The Club: Ace Read online

  The woman gives a silvery laugh as if there’s no doubt she’s responsible, then leans over me in a fluid dip and catches the cherry with her mouth. I school my reaction this time, a short-lived victory because suddenly her tongue dips into the whipped cream and swirls around my breast.

  My breath catches so hard in my chest that the motion actually pushes my boob farther into her mouth. And the only thing that saves me is Ace’s laughter. He knows I’m dying here, and he thinks it’s funny. Jerk.

  “Me, too,” the other blonde says with a giggle, and I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself not to move when her mouth goes for . . . The chocolate inside my thigh.

  Argh. The onslaught of sensation comes as a shock, so utterly strange, yet entirely familiar. Soft caresses and silken nibbles. I’m melting on the inside, the way the whipped cream and chocolate are dissolving.

  Eyes closed . . . No good. Nothing to distract me in the darkness. I open my eyes and search for diversion from the overwhelming sensation as blonde two nibbles her way up my thigh toward ground zero.

  Looking up is no help. All I see is my reflection, so utterly erotic with my thighs spread wide, my back arched so my boobs point up like an offering, and two beautiful blond women poised over me with their graceful curves and tanned skin.

  Then a couple of men come over and join the women, and I lose track of who is touching me, licking me, caressing me. I’m caught up in a whirlwind of sensation. There are mouths on both of my nipples. Sucking, tugging, pulling. I want to shut my eyes and give in to the incredible stimulation, sink into the pleasure. Get lost in the hedonism of the moment.

  But I lock my gaze onto Ace’s instead. My anchor in the storm of awareness. His black eyes catch me, like prey in his trap. He coordinated my being served up like this, dessert on a party menu. A platter of tempting sweetness.

  He knows I’m responding. Who wouldn’t? And I’m not the only one, either. There’s amusement in his gaze as he watches me, but there’s hunger, too. He’s aroused by my arousal, by the way my breasts tremble as the whipped cream vanishes and the moist air touches my skin, as someone catches my nipple with a seductive bite and pulls enough to stretch my boob and make my stomach swoop and my pussy ache.

  But there’s someone there to catch that sensation, too. A tongue laving cherry juice from around my clit. I imagine Ace’s lips there. His mouth eating me. His tongue spearing inside me, making my thighs shudder.

  My skin glistens with sweat. I’m determined not to fail this test. Not about my pleasure, but theirs . . .

  But there’s only one way to withstand this assault on my senses. Boobs. Pussy. Toes. Knees. Neck. Soft kisses. Nibbling kisses. Sensuous caresses. Rough fingers kneading my skin.

  The feast is on. And every part of me draws tighter and tighter. Draws me closer and closer to the edge. To the insane kinds of orgasms I’ve never known until Command Performance and the extravagant decadences here.

  I lock my eyes on Ace. Somehow, I must discipline myself to follow his orders. I feast on his strong chest, his ripped stomach, his powerful thighs. And his dick. He’s not just long, he’s thick. So hard. I let him see my hunger, my passion, my mounting need.

  And I realize that my body will accept pleasure from the right combination of touching and caressing, but it’s my brain that directs the beat and the melody. My brain that brings this song to a crescendo. My thoughts that’ll steer me to a triumphant finish . . . Or not.

  I am the maestro in control. And I like this feeling of power. Who knew? I learn about more than sex in a sex club.

  And as I stare into the face of this blindingly gorgeous guy, I can’t help but wonder what else he can teach me.

  What else can he make me feel?

  When the cherries go and the last bit of whipped cream and chocolate is licked away, the courtiers move on in search of their next pleasures, leaving me edgy and yearning and strangely confident in the knowledge that Ace will return to me.

  And he does. He’s suddenly in front of me with a warm, wet cloth. More sensual than any touch I’ve felt during this feast of sensation tonight is the intimate way he cleans me slowly, seductively, even tenderly.

  “Watching you is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls, his voice a low purr in the back of his throat that warms me almost as much as his compliment.

  The guy owns this club. He sees a lot of action.

  And he likes watching me.

  I don’t respond, knowing words will only cheapen his admission, but I’m so, so curious.

  He swishes the cloth over my skin, and I tingle. I ache to move, to arch my back, to beg him to free me from my pose. I remain exactly as I’ve been told. See, I am learning discipline tonight, too.

  But as the frenzy of the night’s forbidden pleasures fades, I sink deeper into the pleasure Ace gives me. And hope he doesn’t stop. I want to stretch out this moment, sink into to it. So I can draw every single bit of sensation into my memory.

  With any other man, the giant erection would be all I need to know he wants me. Not Ace. He seems in a perpetual state of hardness. Yet his touch with the cloth seems personal, as if he can only touch me this way. As if I’m somehow special.

  He slowly coaxes me to another level of awareness. One where everyone else in this room falls away. One where there is no one here but us. And nothing else exists in my world, except his hand on the cloth that touches my skin. Sliding ever so slowly. Exquisitely slowly.

  I savor each sensation. I am special because he pays attention to me. In a room filled with people. He touches me. And all I can think of is him, the way he slides the cloth over my feet, swirls it around my ankles and calves, teases the back of my knees, the insides of my thighs.

  I don’t tell him how I feel. I don’t have words. But my body tells him. My arousal weeps between my thighs. And I want him to see, to know what he does to me.

  He looks into my eyes. His shaggy hair streaked with blond and his black eyes such a contrast that makes him seem like a lion stalking his prey. He’s all tense muscles, bunched and ready to pounce.

  I hope he will. As I lie here drugged by the languor of his touch, I want to be the one to make him lose control, the one to make him forget he’s testing me. I want to test him.

  “You can have more than my body,” I say.

  The muscles in his jaw clench. The hunger in his eyes flares.

  “What are you talking about, little girl?”

  “My will, Ace.” I stare up with heavy eyes. “I’m yours.”

  With a roar, he suddenly pounces. The cloth falls away and his hands are suddenly everywhere. Bending a shoulder into my hip, he flips me up over his shoulder with a startling burst of strength. I gasp, all the languor suddenly gone as adrenaline tears through me, then pain as he swats my ass, hard.

  My bottom burns as he stalks across the room, my breath thrust from my lungs with his every step. Through the fall of my hair, I see people turn to stare as we pass. I see surprise and even amusement in all the attention we get. I’ve pushed his buttons, and it would seem as if that doesn’t happen often.

  Ever? I want to know. Because nothing is more powerful than knowing I can provoke him, that I’ll now get to enjoy the consequences.

  Oh, yes, yes, yes.

  I’m feeling ever so green right now.

  4

  Ace

  SHE’S PLAYING ME. A level one candidate is playing me. A neophyte. I might laugh except I’m in-fucking-trigued. It’s been so long since anyone has caught my attention.

  Emme submits. Obeys.

  Yet challenges me at the same time.

  This is not her role. But she’s clearly found a power in her submission, and I’m fascinated. And baffled about why all I can think about is ramming my dick into her until she screams my name.

  I don’t, of course. My emotional control might be piss-poor at the moment, but I’m no amateur. I have too much pride to lose myself in front of the courtiers. Well, any more than I have already.
But dragging her out of the hall isn’t a lack of control, it’s more . . . surprise. I smack her ass again as I walk, but she doesn’t so much as gasp. I catch her reflection in a mirrored wall as we pass and see her pleased grin.

  She thinks she has the upper hand.

  That does get a chuckle, but the sound is strange, from a gravelly place deep inside me. This babe is walking a dangerous line. She doesn’t know how far I can go.

  She can’t even imagine. Which reminds me how new she is to the game. She doesn’t even understand what she’s asking for.

  But my blood surges anyway. I want to sink my teeth into her neck, lick her pussy until she weeps my name.

  I don’t know where I’m taking her until I end up in the dungeon. She’s too confident, this one. I need to shake her up a bit, clarify that she’s not calling the shots. Level two does not work this way.

  The dungeon is fully tricked out. We’ve got cages, chains, handcuffs, whips, and floggers. Something for everyone. And it makes a first-timer think twice about who she plays with.

  Yet I don’t yet know her preferences or her fears, so I set her down and clamp my hand over her wrist. She glances around the place with interest.

  “Oh, my. How long will we be here?” she asks in a reverent whisper, her eyes wide.

  “Until I decide we leave.”

  She only nods, still checking out the apparatus. Does she have a clue what half this stuff does? I don’t know, but nothing deters her. She’s so alive . . . excited.

  “Anything in particular interest you?” Not that I’ll give her what she wants.

  “I leave that up to you, sir.”

  Foiled again.

  I try another tactic. “Is there anything here that disturbs you?”

  A smile tugs at her mouth, and suddenly I command all her attention. “Not with you in charge.”

  God. My dick throbs approval. Emme’s a true submissive, willing to give up her needs for mine. And yet, I still feel as if she’s leading me on. Tempting me. Challenging me. I’m not wrong.

  She is a natural. But she’s new to the scene. I must go slowly, ease her in carefully and thoroughly. I do know how the game is played. Decision made.

  “Come here.” I lead her to a leather harness. Something that’s showy and different to appeal to all her curiosity, yet will school her in one very important basic. And give me a break from all her challenges. “Let’s strap you in.”

  She reaches for the harness and attempts to put her arms through the straps. Clearly she has no clue what it’s for.

  I grab a blindfold. We’re going to make this even simpler. “Turn around, Emme.”

  Her nostrils quiver, in excitement or fear, I’m not sure. But I watch her carefully for both. She pivots gracefully, her hair tumbling down her back when she dips her head back. I set the blindfold in place and tie a neat bow, leaving her naked.

  Blind.

  At my mercy.

  Exactly where I want her.

  Kneeling in front of her, I enjoy the view of her tits quivering on excited breaths. When I grab her ankle, she gasps, then laughs as if amused by her jumpiness. I’m amused, too.

  Slipping off her shoes, I guide her foot through an opening in the harness, then the other. She’s forced to rest her hands on my shoulders for leverage, and when she bends over, her hair brushes my cheek, giving me a whiff of the fresh scent that’s all Emme.

  I exhale hard to blow away the strands. This fox is one big distraction.

  I drag my hands up her long, toned legs to raise the harness into place between her thighs. She doesn’t say a word, but I can feel her tension vibrating in every muscle. Ms. Enthusiasm here can’t see a thing. She’s harnessed. And I can do whatever I want. Whenever I want. For as long as I want.

  She says she trusts me. We’ll see.

  After adjusting the straps and tightening one under her breasts, I cuff her hands to her sides.

  The swinging harness adds gravity to the equation, so I can’t resist her pretty tits. They’re small, perfectly shaped with pink nipples standing obediently at attention.

  When I twist one between my fingers, Emme gasps aloud. Her mouth parts around a breath as I tease the tight bud until I can slip a nipple clamp onto her sensitive skin. This time her low moan filters through the quiet. Through me.

  My balls pull tight like lead weights between my thighs, as stoked by her reactions as I am by causing them. This fox is a blank slate, and I’m writing all over it.

  Her freshness turns me on in a big way. My club looks new when I see it through her eyes. Things I barely notice any more feel edgy and flawless. Now I’m less the king of the court, and more cowboy, trying to school an unbroken colt.

  Ride ’em cowboy!

  The fantasy appeals to me, and I smile while settling the second clamp into place. The chain dangles between her breasts, enough weight to draw an immediate response from my candidate. She trembles, one of those full-bodied numbers that rock her from head to toe. I resist the urge to slip my hand between her thighs. She’s wet. I can see her excitement in every shallow breath she takes. I can feel it in the way my nuts draw tight.

  I go for surprise instead, releasing the swing’s locking mechanism. With one mechanical whisper that startles the quiet, Emme springs into the air, her feet no longer touching the ground. Her pussy spread wide.

  With a surprised gasp, she bucks against the harness. But the clever straps support her fully. She can’t see, can’t move. The rotating swing brings her shapely ass into my line of fire, so I swat her cheeks as she passes. The chain between her breasts tinkles as the clamps tug her nipples.

  She’s gasping now.

  “What’s your color?” I don’t want her to hyperventilate.

  “Green.” There is no hesitation in that throaty reply.

  I smile as I grab my own dick and give a few disciplinary pulls to ease up the ache. I’m too hot. My blood pulses at the sight of my willing captive. But we’ve got a long way to go, and I intend to enjoy every second.

  I wait for the swing to slow its motion, then remove Emme’s blindfold.

  “I want to watch your eyes while I give you your next treat. Look in the mirror.”

  The dungeon is only dimly lit. Still, she flinches against the light and blinks. Her gaze is liquid. Her pupils dilated. I point to the wall, and she follows my gaze, her lids heavy, her expression drugged with arousal.

  The mirror allows me to walk behind her and still see her face in the reflection. I gauge her ready to push a little farther.

  I select a medium-size butt plug from a goody tray and juice it up with lube. I hold it up for her perusal, but she just watches me, trusting, so I can’t be sure she actually knows its use. I stroke my hand along the curve of her firm ass, work my fingers between her cheeks. I zero in on her pucker hole and play around a bit, watching her face as I ease my oiled fingertip inside, a preview of what’s to come. Her mouth forms a soft O.

  “Color?”

  “Yellow,” she says, a frail gasp.

  I’ll bet tonight’s profit that she’ll be screaming green by the time I’m through. Her mouth pops open as I replace my finger with the butt plug and work it in, watching her expression melt as I ease inside her.

  Then, I turn on the vibration.

  Her whole body jolts. “Oh . . . my God.”

  “Color?”

  “Green. Green. Green.”

  I am just that good. And gently push the plug all the way in. At the same time, I massage her wet pussy. Her muscles clench around my finger as if trying to hold me there.

  But I pull back, swat her ass cheek hard and set the swing going again. There’s an electric motor, but I prefer to push it myself. I prefer the control. I swat her other ass cheek.

  And I watch her. Pretty face full of joy, a rare reaction that stuns me. Not an ounce of fear. No pain. Not even pleasure, really. She’s beyond that. Blissful. That’s the only way to describe her. Because Emme’s a true submissive. She understands,
instinctively, that the pleasure center of the body is actually focused in the mind.

  I’m amazed. And beyond lucky. Jax, the club’s level three dom, is going to be sick with envy when I tell him. True submissives are such a rare breed. And I’m going to be her teacher. I hit the fucking lottery tonight.

  5

  Emme

  THIS IS INSANE. I never knew I could indulge my wildest pleasures guilt-free. Not one trust issue in sight. No worries about being vulnerable to someone who doesn’t appreciate me. No worries about whether some prick will think about only his own pleasure and not consider how his actions will impact the woman he claims to love.

  I came to this club looking for a good time. And that’s exactly what I get. What makes me feel good. Safe. No emotional entanglements. No baggage. Ace is looking to test me. I’m looking to be tested.

  That’s the only thing anyone around here is interested in—feeling good.

  And I do.

  I swing from the ceiling in a crazy harness. So, every time Ace swats my ass, I don’t just go forward and backward. I go up and down too. And the effect . . . is more stimulation than I’ve ever felt.

  Between the chains tugging the clamps on my nipples, and the vibration in my butt¸ never mind the stinging slaps of his hand . . . I know the slightest pressure on my clit would make the top of my head blow off.

  But I can’t move. My hands are cuffed to my sides. My calves are supported by the harness and my legs are spread wide. I have no control over what Ace does to me. It’s liberating. I don’t have to think about whether Ace enjoys himself. He’s the one in control. It’s all on him.

  All I have to do is enjoy the ride.

  Oh, what a ride.

  I’m curious about what Ace likes, and now I know. He likes being in control. He likes reading my body and pushing me past my limits. He seems to know better than I do what I like.