My Wicked Devil (Club Wicked) (8 page)

Pulling up behind a black Aston Martin One 77 with its sleek racing curves and low-to-the-ground body, she wasn’t surprised at all that Bryan liked speed and sporty cars. She could just see him, hitting the gas so the car flew and G-force pressed his body back into the seat.

It had been two days since she’d met Bryan—they’d both been busy with other obligations—and she found herself excited to see him. For one thing, she’d certainly made more of an effort to look pretty. Bryan was almost unfairly handsome, and in order not to look like a hag next to him, she’d put large, loose curls into her hair. Tonight she wore a black dress with a plunging backline. A silver chain set with onyx and white sapphires dangled down her back in a manner so the chains looked like corset stays. Beneath she wore a pair of black garters and a black bra but no panties. He seemed to really like her pussy, and she sure as shit liked what he’d done to it, so why not display it a bit.

Besides, it was the closest thing she had to a BDSM outfit. She’d need to go shopping soon. Even if things didn’t work out with Bryan—though she really hoped they would—she wanted to have a wardrobe of appropriate clothing to wear to Wicked. The bar was amazing, and she couldn’t wait to see more of it, but hopefully this time with Bryan at her side. The thought of being seen with him, being marked as belonging to him sent a rather primitive sense of satisfaction through her. He was fine, so, so fucking fine. Whatever did he see in her?

Screwing up her courage, she checked her pale rose lip gloss and made sure her mascara hadn’t smudged. She wore waterproof mascara tonight, just in case she sweated or cried.

Anticipation coiled through her belly, making her nervous and excited at the same time. His oral sex skills had been beyond amazing, and though she’d had some small bruises from his bites the next day and her nipples hurt, she’d still walked around with a goofy grin. Even before her accident she’d never managed to have more than one orgasm at a time.

Bryan was some kind of pussy whisperer.

The dress swung around her thighs as she grabbed her purse, then shut the door. A moment later, the porch light came on, and she glanced up at the house as she made her way across the driveway to the winding stairs. The detail work on the railing, with its curves and floral carvings, were beautiful works of art. She made it to the landing of the front door and was getting ready to knock when it opened from the other side. An elderly gentleman in a dapper black suit and red tie smiled at her and gave her a small bow.

“Ms. Harmony, I presume?” He had the same English accent as Bryan but a little stuffier and very formal.

She smiled and gave him a small wave. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Please do come in. Lord Sutherfield will be down in a few moments and has asked if you would wait for him in the Green Room.”

“Of course.”

She walked past him and let out a soft sigh at the sight of the foyer of this grand home. All dark wood and sixteen-foot ceilings with muted artwork on the walls. To the left the sliding doors opened onto a parlor, and to the right, a study. The furniture was either period or excellent reproductions, and she wandered over to look at the carvings on the staircase railing.

“This house is lovely.”

“Thank you, Ms. Harmony. My name is Lawrence. May I get you some light refreshments or a spot of something to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

“If you will please follow me, I’ll take you to the Green Room to wait for Lord Sutherfield.”

She followed Lawrence through a long hall and into a lovely room that must have been a trophy room at one point. It had the huge, open walls suitable for mounted heads, something a man of means in those days would have had. Now it held a staggering array of stunning Impressionists’ artwork. The green silk wallpaper and thick green oriental carpets explained the name of the room, and a green onyx fireplace sat against the far wall.

Moving in a daze, recognizing some of the pieces from her studies and travels, she almost bumped into one of the couches and laughed. “Oh my.”

This wasn’t a room. It was a museum.

Lawrence’s chest puffed with pride. Having grown up in wealth, she was accustomed to having servants, and her maid was also one of her best friends. Lawrence had the feel of a family servant about him, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t been with Bryan since his birth. Wouldn’t be unusual among the British elite.

“Oh my indeed. This is but a portion of Lord Sutherfield’s collection. He inherited many of these pieces from his grandparents but also bought quite a few of them. He has a great eye for beauty.”

Taking her time, she examined a painting to her left. It depicted a woman brushing out her long, beautifully rendered red hair. Her back was to the viewer, and her hair pulled up over her head as she brushed, exposing the smooth line of her spine and plump buttocks. Her pose was very similar to the one Bryan had made her hold at Wicked while doing marvelously arousing things to her breasts.

“Degas?”

“Ah, it appears you know your art, Ms. Harmony.”

“I used to travel a great deal. Something would capture my imagination, and I’d be on the next plane out, reading about the subject as I flew to whatever destination struck me.”

She let out a long sigh, wishing she could sit on a plane long enough for overseas flights. Oh, she could take a private jet, but that was too expensive to hop around the world like she used to. Besides, she had no one to travel with her. She had plenty of friends, but she wanted something more. A lot more.

And Bryan was going to help her get it.

Speak of the devil, Bryan’s sinful voice washed over her in a caress of warmth, making her whole body tingle. “Where was the first place you went?”

Lawrence stepped over to the side and bowed, giving Kira a small smile before he left and shut the door behind himself. She wanted to run up and cover Bryan in kisses, but a sudden onslaught of shyness struck her. Turning around, she pretended to look at a Cézanne instead of drooling over him in a pair of black slacks and white button-down shirt. Currently the top two buttons were undone, showing a nice, muscled chest. Her body gave a hard throb, and desire soaked her panties.

“The first place I went was Africa.”

“Really? What part?”

“Kenya.”

Once again the feeling of the electricity passing between them alerted her to his presence. He reached around her waist and drew her back against him. His heat enveloped her, and the scent of his crisp cologne stroked her senses. It was pathetic how easily she became putty in his hands. She tried to rally the will to resist him, but it was impossible.

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

She could feel his chuckle more than hear it. “Brave little thing, aren’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, she turned in his arms and looked up into his beautiful dark eyes. She was about to find out just how brave she was. “Lord Bryan?”

His brows raised the tiniest bit at her use of his title, but she remembered he’d wanted her to back at Wicked. “Yes?”

“Would you please kiss me?” Heat flared through his gaze, and his pupils dilated. Before he could speak, she rushed to add, “How you want to kiss me. How you would kiss your submissive.”

He stepped back a pace, and she followed, not wanting any distance between them. Holding up his hand, he nailed her to the spot with his gaze. “No, Kira. You have to earn my kiss.”

A sweet rush of desire spun through her veins like sugar candy. While his look was completely serious, there was a slight challenge in his eyes, like he was daring her. Curiosity prickled her mind, and she lifted her chin. “What do I have to do, Lord Bryan, to earn your kiss?”

“Strip.”

She glanced at the closed door. “Umm, what about Lawrence and whoever else is here?”

“The house has been cleared for the evening, the curtains drawn. No one will see you, enjoy your beauty, but me. You are mine, Kira, and I will allow no other to covet what is mine.”

His primal declaration set her on fire even as she scowled at him. “Then you’re mine as well.”

“But of course.”

Thrown off stride by his quick answer, she tried to regain her mental footing. “Well, good.”

“Kira?”

“Yes?”

“That’s yes, Lord Bryan.”

Swallowing her pride, she nodded. “Yes, Lord Bryan?”

“Since you seem so hesitant to follow my orders and remove your clothes, I think you need a little motivation. Bend over the arm of the couch with your bum in the air. If that position is uncomfortable, we’ll work around it.”

“Wait, what?” She glanced at the couch, and heat flamed through her cheeks.

“What’s your magic word?”

She let out a little sigh of relief at the reminder of her safe word. He said everything would stop the instant she said it, and she had to trust him to uphold his end of the bargain.

“Pookie, my lord.”

“Good. Now do as I ordered or get out and don’t bother me again. If you are serious about submitting to me, then you need to stop questioning my every command. Try to trust me, love, just a little bit. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

The tremble in her legs worsened, but she did as he asked. The sincerity in his voice eased her fear a little bit. The thick green velvet-covered arms of the couch were oversize and plush. She leaned over, afraid that in a moment she was going to fall, but the arm provided a comfortable place to rest against. Panic started to tighten her gut, a fear that he was going to shove himself into her. She tried to trust him, she really did, but she hardly knew Bryan.

Before her fear overwhelmed her courage, she used a technique she’d learned as a stuntwoman. Clearing her mind as much as she could, she picked one of her five senses and expanded it. Taking a deep, slow breath, she pulled the scent of the couch into her lungs. There was a faint whiff of something to the fabric, almost like pipe smoke, and she wondered if Bryan smoked a pipe.

How very Sherlock Holmes of him if he did.

A moment later, Bryan stroked his way up her legs, pausing to play with the top of her stockings, before pushing her dress up around her waist. His pleased, guttural murmur when he saw that she wasn’t wearing panties beneath her garters made the lower half of her body flush with need. He continued to touch her, his hands more than big enough to grip her ass in a way that had her squirming.

“Five spanks for not doing what you were told.”

“Wha— I mean, okay. Yes, Sir. Roger that.”

He cleared his throat, and his voice held a touch of amusement. “The proper response is, ‘Thank you, my lord.’”

God, he didn’t really want her to say that, did he?

It was one thing to accept his spanking, a whole other thing to thank him for it. But if she didn’t do what he said, he would kick her out. She knew he meant it just like she knew he was the right one to help awaken her sexually again. But fuck, actually submitting rankled on her nerves.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He gave her butt a vicious pinch that stung like a bee sting. “Next time say it without the ‘fuck you’ tone of voice.” He then pinched her other cheek, making her wiggle. “When I spank you, you will say, ‘Thank you, my lord’ with every spank. For every one you miss, I will hit you extra hard the next time. And trust me when I say I can make it hurt.”

His voice dropped an octave on the last word, and her sex throbbed. Shit, who woulda known she would find being put in her place such an incredible turn-on? “Yes, my lord.”

“You have my permission to moan but not scream. If you can’t do it on your own, you may scream into the couch.”

Internally she had to laugh. She’d survived just about the worse blunt force trauma wounds a human being could have and live. If he thought a little spanking was going to make her cry, he was delusional. Rather than risking him hearing the insolence in her voice, she nodded.

Without preamble, he laid the first smack on her ass. She knew she’d fucked up. It hurt, a lot. The next one came even harder, hard enough to shove her on the arm of the couch. “Ow! I mean, thank you, my lord.”

The next spank was gentler, but it hit the crease of her right leg where it met her ass cheek, and stung like a mother. “Thank you, my lord.”

The next two came in rapid succession. She choked back a cry when they hit the same place. “Thank you, my lord.”

The warmth of his breath against her already heated skin was uncomfortable, but his goatee scratching against her stung. Then he licked over her bottom and began to gently probe between her rear cheeks with his wickedly long tongue. Hell, that man could give Gene Simmons a run for his money.

Suddenly thrown back into a state of sexual craving, she moaned and arched her hips, trying to give him better access. In response, he nipped her hip, and she stilled. He scraped his nails down her butt. She shuddered, a confusing blend of pain and pleasure overloading her mind. Her entire being focused inward, concentrating on his gentle strokes and probing at her anus.

Swimming in a pool of heat and desire, she was totally unprepared for the next slap. That made it hurt all the more, and she struggled to thank him. By the time he’d worked her up to the tenth spank, her voice was raw with unshed tears. “Thank you, my lord.”

He massaged her ass, gripping it hard and digging his fingers in. It felt so fucking good and mingled with the burn. The edge of his pants pressed against her, and he reached between her legs, fondling her aching pussy. “Oh, sweetheart, you are so wet for me. Did you like being spanked?”

She moaned when he slid a finger between her labia and began to pet her clit. “I don’t know.”

“It is very simple question, love. Did being spanked bring you sexual arousal?”

She didn’t know why he was bothering to ask her. The evidence of her arousal was coating his fingers, and her nub quivered beneath his knowing strokes. Sucking in a deep breath, she then let it out and whispered the truth. “Yes, it aroused me.”

“Your honesty pleases me, Kira.”

The warmth in his voice, the genuine pride in his words made her all glowy inside. Slowly, the heat from her spirit merged with the burning desire of her body, and she rocked herself against his fingers. He held fast, making each movement of her hips tug at her clit trapped between his fingers. With his other hand, he gathered some of her abundant honey and smoothed it between her ass cheeks.