Private Dancer (Club Volare Book 12)

by Chloe Cox

  Hell, maybe, after all of this, if he pinned her with those eyes and she felt that connection again, she’d end up telling him anyway.

  She opened her eyes at the thought. And when she did, she saw the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

  Two huge men prowled toward her, oozing so much alpha energy that it was a wonder they weren’t busy tearing each other to shreds in a fight for control of the room.

  One of them was the owner, Gavin. The man from the auction last night, who had made sure she was ok today. He was a good looking man, but she was only sort of vaguely aware of him, on the periphery.

  Because the other man was Spencer Cole.

  11

  Cole walked towards her from the other end of the club, his eyes locked on her, and only her. And God, just the look in his eyes. Bette flashed hot and cold and hot again, had to fight to keep her breathing steady, and that was before she even let herself think about what he’d done to her in that private room. Or what he might do next.

  In a daze, she watched him approach, totally unable to move, like some kind of stunned prey animal.

  He knew.

  Ever so slightly, Cole raised his hand – just one hand – and the other man with him, Gavin, stopped his approach. Now it was just Cole closing in. Just him and Bette.

  Bette wanted to take everything in. She wanted to let her greedy eyes roam over his tall, strong, muscular body. Wondered, with something approaching physical need, what he actually looked like. What his bare skin would feel like against hers. But she couldn’t take her eyes away from his.

  God, she wanted to tell him everything. She wanted…she wanted this to be real.

  “You’re back,” Cole said, his voice low. His eyes wandered over her, evaluating, appreciating. It made her shiver. “You safeworded out. You ok?”

  Bette felt herself flush. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she said. “I just—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he ordered. “You don’t apologize for needing to use your safeword. We’ll talk about it later. You did good.”

  Bette felt her spine straighten at that, a small smile play across her lips. She couldn’t hide how good his approval felt. Could she hide anything?

  Cole’s eyes flicked to her phone and back. “Everything else ok?” he asked.

  Still not able to find words, Bette looked down hurriedly at her phone, Lizzie’s last text—a pic of the ice cream sundae Mrs. Palmer had bought her—still visible. They were going to FaceTime later. Things actually were ok, at least for the time being. And suddenly they actually felt it.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Cole didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened—and then hardened all over again.

  And then he was on her. His hard, warm body pressing into hers, his size overwhelming her. He reached past her, closed his hand around her wrist, and stretched her arm out until he held her hand over her bag.

  “Phone down,” he rumbled in his deep, deep voice, which vibrated straight from his chest into her ribs.

  She released the phone immediately. Barely even thought about it, just like he’d pushed a button and opened her hand like one of those quarter-sucking toy machine claws.

  Still holding her wrist, Cole slowly spun her stool until she faced him. Her head fell back, as if it were on a string, like she was some kind of marionette under his control. He looked down at her, those piercing, probing blue-gray eyes seeing everything.

  Screwed didn’t even begin to cover what she was.

  Especially because when she looked in his eyes, she felt it again. That connection. That…something.

  “We’ve decided how we’re going to deal with you,” Cole said.

  “Deal with me?” she said.

  He smiled slightly. Amused. “You lied,” he said. “You broke club rules. Normally we have a zero tolerance policy for things like that, but you…”

  Cole paused. He inhaled as he looked her over, his eyes narrowed, warm then cold, always confusing.

  “You’re a special case,” he said.

  For a moment, just a moment, Bette almost thought she saw that flush spread across Cole’s cheekbones again. The way he had when she’d taken his thumb in her mouth. When she’d felt, inexplicably, like they knew each other. She looked into his eyes, and it was there all over again.

  Bette’s heart picked up the pace, her breathing matched it.

  “What does that mean?” she heard herself say.

  “It means you’re a new sub in need of guidance,” he said. “I won’t shirk that responsibility. If you want to remain at Club Volare you will be my sub, and my sub alone, until I decide you no longer need me. This will be a Dominant/submissive arrangement only. Not a relationship. Is this clear?”

  And just like that, it was clear as day.

  Bette looked in his eyes again, as if she could look anywhere else. It was still Cole. But it was like a force field had gone up between them. The man she’d seen before was still in there, but she didn’t get to see all of him. Because it wasn’t a relationship. Which meant no getting to know each other. No becoming part of each other’s lives. Definitely no falling in love.

  She should be happy about that. It meant she wouldn’t have to tell him about her messed up life. It meant one less complication while she tried to figure out a solution.

  So why did she feel so disappointed?

  “Very clear,” she said.

  Cole exhaled, his blue-gray eyes glittering. Lord, the power of this man. She could smell his scent again. It made her crazy.

  “Do you consent to those terms?” he said.

  “I do,” she said.

  This time when Cole exhaled it came with this delicious rumbly growl deep in his chest. She wanted to put her hands on him, feel the vibrations. Instead he stepped in, threaded his hand through her hair, and tipped her head back.

  “Good,” he said.

  And then he kissed her. Hot, hard. Rough. Possessive. He kissed her exactly how he wanted to kiss her, and by the time he was done, she was a melty, helpless fool. He watched her with interest as his hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing them, playing with them, right here out in the open. Leaving her breathless.

  “I’m going to have a lot of fun with these,” he said, almost to himself. And then his eyes locked on her all over again. “But first things first.”

  As if by an invisible signal, Gavin appeared to Bette’s right, a grin on his face and his forearm on the bar.

  Cole didn’t move. He held her eyes with his, and his hands kept doing whatever the hell they wanted.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Cole’s lip, and she almost smiled back, missing that sense of…she didn’t know what to call it. What was it when you felt like you could laugh with a man who might, at any moment, put you over his knee like he meant it?

  “Bette,” Cole said in that rumbly voice.

  “Yes?”

  God. It came out a whisper.

  “Tell Gavin what you did,” he said. “And apologize.”

  Bette opened her mouth, closed it again. Cole’s fingers kept toying with her nipples, his body trapping hers against the bar, his eyes pinning hers. She could feel her pulse in her clit, her heartbeat in her chest. She was practically dizzy with arousal. If he kept doing this she was going to actually come. And she was supposed to speak?

  “Sub,” he said, his voice a warning.

  “I was scared,” Bette said. “I used a fake ID. Lied about my name. My experience.”

  “And?”

  She blinked. “And I’m sorry.”

  She was, too. But only sort of. Because if she hadn’t, would she be getting fondled by an amused looking Cole right at this moment?

  Maybe he saw that feeling play out on her face, because next Cole grinned.

  “That’s good enough for now, sub,” he said. “Good enough for you, Gavin?”

  “Sure is,” Gavin said, pushing off the bar. “Have fun.”

  Bette licked her lips, and swallowed. She was afraid to loo
k anywhere else, afraid to move. And at the same time, she was practically buzzing in her seat. If she didn’t move soon she was going to explode. Cole seemed to be enjoying it.

  “What next?” she finally said.

  “Next you’re going to fill out new paperwork,” Cole said. “Accurately, this time. Real name, real emergency contact information, real everything. No one will see it unless we need it. Not even me. You will eventually tell me your name, Bette, but it won’t be on a damn form. This is non-negotiable. Understood?”

  For a moment, Bette really couldn’t speak. He’d known she’d freak out about the forms. Her real name. It didn’t even make sense; she’d gotten rid of Mark’s last name as soon as possible. It had been a pain in the ass, but she’d done it. But given everything going on, the idea of telling Cole who she really was just terrified her. And Cole had known it would be beyond her limits. So he’d found a way to keep her safe both ways, and he’d made it non-negotiable.

  But this is not a relationship. Definitely not a relationship.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” she finally said.

  “I’m not nice,” Cole said, eyes narrowing. “I’m your Dom. And you’re about to find out exactly what that means.”

  12

  Cole studied his brand new sub. His sub.

  Felt good to know she was properly his now. Maybe too good. But screw it—she was.

  She was looking up at him with those eyes again, her back to the bar, her knees perched up on the rung of the barstool she sat on. Now that she was his, Cole had one mission: he was going to find out exactly what he needed to know to break his sub open and show her what submission could be. Bette’s secrets weren’t going to last for long.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  Cole took a long, lazy breath as he looked her up and down again. He had a number of ideas about what to do with her. Unfortunately none of them were appropriate — they’d all push her too far, too fast. He needed more information.

  “Paperwork,” he said.

  Bette laughed. He was getting to like that sound. In fact, he was looking forward to finding out exactly what kind of sounds she could make.

  “I almost hoped you were joking about that,” she said.

  “It’s fun paperwork,” he said. “Or at least it’ll be fun for me when you’re done with it.”

  He snapped his fingers, and one of the service subs on duty, Matthew, appeared obediently. Bette looked at Matthew, then back at Cole, and raised her eyebrow.

  “Matthew, go get a new member application and a new member inventory form, please,” he said. “And do it quickly.”

  The male sub disappeared like a well-trained butler. Which he sort of was.

  “You said ‘please,’” she said.

  “Just because I could order him to his knees for me at any moment is no reason not to be polite,” Cole said.

  Bette bit her lip, trying to hide her arousal. Cole liked that she was a little bratty. It gave him something to play with.

  And the way her eyes danced at him gave him something else. Something…

  Her phone chirped.

  She’d left it out on the bar. Her eyes flitted away briefly, and Cole remembered her face earlier, when she’d been texting someone. Bette wasn’t addicted to her phone like some people, but there was clearly someone who had an emotional hold on her. Some situation. One more secret for him to uncover. But the brief fear in her face — that reminded him of women he’d seen when he was in the Chicago PD, before the FBI.

  More specific than that. She reminded him of mothers who were utterly responsible for things they had no control over. No wonder she seemed like she was drowning. And no wonder she needed a Dom.

  “You just can’t stop breaking rules, huh,” Cole said.

  “What? Why? What did I do?” she said, sitting straight up.

  He smiled. “Phones, and other recording devices, are not allowed in the club. For obvious reasons.”

  “Oh crap,” Bette said, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. She looked back down at her phone and then threw it – literally threw it – into the bag at her feet, like it was on fire.

  “I didn’t even think of that,” she said, admonishing herself. Then she scrunched her bag closed and looked around guiltily, like she’d been caught using the wrong dinner fork or something.

  Cole burst out laughing. Goddammit, why was that so cute?

  “You’re lucky I already disciplined you for not reading them the first time,” he said.

  Bette’s eyes met his as she sat back on the barstool. Then she bit her lip again, and smiled.

  Cole knew, without a doubt, that in that moment they were both thinking about how well she’d come for him. And how well she’d taken denial. His cock remembered well, that was for damn sure.

  He growled, softly. Something primal inside him wanted to just lift her onto the bar, pull her panties aside, and take her right then and there. Get inside her as soon as possible. Fuck her hard, loud, let everyone know she belonged to him. Somehow he knew they’d be in their own little world the second he touched her, anyway.

  “If I take my phone out,” she said finally, “will you do it again?”

  And Matthew the service sub chose that moment to silently appear at Cole’s elbow with the paperwork.

  Cole kept his eyes locked on Bette as he took the file folder and dismissed the service sub with a wave of his hand.

  “You like playing with fire, don’t you?” he said.

  Her eyes got bigger, and broke contact to look at the folder containing the new member inventory.

  “Is that…an option?” she said.

  Cole laughed again. Fuck it. She was his to enjoy.

  He kissed her, hard. Bit her lip. Then spun her around on the bar stool so she was facing the bar again, her face visible to him in the reflection of the bar mirror. He gave orders, she obeyed. He watched as she diligently filled out the new member application with the speed of someone who has all the information memorized — her real name, real address. Only one thing gave her pause, enough of a pause that her brow furrowed, and she got in her head. But she powered through.

  It was another secret to unravel. She was like an endless goddamn present.

  “What’s this one?” she said as she picked up the bigger packet. “Right, the new member inventory you called it? What actually is that?”

  Cole watched her face in the mirror, his Dom sense picking up on something. She was back in her head, disconnected from her body. Whatever had troubled her about the emergency contact form had brought her out of the present, into worrying about the future.

  Without warning, he slid his hands around to her front, and palmed her breasts.

  He watched her eyes close halfway as her nipples pebbled under his hands, her lips parting as she let out a soft sigh. Her whole body curved slightly, wanting to meet him. The way she responded to him was out of this fucking world. Cole had never experienced anything like it.

  “A survey,” he said, spinning her around on the barstool, spreading her thighs one more time. The skirt she was wearing today was somehow more modest, but it allowed the same access. He liked it. “Your likes, dislikes, interests, hard lines. It’s a starting point for your training.”

  His hands pushed up her thighs as her hands landed on his chest. Wherever they touched felt warm, hungry. He wanted more.

  So did she. Bette’s brow furrowed with the intensity of concentration it took to form words. Cole grinned, watching her try.

  “So, like, what you’re allowed to do to me?” she said.

  Cole laughed, pushed his hands up under her skirt, down between her inner thighs. He stroked her once, there, feeling how soaked her panties were, watching her sharp inhale of breath. Then he pulled her panties aside and slipped his index finger inside her. Her lower belly contracted sharply, and her fingers dug into his chest.

  “I’ll do whatever I want with you,” he said, softly. “That form is so I have a map of the
territory. So I know how to push you, and when.”

  He added another finger, curling them inside her. Her hips rocked into him, taking him deeper.

  “You will be open for me, Bette,” he said. “Slowly, at first, and then completely. The first step is that form. And I will know if you lie.”

  She shuddered against him, and Cole leaned in. Her whole being was quivering around him, the air between them vibrating with whatever the hell this was. This raw bond between them. Like a wave, it crashed over him.

  He wanted her.

  He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted anyone, or anything. He wanted her so much it was like a force of nature, like some magnetic pull. Like something stronger than his self-control.

  He’d made a promise. To her, to himself. No drama. No entanglements. Nothing that would get her heart broken when she found he couldn’t give her anything but this. And there was no way in hell she could fill out the damn form while he was touching her.

  Cole pulled his fingers out, growling with the effort, then wiped them on her cheek. He kissed her, hard, quick.

  “Go over there,” he said, pointing at the lounge area, where Holt was passing through. “That man is called Holt. He is on duty as a monitor. You need anything, you ask him. You will not sit in a chair. You will perch on one of the armrests, and you will fill this out honestly. You will not touch yourself, no matter how wet you are, no matter how much your clit is throbbing. Because your pussy is mine now, sub. Is that understood?”

  She shuddered again as his words filtered through.

  “Yes,” she said. “Sir.”

  Without another word, Cole pushed off the bar and turned towards the entrance foyer. It took too much effort to do even that. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn back, forget all his rules, bury himself deep inside her.

  But that would confuse the hell out of a new sub. Hell, at this point, it would confuse him. Whatever this was between them was dangerous. And he was the Dom. It was his job to remember that Bette was a sub in need of guidance, a sub who lied. Nothing more.