by Marcia James
Okay, so she’d made him laugh and there’d been some chemistry between them. Calvin thought about the sexual awareness that scrambled through his body whenever she was near. Sure, he’d almost kissed her. He remembered the feel of her athletic body pressed against his and the way her pupils had grown large and dark before he’d let her go. Even now his body was hardening at the memory of her nipples pushing against the soft fabric of her top.
Damn. Calvin looked at his reflection in the dresser mirror and saw the frustration and despair on his face. He’d never expected to experience again the things he was feeling about Suzi. And it seemed like a betrayal of Pam.
Suzi’s words from their last session came back to him. Pam would want the best for you. Don’t you think she’d want you to let go of the guilt and be happy again?
He didn’t know what to think. Hell, he was so tired he didn’t even want to think. Calvin placed the beer bottle on the nightstand and slid down until he lay flat on the bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure an image of his wife’s shy smile and soft laugh. But the last impression he had as he drifted into sleep was of sexy Asian eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
“Heard you had a session with our New York super freak,” Ellen said, strutting into the Xecutive Branch employee lounge and greeting Domino with a conspiratorial smile. The full-figured dominatrix was encased in black rubber, an outfit that required chutzpah and a liberal application of baby powder to wear. “Did he enjoy the spirited horseplay?” she asked deadpan.
Dom laughed, thinking of how surreal but strangely entertaining her session with the crime boss had been. And, despite her detour from his script, Cubby Cabazone had raved about the session. Some days the good guy came out on top and the bad guy even thanked her afterward.
“The joker’s not exactly Seabiscuit but he’s frisky for his age,” Dom joked.
Ellen giggled and rolled her eyes in a shared recognition of the absurdity of their jobs. Then she walked over to join Dom at the employee mail slots along the lounge’s back wall. Reaching into her open-ended cubbyhole, Ellen pulled out the client schedule for her S&M room that evening.
Domino turned and retrieved her own printed schedule for S&M Room Five. Her first appointment was a regular, Timid Tim, the milquetoast CPA who only wanted her to verbally berate him for being such a wimp. Her second client was…Dalton C. Dom’s sharp, indrawn breath drew Ellen’s attention.
“Killer schedule?” the girl asked.
“Ah, no,” Domino said, a curious jumble of anticipation and nerves building at the sight of Dalton’s name. “I just have a client who’s a real puzzle. He doesn’t fit the submissive type and I don’t know what he’s looking for in our sessions.”
Ellen shrugged, her short black hair feathering around her ears. “Not every submissive is a ninety-pound weakling. I’ve topped a couple of Redskins linebackers.”
Dom nodded, not sure how to articulate her feelings. “There’s just something about this guy…”
“Oh geez, girl, whatever you do, don’t fall for a client.” Ellen’s joking tone was gone and concern clouded her face.
Dom forced a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. My ideal Mr. Right won’t be into bondage and discipline. And his idea of a good time won’t include nipple clamps and riding crops.”
Ellen grinned but there was a trace of worry in her eyes. “Okay. I better head to my room and turn down the heat before my first client arrives.” She waved her printed schedule like a fan. “You wouldn’t believe how hot these rubber suits get.”
“Then why are you wearing one?”
“Visual impact.” Ellen let the words hang as she strutted out of the lounge. Dom had to admit the X-rated scuba suit showcased every one of Ellen’s ample curves. When worn by the lively dental student-dominatrix, the sexy outfit should include an “Inflammable—Contents Under Pressure” warning.
Shaking her head, Dom looked at the schedule in her hand. Dalton C. Okay, so she’d lied to Ellen. She was definitely attracted to this client. And thanks to her plans to slip a tracking device into the drug-filled carton—something that could wrap up this case—Domino realized tonight might be her final session with Dalton. Tonight might be the last time she would see him, have a chance to touch him or…
Damn. Why couldn’t she find a man who looked like Dalton and made her blood race as he did, but someone who was, well, normal? A guy who thought a fun night was dinner and a movie, not handcuffs and tickling feather? Someone who wanted to be an equal partner with her, not the M in an S&M relationship?
She’d put her career before everything else for so long and Domino still wanted that assistant director promotion so bad she could taste it. But sometimes she yearned for it all—the career, marriage, kids… She thought about the class reunion notice she’d received in the mail that day. How many of her high school classmates were married and on their way to two-point-five children? And Sheri, her friend in the DEA research department, was five years younger and planning her June wedding. Would Dom ever find a man she wanted to spend her life with?
Walking over to the coffeemaker, she poured herself a cup. As she sipped the surprisingly good brew, she thought about Dalton. He didn’t appear to enjoy the sessions and almost seemed to be playing a role. There was that shuttered look to his eyes as if he were protecting a secret.
Unbidden, a memory of Dalton caressing her legs during the last session surfaced. Holy canolli. Dom might be unable to figure him out but given her visceral reaction to him, she’d chosen the right nickname—Dangerous Dalton. He was edgy, unpredictable and definitely dangerous to her sexual wellbeing.
Domino strengthened her spine. She’d get through Dalton’s appointment and refocus on her job. According to her schedule, she had a half-hour break after his session. With luck, Dom could use that time to slip into the loading bay and plant the tracking device. During a quick call to Meyers earlier, she’d filled him in on Smokey’s find. While her four-legged partner relaxed at home with some well-deserved doggy treats, her two-legged partner was awaiting the signal from the tracking device.
Meyers and five other DEA agents were standing by to follow the shipment to its destination, using several teams in separate unmarked cars. Busting the sex club criminals would be great, but the DEA hoped in addition to bring down the drug traffickers throughout the distribution pipeline.
Taking a final sip of her coffee, she tossed the disposable cup into the trash. Time to step into her Mistress Bella persona. Maybe she should be worried at how easily she got in touch with her “inner dominatrix” these days. Then again Bella’s arrogance would come in handy on future DEA jobs.
She could stand to be a little more aggressive in her personal life too. Once this case was closed, she’d take a vacation and enjoy some R&R with a man who wanted no-strings-attached sex. She deserved some carnal pleasure after this assignment. And Dom planned to find a talented hunk who would chase Dangerous Dalton out of her system once and for all.
* * * * *
Dalton followed the white-garbed attendant down the corridor toward S&M Room Five. Despite his efforts, his mind strayed off his plans to investigate the club after his session and onto Domino. His body was alive with an anticipation that overrode any concern about the evening’s agenda and Bella’s cabinet of toys. Damn, he had it bad for the woman.
As they approached a curve in the corridor, the door to a mattress room opened with a whoosh. A sheet-draped man stumbled into the hallway accompanied by a cloud of smoke and the smell of alcohol. More than a little sloshed, the man waved down Dalton’s escort, who stopped in front of him.
“We’re running out of champagne,” the man slurred.
Unperturbed, the attendant reassured him. “No problem, councilman. I’ll have a case delivered immediately.”
The drunk reentered the passion pit where a mass of partially clothed humanity enjoyed the room’s amenities and each other. Dalton realized the party could aid his plans. If he managed to leave his session without an e
scort, Dalton could crash this sexual shindig and get lost among the swingers until he was sure he wasn’t being followed. And, if he were caught searching the other rooms, he could pretend he was trying to locate the mattress party. Man, this case was bizarre but he had to get the goods on Salvi and his boss.
The attendant motioned for Dalton to follow him and they traveled several doors down to Bella’s lair. Without waiting for his escort to open the door, Dalton grasped the handle and turned. The door swung wide, revealing a darkened room glittering with candles. Flickering white tapers stood on every surface, their flames reflecting off polished leather surfaces. And in the middle of the shimmering light stood Domino.
Dalton heard the door close behind him. When had he entered the room? She smiled at his confusion, her shiny lips curving below a burnished gold mask. He swept his eyes down the slim column of her neck to the gilded gown cupping her curves like a lover’s hands. The metallic material caught the candles’ glow, seeming opaque at one moment and heart-stoppingly transparent the next. Domino brushed one hand up the gold zipper that bisected the dress from the high hem to the low top. Dalton’s mouth went dry.
A sexy chuckle brought his gaze back to her face and amused eyes. Once again, Dalton had forgotten his role in this surreal play. He lowered his eyes to the floor and tried not to notice the golden stockings clinging to her graceful legs or the gilt sandals cradling her feet.
“Welcome, slave.” Domino’s throaty voice caressed his ears. “Why don’t you get undressed and make yourself comfortable?”
It wasn’t a question but a command so he stripped. Despite their previous sessions, he still felt an initial self-consciousness at being naked while she remained clothed. Yet the candlelight added a new intimacy and an erotic element to the scene. Visions from his graphic dream about Domino returned unwelcome to his mind. In his sleep, he’d explored every inch of this woman and now his body reacted eagerly to her presence.
Dalton slipped off the last of his clothes and knelt down, head bowed, awaiting her next move. Domino walked to a cabinet and swung open its doors. A chill of apprehension skittered down his spine and he watched her from the corner of his eye. She withdrew a black leather item and strode back to him.
“These February nights can get a little nippy, don’t you think?” she asked, all fake politeness and concern. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” Dom tossed him the item she’d taken from the cabinet—a male chastity belt.
Dalton caught the leather harness and glared. Shit. He’d seen pictures of male chastity belts during his research but he didn’t have a clue how to put it on. And he’d rather have a root canal than wear the damn thing. Delaying the inevitable, he stood slowly and almost smiled as Domino’s eyes fastened on his johnson. So she wasn’t as uninterested as she pretended.
Dalton examined the belt and undid its buckles. There appeared to be several stages to donning the item—the first of which was stepping into the thong-like main part. He glanced up to see Domino’s obvious enjoyment at his reluctance. Flushing red, he pulled on the garment like a pair of swim trunks. Once the uncomfortable leather was settled on his hips, his package hung from the front opening looking ridiculous. Now what?
Domino chuckled as he tried to figure out the different fasteners on the front flap. Finally, he realized the hard cup-like layer was meant to cover his pride and joy so he couldn’t touch himself. Not that he’d planned to, dammit. Dalton arranged his flagging cock so he could buckle the cup in place. The last clasp had space for a tiny padlock. He could imagine some poor sucker getting locked in the stupid thing and having to wear it to a hardware store to buy a wire cutter.
He looked at Domino, who’d adopted her stern Mistress Bella façade again. She stood regally and crooked a finger at him.
“Now that you’re dressed for the occasion, let’s move on to the fun part of our session.” Dom gestured to his chastity belt with her left hand. “Or should I say, the fun part for me since Junior’s in detention?”
Dalton ground his teeth. She was such a smart-ass. Someday the tables would turn and he’d enjoy teasing her mercilessly.
Dom strutted to the futon without looking back to see if he was following. After a brief hesitation, he trailed after her, grimacing as the leather chafed his skin. The futon was open, welcoming and surrounded by candles. Images from his dream—lying Domino on the futon, diving into that sensuous mouth, taking her with a passion that stunned them both—blended once again with reality. He had to fist his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her.
“Lie down on your back and put your arms behind your head.” She pointed to the futon.
Dalton obeyed, the black satin of the futon cover cool against his skin. He folded his hands under his head and watched her from beneath lowered lids. Sitting next to him on the futon, Domino took one of the tapers out of its candleholder and held it in front of her.
“Candles are romantic, don’t you think?” Domino asked. “And the paraffin can be so effective in sensitizing the skin.”
As Dalton watched, she held the candle high over his chest. God, she was going to drip hot wax on him. Even as he tensed, she tilted the candle and let a molten drop slide away from the burning wick. The clear liquid seemed to fall in slow motion as he braced for the sizzle against his skin. His eyes registered the wax’s impact, watched the clear drop flatten and harden to white but there was no pain. Instead, a stimulating warmth radiated from the spot. Confused, he met her gaze.
“Pleasant?” Domino traded her first taper for a second. As he nodded, she continued, punctuating her words with small, almost tickling brands of warm wax down his rib cage. “The amount of heat depends on the height of the candle. The wax cools as it falls.”
She employed one candle after another to decorate his skin. Each drop aroused more nerve endings until the cumulative effect had him fighting not to squirm. Finally, she seemed satisfied with the wavy paraffin pattern that traced his ribs and matted his chest hair. Domino replaced the last taper in its holder.
“The trick is to remove the wax without pulling out any hair,” she explained, reaching toward his chest. “You have to go slowly.” Smiling, Domino poised her red nails above the first waxy dot. “I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home.”
Again he tensed, not certain what to expect. But the feel of her warm hands against his body chased all concerns from his mind. She gently scraped her nails across one spot after another, working the wax off his skin in a sensuous way that had his cock fighting against the confines of his chastity belt.
Dalton clasped his fingers together under his head to keep from grabbing her, plundering her mouth and driving into her. Dominique Petracelli was killing him. He could imagine The Washington Post headlines—Police Officer Found In Sex Club, Dead From Testosterone Overload. The tabloids would be less tactful—Cop Dies of Blue Balls.
He watched Domino concentrate on the line of drops that peppered his ribs. For once, Dalton controlled his unbearable ticklishness, thanks in a great part to his sex-fogged brain. Having her hands on his chest and trailing down his abdomen was one of the most erotic experiences of his life. Dalton sucked in his breath as she peeled off the last two spots of wax, which she’d landed with military precision on his nipples.
Again he met her eyes, dark and glittering in the candlelight. Was it his imagination or were her pupils dilated, her breathing quick? Hell, she was as turned on as he was and the knowledge made his pulse race.
Domino started to speak, cleared her throat and tried again. “Turn over,” she said in a voice even huskier than before. “It’s time to do your back.”
* * * * *
Domino stepped through the door leading to the employee parking lot, raised her face to the night sky and let the snow flurries powder her skin. If anyone spotted her outside without a coat, unprotected against the sub-freezing weather, they’d have her committed for a psych check. But she had to cool off.
Maybe she was nuts. She’d ju
st spent an hour touching Dalton, practically making love to the man, and her body was burning up. Dom was surprised steam wasn’t rising wherever the snowflakes met her feverish skin. Over the years, her few sexual partners had commented on her lack of fire in bed, yet running her hands over Dalton had shot her temperature through the roof. Maybe she was a sexual late bloomer.
Yeah, right. Dom had never been a coward so she wouldn’t run from the truth now. She wanted Dalton, wanted to kiss him, explore that great body, take him inside her. And she was afraid one roll in the hay wouldn’t nearly cure her of this obsession. Maybe once she wrapped up this case…
Domino dragged her thoughts back to the investigation. After Dalton had dressed and departed several minutes before, she’d slipped out of her room and retrieved her purse with its tracking device from her locker. Now, while she stood like an idiot in the snowstorm, her thirty-minute break was ticking by. Dom took a deep breath and blew out the frosty air. It was time to start acting like a DEA agent.
She turned and pulled open the heavy metal door. Stepping back into the club, Dom brushed the snowflakes from her hair and clothes with suddenly chilled hands. A shiver ran through her as her body readjusted to the warm air in the hallway.
“Joining the Polar Bear Club?”
Dom looked up to see Suzi, one of the club’s masseuses, smiling at her. “No, just trying to sneak a smoke before my next client,” Dom lied.
“So lung cancer’s not enough of a risk, you decided to add hypothermia to it?” Suzi pointed to Dom’s skimpy dress and lack of cold weather outerwear.
Domino grinned. “I just figured if smoking became unpleasant enough, I’d give it up.”
Suzi seemed to consider this. “You must be right since I’ve never seen a polar bear with a cigarette.”
A laugh bubbled out of Domino, releasing some of the tension tying her insides into knots. She really liked this irreverent woman, who was just one of the friends Dom had made a club. She’d miss Suzi and the others when the case was over.
