She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2

by Cathryn Cade

  A chill of foreboding ran down her spine. Crap! What if one of the techs had hacked her email, and seen the Club 3 application?

  “Carlie,” called Savoy, off to her right. He flashed her a huge smile as he neared her. “Don’t you look fabulous today? Love the vest.” Then, as he reached her, he widened his eyes meaningfully. “Gerry’s back.”

  “Great,” she muttered. “Thanks for warning me.”

  “For you, anything.” He walked on, waving his sheaf of printouts at the room in general. “All right, people, let’s get to work. Computer programs don’t just hatch by themselves.”

  “Next generation, they will,” shot back one of the techs. The others laughed as if he’d just delivered the most hilarious punch line ever.

  Carlie continued on to her own desk, glad to have attention on anything but her. She dropped her pink slouch bag on her desk and carried her insulated lunch bag into the break room.

  Monica met her in the doorway. She gave Carlie a scornful once-over and tossed her head, brushing past. Carlie wrinkled her nose in disgust. A new low, even for Monica.

  She stopped short inside the break room. Gerry stood by the Keurig coffeemaker. Holy cow, he had the remains of a huge black eye, his nose was swollen and he was holding himself stiffly. He looked as if he’d been in a fight or been mugged. No wonder he’d been gone, recovering from this.

  He moved his face in the rictus of a smile. The effect, with his injuries, was a little scary.

  “Um, hi,” Carlie said automatically, moving toward the refrigerator. Then it was her turn to grimace. Could she just once skip the social niceties, especially with a guy who’d spoken to her as this one had?

  She shoved her lunch into the fridge, slammed the door and turned to go.

  “Carlie.” Gerry’s voice was tight, as if he were gritting his teeth. “May I…speak with you?”

  Surprised, she turned on him. “What?”

  His face turned a mottled red, not a becoming contrast to the yellows and greens of his bruises. He stared at the vicinity of her right elbow. “Sorry about last Saturday. The way I spoke to you. I was out of line.”

  Carlie stared at him. He was actually apologizing? “Yes, you certainly were,” she said slowly.

  He nodded. “I know. Again, sorry. Hope we’re, uh, square now.”

  “You hope we’re square now,” she repeated softly. He thought that was it? No. Just no.

  She walked a few steps closer and set her hands on her hips. “No, Gerry, we are not square. Not until we get a few things straight. You—you totally ripped my feelings apart and then stomped on them. Not because I like you or anything, but because you’ve been asking me out for months. And then, when I finally agreed, you got drunk and treated me like a-a homely troll that you were only with as a favor. And you spoke obscenely to me in front of our colleagues. That is not okay.”

  Gerry winced, his head pulling back on his neck, and Carlie realized she was nearly shouting. Well, tough, because she was not through.

  “And here’s some news for you, mister,” she added, stabbing a finger at him. “The only reason I went out with you was to have an escort for the dinner. I would not date you if you were the last man in Portland. You’re juvenile, immature and—and not much of a catch yourself. So grow up.”

  He scowled, an ugly look moving through his eyes, but said nothing further. Carlie backed away, breathing hard. “And we’ll be square when it snows on Pioneer Square in August.”

  Behind her, the sound of clapping broke out. First one pair of hands, then two, then more. Carlie whirled to see Savoy, Gigi and three more women squished into the doorway, all of them grinning. One gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Jesus,” Gerry muttered. He turned away and smacked the button on the coffeemaker, which groaned to life.

  Carlie walked through the doorway, smiling a little sheepishly. The group followed her around the corner into the shadow of a cluster of tropical plants.

  “That felt good.”

  “Preach on, sistah,” said Yvonne, a fiftyish woman with dark skin and a huge smile. She was one of the women who’d told of enduring similar situations in the workplace. “You told it.”

  “She sold it,” Savoy added with a little shimmy that made them all chuckle. “So dish, girl, who laid heavy hands on the boy? Your brother?”

  Carlie blinked. They thought the bruises were because of her? “Um, I don’t think it was Seth.” Besides, how would he have known?

  “Girl, you got another man who does that for you, what are you doin’ dating Gerry?” Yvonne demanded.

  Carlie shrugged to show her ignorance, but then she thought of the one male in whom she had confided. His deep voice was echoed in her ears. “You’re a woman, you’re Daisy’s friend, you’re a member of my gym and now my club, you don’t have a man to do it for you, so I will.”

  “Oh my gosh,” she breathed. “Jake.”

  “Who is this Jake?” Savoy demanded in clear delight. “Someone we should know about?”

  Carlie’s cheeks grew hot. It spread down her throat and over her chest. “He’s…a guy I know. And—and that’s all I’m saying, okay? I can’t deal with any more of…of anything right now.”

  “Darn it,” Yvonne muttered.

  “I’ll share, um, in a few weeks,” Carlie promised them. “If things work out between us.”

  “If this is any indication, I’m thinking they will,” Gigi said.

  “And if they don’t, you’ll share that,” Savoy said indignantly. “Are we not your people?”

  Carlie couldn’t help it—she giggled. “Yes. Yes, you are. And thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now back to work, all of you.” Gigi clapped her hands.

  Carlie gave her a look of silent gratitude for breaking up the group. The redhead winked before strolling away.

  Jake was waiting for Carlie. He knew she was on her way to Club 3, because she was coming with Daisy. Daisy had told Dack, who lost no time in phoning him.

  Dack and Mase were now lounging at the bar with glasses at their elbows and a twinkle in their eyes. Jake knew that Trace knew also, because he was hanging around the main club room, chatting casually with members instead of taking the new sub, a pretty brunette already wearing his key, upstairs to fulfill her fantasies.

  Jake was leaning against the wall where he could keep an eye on the entrance, ignoring all his friends and the unattached subs who wandered by, trying to catch his attention.

  The club was busy. A hot Saturday night in August had the members out in force, showing off their tans and a whole lot more. It wasn’t a theme night—too hot to wear leathers even though the club had new air-conditioning. They didn’t crank it down too cool, because the ladies would get chilled in their brief kink-wear. Up to the men to compromise. Worth it to have tits, ass and pussy on display, or barely hidden in sexy, little outfits.

  Jake wore a pair of jeans so old the fabric was thin and soft, and a black silk T-shirt, one Trace had talked him into. Rochelle, their receptionist, told him it looked hawt. He wore a pair of black woven leather slip-ons on his feet, another Trace discovery. They were also cool and comfortable.

  Trace gave great clothing advice, although Jake would never admit this or his friend would have him shopping every time he turned around. Jake did not shop—he hunted, he found, he purchased, he got the hell out of the store. He would go into sporting goods stores, hardware stores and Pioneer Square if he couldn’t find what he wanted anywhere else. He did not, under any circumstances, do malls.

  And he had never been to Kiss Me, Kink Me, where the club women liked to shop. But he had seen and handled many ensembles that came out of it, and he knew Daisy had taken Carlie there. So he was waiting with such anticipation that he was already half-erect. Strangely, though, it was tempered with an edge of nerves. The thought of her slutted up in fetish wear made him uneasy.

  He shrugged this off. Hell, watching Carlie walk in the door in anything, even a gunnysack, would harden him u
p like an iron stake, now that he knew she was coming to scene, not just to hang out with her girls and look around with those big blue eyes wide and those soft, pink lips parted in amazement. And he wanted her to let her dirty girl loose, didn’t he?

  “Hi, Jake.” He glanced down impatiently to see Nita, the tiny brunette he’d scened with at Pink Night, smiling up at him. She stroked one manicured hand down the center of her body, calling attention to the long slit in her red bustier, open all the way down her flat midriff, crisscrossed only with thin laces that were then laced to the tiny thong that was all she wore on her bottom half.

  “Nita.” He didn’t say her name in an inviting way, nor did he smile at her.

  This did not deter her, in fact she licked her lips, her heavily made-up eyes widening with excitement as she stepped closer. She had on cloying perfume. A lot of it.

  “I’d love to sub for you tonight, Jake,” she said, her hand going farther, to touch the red Lycra over her mons. “Anything you want.”

  He looked down at her. “Sorry. Can’t tonight. Dennis is free—sittin’ right over there at the bar.” He jerked his chin at the silver-haired dom sipping a martini and eying the subs. The dude was popular with some of the pain sluts who liked the merciless way he wielded the flogger. “I think you’ll like what he has to offer.”

  “You don’t want me?” Nita stepped closer, reaching out to brush her talon-like nails over the bulge in his jeans. “This says different.”

  Jake grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his body, unleashing his scowl on her. “Sub, do not ever touch me without my permission. You got that?”

  She nodded, her pupils flaring with excitement. Jake sidestepped to get away from her, disgust heavy in his voice. “Nita. This conversation is over. Find another dom.”

  She tossed her hair, a hand on her hip as she pouted up at him. Some electricity, some change in the atmosphere sent a frisson of warning up Jake’s spine. He turned his head and saw Carlie standing in the doorway, Daisy beside her. Shit. Both of them were staring straight at him and Nita. Daisy was frowning. Carlie looked…guarded. Wary.

  “Go on.” Jake gave Nita a push that was not harsh but left no doubt he did not want her near him. She flounced away, and he moved in the other direction, his feet carrying him on a mission—to get to the woman in the doorway of his club before anything else—fire, flood, determined subs—could get in his way. Even if the building started to rumble with an earthquake, he would not be deviated from his path.

  Carlie looked…amazing.

  Her glorious hair was wild and tousled, half of it piled up on top of her head, the rest spilling down her back in a streaky blonde mass, one long curl over her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. She wore something black. A dress, he guessed, or maybe a top and skirt. Whatever it was, it was lethal. Guaranteed to bring a man to his knees. A halter top cradled her breasts and dipped deep between them. Her cleavage, sweet Jesus, it was deep enough to get lost in. Her short skirt had an angled, fluttery hem that reached her knee at one point, but bared part of her thigh on the other side. Some kind of black, lacy stockings and strappy black sandals with heels that weren’t real high, but they were enough to showcase her slender ankles and high-arched feet.

  The part of him that had been tense with dread let loose. She looked like a party girl, but a classy one. No PVC or vinyl for her.

  Close to her, he let his gaze travel back up to her face. To those blue eyes that watched him like a wary doe watches a large predator, assessing whether to run or come on down to the river for a drink. She wore little makeup, as usual, but her mouth…that full, luscious mouth was ripe and shiny as a berry.

  “Here you are,” he said, his voice husky, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours.

  “Here I am.” Her voice was small, as if she wasn’t too sure whether she meant it. She darted a look around, her eyes widening, rocking back on her heels as she realized how many guys were staring at her. Jake moved preemptively, holding out his hand for hers.

  “Welcome to Club 3. Come on in.”

  “I’m gonna go have a drink,” Daisy chirped, already moving away. “You two have fun.”

  Carlie made a small move as if to follow, her eyes widening even more.

  “Hey,” Jake said. She looked up at him, and he dug his hand in his pocket. “Just so we’re clear, you here to be with me, or do you wanna look around?”

  Her long, thick lashes flicked down, then back up, her gaze full of mystery. “I’m…here to be with you,” she whispered.

  Satisfaction spread in a sweet, solid wave in his chest. Silently, he pulled his key out of his pocket and presented it to her on his palm.

  She looked down at it and took a deep breath that made her tits quiver. A very fine moment. Especially when she followed it up by lifting her hand to take the narrow, silver key on a narrow black choker.

  “You can wear it on your throat, or your wrist,” he said. “I’d like to see it on your throat.”

  “You would?”

  He nodded slowly, the satisfaction spreading further. The way she watched him, checked his expression, said she wanted to please him. “I would.”

  “Okay.”

  She stood very still while he lifted the choker, unfastened it and then slid it around her throat. Her skin was warm satin under his fingertips, and her hair was heavy and silky. She’d be even softer other places.

  He fastened the choker at the back of her throat, taking his time with it because he was inhaling her scent, warm woman overlaid with faint tones of some herbal shampoo and her perfume, which he remembered and fuckin’ loved.

  He thought he could also catch just a whiff of her pussy, but that was probably just his imagination. He would smell it soon, though. All over his hands and, please God, his aching cock.

  The choker fastened, Jake pulled his hands forward, bringing some of her hair with them, letting it trail through his fingers. It settled on her shoulders in long curls but he still felt it on his skin like a memory. A ripple ghosted over the skin of his chest and torso, making him shiver with anticipation. He wanted her hair trailing over his skin like that.

  And now he knew he’d have it.

  “Come and have a drink with me.” He didn’t wait for her answer but took her wrist in his hand and turned, leading her toward the bar.

  Dack slid off his stool at the bar, smiling at Carlie. “Hey, honey. Glad you’re here.”

  “Thanks,” Carlie said. “Hi, Mase.”

  “Hi, gorgeous. How you doin’?” the dom asked.

  Jake indicated the stool, and she climbed up. “Fine,” she said. Dack and Mase both grinned as her voice broke on the word.

  “You will be,” Dack said. “Jake will see to that.”

  He walked away, and Mase slid off his stool, his gaze traveling down Carlie, all the way to her feet. He shook his head once in approval, winked at her and followed Dack into the crowd.

  Jake leaned an elbow on the bar, close enough that his legs were against Carlie’s. “What will you drink?”

  She looked at Griff, the club’s head bartender and one of the doms, leaning his elbows on the bar, waiting. “Could you do one of those strawberry margaritas?”

  Griff gave her a wink and a grin. He nodded, his long sandy blond ponytail brushing his bare back. “For you, yes I can.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, and turned back to Jake.

  He smirked at the other man, who looked just a bit put out that she wasn’t in awe of his flashing smile and dimples, as many of the newcomers were. The man served drinks and snagged new subs with the same skill. “I’ll have the usual.”

  “A beer,” Carlie said.

  He nodded, liking that she’d noticed. “Mostly what I drink.”

  He rubbed his cheek, and her eyes shot to his hand. Leaning forward on her stool, she grasped his hand in both of hers and looked at his knuckles. His bruised knuckles.

  “It was you.” The look in her eyes, gratitude mixed with awe, finished the job of hardeni
ng his cock. “Thank you.”

  He curved his hand around to take one of hers and bring it to his knee, where he held it. “Told you I’d straighten him out. He apologize to you?”

  She nodded quickly, so he guessed his expression telegraphed his intent to follow through should she say no. “He did, and several of my coworkers heard. It was awesome. And I owe it all to you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said with perfect sincerity. “Enough about that ass-wipe. Let’s get back to here and now.”

  She nodded again, her hand trembling in his. He held on, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Some things we gotta cover. You remember the club signals?”

  “Green means go, yellow means slow down, let’s talk, and red means stop.”

  He nodded approvingly. “And the club rules?”

  “First, use the safe words if I need them, second is safe, sane and consensual, and third, what happens at the club stays at the club.”

  “Good girl.” He’d bet she’d done well in school, probably raised her hand to answer all the questions her teachers asked. “You got any questions for me?”

  She shook her head slowly, but color flooded her cheeks. “I can ask as we, um, go along, right?”

  “‘Course you can, baby. You can ask me anything. I’ll answer honestly.”

  At her look of relief, he smiled slowly. “‘Course that goes both ways.”

  Her eyes widened, this time in alarm, and he reached for the margarita on the bar, and handed it to her. “Drink up, baby.” He didn’t add that she looked like she needed it, although that was true. He’d have to ease her mind, or she might bolt right back out the front doors. And that would be bad.

  He had her in his grasp, ready to scene with him. Losing that would be catastrophic.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carlie did not faint from relief as she reached the top of the stairs, Jake’s hand on the small of her back, but it was close. Her head actually swam, and she had to stop and hold on to the end of the smooth, carved railing.

  The second floor of Club 3 was not some huge, open loft lined with menacing apparatuses and people doing kinky things on them, but an open landing, a glimpse through a heavy burgundy drapery of a room at the back, and a short, wide hallway with three open doors on each side. Private rooms. That was good; that was awesome.