Disgrace (4 page)

“Hey Gus,” I give my body an exaggerated shudder to try and get some heat into my bones. I check my coat and am acutely aware of the loss of its protective warmth. I rub my hands vigorously up and down my bare arms. The chill of the evening clings to the sexy slick PVC halter neck cat suit, but it will quickly warm once I get inside.

“Hey.” Gus’s gruff response makes the corners of my mouth curl with pleasure. He is a fierce looking mountain of a man, and I don’t doubt he rattles a few of the most hardened alphas who strut in here, but he is just a big bear, especially to me. I lean up even in my heels and my natural height to plant a colourful kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Gus.” I wait with my hands on my hips, one dipped, and narrow my eyes. Gus looks over my shoulder. There is just me and him, and no one is going to call him out for cracking a bit of Christmas cheer.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” His deep voice rumbles with an echo through the empty corridor.

“Is it busy?” I tip my head toward the heavy, rich, red velvet curtain separating the entrance door from the stage. Every time I step through that curtain, I am here to perform, I have my costume, I have my act, and the main reception room of the club I like to refer to as my stage.

“Not exactly.” Gus replies.

“How come you’re working tonight?” I’m curious because, although they always have someone on the door, Gus is a senior someone, and this is Christmas, after all.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He raises a teasing brow.

“Oh, no rest for the wicked, Gus. You know that.” I wiggle my brows. He grunts out a deep laugh and rolls his eyes.

“You’re not as wicked as you pretend to be, darling, and I’m not wicked at all. Working tonight means I get until New Year to spend with the family.” He puffs out his chest with unabashed pride. Gus has a large brood, six children, and has been happily married to his childhood sweetheart for twenty-three years. He is the poster boy for getting it right.

“Oh, wow, that is great…I mean I’ll miss you and all…” I give a playful wink.

“Yeah, yeah, go on now…time is money,” he quips.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Although in my case, I think my issue has more to do with idle hands. I have been smart with my money. The necklace I got on my eighteenth birthday pretty much secured my future, if not the husband, as my mother had hoped. After my rocky start, and with some guidance from Leon, I found a job I love and I am extremely good at. I rarely have to spend my own money, so I save. My nest egg is such that I really don’t have to work, but I hate having down time. I despise having time to think…time to remember. I turn and slip through the gap in the curtain.
Show time
.

I can’t help the shocked laugh that escapes my mouth when I freeze just inside the entrance. It’s like a surprise party, and someone forgot to send out the invitations. The opulently decorated room has been transformed into Santa’s sinful grotto, with a thousand sparkly handcuffs, extra-large diamante nipple clamps and tinsel covered cat o’ nine tail whips hanging from the ceiling and light fittings. With the subdued lighting and featured spotlights, the whole room sparkles magically but it is empty, well almost empty. The striking distinctive outline of the not so silent partner sits at the bar nursing a glass of his favourite single malt.

I draw in a deep breath and make my way to take the seat beside him. It’s not like I haven’t seen him, spoken to him, tried desperately hard to ignore the spark of feeling I get whenever our paths have crossed these past sixteen months. I have. I have tried and failed. I confess I panicked when I started to feel my control slip because, despite my visit home, I am drawn to him. So like a coward that is most unbecoming of a Domme, let alone a notorious one such as Mistress Selina, I called in one massive favour. Leon became my boyfriend. The ultimate barrier and cock blocker
extraordinaire
. It would appear that favour expired last night and now it is time for me to face the music, pay the piper and swallow what Jason chooses to shove down my throat. He is a Dom and he is not a fan of liars.

I slip silently onto the high bar stool, but he knows I am there. His head tilts almost imperceptibly before he turns to face me. His deliberate slow movements increase my anxiety, a foreign feeling and one that sits uncomfortably, competing for attention with my racing heart. His predatory look takes in every inch of my body, I can almost feel it leaving a scorched path across my skin. My full-length one-piece cat suit barely leaves any skin on display but his gaze leaves me feeling naked, exposed and vulnerable. I pull my shoulders back and straighten my back because I am none of those things…I am London’s best Dominatrix.

“Samantha.” The timbre of his voice is deep and gravelly and my name sounds like sin on his lips. I know those lips.

“Jason.” I manage to say his name without inflection despite my heart rate spiking and that familiar ache that begins to build.

“You know I prefer Sir.” He fixes me with a stare that would make any submissive quake, and therein lies the problem.

“Ah, we both know that is not going to happen.” I accept the drink Jason has managed to magically order without me noticing. “And I am Mistress Selina here as you well know, Jason.” I bite my lip to stop from smirking with satisfaction at the sudden narrow stare flashed my way.

“Since I am your boss, what if I insist on Sir?” He sips his drink, and his lips tip with pleasure.

“Jason,” I take pleasure in the way his name rolls deliciously around my mouth. I emphasise each syllable with a sensual tone that makes his jaw clench. “You’re not
my
boss. You just happen to own the place where I choose to work.”

“Keep telling yourself that,
Selina.”
His low grumble makes the hairs on my neck stand as though little shots of electricity have been fired through them. “And I’m not your boss…yet.” My body gives an involuntary shudder and I internally berate myself. His expression is utter wickedness and evidence enough that he noticed the shiver he’d clearly caused.

He lets out a breath and I find I’m holding mine. “It’s been a long time since it’s just been the two of us. If I didn’t know better I might think you were scared to be alone with me. Are you scared to be alone with me,
Selina
?”
His sensual tone curls around my stage name like pure sin. His soft volume drops a level and I find my body leaning in. No. I’m being drawn to him. I have to fight to release my breath in anything remotely level. I grip my glass and choose to down the liquid to give me a moment of respite from his scorching intensity.

“Hardly, Jason.” My voice is surprisingly calm even as I can feel my cheeks begin to heat with the lie. “We’ve seen each other plenty of times.” I let out a light laugh, and his mouth may quirk with pleasure but I get the feeling it has very little to do with my comment.

“True but we have not been alone since…” He pauses and stares deeper into my eyes. I can see the exact memory dance in his lust filled eyes. No doubt a mirror of my own. “…the wedding.” I interrupt but barely suppress the sexual tension sizzling like a live current between us. I am grateful for the dimly lit room when I feel my face burn with the memory. He lets out a deep and dirty laugh.

“The wedding,” he repeats slowly.

Eighteen Months Ago

I had found myself squeezed against Jason in the tiny chapel at the hospital for Daniel and Bethany’s surprise wedding. Surprise for Bethany that is. It was standing room only as the few seats available were taken up by family, but I didn’t mind. I was happy to be a part of their day, but as the temperature in the room rose, so did my own body heat. Every furtive glance from Jason, every intentional brush of his hand against my thigh or hand elevated my pulse. I knew exactly what he was doing. There wasn’t much space, but he really didn’t need to be that close. I thought I tipped the balance of where this was going when I stepped to angle myself against his body and reached up high on my toes to whisper in his ear. The words were irrelevant, but I took a deliberate moment to breathe his clean woodsy scent deep into my lungs and exhale just as slowly. His eyes dipped to meet my gaze, nothing hidden in the stare we shared, dark with desire and pent with lust.

When I stepped back, the draw was still there. Like a tangible field of sexual tension radiating around our bodies. The ceremony finished, and the guests were being ushered along the corridor into a makeshift reception room, and that’s when, as the last to leave, Jason dragged me into a room I hadn’t even noticed. That would be because it wasn’t a room as such, it was a large storage cupboard…with a lockable door. I didn’t get a moment to protest, not that I would have, but instantly, his mouth was on mine, his hands frantic at the tiny buttons on my blouse. My palms first flat on the firm curve of his chest muscles, swept down to his belt, and with deft fingers, I quickly had his trousers dropped to his thick, taut thighs. Frustrated with his slow progress, he growled and tugged at the bottom of the material, lifting the blouse over my head. He froze for a moment at the sight of my frantic attempts to draw in more air. I don’t ever remember feeling so out of control, so wild and needy. My breasts rose and shook with the effort, smooth mounds barely contained by the delicate ivory lace balcony bra. My nipples were taut peaks, aching for his touch, and my skin glowed with the sheen of perspiration.

“Are you a screamer?” Jason’s deep tone was hoarse and breathy.

“I’m not usually the one who screams…no.” I exhaled and Jason’s lips tip into a wicked understanding.

“So I don’t need to gag you?” He raised a brow and my eyes dropped to the slow draw of his tongue across his soft, full lips.

“I’d like to see you try.” I slapped his chest forcefully.

“That makes two of us.” He growled and pushed roughly against me. Hard enough that he was flush against me grinding his solid length against my soft centre.

“In your dreams, Jason,” I scoffed with arrogance and understanding. He knew what I was and he knew this would be different, but it was still on my terms. At least I thought it was. I pushed back and ground against him. We both drew in ragged breaths. “No gag.” I confirmed and moaned as Jason grabbed my breasts, cupped and squeezed them with his large hands, his fingers finding the hardened peaks and pinching to the point of and just beyond pain.

“Ah!” I gasped.

“No gag…are you quite sure?” His wolfish grin and arrogant tone set the challenge.

“You wish!” I bit back with confidence. I promised myself I was not going to make a sound. Dominant Jason Sinclair…King of the club had met his match.

“That I do.” He pinched my nipples to punctuate his declaration and I blinked rapidly in lieu of the cry at the back of my throat. My lips spread into a salacious smile once the pain ebbed and I pulled him by the tie and crushed my lips to his. The moan that escaped his chest was almost as loud as the cry I suppressed.

Now

“Yes…the wedding. What is it about weddings?” he muses.

“I’m not sure it had anything to do with it being a wedding.” I laugh lightly.

“No…You might be right. It had much more to do with you looking hot as hell, a convenient storage cupboard and a lockable door.” He tips his glass and nods for a refill. I do the same, suddenly feeling like I need the liquid courage to play with the inferno sitting next to me. “After though…You didn’t return my call.” His gaze darkens.

“That would be because there would have been no point.” I quickly down the sweet coffee liqueur and mouth a large ice cube. I take my time playing with it in my mouth, relishing the effect I am now having on the implacable Mr Sinclair. He swallows thickly, his eyes never leaving my mouth. I know I am playing with fire, but it feels so good.

“And why is that?” His casual tone betrays the heat in his eyes and the intensity of his glare. “Did you not have fun? Because I seem to recall you had a great deal of it.” He leans forward and pushes his hands between my legs and grabs the edge of the bar stool. My legs spread of their own volition just enough before I try to rectify the error. Clamping tight against his wrist, he pulls my seat closer to him. His muscular thighs trap me, his hand wedged between my legs. Heavy lidded eyes bore into me with a fierceness that burns through my veins like wildfire, his thumb languidly stroking my inner thigh.

I take a moment and relish the utter pleasure these strange erotic feelings coursing through me evoke. My heart is beating a hypnotic pattern in my chest, hard and fierce. I am acutely aware as the precarious balance of control I hold so dear begins to slip. I feel the shift like a physical change and it is alarmingly seductive how natural it feels to give over to someone as absolutely dominant as Jason. It’s too seductive. I raise a brow, my calm façade a mask to my traitorous emotions. I use the tips of my fingers to remove the remaining ice cube from my glass, quickly palm it, and stretch out to hold it flat and hard against Jason’s rock solid erection. The ice water soaks his trousers but doesn’t diminish the heat in my palm one bit.

“Fuck, Sam!” he barks out but doesn’t move. If anything he grinds into my hand and releases a deep moan. I can’t help laughing; that was not the reaction I was anticipating but then I should’ve known he wasn’t likely to run. He was much more likely to rise to the challenge he obviously thinks I am.

“Jason.” I sigh reluctantly removing my hand. “Two Doms don’t make a right. We would not play well together. The wedding was an exception. I will give you that it was an amazing exception but—”

“But nothing.” He growls his interruption.

“See, that’s exactly why I didn’t return your call. I’m not one of your little submissives, and you sure as shit aren’t going to kneel for me anytime soon…although…” My index finger lightly taps my lips, which carve a wicked grin at the very notion.

“Yeah, keep dreaming beautiful, because that is all that’s
ever
going to be.” He sniffs derisively, but his eyes narrow while he slowly sips his drink. “But you weren’t always a Domme Selina?” His serious tone and leading question instantly kills my flirtatious mood.