Chapter Thirteen

Club X was typical of so many other venues in Vegas—flashy in the front, discreet in the back. They were taken to the discreet side, a private entrance on the first floor at the adjoining parking garage, through a set of manned gates. After Isaac’s credentials were given, the Escalade was waived through. Nick cleared the area and checked with security at the door before allowing Isaac to exit.

This part didn’t feel so bizarre. Kennedy had escorted guests here before; she knew the routine. It was stepping through the door into a secure receiving area that felt unreal. A flutter of panic hit her when Isaac was handed a mask that covered most of his forehead and cheeks, as if hiding his face somehow stole him away from her.

Holding the mask in one hand, he reached for her with the other, waiting for her to settle her palm in his. “I can hear you thinking.”

Quite a feat considering the thump of the bass inside the club already made it necessary to raise their voices. Kennedy let him pull her against his side, his breath brushing her neck as he brought his mouth to her ear. “What is it, love?”

A shiver of pleasure sparkled in her mind, along her skin. “You’re going to have to keep that accent under wraps if you don’t want to be made. That mask won’t be enough.”

She caught the edge of his grin from the corner of her eye. “This?” Isaac asked, sounding distracted as he held the mask up. “It’s just for fun.” He traced a finger along her jaw, her throat, the vee of cleavage left bare by her open shirt. “The main part of the club is more general public, and therefore not as strict about who is allowed entry. It’s not a secret that I’m part of the lifestyle, but it tends to be a small community, a private one. Once we go upstairs, I won’t need to hide.”

Good. She needed to see his eyes, his expression, needed grounding in the world she never thought she’d enter. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right here with you, every step. No worries.” Isaac bent his head and took her mouth, kissing away the worst of her fears. When he stepped back and handed her a mask similar to his, she didn’t hesitate.

The downstairs passed in a blur, her limited range of vision keeping her focused on moving forward. She caught glimpses of stages scattered around the room, occupants in various stages of foreplay—or after play, in a couple of cases—but mostly it was a sea of PVC and leather and bare skin, heat and the scent of sex.

Upstairs was far different. This was more refined smoking lounge—with whips and chains. More open space. Kennedy took a moment to breathe as she got a feel for the room. Small groups congregated in circles around tables, drinks in hand, Doms in chairs with subs at their feet. Around the outer edges of the room, similar circles were arranged around various BDSM implements—a St. Andrews cross, a bench with stocks, a handsome, very naked man hanging from thick chains, spreader bars between his hands and feet.

Isaac seemed unfazed by it all. As he walked toward the bar, he removed his mask, holding out his hand for Kennedy’s. As predicted, their entourage didn’t cause a stir. Well, half an entourage—their security fanned out along the walls near the elevator. Only Nick and their personal guide accompanied them across the room to meet Perez at the long mahogany bar top.

“How you doing, mate?”

“Isaac! It’s great to see you again, my friend.”

Perez had to be in his late forties, but the salt-and-pepper hair and lines radiating from the corners of his eyes only served to add to the aura of command he seemed to carry so effortlessly—and the sex appeal. When his near-black eyes moved her way and his mouth curved in a predatory grin, she could definitely see the sex appeal.

“Ms. O’Connell.” He took her hand, but his gaze flicked to Isaac, one brow raised as if in question. Isaac gave a brief nod. “May I say I never dreamed to have you here, Kennedy, but it is certainly a pleasure.”

“Thank you.”

Perez waved a hand at the bartender, who busied himself pouring drinks. “Isaac has explained that you are here as a guest, not as his sub.”

He glanced pointedly at her throat, and Kennedy realized with a start that he was looking for a collar. It had never occurred to her that Isaac might be required to collar her, even temporarily, to allow her inside the club. She flushed, uneasily aware of the need to drop her eyes away from Perez’s stern look, a gesture that now screamed submissive no matter how many times she’d done it in the past.

“As a rule we don’t allow guests, but if it means getting one of the best riggers I know here to help out…” He shrugged. “For future reference, subs are required to have bare feet and to wear at least a temporary collar signifying their partner for the evening, if they accompanied a Dom here. No speaking unless spoken to, eyes down at all times. Most Doms here use high protocol, but there are occasional exceptions.”

His look said he didn’t approve. Kennedy refrained from telling him she had no idea what high protocol was and would not be returning as anyone’s sub. She couldn’t, however, resist a smirk. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Perez’s gaze narrowed on her as he picked up the scotch at his elbow. “Sass.” He took a sip, continuing to pin her with nothing more than a look. “I do envy you your…partner, Isaac. The sassy ones are always the most fun to control.”

I bet. She wanted desperately to swallow—hard—but made sure her sarcasm was what shone through.

Isaac picked up a glass of clear, sparkling liquid—seltzer, maybe ginger ale?—his other hand settling heavily at her nape. There was something about that hold, that spot—it sank into her like a weighted blanket, calming her, reassuring her. And something more…

Controlling her. God, that was it. The sense that he had complete control of her, of the situation sank deep into her being. And lit her up inside.

She liked it.

At the realization, panic flared in her chest. Isaac’s fingers tightened around the sides of her neck.

“Ken.”

The bite of the word matched the bite of his fingers. Her gaze jumped to his without hesitation.

“It’s all right.” He drew her closer to his warmth, the broad expanse of his chest warming her, reassuring her, calming the gremlins of the past multiplying in her mind. “No worries, just like I promised.”

He had, and she trusted him. Her deep breath rubbed her breast against his ribs, and she wished with sudden ferocity that they were naked, that her nipples were rubbing against his bare skin, tingling, tantalizing.

She closed her eyes, breathed deep again. Isaac kept her tight to his side as he talked with Perez for a few minutes, sipping his drink—ginger ale, she knew now, the light scent reaching her nose every time Isaac raised the glass to his mouth. Apparently subs didn’t get drinks here, only Doms. A glance around confirmed her supposition; an occasional sub was offered a sip from their Dom’s glass, but the floor around them was free of drinks of their own.

And that’s why this bothers me. Why the hell couldn’t she have her own damn drink instead of waiting for some man to pour it into her mouth like she was a child?

“We should get started, yeah?” Isaac said, the words breaking through her focus on the male sub, collared and leashed, at his Domme’s feet nearby. The things she was doing to him… Kennedy tried to swallow, realizing her mouth was dry. She dug her fingers into the ridge of muscle lining Isaac’s spine.

But he’d already signaled the waiter. Seconds later a cool bottle of water was passed to him. “Here you are, love.”

She was tempted to ask Isaac about the drink situation, but stayed silent as he guided her with the palm at the small of her back to follow Perez down a hall to their left. They entered a smaller room similar to the main one, but empty of everything but mirror-lined walls.

“I’ll leave you to get set up,” Perez said. “My three candidates will be in momentarily.”

Isaac placed the bag Nick had carried up till now on the far side of the room. “Give us ten?”

Perez nodded before exiting. Nick followed, leaving Kennedy and Isaac alone in the room.

She didn’t even see him coming. One moment she was looking at the mirrors, imagining all the uses they were good for, and the next Isaac had her backed against them, his hands in her hair, his mouth desperate as he took her kiss. Kennedy opened to him without hesitation, loving the thrust of his tongue, the firm glide of his lips, and God, his scent. Citrus and something dark she couldn’t name. It filled her lungs to bursting, made her wonder, if she traced every inch of his skin, would she find it everywhere?

Isaac broke away, the heavy rasp of his breathing filling her ears as he dipped to catch her knee and pull it up to his hip. The move opened her legs, and he slid into the space as if he owned it, notching his erection against her core in a blatant show of hunger. “Do you have any idea what it does to me to see that look in your eyes?”

She tilted her pelvis, dragging her cloth-covered clit along his rigid cock. “What look?”

“The one that says your vixen’s on the rise and the next words out of your mouth will more than likely get you in trouble.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he nudged her shirt aside and caught the muscle along the top of her shoulder between his teeth. His suck brought her up on her toes.

If this was what it did to him, she definitely needed to let her usually-in-trouble side out to play more.

Her climax roared up on her without warning, just the grind of Isaac’s cock against her and his rough kisses along her neck all it took. He held her tight as she shook in his arms, her body pulsing with wave after wave of pleasure. His name fell from her lips, filled her mind, her talisman as she drowned in the pleasure.

He was murmuring in her ear when she resurfaced, words she couldn’t understand through the haze. Her body went limp, and only then did Isaac step back, just enough to allow them both to breathe. She couldn’t miss the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Think about that while you watch,” he told her, voice rough with his own unfulfilled pleasure. “There’ll be more before the night is over.”

God, she hoped so.

Isaac settled her on a mat in an out-of-the-way corner, then went to work unpacking his bag. As he laid out rope and tools and things she didn’t recognize, she caught the faint sound of him humming. Not something she recognized, none of the songs on his albums. This was something else, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. And then the men arrived and she forgot the song as her nerves tried to rise again.

Isaac held his hand out to his first subject. “Isaac.”

The big man, easily Isaac’s height and twice as wide, shook hands. “Carlo. Thanks for doing this.”

Isaac’s smile held a restraint she didn’t understand until she thought it through—he was their teacher, and though he wasn’t their Dom, he was commanding them in this space. Interesting. “Anytime.”

The other two men, Marcel and Ali, introduced themselves as well. Marcel was the oldest, in his fifties, with an easygoing manner she couldn’t imagine fit a Dominant, but she knew from experience that exteriors had surprises; she was certainly discovering plenty of that in herself.

Ali had a runner’s build, lean and strong, with deeply serious, intelligent hazel eyes that contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. All three men stripped down to boxer briefs and knelt to begin the lesson. After talking a bit about safety, knot placement and nerves and a whole host of things that had Kennedy’s eyes widening and breath going shallow with fear, he gestured Carlo forward to begin.