CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Webb and Cooper claimed a couple stools positioned around the chrome and glass circular bar of the upscale club. “Nice place Gabe gave us passes to. I’m sure he had us sincerely vetted first.”
Coop nodded. “You better believe it. This place knows everything about you except for the last time you took a crap. Don’t give me that smirk. I’m dead serious.” He ran a hand over his tanned head.“Gabe sent me here a couple of times when he could tell the stress of losing Wanda was taking me to a dark place.”
Webb studied Cooper’s stooped shoulders. He’d never experienced a broken heart. Truth be known, he’d probably broken his share over the years although he’d never allowed himself to get close to anyone until he met his angel.
Coop elbowed him. “See that blonde sub in the cheerleader outfit? She’s into verbal abuse. I hooked up with her one night when I was still in a rage over Wanda.” He shook his head. “I’m ashamed of the names I called her. Hell, it wasn’t her I was putting down; it was Wanda. The blonde really got off on it, but I got so damn disgusted, I couldn’t do a thing but storm away.”
He straightened his posture. “Hey, would you look at these two beauties? Check out the cute red-headed pussy cat. She’s got a nice ass to go with that furry tail.”
Pleased to see Cooper perk up over a woman, Webb paid attention. “Where?”
“They’re headed for the scene areas. One’s in black, but my cock’s following the one in red. Oh yeah, he likes her.”
Webb’s gaze followed where his companion indicated. He damn near swallowed his tongue. There was no way anyone else on the face of this earth could have a world class ass like Gracie. But what could she be doing here? He must be mistaken. She moved her head and her mane of hair brushed off her hummingbird tattoo.
It was her.
She’d told him she was going out with a friend.
Never once had she mentioned going to a BDSM club.
Hadn’t she told him over and over she wasn’t submissive?
His fingers curled into fists. Anger boiled through every cell of his body. What was she doing here? Hunting for a Dom? Why, when she already had him? His gaze swept around the dungeon. Scenes played out on platforms for couples to watch and enjoy. Music with a strong, sexual beat blared through speakers near the ceiling. Whips cracked and moans of pain and ecstasy mingled in a sensual needy song. And men—Doms—watched his woman.
His, by damn!
“Webb? What’s got that scowl on your face?”
“Take a close look at the pussy cat’s buddy.” His jaw was clenched so bad his ears hurt. He slapped his hand over Coop’s eyes. “No! Don’t! That’s my Gracie.” He moved his hand and grabbed his cola to down it in hopes it would help cool him off.
“She said she was meeting a friend, but never mentioned this place. Also, she told me she wasn’t into the lifestyle. Does that outfit look vanilla to you? And, dammit, don’t look.”
“Hell, buddy, make up your mind. Do you want me to look at her or not?”
Webb stood, jerked on the edges of his open leather vest, and snapped it shut. Leaning over the bar, he motioned to one of the men staffing it. “Do you have any leather hoods we could buy? Evidently we left ours in the trunk and neither one of us wants to walk out in our leathers to get them.”
“May I see your membership cards, please?” The employee extended his hand.
Coop’s forehead wrinkled. “Why do I—”
“Because the polite bar tender asked to see it.” He elbowed Coop. “And we need our masks. Now stop being a Dom ass and get your card out.” His eyebrows waggled at Cooper. He didn’t want him to ruin his plan by blowing up.
They both displayed the cards Gabe had so generously provided. The man glanced at them and nodded, his demeanor changed. “Hold on, sir. They’re stored over here.” He passed Webb two plastic wrapped packages.“They’re on the house, courtesy of Master Gabe Dare.”
Webb slapped a small bag against Coop’s chest before tearing his open and tugging the hood over his head, making sure it covered his manbun. “Get yours on. Gracie will recognize you and ruin my plan.”
“You’re insane, man.” Cooper shook out the hood and shot Webb a foul look before pulling the leather mask over his bald head.
“Just now noticed that, did you? I guess where that raven-haired beauty is concerned, I am. I can’t seem to control it.”He spun in the direction of the scene areas, his strides long with purpose. “Now, let’s go teach a lying submissive some hard lessons. A relationship between a Dom and his sub runs on honesty. Damn, she needs a good spanking.”
Cooper’s hand grabbed Webb’s bicep. “Look, man, you need to calm that shit down.”
“Calm? Fuck your calm. I’m about to show her I won’t be lied to.”
“I’m right behind you. I don’t like how you’re acting. Hell, she’ll recognize your voice.”
“Not when I lay on one of my old SEAL buddy’s Texas twang. Besides, you just want a closer look at that auburn-haired kitten. While I plan on fucking my angel until she screams my name. First, though, I’m going to scare the hell out of her. She belongs to me. Comes in here showing off parts of herself no man should see, but me.”
He hurt. His chest physically hurt. Some Dom had his arm around Gracie and she was giving the stranger one of her killer smiles.
The man had the good fortune of moving on, but not before he trailed his fingers over her exposed breast and pinching her nipple. The shocked expression Gracie displayed sent Webb’s temper into the stratosphere. His rage shook from his ankles to his eyebrows. Sifting through the buzzing of fury in his ears was Coop’s warning. “Fuck that. I will kill the next motherfucker who so much as blinks an eyelash in her direction.”
****
Pissed off at the stranger who’d touched her, Gracie didn’t know which way to look next. This place put her senses on overload. Just the odors of sex, various perfumes and aftershaves that flavored the air, were enough to wake her hormones. There were screams that made her jumpy. And men—some well-built and others over built—all dressed in leathers were on the prowl like the one she’d just refused as a Dom for the evening.
The bumfart actually thought he had the right to pinch her nipple. She was about to belt him when Bethany grabbed her arm and spoke with an apologetic voice to explain why Gracie was rather shy. Master Judge, as Bethany called him, nodded and moved on.
Then there were those men crawling around on all fours, wearing a collar and leash held by a stern-faced Dom or Dominatrix. One just crawled by in gold silks with the crotch cut open like hers. His balls and cock were crammed into some kind of tiny wire cage. A cord ran from the cage to the leash his Mistress held. Every so often a buzz of electricity hummed and gold-silk-man’s eyes bugged out when he screamed before thanking his owner.
Simply freaking unreal.
Bethany had gotten permission from the club’s manager, her prior Dom’s brother, to give Gracie a tour through the dungeon before they settled in the submissives’ lounge. Gracie wanted to take notes and pictures, but Master Zack adamantly refused, citing members’ privacy rights. Now she understood why.
She’d known this would be a different world from her research, but holy crap this really was a divergent place. Yet, it wasn’t scary, just unconventional and exciting. Exotic. The thrill was in every vibe of the place, including the lighting. Purple, red and pink lights shone on patrons in various places of the club. On the raised platforms where scenes were acted out, golden illumination displayed the couple—whether the opposite or same sex—demonstrated bondage equipment or toys in a type of sexual play. Bethany called it scening.
One Dom was tying a rope on to a sub, in a series of knots. “So, this is the rope play?” Gracie pointed. It looked like it might be fun. She was glad she’d signed up to give it a try.
“It’s called Shibari. A type of edge play, darlin’.” A deep, dark Texan voice whispered in her ear. He sounded like Austin from Houston who played for her last year. Two warm palms grabbed her ass.
She whirled to face the fool who had the audacity to place his hands on her and came face-to-face with a man in a hood. His stormy eyes made her uneasy. “You can’t just touch me like that.”
He grabbed her wrist. “I see a pink band. Unattached submissive. That makes y’all fair play for any Dom in this club, pet. We can touch you any way we like until you use your safe word. Do you know what it is?” He tweaked her nipple and she shoved his chest. The self-assured asshole stepped back a step.
She fought a grin. He wasn’t expecting her to be so strong. Poor schmuck had no clue she rough housed basketball players all the time. “My safe word is red. Touch my nipples again and I’ll shout it from the rafters.”
The alpha fool leaned eyeball to eyeball with her, determination in his body language. “I’d be happy to explain rope bondage to you since you have on a band indicating y’alls a guest. May I do so, amazon sub?”
Maybe she’d gotten through to him that she wouldn’t put up with touching, grabbing, or pinching. “Okay. Granted you behave.”
He nodded and moved closer. “A good master, well-trained on tying and knotting, uses the rope to restrict movement, wrap, or suspend his or her submissive.”
His hands were at her waist. He pulled her flush against his body and the rod of flesh beneath his leathers.
Holy shit. He’s as heavy hung as Webb.
“If done properly, Shibari can be considered an erotic art form, darlin’. Knots are tied at strategic places to deliver the most pain and eventually pleasure to the one who is bound.”
“And I suppose you consider yourself an expert.” Her bare shoulders reared back and she tossed him a bit of bare-nippled attitude. After all, what else could she use them for other than pinching posts for every strange man in this club?
“Sir, sub. Y’all will address me properly.” He landed a hard smack on her ass and she gasped. “The correct way to ask the question is in a less snarky voice. ‘I suppose you consider yourself an expert, Sir.’” He smacked her again. “Now, repeat it.”
On her second gasp, she was close enough to get a whiff of his cologne. A smell that was very familiar. What were the chances two men wore the same fragrance?
Another smack to her ass interrupted her train of thought. “I ordered you to repeat it, submissive.” His voice was stern, demanding.
She did as he ordered through clenched jaws. Following a stranger’s orders was not her style. She didn’t get to be the coach of a male college basketball team by being a doormat.
He forked his fingers through the length of her hair, lifting it. “You’re quite beautiful and spirited. I’m in the market for a new submissive. I think I’d enjoy you for a pet. I promise I’d be a good Master. Better than anyone you’ve had before.” His lips honed in on her sensitive spot with an all too accustomed bite, and Gracie knew.
She grabbed the edges of his vest, unsnapped it, and shoved it back to reveal a tattoo with the word SEAL and a Trident just as she’d expected.
“Webb, take off that ridiculous hood. I know it’s you. What I want is a good explanation why you’re hiding your identity.”
He jerked off his hood. “Well, I’d like for you to tell me what my woman is doing in a BDSM club when she professes to be strictly vanilla?” His disgusted gaze slid over her. “Hell, the parts you’re showing off are mine. Hadn’t we decided to work on a relationship?”
“You decided. I didn’t.” She really wanted to tell him where to go, but they’d drawn a bit of an audience. “So it’s wrong for me to be here doing research for a book, but it’s not wrong for you to be here dressed like a stud in leathers, ogling all the women in their skimpy outfits? Oh, you really are a hypocrite.” Her hands fisted on her hips. She didn’t know if she wanted to belt him or dissolve into a crying jag.
A club monitor, wearing a neon yellow vest, approached. “Any problems you need help with? Perhaps we could walk to one of the quiet areas of the club and have a civilized talk.”
“I’m up for that,” Webb replied.
Gracie glanced in Bethany’s direction. A muscled man in another hood was laughing with her. He held her hand like a complete gentleman.
“Let me go tell my ride where I’ll be and then join you. Although I’d sooner call a cab and go back to my hotel. I’ve been here long enough.” She aimed a death stare at Webb and stormed off to speak to Bethany.