A Hot Mess Page 5

  "I'd like that, Vivian. Very much."

  She shook her head as we started for the door. "Please, I insist you call me Viv. My name's bad enough without having to draw it out to three syllables."

  I laughed, humor pushing away some of my nerves, and I decided I liked Viv.

  I followed the other woman along the corridor where the elevator was. At the end of the hall, we made a right turn. She stopped when we reached a set of gilded doors.

  Viv paused, hands gripping the brass handles. "This place's intimidating during the best of times. At least, that's how I felt the first time anyway, but now, it feels like home. Just keep that in mind when you step through these doors, okay?"

  "Well, that's not scary at all."

  The left side of her mouth tipped up as she pushed the doors open.

  "Holy. Fucking. Shit." I was in a dungeon.

  I forced my feet to move me forward, and I stumbled into the space. When I was about twenty paces from the door, I spun in a slow circle, taking in the spectacle that was Restrained Fantasies—in all its glory.

  Rock walls surrounded me. Ornate wrought-iron chandeliers hung overhead, complementing the large cushioned platforms hanging suspended by four thick chains. At least a dozen platforms were scattered throughout the space, maybe even more. Deep, red leather covered the platforms yet, despite the dark colors, the interior of the club didn't have a super-gloomy feel. Neutral creams balanced and blended with the leather and crimson, softening the atmosphere.

  "It's stunning." The words tumbled from my mouth of their own accord, but they were true, nonetheless. But would the grandeur of the space fade when it was packed with leather-wearing Doms and their obedient subs?

  Or would the grandeur increase?

  God. What was I getting myself into?

  I moved to the bar along the center of the far wall. The barstools were all pushed in neatly. The dark wood surface of the bar was clean and smooth against my palms. How much of the alcohol filling the cabinet across from me would I have to drink to burn this feeling of panic from my gut?

  "The Swingers' Ball," Viv finally said, climbing onto one of the barstools, "I'm not gonna lie. It's gonna be an intense night for your first time."

  I swallowed hard. "I'm not sure I want to know why."

  "Sometimes, when someone isn't used to this lifestyle, it's hard to get out of their own heads and just exist on the physical sensations. When you're surrounded by multiple Doms with their hands on you, it can get even harder. I mean, at least, that's what it looks like. I've never participated in a Swingers' Ball."

  "Really?"

  Her lips turned up slowly. "It's not for lack of curiosity on my part. Brock isn't big on sharing, especially me. He can go a bit caveman sometimes, but god I love him. And honestly, I'm okay with him not wanting to share me, because I don't want to share him, either, even if he's often more Dom than I can handle."

  "I completely understand. Being with Max makes me feel that way, too."

  She pointed to the left half of the room. "That area over there is what we call the Dark Side as the lights will be lower during normal club hours. Some people like the shadows. I'm one of them. It gives me the illusion of privacy, even though I know it's far from private, but sometimes, the mind needs to believe what it needs to believe, ya know?"

  I nodded.

  "That said, if you're still uncomfortable about being here, I suggest you talk to your Dom about starting the night there. Come to think of it, you might prefer the lighter side if strangers are touching you. Although, now that I think of that, the Dark Side could be fun, too, if you have a certain fantasy. I don't know."

  I sat on the barstool beside her and smiled. "Sounds like someone has given that some thought."

  "Maybe." She winked. "But no matter which you choose, Bree, you will be safe here. I promise you that. On top of our regular dungeon monitors, all subs participating in the Swingers' Ball are required to wear colored wristbands that show what they'd be willing to do for the night."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Subs with red wristbands agree to over-the-clothes touching only. Those with orange bands agree to below-the-clothes touching. Yellow bands signify blowjobs or cunnilingus are a go. Green means vaginal intercourse is a go. Blue means anal sex is fine. Indigo signifies light flogging, cropping, anything that won't draw blood is a go, and black wristbands, well, subs with black bands are fine with anything."

  I swallowed. Hard.

  Viv was quick to place a hand on my forearm. "They'll still have their safe word available if they need it. You will, too."

  Good to know, although I already knew some bands I would not be wearing, no matter how comfortable I became with Max and his lifestyle.

  "And if all this still sounds too terrifying, Bree, talk with your Dom. Your first foray into the club scene doesn't have to be this. If you don't come to the ball, it's not like you can't ever come. Come the following night! You can sit with Brock and me. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, and I promise, nothing crazy's gonna happen." Her lips quivered as if she were fighting back a smile. "Okay, nothing aside from the normal crazy this lifestyle presents to newbies."

  Okay, I was changing my previous thought. I didn't just like Viv; I really, really liked her.

  She ran an index finger along a long grain in the bar's wooden surface, her expression turning nostalgic. "My first night here, Master Stephen, Brock's business partner and, much to my shock, my former oncologist, was on that stage with one of his many subs. He was flogging her while she rode one of those mechanical fucking machines. It was wild, and it completely floored me."

  "I can imagine." I glanced at said stage. The platform sat in the center of the room, about three steps higher than the floor.

  "It was one thing for my bad boy lover to be here, but my oncologist…" Viv chuckled, shaking her head. "The man had saved my life, and I never once imagined that, when he put his scalpel down, he picked up whips and chains."

  I was quiet for a long moment before saying, "My mom had breast cancer. It was brutal. She barely survived." I wasn't sure why I'd said it. Like Max, I didn't usually talk about my parents.

  Especially my dad.

  "I'm sure I would have died, too, if it wasn't for Brock. He was my rock. I wasted away to eighty-eight pounds during my chemo. I swear, his sheer will is what kept me alive. I didn't want to leave him."

  To hear her talk about a man who, by all outward appearances, looked equal parts terror and menace as if he were a teddy bear certainly painted Brock in a different light.

  "I'm still trying to put weight back on," Viv said. "I'm finally back into three digits, but not by much. I've been thinking about going to the gym and trying to put on some muscle, but it's so overwhelming. I'm afraid a trainer would just laugh at how weak I am."

  "Come with me then," I blurted out before I'd realized the words had even formed in my mind, and yet now that they were out, I didn't regret them. "I've been weight training since my late teens. I figured it was a healthier option to dealing with stress then continuing to buy Krispy Kremes by the dozen."

  "Seriously?"

  I nodded.

  Her lips split into a smile. "That would be amazing! Would I need to get a gym membership somewhere? Or do you work out at home?"

  "Neither, really. Max owns the gym where I work out, and he refuses to let me pay the usual monthly premium, not that I'm complaining. It's a really nice gym. I'm pretty sure I can sweet talk him into giving you a complimentary membership."

  "That would be ahhhmazing." But even as the words left her lips, her expression turned somber. "I'm sure Brock will be thrilled at the idea of me putting some weight on. Although he'd never say it, sometimes, when he looks at me, I get the feeling he's holding back, as if he's afraid he'll break me—just snap me like a twig."

  Considering how gaunt she was—beautiful and full of life, yes, but certainly on the smaller side—I could understand how a big man like Brock might think that.
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br />   "When Max introduced you and Brock, he said you were partners, and you share the same last name. Can I take that to mean y'all are married, too?" She wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but the puzzle pieces fit.

  Viv chuckled, shaking her head. "I married into Brock's family, but it wasn't Brock I married. It was his brother, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole in the cosmos, so I divorced his sorry ass, and quite literally went straight to Brock, which, admittedly, kind of makes me sound like the bad guy."

  "Maybe a little." I winked, but Viv was much too bubbly and easy-to-like to be the guilty party in my book.

  "If you want to know the entire sordid tale, I'd be happy to share our story with you one day, but not today. We've still got much to discuss."

  And she was right. We did.

  For the next fifteen minutes, we walked around the room as we chatted. Sometimes, we talked about the club; other times, we chatted about TV and movies. Our conversation flowed casually back and forth, and with each passing second, I felt more at ease in this space, its dungeon-like aspects turning less frightening and more intriguing. And by the time Brock and Max came to find us, I'd decided Restrained Fantasies—and Viv—was indeed a place I'd like to visit again.

  Max didn't say anything as we met near the stage in the center of the room. Instead, he simply caught me with a fingertip to the underside of my chin and tilted my lips up to meet his for an all-too-quick kiss. Our brush of the lips lasted little more than a second, but the implication behind it hit me as if delivered on the head of a sledgehammer. Max had kissed me in the open, in front of another couple, and in a BDSM dungeon. Our relationship had just taken one giant leap forward.

  The revelation coursing through me, I pushed onto the tips of my toes and kissed him again, longer this time. I pressed my body into his, needing the feel of him against me.

  Max, however, pulled back before things veered too far off course. "As much as I hate saying this, we have to leave."

  "I know," I said but didn't step from the heat of his body.

  We couldn't be late today. Max was kicking off the final day of Boudoir Fashion Week with a speech, which held its own air of excitement. I enjoyed watching Max work; whether it was him trying to close a deal or trying to make me come, he never did anything half-assed.

  As I tried to hide my sigh, I forced myself to take a step back and turned to Viv. "I was serious about you coming to the gym with me. I'd love having a workout partner. I usually hit the gym in the morning before work. Would that time work for you?"

  "Most likely. My work hours vary. I'll just have to check with my boss and make sure I'm free."

  Brock chuckled, the sound deep and rumbly. "And by boss, she means Siri. Siri's the only person she ever listens to."

  "Shut up." Viv gave him the cutest punch to the gut and then stepped into his huge, outstretched arms before turning her attention back to me. "How about I text you later, and we'll hash out the details?"

  "Perfect! Just let me give you my number."

  "For the sake of time," Max interrupted, speaking directly to me, "how about I make sure she gets your number?"

  I nodded, trusting him to do as he'd promised.

  Max turned to Brock. "Would it be possible for Bree and me to have a few minutes alone here to talk before we leave?"

  "Of course," Brock answered. "Just stop by my office on your way out and let me know you're leaving."

  After a round of goodbyes, Brock and Viv left us alone. I expected Max to launch into an immediate diatribe of what I thought, had I changed my mind about the Swingers' Ball, etcetera, but he only took my hand in his and led me to what Viv had called the Dark Side.

  "I'd forgotten how much I missed this place." He slowed our pace and ran his free hand along the crossing beams of a St. Andrew's cross. "I've been to many clubs around the world, but this one's one of my favorites. I can't wait to make new memories here with you."

  "Presumptive, much?" I said with a smile. Of course, he'd picked up on the shift in my feelings about this place. Yes, I wanted to come here again. The Swingers' Ball was another beast altogether, though.

  I was about to bring up Viv's suggestion about forgetting the Swingers' Ball and having Max bring me here on a "regular" night when he turned to me, cupped my cheeks in both his hands, and with nothing more than his gaze, pinned me to the spot.

  "When it comes to your sexual appetites, Breanne Jennings, I know you, probably better than you know yourself."

  He was probably right. Max had the ability to read my sexual moods as easily as he read the pages of a business contract, and it was a sixth sense I didn't exactly dislike.

  "I want to come here again," I admitted. "I think the ball is still too much, but the idea of hanging out with you here certainly isn't the worst idea I can think of."

  He chuckled and pressed his lips to mine in another kiss that was over far too soon.

  Max led me farther into the Dark Side. We didn't speak again until we stopped beside a sawhorse, an A-frame piece of furniture with a padded beam connected to four legs. Although Max didn't have this piece of furniture at his home, I knew what it was and how it was used.

  Max patted the leather-covered beam. "Get on."

  "Are you serious? I thought we had to—"

  "On. Now. Don't argue again, little sub."

  His last two words served as a warning. The dynamic between us was changing. I was no longer looking into the eyes of my lover, my friend, or my boss; I was looking into the eyes of my Dom.

  I swallowed hard. You have your safe word, that little voice said. You could always use it. But I didn't want to, which surprised me.

  "Yes, Sir." Careful to keep from wrinkling my silk dress as much as I could, I assumed the position. The beam was firm between my breasts and torso, as if the padding had to do more with aesthetics than actual function.

  "Gorgeous." Max gave my ass a good, firm slap. "I never tire of seeing you laid out before me."

  "I never tire of being laid out before you, Sir." In fact, this position was reminiscent of the night we first became lovers.

  He knelt in front of me and took my lips in a hard, possessive kiss, pressing his tongue deep into my mouth. He took hold of my hands and pulled downward until my arms were flush with the front legs of the sawhorse. His tongue performed its usual magic, and like Odysseus to the Sirens' calls, my body succumbed to his spell.

  Heat coursed through me, starting at my core and expanding outward in continuously increasing waves. I lifted my hand, planning to press my palm to his clean-shaved cheek, but he stopped me.

  "Don't move," he whispered, his lips moving against mine.

  "We'll be late." Hadn't we had a similar conversation yesterday?

  "I don't care." Hadn't he said that, too?

  Faster than my hormone-flooded brain could comprehend, he fastened my left hand into one of the cuffs attached to each leg of the sawhorse, and he was well on his way to securing my right before rational thought caught up with reality.

  "Max, as much fun as this might be some other time, you know we must go, right?"

  "My speech has been postponed."

  "What? But you just said—"

  "Forget about work and speeches and everything that doesn't involve this moment. Focus only on the things I make you feel when I touch you. Do you understand, little sub?"

  Sometimes, I didn't get this man. He had a business empire to run. He was too smart to throw off an important business function for some sexual escapade. He hadn't gotten to where he was by thinking with his dick, and I loved him too much to let him do this to himself.

  But when I opened my mouth to tell him just that, nothing came out. I closed my mouth, swallowed and tried again, but the same thing happened. This man held a power over me I couldn't seem to fight. He didn't have to use physical force or emotional manipulation. He merely whispered a command, his amazing blue eyes intent on me as if I were the only person visible in his universe, and I turned to putty.
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br />   Apparently, I was thinking with his dick, too.

  "Yes, Sir," I whispered, every muscle in my body softening as I awaited his next command.

  Chapter 4

  After giving me another kiss, Max pushed to his full height and cradled my head between his hands. He pressed his rapidly hardening cock against my cheek, sending shivers dancing along my spine. As if my body had developed a mind of its own, I opened my mouth and nipped at his rigid length, already desperate for more of him, for the feel of him against my tongue.

  "Let me suck you," I breathed.

  Max demanded pleasure from me as freely and as wholly as he gave it; he made me eager to satisfy him because I knew he'd return the favor one hundred-fold.

  "Not so fast, little sub. I have a game for us to play first. Close your eyes."

  I complied, and he rewarded my submission by rocking his hips and stroking his erection along my lower lip.

  My lips parted, and I waited.

  "Imagine we're not alone. The club's packed. Several Doms take notice of you, all tied open and gorgeous in the middle of everything, naked, save for the cuffs around your wrists. The ones I gave you."

  Another shiver played over me, and my breathing turned raspy. This wasn't the type of game I'd suspected—less physical but a complete mind fuck.

  "Another Dom touches your cheek and tells you to open your mouth wide, and you obey him without hesitation. Meanwhile, I'm sitting nearby. Watching. Waiting. Wanting."

  I swallowed.

  Max unzipped his slacks and tugged his erection free. He fisted his cock in his hand and stroked until he drew an iridescent drop of precum to his tip. Instinctually, I licked my lips, ready to take him as deeply as I could physically manage.

  "He tells you to be completely still, and as you obey, he paints your bottom lip with his precum." He continued, acting out every word as he spoke them aloud. "He teases you, never fully giving you his cock. He lets you lick his tip—only his tip—until you're squirming."

  I was squirming, only I hadn't realized it until he'd said the words.

  I dug in with my toes and pushed forward as much as my shoes and position allowed. Without words, I begged for his cock. I wanted the heady feel, the taste of him on my tongue, but he stepped to my side, taking his glorious cock with him.