The Club: Ace Page 4

  I like having all his attention on me.

  Except I really, really, really want to come. But I can’t. Not without more stimulation. He knows what he does to me—makes me burn for more friction.

  My stomach is a ball of knots. My breasts swell every time I bounce and spin, heavy with tingling pleasure, my nipples so sensitive they have a life of their own.

  I see Ace’s face in the mirror and the sight of his handsomeness totally turns me on. My pleasure gives him pleasure. I can see it. I have a power here I don’t quite understand yet, but I want to.

  “Color?” he asks, slapping my butt sharply again, and making my skin tingle with heat.

  “Green.” I laugh for the sheer excitement. My pussy clenches almost continuously now, and I’m starting to burn with needs I want satisfied. “You know what will make it greener?”

  He only arches a dark eyebrow.

  “If you’re inside me.” I glance at his dick. Hard. He wants me and I want him. Perfect.

  He smacks my ass hard enough to make me yelp.

  Apparently, he doesn’t play requests.

  I don’t really mind. He’s already warmed me up with the lighter swats. And now the burn is spreading, deepening, swooping into my core.

  “Please, sir. Tell me what you want . . .”

  His hand cracks my skin again. “You’re doing exactly what I want,” he growls.

  I hear the need in his tone. He wants me as much as I want him. I’m not wrong, but if he’s getting off on spanking me . . . I try to squirm, to tip my pussy against the harness. But all I manage to do is dip the swing, which tugs my nipples.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God.”

  “Having a good ride, fox?” he croons.

  “I won’t . . . last . . . long,” I bite out.

  “You cum. You fail.”

  I remember the point. Testing. Not pleasure. Not my pleasure anyway. And I’m not done exploring this level. I clench my teeth. I ache, draw so tight. I may be panting now. I can’t tell, not when I can hear my heart beating and my blood thrums through my ears.

  As I swing back, I see a glint of fluid on the tip of his dick. I moan louder, hoping I can make him cum, by egging him on. I allow little coos to come up my throat.

  “Ace,” I groan. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Hold on, Emme.” He slows the swing. But now the cessation of movement is making me focus on the vibration in my butt. Has he turned up the pulsing? Oh . . . my . . . God.

  I’m on fire. The blaze he started on my ass has spread like a wildfire to my pussy.

  “I’m so hot.” I don’t even recognize my voice.

  “Let me cool you down, babe. You’ve done real well, so you can cum if you need to.”

  I see him reach for something on the table. A condom, I hope. But it’s a dildo. I almost sob out that I want his dick. Not more artificial . . .

  The dildo is big, hard, oiled. And icy cold. He puts it into my pussy and the sensation of fire and ice shocks my body into one giant explosion.

  I cum. And scream. His name, I think. I don’t know. I’m out of my head, bursting with astonishment. The orgasm goes on and on. And I hang in my harness; body arching on each violent cascade of sensation, my legs spread wide open, taking whatever he wants to give me. And he gives, and gives. I can’t tell if I’m having one massive climax or a series of them. My body just keeps igniting.

  I’m panting. I break into a sweat. It’s too much. He’s short-circuiting my brain. My nerves. And my heart feels like it’s pounding right out of my chest.

  All the while, he just keeps crooning my name, stroking my tender butt, sliding the icy dildo gently back and forth, sending renewed bursts of cold colliding with my heat until the shudders finally begin to ebb. The dildo eases away.

  I’m so wet. My juices flow down the creases of my legs, as I hang there bonelessly, supported only by the harness. If I wasn’t strapped in this gear with my hands still cuffed and a butt plug vibrating inside me, I’d be curled in a fetal ball.

  Slowly, I find the strength to raise my head. I look into Ace’s eyes, dark eyes burning for me. I lick my lips. “We aren’t done, are we?”

  He pushes damp hair back from my cheek, such a tender touch from the man responsible for the way my butt burns. And vibrates. No forgetting the vibrating.

  “Do you want to be done?” His tone is as gentle as his touch.

  “There can be more?” Talking takes so much effort.

  He knows. Suddenly, he’s tipping a water bottle to my lips. And the cold water feels like heaven as it slides down my parched throat. Somehow, this seems more intimate than our sex play. He takes care of me, sees my need in a different way.

  The chiseled edges of his expression soften somehow. He’s no longer the stalking lion, but a protective one.

  After I’m done drinking, he shakes the icy water over my breasts, my belly. I shiver, with the cold, or in anticipation, I don’t know. But the cold revives me.

  Ace presses a button and I hear the hum of machinery. A padded platform rises beneath his feet. He lies down directly below me on the platform. He’s finally going to put his dick inside me. Now, when I’m half dead from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. My bloody luck. Because I can’t possibly have anything left.

  But I’m wrong. On both counts.

  He pours more icy water onto my pussy, and I cry out. “It’s so cold.”

  “Trust me, fox.” He gently touches the tiny triangle of hair between my legs. Opens my lips. I suck in a breath.

  Then he lowers me onto his . . . mouth.

  After the heat from the spanking, the cold from the water, and now the heat again from his mouth, I groan. I’m spent. It can’t be possible for me to climax again.

  But he laps my clit with his tongue. Blows warm air into my pussy. I want to squirm. Fidget. I’m already so sensitive. But I’m far from numb. And Ace has a most talented tongue. He cares for me until the edginess fades away to be replaced by an intensity of a whole different level. Arousal sparks deep inside again like he strikes a match.

  I can’t move. I can’t think. I can only hang here and feel.

  “You taste so good, Emme.” He croons the words into my pussy and the vibrations drive me mad. He licks me everywhere. With his big hands on my tender ass, he moves the swing, tilting me, taking long licks from pussy to ass.

  I think he’ll remove the butt plug. But he actually grinds it in deeper. And the damn thing is vibrating even harder now.

  I had no idea that area was such an erogenous zone. He tongues my clit, then draws the tiny bud into his mouth. Sucks on it. The pressure inside me builds, this time a coil of sensation that starts in my toes and spirals upward, completely stealing my breath.

  “I’m going to cum again.”

  He nods in agreement, without removing his mouth. I can see his eyes twinkling.

  Then I moan. “Oh . . . Oh . . . yes . . . more.”

  He squeezes my ass, sucks harder on my clit. I’m going to explode all over his face. I’m losing it.

  And just when I’m on the verge, I feel his hands slide between my cheeks. He eases out the butt plug, and I gasp at the shock of it, not pain, but loss of intensity. A reprieve. Just long enough to suck in a deep breath, then another.

  As he rolls a condom onto that fierce erection.

  Finally.

  I hang here, and time slows to a stop as I anticipate the feel of him inside me. Finally, finally. My whole body draws tight with expectation. My pussy spasms greedily.

  And then he lowers me right on top of him, eases that big dick inside, presses in every inch of his hard heat. He’s not gentle. He’s not rough. Only masterful.

  I go wild. His dick stretches me, fills me up so he’s stroking every place that shouldn’t have anything left to feel. But I feel him everywhere. I want to rock against him, swallow him whole, ride the incredible sensation that steals everything but an awareness of the way he feels inside me, and how much I need him to
fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

  I expect him to bounce me up and down in the swing, but he spins me instead, a merry-go-round ride on his dick.

  The sensation is very . . . odd, but when his dick strokes my g-spot, I let out a moan that makes him laugh.

  I get it now. I totally get it.

  I growl at him. He’s playing while I am coming unglued with arousal, and it’s not fair. I want him to be that with me.

  Without any warning, he slides his finger straight up my ass. I might have jumped, but of course, I can’t freaking move. I want to ride up and down on his dick. Want to feed this ache inside me, but I can only take. Take what he’s willing to give. Take what he thinks I need. Take, take, take.

  “More,” I demand.

  He laughs again. “Greedy little fox.”

  He’s too in control, still playing me. And I’m going to cum again. I feel it welling up from deep inside, this other-level climax. And he knows. Oh, he knows. Masterful is what Ace is because he presses his finger in my ass as he uses the swing to make me go up and down on his dick.

  I move slowly at first, but soon I’m pounding him with each bounce of the swing. My ass is burning, and all I can think about is touching him. If I had free hands, I’d be dragging them through his tawny mane of hair. I’d be kissing his mouth and sharing his breaths. I’d be learning the taste of his skin. I’d be coaxing him along the way he coaxes me to a level-two climax that beats anything I have ever known before.

  Or maybe it’s Ace. He’s in complete control. Of himself. Of me.

  And I like it. I like him. I’m totally hooked. Every cell in me is about to burst with pleasure.

  And that’s when I see the first hint of his undoing. His expression sharpens. His jaw clenches tight. And suddenly he rams inside me, no longer playing around.

  “Cum with me, Emme,” he roars.

  I scream. And burst my juices all over him.

  6

  Ace

  I LEAN BACK IN my office chair and pour Jax whiskey. I keep pouring until the glass is full. He’ll need it for the conversation about Audrey.

  Often, I meet with my partners for a drink and a Cuban cigar after Friday night sessions. Technically, it’s business, but we unwind, too. Command Performance has a way of pulling us into the action. It helps to regularly step back and regain some perspective.

  “Ethan coming?” I ask.

  Jax shrugs. “He might as well marry that girl.”

  He refers to Mia, the friend who originally brought tonight’s candidate, Emme, to the club. I feel like I might owe her thanks. I sip my whiskey.

  “Said he’s busy tonight,” Jax says. “With Mia, I assume.”

  I like Ethan. I like Mia. I have no issues with their relationship. I may not understand it, but they both seem so content. And content partners make for effective, productive partners. What’s not to like? “Ethan’s doing great things with the Miami club and it turns out Mia is quite the salesperson. They’ve tripled their membership numbers since the grand opening.”

  Jax nods. “Impressive. Agreed. How did Audrey do tonight?”

  There’s never much personal conversation with Jax. He’s all business. All the time. Which makes him a kick-ass sounding board for me. Audrey is a safe place to start. “Drink up.” I suggest. “We dropped her once. It may happen again.”

  “If she wants to be a domme in level three, she needs to get into the sub mind, learn what makes a sub tick.”

  “She’s been well-instructed,” I say. “But she fights herself. Her instinct is alpha, always to come out swinging. Always.”

  Jax finally takes my suggestion and reaches for the glass. He leans back, and does his brooding thing. That’s what Ethan and I call it, anyway. He goes radio dark, as if considering the punishment that’ll hurt most. Scares the living shit out of trainees. Creates the most horribly beautiful anticipation.

  “She disobeyed?” he asks in a tone that matches the look.

  I cut Audrey a break. “Not exactly. But she flinches, tenses up. She’s terrible at faking it.”

  “She shouldn’t be faking it. She needs to learn.”

  No argument there. “If you’ve know of some magic switch to flip, you’re welcome to take her on yourself. I’ve got other issues at the moment.”

  “The new girl?”

  I nod. “Emme.”

  He lifts a black eyebrow. As always, he sees more than I care to share. “Did you learn her name before or after you fucked her?”

  “Before. Not that it matters.”

  “If you say so.” He draws on the cigar, peers at me through the smoke. “I know you can train new subs in your sleep. So what’s up? Is your Emme taking the wrong cues from Audrey?”

  “Give me some credit. I separated them as much as possible.” I puff on my cigar, buy myself some time to consider his question.

  Jax just smokes, and does the brooding thing. He knows me better than I know him. That’s how our partnership works. He’s there for me, and that’s what matters.

  “Emme might be the most perfect sub I’ve ever tested. Or known even.”

  Jax levels his stare my way, but I know he’s seeing way the fuck more than is there. For some reason, I’m struggling to hold his gaze. No way on this goddamned planet I will back down, so I bluff through the edge I feel. “Emme obeys instantly. Joyously. She had a very good time tonight.”

  “She’s open to the scene, not that unusual. That’s our demographic.”

  I frown. I’m not making myself clear or he’s just trying to be an asshole tonight. Either way, I’m getting annoyed. “She doesn’t come from a dark place. She’s not drowning herself in sex, or hiding in it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time and I’m telling you, this girl . . . She’s just different.”

  “Maybe she’s in denial?”

  I shake my head. “No. Just a different place. I’m not saying she’s some brainless bitch who doesn’t have her baggage, but she’s content with whatever that baggage is. She’s got this . . . I’m not exactly sure. Perspective, maybe.” I say, testing the idea in my head. Yeah, maybe that’s exactly what it is. “It’s like life is some fucking big adventure for her. Good. Bad. Pleasure. Pain. She embraces it all. There’s just no artifice with her, none of that ego getting in the way. She’s a neophyte, and she knows it. Doesn’t care who else does, either. In the dungeon, she didn’t know what half the equipment was for, and yet, she wasn’t afraid.”

  “Singular.” Jax agrees. “And?”

  “And, she uses it against me.”

  “Sounds like she’s getting to you, Ace.” Jax just puts that shit right out between us. “Need to put the brakes on because you’re supposed to be in charge.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.” That comes out way the hell louder than I expect.

  Jax just arches his brow, considers me through a haze of smoke. He never loses his cool, but I know he’s damned amused that I do. He doesn’t back off, either.

  “Maybe the problem isn’t her,” he suggests. “Maybe the problem is you.”

  “Christ,” I say, pushing my fingers through my hair. “Just throw that shit out there.”

  “Can’t fix the problem if you don’t know there is one.”

  I scowl at him. “I know there’s a fucking problem.”

  But I also know there’s no fixing it, because the problem is me. No one knows because I’ve never told anyone about my past. I just keep the darkness and death locked inside, cage the agony and control it. Never let it out.

  Maybe the light in Emme got to me tonight because her brightness shines on all my dark places.

  But how is that even possible?

  My past is my past. Dark. Lethal. Hellish. I am what I am.

  A fucking contradiction.

  I’m the last of the great Satervilles. My great-great-grandfather was one of this country’s robber barons, made his fortune in the silver mines of Nevada. My gre
at-grandfather increased the family fortune with California gold. And on and on, the generations added railroads, airlines, and high tech. Now dot-coms and sex clubs. Business for the new millennium because genius business genes flow through my chromosomes. I carry on the legacy. But I’m the end of the line. Period. No sense dragging good people or children into relying on the worthless fraud that is me.

  So, I party. I appear all bright and shiny on the outside, but I’m fucking tarnished and flawed on the inside. Not to mention a piss-poor friend.

  I don’t get attached. Ever. No one will ever get close enough to see the gaping black hole within me.

  I don’t pity. I don’t want love. One’s pathetic. The other is too fucking dangerous. I won’t let one more person get sucked into the gaping maw that chokes the life out of everyone I love.

  Especially not someone who’s really bright and shiny like Emme.

  7

  Emme

  “HOW’D IT GO?” my best friend asks, her voice breathless over the car Bluetooth.

  It may be three in the morning, but of course Mia’s wide awake, waiting for Ethan to close up the Miami location of Command Performance.

  “I’ve been waiting all night for a report,” she prompts. “Well?”

  “Wowzer.” Not articulate, but it’s hard to wax poetic when I’m still reeling from the night. “Ace. Is. So. Hot.”

  “Ace?” Mia shoots back instantly. “He oversees the testing of level two candidates in South Beach, but I didn’t realize you’d get personal attention.”

  “Oh, he was damn attentive, all right.” Can’t help but smile at that. “Damn attentive. The part of me that isn’t still singing is half dead. I can barely drive.”

  “You’d better be careful.” Mia laughs softly, then says, “But I would have thought you’d had enough blonds for a while. Honestly, Emme.”

  “Ugh.” I scowl. “Puh-leeze, girlfriend. Do you mind? You are pissing in my Cheerios. Don’t yuck my yum, thank you very much.”

  “All right. All right,” she says, but I can still hear the laughter in her voice. “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”