I tease my swollen, engorged clit, circling it with abandon. My insides twist and clench in a familiar spiral, and my muscles tense. Adrian squeezes my breasts and pinches my nipples, adding another onslaught of pleasure. I can feel his erection against my ass, tempting, yet out of reach.
My skin is damp with sweat as I move my fingers, faster and faster. I’m going to come, and there’s nothing I can do to hold it back. The pressure that’s been building from the moment Brody gave me his first order is too much, and the dam is ready to burst.
Then I erupt. The world goes black. I lose the ability to see and hear. My muscles spasm and quiver, and intense relief shudders through me.
“Give me your hand,” Brody orders. He sucks me clean, his tongue dancing around my fingers, sending fresh tremors racing through my body. Adrian wraps his arms around my body and holds me close, waiting for my breathing to even out. I lean back and shut my eyes, letting contentment spread through me. I love aftercare.
Finally, I stir, and Adrian frees me. “Should I, umm, take care of you?” I blush as I ask the question. This is so awkward.
Brody hands me my panties with a grin. “We’re okay,” he says. “Not every scene has to include sex.”
“Do people have sex in the club? Is that allowed?” I should really read the set of rules that Xavier sent over, but it’s still sitting in the FedEx envelope it arrived in. No avoidance there. None at all.
Brody nods. “Sex is absolutely allowed in the club,” he replies. “Not with the staff, but with other guests. It’s a good place to hook up if you’re trying to find someone who’s also interested in kink.”
“Is that what you’ll be doing tomorrow?” I ask, and then clap a hand over my mouth. My face burns with my embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. It’s none of my business.” I pull my panties over my hips, focusing on getting dressed so I don’t have to look at their faces. I’m such a fool.
“It’s possible,” Brody replies calmly. “But unlikely.”
I need to change the topic before I die of humiliation. “I did it,” I murmur. “I scened with you.”
Adrian gives me a searching glance. “Are you sure you’re ready for the club tomorrow night, Fiona? After your last experience, there’s no shame in being cautious.”
“I’m absolutely positive.” I curl my fingers into a fist so they can’t see the way my hands tremble. This time tomorrow, I’ll be on the club floor. I swallow hard to dispel the lump in my throat.
“Would you like to drive down with us?” Brody asks. “We’ll probably leave at seven.”
“No, I’m going to drive there.” Oh God. Xavier wants me there at six. Adrian and Brody won’t get to the club until eight or nine. I’ll be alone for almost three hours.
I reach for my abandoned club soda. The ice has melted, and beads of condensation have run down on the coaster. Club M is perfectly safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
Maybe Avery will be able to see me in the morning.
14
Brody:
I call Dix Ketcham first thing Friday morning. “Any chance Callie Weiss called you yesterday?”
Dix Ketcham worked at the agency with us until her mother got sick. She quit to take care of her, nursing her through four brutal years of cancer treatments and chemo. Her mother died last January, and I would have thought that Dix Ketcham would have been ready to leave Jackson and all the sad memories behind. So far though, Dix shows no desire of wanting to leave. She’s very different from me in that regard.
“Not yet,” she replies. “In my experience, if they don’t call right away, they don’t call at all.”
I’m afraid she’s right.
I told Adrian on Tuesday that I’d been ready to go back to the club again, but after yesterday’s trip to Mississippi, I’m not so sure. This is a bad time for me to re-enter the world of dominance and submission. BDSM is a mindfuck. A trust exercise. A dominant needs to be in control of his emotions and his feelings, his focus entirely on his submissive.
My emotions are all over the place; they’ve been that way from the moment my mother called.
But yesterday’s session with Fiona had also reminded me of how much I missed it. When she took off her shirt for me, when she allowed herself to give up control, her trust had been such an aphrodisiac. I’d forgotten how good it felt.
I’d jerked off in the shower as soon as I got back home, clenching my eyes shut, hearing her soft gasps and seeing her full breasts and her rosy nipples, swollen with need.
It’s my job to pay attention. Downing’s done a number on Fiona. When I told her I was going to spank her, her first reaction was fear. What did she think I was going to do anyway? Beat her black and blue?
That’s your fault, Payne. You shouldn’t have jumped into play without conversation, negotiation, and establishing limits.
Damn it.
If I want to keep scening with Fiona, I have to be more responsible
And Adrian? I don’t know what the fuck is going on with my best friend. Three days ago, he’d bitten my head off when I suggested returning to the club. Now, he’s all in favor of playing with Fiona.
That has me worried too. Adrian has never fully dealt with the impact of our submissive’s death.
When I think about Sandy, my primary emotion is sadness that she died so young. She’d wanted to travel to Alaska and hike the Appalachian Trail, and she died before she got a chance to fulfill all her dreams.
But when Adrian thinks about Sandy’s death, he doesn’t view it as an accident. He thinks it’s his fault. He suggested the ski trip, and she’d died, and Adrian has spent the past two years blaming himself for it.
Logic dictates that Adrian deal with that gaping wound before he goes back to the club where we met Sandy.
Yet I know him, and I know myself. Fiona is an intoxicating mix of sexy and sweet, and oh-so-responsive.
If she wants to play again, we’re both going to take her up on it.
15
Fiona:
I’m so busy Friday that I don’t have time to dread my impending visit to Xavier Leforte’s club.
I spend most of the morning in Arlington, trailing a congressman whose wife thinks he’s cheating on her. Sadly, her suspicions are correct. A little before noon, he checks into a motel, using a fake name and paying cash. Less than fifteen minutes later, a woman enters the room. From my vantage spot in the parking lot, I take photos. Sorry, Mary. Your husband is a louse.
When I’m done, I head back to Georgetown to spend a couple of hours in my office dealing with email.
There’s a bouquet of purple calla lilies on my desk. Mrs. Morales, who’s left for the day, has scribbled a note next to them. This came for you, dear. There’s a card.
My lips twitch. The older woman is intensely curious about everything. She gives me unsolicited dating advice roughly once a week. It’s mildly annoying, but she genuinely wants to see me happy, so I nod along. She must have been going crazy all day wondering who the flowers were from, but though she’s nosy, she won’t cross a line.
I open the envelope. There’s a Lockhart & Payne business card inside. On the reverse of the card are two phone numbers, and a brief note. In case you need to reach us.
A sharp pang of disappointment shoots through me. What were you hoping they’d say, Fiona? That they had a great time last night? That they want to scene again with you?
God, I’m pathetic. Adrian and Brody can have anyone. They’re way out of my league, and the sooner I put them out of my mind, the better. I have a case of blackmail to investigate, and a business to run. I don’t have time to be mooning over two gorgeous guys like some kind of love-struck teenager.
Fighting off the desire to call and thank them for the flowers, I open the lid of my laptop. I have a shitload of work to get through before I head out.
Club Ménage is a freaking castle.
My mouth falls open as I round a corner and the building looms into view. �
�Holy crap,” I murmur. No wonder Xavier wants to sort out this blackmail attempt before the members can find out. It must cost an arm and a leg to run this place.
I pull up at the front of the building and look around to see where I should park. As soon as I turn off the engine, a man seems to appear out of nowhere. I roll down my window as he approaches me. “Ms. Clarke? I’m Henri, the concierge.”
A freaking concierge. Brody had called this place luxurious. He wasn’t kidding. “Hi.”
Henri holds the car door open for me, and I get out. “If you follow me,” he says, “I can show you to your room.”
“The car?”
“A valet will park it for you,” he assures me. “And someone will bring your luggage to your room.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing my purse, I follow Henri up the flight of stairs. “Once you settle in Mr. Leforte requests that you join him in his office for some new member paperwork.”
Ah, the cover story. I’m a new member that’s eager to explore. I rub my damp palms on my slacks. “Certainly.”
The massive wooden doors are open, and we step into a large foyer illuminated by a glittering chandelier. To my right is an open door that leads to a room that has to be over five thousand square feet. I know I’m gaping, but I can’t help it. This place is huge.
“How many members does this place have?” I ask Henri faintly.
Henri must be used to this reaction because he doesn’t bat an eyelid. “Mr. Leforte would know our membership numbers,” he says, and I take mental note of the concierge’s refusal to gossip. I guess that’s got to be in the job description in a sex club. Good for him. “The club doesn’t occupy the entire building, Ms. Clarke. Most of the space is taken up by the resort, and many companies rent out the great room for corporate events, holiday parties, and retreats.”
The companies don’t care that there’s a sex club in the basement? I keep that thought to myself; I doubt Henri’s going to answer me.
“Most of the guests stay in the newer buildings,” Henri explains as we ride up the elevator. “The actual castle has only eight bedrooms. Mr. Leforte lives here, and his private suite takes up the entire top floor.”
Must be nice. Then again, from the moment I met Xavier Leforte, I was pretty sure the guy was loaded. The castle just confirms my hypothesis.
The elevator whispers to a stop on the third floor. Henri leads me down a carpeted corridor and throws open a door on the right. “Your room, Ms. Clarke,” he announces.
The first thing I notice is the four-poster bed. Lots of bondage possibilities here. Then again, should I be surprised? The rest of the room is gorgeous. Cocoa-colored carpeting, cream drapes, and bedding. It’s a lovely, sun-filled space.
Henri is waiting for me to comment. “It’s perfect.” My pulse is racing in my chest. “Where is Mr. Leforte’s office?”
“On the second floor, Ms. Clarke,” he says. “If you give me a call when you are ready to head down, I can show you there.”
I wonder where they parked my car. I have a sudden, hysterical vision of fleeing down the flight of stairs, dressed in a scanty corset, the kind that Raymond made me wear, and then realizing that my car is nowhere in sight, and I’m trapped.
First order of business when I’m done with Xavier—find the damn parking lot.
Henri is giving me a strange look. “Are you okay, Ms. Clarke?” he asks solicitously.
Oh God. Not him too. “I’m perfectly fine. Give me ten minutes, and then I’ll be ready to meet Xavier.”
Suck it up, buttercup. You’re here for a job. Focus on that.
Xavier’s office is on the second floor. He’s reading something on his computer when I knock at his door. “Ms. Clarke, come on in,” he says with a smile. “Was your drive okay?”
“The traffic was hellish,” I tell him. “Everyone was trying to leave the city for the weekend.”
“I find the congestion trying at the best of times,” he agrees. He waves me to a chair across from him, and I sit down. “Henri showed you to your room? Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. “This place is amazing.”
His expression warms. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of it.”
Pleasantries exchanged, I get to business. “How many members do you have, and how many of them do I need to investigate?”
“There are a lot of rich people in the world,” he replies obliquely. “Many of them consider a membership to Club M a worthwhile investment.” He fiddles with a pen as he talks, and I suppress the desire to snatch it out of his hands. “You saw the great room? When we have one of our monthly galas, there can be as many as five hundred people here.”
I must look alarmed because he rushes to reassure me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “The number of potential suspects is much smaller. We just need to focus on the people that visited the club in the evenings that Maria was here. I’ve already pulled the records for you. We’re looking at seventy-five people.”
That sounds like a much more manageable number. “I’ll need to know more about the woman who’s being blackmailed,” I tell him. “Maria.”
“Yes, of course. I received your non-disclosure form, but I will warn you again that we take breaches of privacy very seriously here.”
“I understand.” Now that I’ve seen the castle, I totally get how much Xavier’s got riding on cleaning this mess up quickly and quietly.
He nods. He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a manila folder, taking a photo from it and handing it to me. It’s the same photo he shared with me on Tuesday, but this time, the girl’s face isn’t blurred out.
I study it. “She’s quite young.”
“Twenty-two,” Xavier replies. “Her name is Maria Dumonte. Her father is Ben Dumonte. He’s a senator from Louisiana.”
That’s not surprising. Politicians, and by extension, their families, live their lives under a spotlight. If they don’t want to become tabloid fodder, a private club is a necessary evil. “She’s new, you said.”
“She is. She’s only been a member of the club for four months.”
I frown. At twenty-two, I had been too afraid to act on my desires. It wasn’t until I was twenty-seven that I’d taken the plunge and visited a sex club. I can’t imagine how freaked out I’d have been if someone there had taken a photo of me and was using it to blackmail me.
Which reminds me. “She got the picture in the mail, you said on Tuesday. Was there a note attached to it? A demand for money?”
“No.” He steeples his fingers in a now-familiar gesture.
I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing? That seems… odd.” Maybe the first picture was to get our attention. “Do you think you’re the target, not Maria? If word gets out about this security breach, you stand to lose quite a bit of money.”
He looks briefly amused. “Club M only represents a small part of my holdings, Ms. Clarke. While I’m confused at the motive behind this,” he says, pointing to the picture, “I’m reasonably certain I’m not the target.”
Should have Googled him, Fiona.
All week, I’ve been distracted by other things. By turning thirty, by seeing Adrian and Brody in my building, by the session in their office last night.
Right now, Xavier is probably questioning my competence, and he’s justified. Time to get my head in the game.
“When Maria told you about this photo, was she shaken? Panicking?”
He shakes his head. “On the surface, she seems pretty calm. Make no mistake, though, Ms. Clarke. This has the potential to be a powder keg. Ben Dumonte is strongly Catholic and very conservative. If his daughter’s sexual preferences were to be revealed, it would set off one heck of a shit storm.”
“Call me Fiona.” It’s funny hearing Xavier Leforte say ‘shit storm’ in his faintly accented voice. “Who does Maria play with here?”
“I’ll print a list for you,” he promises. “As well as Maria’s social security number so you can start looking into her.” He hands me the folder. “This has a c
opy of her application and some background details. That’ll help you get your investigation off the ground.”
“Thanks.” Another thought strikes me. “Apart from you, who else knows I’m investigating this blackmail attempt?”
“Nobody.”
That catches me by surprise. He really does want this kept quiet. “No one?”
“I don’t want the culprit warned off, Fiona,” he says. He tips his head to one side and surveys me. “The club officially opens its doors at nine,” he says. “According to Henri, Ms. Dumonte will be here this evening. You’ll be on the floor tonight?”
Butterflies dance in my stomach when I contemplate strolling in the sex-soaked halls of Club Ménage. I want to hurl—I am so nervous.
Calm down, Fiona. Stop freaking yourself out.
“Yes.”
“Good.” A faint smile touches his lips. “Enjoy your time here, Fiona. I’d offer to show you around the club floor, but I’m fairly sure Payne and Lockhart will be here in time to do that.”
I feel my face heat again. Did Adrian and Brody tell Xavier about our session last night? Oh God, I really hope not. That would be mortifying.
I manage to mumble something in response. Still flushed, I get up to leave, thinking that our interview is done. I’m halfway to the door when Xavier’s voice makes me pause. “Oh, Fiona? When you see Adrian and Brody tonight, will you give them a message for me? Tell them I’ve signed them up to do a pet play demo in three weeks. They’ll need to find a volunteer for that.”
I freeze. A pet play demo? A volunteer? “What?”
“A pet play demo,” Xavier repeats. “We do demos in the main space every Friday night. If you’re interested in watching, Kai Bowen will be doing a fire play one tonight. The pet play demo will be a lot less intense, of course.” His eyes turn amused. “Kiera, one of the bartenders here, tells me that there’s a pretty long list of women who want to scene with Adrian and Brody, so I’m sure they won’t have much trouble finding someone to do the demo with.”
Claiming Fifi Page 8
