some of the things she’d checked on the Club 3 questionnaire. Sex in public—possibly.

  “I—I have scars,” she mumbled.

  “Yet you wanted to see mine.” His voice was cold.

  “Yours?” Daisy stared at him.

  His brows rising in a look that said she was possibly dumber than rocks, he pointed at his left eye.

  Daisy gaped. H
e actually thought that scar was disfiguring? “Hey, that’s sexy,” she blurted.

  He looked taken aback, and then a slow, wolfish smile spread across his face. “Maybe I’ll think yours are sexy.”

  She shook her head, looking away. “Trust me, they’re not.”

  “Hey, Dack, what’re you doing chatting up my girl?” It was Mason, appearing at Dack’s elbow, a frosty salted margarita in each hand. He was scowling.

  Daisy blinked. His girl? She’d agreed to have a drink with the guy, that was all.

  Now Dack was scowling. At her. “Daisy?”

  She could only handle one disgruntled male at a time. “I’m not sure why you’re upset,” she said to Mason.

  He gave her a what-the-hell look. “Because you accepted my key,” he bit off.

  “What? She took my key.” Oh, great, now the blond guy, Kevin, was back at Dack’s other elbow, and he was looking daggers at her as well.

  “Hey, I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” she protested, her voice quavering embarrassingly.

  “Daisy.” Dack cut her off, his deep voice full of authority. “Explain.”

  She wanted to quail before the three alpha males glaring at her. Stiffening her knees, she faced them, glaring back defiantly. “Explain what? I don’t even know what you’re so mad about.”

  “Yeah, right.” Kevin shook his head in disgust.

  Mason eyed her, his head cocked to one side. “No, hold on. I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “Daisy.” She looked at Dack, willing the tears clogging her throat not to fall. She’d finally gotten the courage to follow through on her fantasies, and now her exciting adventure was going to hell for reasons she didn’t even understand.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pretty blonde sitting with her arms crossed, watching. She shook her head as if unable to believe how much trouble Daisy was in.

  Dack took her hand in his, lifting it so the key hanging from her arm was displayed. “You don’t know what the keys mean? Rochelle didn’t explain that to you when you came in?”

  “No. Wait, she mentioned keys, but she—she wasn’t feeling well.” Daisy didn’t want to get the receptionist in trouble. Seemed like she had enough. “She didn’t finish whatever she was going to say. I thought she was going to faint. She waved me in and ran for the restroom.”

  Dack grimaced. “I’ll deal with that in a bit. Now, where are their keys?”

  Daisy handed him his sunglasses and dug the other keys from her purse. They lay in her palm.

  She tried to hand them to him, but he shook his head, shoving his sunglasses on the top of his head. “Daisy, when someone—a guy or a gal—offers you their key, it means they’re a dom. And they’re asking you to be their partner, to submit to them for the evening.”

  Her breath froze in her throat, her tears forgotten. He held her gaze, his quizzical. “And when you take it, you’re agreeing.”

  “Oh.” The work came out in a squeak. Holy crap, all three of these guys thought she’d agreed to—to let them do stuff to her, with her?

  Dack rose, towering over her. “Now choose. And hurry your ass up about it. I’ll be back in a minute.” He turned and strode away.

  Oh God. Daisy watched him go. Was he coming back? Did she even want him to? Well, one thing was for sure, she had to deal with these two guys first.

  She turned to Mason and held out his key. “I’m really sorry.”

  He nodded, looking as if he were trying not to grin. “’S okay. Put it in my pocket, eh?”

  She looked at his tight jeans and blinked at the size of his male package. She was not going there. Instead, she tucked the key in a small pocket of his vest.

  “You’re not getting one of my margaritas,” he teased, waving the drinks enticingly.

  Daisy smiled back, feeling a twinge of regret. “There’s a blonde behind you who looks like she needs a drink.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Good idea.” He turned away.

  Daisy turned to Kevin. He gave her a cocky grin as if sure she’d choose him. He was handsome, but he was not someone Daisy would consider actually hooking up with. With an inward shudder, she held out the black key to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I, um, hope you have a great night.”

  “Oh, I will,” he said, grabbing the key from her. “Hope you can say the same.” He turned his back on her.

  Well, okay. So he wouldn’t be forgiving her anytime soon.

  She sank onto the sofa, leaned her forehead on her hand. Geez, what a night. Was this going to work for her? She felt like there was a whole secret rulebook someone had forgotten to show her.

  The music started again, a bluesy number with lots of saxophone. Daisy leaned her chin on her hand and looked around. Mason was perched on the arm of the blonde’s chair, his back partly turned to Daisy. They were sipping margaritas and smiling at each other. The woman’s eyes were sparkling as if her dreams for the night had come true.

  Daisy felt Dack’s presence before she saw him—a kind of electric awareness. She sat up straight as he resumed his former perch on the arm of the sofa. He said nothing, and her nerves sizzled with anticipation. Finally, she could stand the wait no longer and looked up at him.

  He was looking down at her over his crossed arms, like a potentate regarding a recalcitrant harem girl. His sunglasses had disappeared. Oh, man, the pose highlighted his huge shoulders and gorgeous biceps. She wanted her hands all over those arms.

  “Still here, I see,” he rumbled.

  She shrugged. That was a no-brainer.

  “Stand up.”

  Scooting forward off the sofa, Daisy rose and turned to him. Was he going to ask her to dance?

  “So, now that you know what my key means, you gonna wuss out?” he asked her, one corner of his mouth pressing in, as if he was trying not to grin.

  She scowled at him, planting her hands on her hips. “No.”

  “Good.” He uncrossed his arms and crooked his forefinger. “Then c’mere.”

  Daisy took the single step that placed her between his spread knees. He took his key from her wrist, stretched the choker with both hands, and lifted it over her head. The warmth of his big hands ruffled her hair, ghosted over her cheeks.

  The choker settled into place around her throat, a light caress, the key dangling in the hollow of her throat. He eyed it with satisfaction, his hands spread on his knees.

  Disappointment trickled through her. She’d hoped he would put his hands on her, maybe kiss her.

  He looked up into her eyes. “Now, since you won’t take your top off,” he said, “let’s have your skirt instead.”

  Chapter Six

  Daisy’s almond eyes widened, and Dack could practically see his command bouncing around in her pretty head, as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d heard it. Her soft lips formed an ‘O’ of surprise. He’d ruffled her short, platinum hair slightly when he’d put his collar on her, and it reminded him of flower petals. Daisy petals, he thought whimsically.

  “Take off my skirt?” she echoed.

  He nodded slightly. “If I have to repeat myself, I’m not gonna be happy.” And if she wussed out, he was going to howl like a hound dog tied to the porch.

  Man, he’d wanted this little blonde since he’d first seen her. Wanted her and resigned himself to settling for other playmates. Tonight, her gorgeous tits and ass barely shielded in leather, knowing that she was ready to play his way, he was so hard it was a wonder his cock hadn’t torn a hole in his leathers.

  She swallowed visibly, her hands smoothing down over her little skirt. She was a study in contrasts. Spunky, always ready with a quick smile or retort and a body that wouldn’t quit, but with a shadow in her eyes, as if she weren’t sure she dared to follow through on the interest in her gaze, her response to him.

  A woman shrieked behind him, her laughter ringing over the music. Daisy’s gaze snapped to the side, and Dack looked over as a little redhead darted past from the dance floor, naked except for
a pair of tiny panties and her high-heeled sandals, her breasts bouncing. Behind her followed her date, grinning, her red leather dress hanging from his hand.

  D’Aurien—the reason Rochelle was so upset. She’d been back behind the reception desk when Dack went to check on her, but her eyes had been swollen with tears. Women had a bad habit of falling for the first dom who spent some time focusing on them. He’d reprimanded her for her lapse with Daisy’s introduction, but he’d kept his voice mild and ended up giving her a hug.

  Trace had promised to spend some time at the front desk with her and make sure she was okay to work until her relief showed up at midnight. Probably do a scene with her before the night was through, if he thought it would help her.

  The redhead and her dom headed for the empty chair back in the corner. Dack watched Daisy carefully. Would the display scare her off, or would it reassure her that she wouldn’t be the only female with a bare ass?

  She reached down and grasped the tab at her left hip. Ah, she was going to do it. He watched, his attention so focused on her slender hand that a bomb could’ve gone off behind him and he wouldn’t notice as she slowly pulled down the zipper that ran from the waist to the hem of her little skirt.

  But then she froze, her head down, the unfastened skirt still clutched around her. Time to call her back.

  “Daisy. Look at me.” She peeped up at him, her gorgeous eyes shadowed with doubt. Whatever she found in his gaze seemed to steady her. “Do it for me.”

  Do it for me, he repeated silently, willing her to obey. Show me you want to submit to me, you want me to take you on the journey of your lifetime. That you want to blossom for me. Be my little sub, and let me suck all your sweet nectar. Shit, he was turning into a regular poet here.

  She let go of the zipper, and the skirt came away in her hand. She dropped it in the corner of the sofa with her purse, and her hands went back to her sides. Dack barely noticed, because now she stood before him clad in her halter top and a tiny leather thong.