Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage (16 page)

“What’s so funny?” Lyssa leaned over to ask.

Mattie gestured over her shoulder to the threesome. “I just figured out who they are.”

“And?”

“The guy with the ponytail is a private investigator. David Henderson. Bryce sometimes uses him and his brother to process background checks for new employees.”

Lyssa turned to look at the trio. “Interesting. What about the other two?”

“I think you’d recognize the woman. She’s a model. Bryce dated her for a few months about three years ago. I’m not sure, but I think her name is Terese or LaTreace.”

A sharp cry from the woman had both Mattie and Lyssa turning. Body arched, face suffused with color, it was obvious the blonde was in the throes of climax as David held her still on his lap. The man in front of her had obviously finished and was righting his clothes.

“This gets better and better.” Lyssa swallowed another sip of her soda as she turned back to face Mattie. “So who’s the other guy?”

Amusement twinkled in Mattie’s eyes. “Dayton Kringle.”

“You mean
the
Dayton Kringle that everyone calls the Santa of San Diablo?”

Mattie grinned.

“My, oh my.” Lyssa took a moment to watch the group, heat stealing into her cheeks. Mattie noticed when David looked their way and gave them a wicked smile and a wink.

Turning back to the bar, Lyssa swallowed some of her soda and chuckled. “Wonder what it must be like to be caught between a private dick and a hard Saint Nick.”

Even Ben laughed. The cheesy grin Lyssa gave as she glanced back over her shoulder and lifted her glass in a silent toast had the private investigator nodding even as his hands smoothed the edges of his companion’s shirt back over her bare breasts.

Looking around the room, Mattie realized how many people were either watching the threesome or were participating in their own activities. Several times she noticed the various collars adorning the throats of the members. Some resembled jewelry, while others were similar to leather dog collars. Some even sported gleaming spikes or studs. In many cases, matching bindings were attached to wrists and even ankles.

Noting her curiosity, Ben sipped at his own glass of water. “Interesting collars, huh?”

“Collars?” Lyssa voiced the question for her.

“The neckwear some of the members have on.” Ben shrugged. “They identify who the owners are.”

“Owners?”

Ben looked at Lyssa’s stunned expression. “You really are a virgin to all this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Lyssa choked on her drink and turned red as she tried to regain her breath, but she nodded. “I’ve only skimmed a couple of books on the lifestyle.” Her elbow dug into Mattie’s side when she started to laugh.

“The collars are visible proof of ownership that a master will provide for his or her slave. Here at the Club, many of the members choose distinctive styles to identify their slaves to the other members.”

He glanced around the room and continued, “Without looking too hard, any collared slaves can safely be left alone and none of the other masters will approach them. No matter how they might beg for attention.” Dropping his gaze to Mattie’s throat, then her sister’s, Ben grinned. “If it weren’t apparent that you two are newbies, any number of masters would be clamoring to claim you.”

Curious, Mattie asked, “So each of the masters has a distinctive collar?”

“Depends on the master.” He nodded toward Dayton. “Kringle doesn’t collar his subs. The Hendersons, on the other hand, they both have a penchant for velvet and leather.” He subtly pointed out a petite blonde with a man, nearly twice her size, settled at her feet like a pet. “Mistress Lana likes the studded leather.”

“What about Bryce Halsey?” Lyssa asked.

Mattie could have reached out and smacked her, but her own curiosity was demanding an answer to that question as well.

Ben chuckled. “Now, that’s a man with style.” He gestured to the blonde sprawled in David Henderson’s lap as he whispered something into the woman’s ear. A delicate diamond chain winked at the base of her throat. “Most of the time it’s diamonds. Once it was rubies. He never goes for the functional collars, only decorative.”

“Are you saying she’s his sub?” Mattie demanded. Angry and humiliated that Bryce would have the audacity to approach her when he was already involved…

“No, no. She’s old news when it comes to Halsey.” Ben excused himself to grab a drink for another patron.

Mattie avoided looking at Lyssa, knowing in her blue eyes would lurk a hint of compassion and curiosity for her. Absently, her hand strayed up to her throat and stroked the bare skin there until she realized what she was doing and immediately dropped her hand to grip the half-empty glass of soda.

Ben returned and continued as if the conversation had never been interrupted. “No, Halsey’s collars carry a small lock on them. Once he’s released a sub, he removes the lock, and they can choose to keep the collar or not.” Motioning with a nod to the blonde whose breasts were now being fondled by David, he said, “She just hasn’t found the right master yet. She tends to drift from member to member more than some of the others.”

“You mentioned some of the slaves beg for attention?” Lyssa appeared confused. Propping her arm on the bar and her chin in her hand, she asked, “If they’re owned by one master, why would they beg for attention from another?”

Ben smiled wickedly. “Some of the masters test their friends by seeing if they can coax them into breaking one of the Club’s hard and fast rules.”

“What rules?” Mattie turned away from the sight of a collared male clad in little more than a black leather thong meticulously lapping at the exposed pussy of a woman sprawled in a chair.

“The rules that each member agrees to when they join the Diablo Blanco Club,” Ben informed her.

Her expression must have reflected Lyssa’s confused one, which seemed to amuse the bartender as he smiled and ticked off several rules on his fingers.

“The number one rule is, no messing with another master’s slave, unless given permission by the master.” With a shrug, he added, “The second most important rule is, what happens in DBC stays here. After that the rest of the rules are relatively common: no abuse, no blood play, no forced play.”

“Those sound rather vague,” Lyssa muttered.

Mattie watched her sister lift her drink only to halt it halfway to her lips. Before she could follow the direction of Lyssa’s gaze, she was distracted by the answer the man in front of them was offering.

Ben shrugged. “Most of the members have their own rules that they use. The Club rules supersede those, which makes everything run smoothly.” A call from a customer at the end of the bar had him excusing himself again.

As he moved away, Mattie swung her gaze upward toward the spot Lyssa seemed fascinated with and cursed silently. There, on the landing above the bar, stood Bryce’s brother. She’d forgotten Mike was still in San Diablo. That he was a member of the Club wasn’t a surprise, but apparently it was news to Lyssa. The glare she received from her sister had Mattie fighting her grin.

“I thought you said he was out of the country,” Lyssa grumbled before she swallowed the last of her drink and set the glass close to the inside of the bar, signaling her request for a refill.

Mattie finished her own drink and winced when she turned her attention back to Mike—only to find him descending the stairs, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “He came back into town earlier this week. I didn’t mention it because it slipped my mind.”

“I am so killing you when we get out of here, Mat,” Lyssa promised. “If he even hints at wanting to take pictures of me, I swear I’ll scream.”

She couldn’t stifle the chuckle at her sister’s displeasure. “Nude or dressed?” The pinch Lyssa gave her beneath the edge of the bar made her wince, but Mattie couldn’t help but notice the flush on her sister’s face as she watched Bryce’s brother approach.

* * *

Fingers working the supple black leather, Bryce relaxed in his chair, his gaze focused on the painting he’d left propped on the easel. With the oils dry to the touch, he would be able to finish attaching the bindings to the painted rope wound around the image of Mattie’s hands. In less than twenty-four hours she’d be making her final decision, and he had no doubt it would be a yes. Once he’d convinced her that submitting to him would enhance their marriage, it wouldn’t be much longer after that the image he’d long imagined and committed to canvas would be enacted.

The ring of his telephone drew his attention from the painting. “Halsey,” he answered, glancing at his watch, surprised at the late hour.

“Do you know where your fiancée is?” Mike queried.

“Considering it’s after ten o’clock, I’m assuming she’s at home. Why?”

Mike’s chuckle vibrated against his ear. “If she is, then her twin and her sister are cozied up to the medic behind the bar here at the Club.”

Bryce cursed beneath his breath. “How long?”

“I have no idea. I just came downstairs and found them. Ben seems to be keeping them entertained, but there are a few sharks circling your tuna.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Should I try to keep them here?” Mike asked.

“Definitely. And tell Ben I’m going to need room three.” Snapping the cell phone closed, he set the rope on the table, took one last look at the painting, then shut off the light and left his studio.

Chapter Ten

“Lawrence.”

The cool drawl had Mattie stiffening in her seat. Even though she’d been careful to avoid being touched by any of the men who had approached her and Lyssa as they chatted with Ben at the bar, Mattie still knew she’d skirted the rules by coming here. The hope that Bryce wouldn’t discover her little excursion was too much to hope for, especially after Mike had taken up residence on the stool beside her sister twenty minutes earlier.

Taking a moment to prepare herself, Mattie settled her glass very carefully on the coaster before turning. The expression in his cool green eyes sent a shiver of arousal through her.

“Come here.”

Several patrons shifted in their seats to view the exchange. Mattie could see most of them in her peripheral vision. The hush was filled with the rasp of her slacks against the leather of her bar stool as she stood and followed Bryce’s command. Beside her, she watched her sister’s instinctive shift to protect her forestalled by Mike’s grip on her arm. Moving the few steps separating her from Bryce, Mattie held his gaze despite the urge to drop her eyes.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He towered over her, his muscular thighs straining the worn jeans, broad shoulders stretching the black T-shirt over his chest like a second skin. The way he held his legs braced apart and his arms folded across his chest, Mattie was reminded of a pirate steadying himself on the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Even the shadow of his evening beard and the way his hair settled around his shoulders had her seeing him clad in leather with a cutlass at his waist.

She realized she hadn’t responded in a long time when he snapped, “Key!”

The bartender tossed something to Bryce.

Snagging it out of the air with one hand, Bryce gripped her left arm above the elbow and turned her toward one of the staircases. A gush of fluid and heat spilled through her center, wetting her panties and hardening her nipples, so they scraped erotically against the silk of her bra.

She should have known Lyssa wouldn’t take Bryce’s handling of her calmly.

“Now, you just hold on…”

“Stay out of it,” Mike cautioned Lyssa, his grip on her shoulder keeping her on her stool.

“It’s okay, Lys,” Mattie assured her at the same time.

Bryce ignored them both and continued towing her up the stairs.

“Bryce,” another male voice interrupted, but Bryce didn’t stop their ascent.

Glancing back toward the double doors leading from the reception area into the lounge, Mattie flushed with embarrassment to see Richard Bennett watching them.

By the time they reached the landing, Richard’s voice echoed again, this time the tone more determined, if not demanding. “Halsey.”

Swinging to face his friend, Bryce hauled Mattie around too. His expression alone must have warned Richard, but it didn’t deter the other man from continuing.

“The rules? No forced play, remember?” Richard’s gray eyes drifted from his friend’s face to Mattie’s, then back again.

Mattie waited for Bryce’s response.

He looked at her. “Tell them.”

Looking up, she met his gaze for a moment, seeing the heat of arousal and the barest hint of amusement causing the green of his eyes to fluctuate between forest and emerald. Swallowing, she turned to face the audience below. She could swear her face burst into flames from the attention directed her way. Focusing on reassuring both her sister and Bryce’s vice president and best friend, she met each of their gazes and spoke as clearly as her dry throat would allow.

“He’s not forcing me.”

Richard’s stance relaxed, but Lyssa kept pushing at the grip Mike had on her. Wanting her sister to settle down, Mattie called down, “Lyssa, it’s okay—” Bryce propelled her up the second flight of stairs before she could finish reassuring her.

Just before they rounded the corner to head down the hall, Mattie looked back toward her sister and winced. Apparently, Lyssa still hadn’t believed her and must have tried following them, but Mike had decided on an unusual method of stopping her. The last thing Mattie saw as Bryce hauled her down the passageway was Lyssa held close to the younger man’s chest, her fists pressing against his shoulders but gaining no ground as Mike kissed her.

Yup
, she thought.
I’m gonna pay for this one. Lys is never gonna forgive me for getting her mixed up in this situation
.

Bryce pushed open a door and pulled her inside. The
snick
of the lock engaging registered in a distant part of Mattie’s mind, but the rest was occupied with taking in her surroundings. Low light spilled from two black-shaded lamps. The one closest to the door sat on a small table and was joined by the key to the room, while the other graced one of the matching nightstands beside a large four-poster bed.