Chapter 12 #2
“No argument from me. Tell him I’ll cover the cost.”
Logan shoots me a look that would cow a lesser man. “You’re not paying for us to help you protect her, sir.”
“Try and stop me, son. There are things you can control and things you can’t. This is one of those you can’t. Make your peace with it.”
Logan blows out a breath and goes back to texting Max. “Did I say I missed you, sir?”
“Every day, son. Every day.”
Brenna always looks beautiful to me, even when she’s puffy from crying or mussed from fucking. But when the girls meet us in the club’s restaurant for lunch, I have to appreciate the buffed and polished, glowing gold of her skin. With many, many kisses.
Grinning and pink-cheeked, she finally bats me away and escapes into the buffet line.
I gather the restaurant doesn’t do table-service during festival weekends, and without having done more than walked through the entrance hall, I can understand why.
The club’s packed. The usually quiet halls are filled with kinksters.
Every pedestal in the hallway has a submissive mounted on display.
There’s a line of ponies and their trainers waiting to go through the door into the Stables.
There are three furries in full costume going at it on the central staircase.
And this is only Thursday. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like by Saturday when Logan says the festival will be in full roar.
The restaurant itself is busy, with tables having been moved to make way for a double-sided buffet down the center of the main dining room.
Despite the crowd, Logan manages to get his favorite table in the big glass greenhouse addition to the restaurant.
I suspect the pretty ma?tre d’ has a thing for Emily’s daddy, although she’s not obvious about it.
The table’s set for six. Shortly after I make a few selections from the overwhelming cornucopia on the buffet and take my seat next to Bren, Harry and the pretty, black-haired submissive who was manning the upstairs desk the night I was an ass to Bren join us.
While the sub hugs everyone around the table, Harry claps a hand on my shoulder and pulls me a step away.
“Glad I caught up with you,” he says. “I figured you’d be here at some point today after I saw DirtyGurl and Emily at the spa.”
He combs his hand over his beard, which looks freshly trimmed and waxed, so I’m guessing he bumped into the girls in the spa.
“Things didn’t work out with Rolling Blue,” I offer. “You’ve probably heard.”
He nods. “Walt called me. I’m sorry, Mac, and for the record, I think they’re making a mistake.”
“I wasn’t happy about having to move to Jersey, either. I didn’t realize you live there.”
“I rent one of the rooms at the clubhouse so I can keep my place in the City. They’re pretty relaxed about it as long as I’m there for meetings and events.
I’m sorry I missed the charity ride, but it couldn’t be helped.
” Harry shrugs a burly shoulder. “That’s not why I wanted to catch up with you.
I’ve got a guest coming this afternoon. He organizes the thing upstate we talked about. He’d like to meet you.”
“Sure. Lo and I were going to do a pony scene with the girls this afternoon, but there’s no rush.”
“He’s bringing his sub. I bet he’d love to join in if you’ll have them.”
“If Lo’s okay with it, I am.”
“Great.” Harry claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll text him and let him know.”
“Thanks. I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
Maybe this is an opportunity to find a more accepting band of brothers. I’ll be open to anything the fellow has to say.
We return to the table and Brenna looks a question at me.
I kiss her temple to let her know everything’s okay.
She picks up one of appetizers off her plate and offers it to me.
Looks like a tiny, deviled egg on a thick, round cracker.
I obligingly open my mouth, bite off half, and nip her fingertips before she withdraws them.
The heat hits my sinuses like a grenade blast. I manage to chew and swallow with only a small cough before drowning the heat with several gulps of water.
Brenna grins at me while chewing her own half.
“How much hot sauce did you put on that?” I growl.
She picks up a little bottle of red liquid from near her water glass and eyeballs it. “Less than a teaspoon, Sir. Too hot for you?”
“No.” Fuck, yes. I may never be able to taste another thing. “Bring that bottle with you when lunch is done. I’ll find a use for it later.”
Bren gulps and nudges the bottle around behind her glass with her finger.
“Mmm, not so funny when the tables are turned, is it, girl?”
“Worth it for the look on your face, Sir.”
“We’ll test that theory later.”
“Sir.” She toys with a pile of cucumbers and shredded onion that looks similarly tampered with, her eyes following the motion of her fork, not meeting mine.
“There’s a thing tonight. Some of the house subs are going.
It’s just drinks. Maybe two or three hours.
It’s just, it might be my last chance to go as a house sub. ”
We talked about her taking a hiatus from the club, but not about it being a permanent break. That she’s looking at it that way makes warmth bloom in my chest.
I slide my hand over her shoulder and under the fall of jewel-toned dreadlocks that she’s left long and loose today. I cup her nape and rub my thumb up and down the long tendon in the back of her neck. “Are you asking for permission to go?”
Her shoulders drop an inch. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I’m very pleased with you. You have permission. I’d like your company afterwards but if you’d like a night off, I’ll head over to Logan’s.”
She’s shaking her head, her dreadlocks brushing over my forearm, before I even finish. “I don’t need a night off, Sir.”
I lean in and kiss her temple. “Good to hear. Gimme a bite of something that won’t strip the lining off my damn tongue.” She forks up some pulled pork and gives me a big bite. After I enjoy its smoky sweetness, I ask, “Where’re you convening for drinks?”
“We start at a bar called Chicklets about three blocks from here and usually end up in the nightclub.”
“That’ll work. We’ll meet you at the bar in the nightclub when you’re done. How d’you feel about bourbon, girl?”
“Never tried it, Sir.”
“Mmm, you can try a sip of mine and if you like it, I’ll treat you to a glass. That means no scening tonight. It’s potent stuff.”
Her eyes finally rise to me and she gives me puppy eyes that would have done Pop’s spaniel proud. “No sex?”
“Didn’t say that. We might have to try something really crazy, like vanilla.”
Bren chuckles. “Hard limit, Sir.”
I pinch the nape of her neck. “Now, you know that’s just a challenge, girl. Should we make a little wager on how many orgasms I can get out of you with plain old vanilla sex?”
She shivers under my hand. “Sucker bet.”
“That’s right, girl.” I draw her to me until I can nose aside her dreads and nip the soft shell of her ear. “I don’t need fancy toys to make you come. Just my cock in one of your warm holes and my voice in your ear. If you’re a good girl, I’ll even play with those pretty tits.”
She shivers harder. “Sir.”
“Yeees,” I drawl. “Something you need more than the rest of your lunch, girl?”
She pokes the cucumbers again with her fork. “Food here’s really good, Sir.”
Oh, that smart mouth.
“It is,” I concede, picking up a mini sandwich and checking it for excess hot sauce before I wolf it down. “I think orgasms are better. But that’s probably just me.”
I trace my finger up and down the back of her neck, just to get her shivering again.
“Sir.”
Such a sweet, needy whine.
“Eat up, girl. If it’s better than orgasms, don’t let it go to waste.”
She wriggles in her chair. “Sir.”
“Take your shirt off. Down to your bra. I want to see those pretty tits while I finish this better-than-orgasms lunch. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you come while I fuck that ass later.”
Brenna shudders, but unbuttons the white dress shirt she’s wearing.
Is that my shirt? I think it is. Bold girl, stealing my clothes.
She’s wearing a white lace camisole underneath that looks stunning against her colorful skin.
When she left Logan’s this morning, she was wearing a sweatshirt with a gold heart over the left breast circled by the letters “IDGAF.” I had no idea she had all of this hidden underneath. Sneaky girl.
She drapes the shirt over the back of her chair.
The table’s gone silent as she’s disrobed, and Bren flushes a gorgeous shade of pink with all the eyes on her.
She’s been naked in front of everyone at the table, I’m pretty sure, but it’s different when I’m making her undress while everyone else is fully clothed.
Under the camisole, pushing against the soft fabric, her nipples are tight points.
No barbells today by the outlines, which is a shame; I absolutely love the blue metal against her pink skin.
She shifts in her chair and keeps her eyes on the food.
I soak up her sweet, embarrassed arousal.
Conversation starts up around the table again and I whisper into her ear, “I can’t see those tits, girl. Don’t hide what’s mine from me. Push the straps off your shoulders and let the camisole fall down to your nipples.”
She squirms so hard I think she might be on the edge of an orgasm, but she does as she’s told, flicking the camisole straps off her shoulders and letting the silky fabric slip down until it’s clinging to her nipples. She’s crimson all the way down to the edge of the camisole.
“Beautiful, girl,” I purr in her ear. “That’s what I want to see. Close your eyes while I feed you. Honor blindfold.”
Her fluttering eyelids close and she goes nearly limp under my hand. I spoon up some of the incendiary-looking cucumbers and hold them to her lips. She opens her mouth without hesitation.