Chapter 41 Ten
Ten
A week passed, and Shay, Kate, and the club continued to consume Emma’s thoughts.
She’d tried to e-mail Kate once more, but gave up trying to reach her when there was no response.
She realized she’d walked out of the club that night without so much as a goodbye to Kate, but she’d assumed they would talk later.
What was it with the Marquis Club members?
They were like a high school clique. If you were in, you were everything. If you were out, you were dead?
Except that Shay had appeared like a dark knight to save her.
She thought about him constantly. She dreamed of doing scenes with him.
Often she fantasized about him coming into her actual room…
punishing her with a spanking for leaving the club and then tying her down and making love to her.
Could it be considered making love? She supposed she ought to just call it sex.
It wasn’t only Shay that she wanted. The club was in her dreams and fantasies, too.
She even had a strange dream where she and Rory had a heated argument and then he spanked her and bound her to the St. Andrew’s Cross and had sex with her while Kate held her hand and talked about a psychology class they were taking together.
On the surface, it seemed weird and creepy, but she’d woken up damp between her legs and aching for release.
She couldn’t keep images of the men of the club out of her head while masturbating.
She imagined herself tied with her legs spread, being used hard by Shay for an audience.
With the club in mind, her self-induced orgasms were stronger than they’d ever been.
School was busy, and at least that was a good distraction. She’d killed on her last economics exam, so was on track for a perfect semester.
On a Saturday afternoon, she got a text message from Kate. Her heart leaped. For two days, she’d been thinking of leaving Kate a message that she wanted to come back to the club. It was perfect timing to hear from her.
When Emma opened the message, she was surprised by the contents.
Randall back in America. Wants me to give him your contact info. May I?
She glared at the phone. “What about: How are you, Emma? What about: I’m sorry I haven’t returned your message and yes, I do still want to be your friend and yes, I will help you get back into the club?” Emma scowled and shook her head.
“Or better yet…what about: everyone really wants you to come back to the club and if you do, I’ll break up with Rory in real life so you, and I can go club-hopping on our own.
How about: Shay is waiting for you to admit you made a mistake and then he’ll let you back in, so just tell him you’re sorry and everything will be okay.
” Emma thumped the phone down into the mattress, sighing.
“I should just go club-hopping with the girls from my economics class and forget about everyone at ‘the club that shall not be named.’”
She picked up the phone and stared at the message.
Shay, Kate, and everyone else from the Marquis had written her off as a waste of their time, except this Randall person.
He must have heard that she’d quit the club.
Did he plan to try to lure her back? If so, it could be a way to return gracefully, without having to beg Kate to talk to her or hiring a private detective to find a number for Shay.
Shay was, it turned out, ridiculously hard to find. Why weren’t these people on social media?
“Yes, goddamn you, Master J, you know-it-all. I should worry about a girl who needs a club and doesn’t have one.” Now that she’d seen the club, it was larger than life for her. She couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing it again.
She answered Kate’s text.
Sure, go ahead. Hope you’re okay. Miss you.
She set the phone down. Twenty minutes later when it rang, she hoped it would be Kate, but instead she heard a rough English accent.
“Hello, Emma. It’s Randall Lawford. We have mutual friends. I’d like to come ‘round and pick you up. How does eight suit you?”
Wow, he works fast. And goes straight for what he wants. Very much a Dom. Even thinking the word gave her a little tingle.
“Where would we be going, Mr. Lawford?”
“Why don’t I surprise you?”
She bit her lip. What if he didn’t plan to take her to the club? Did she still want to meet him? Her heart pounded.
“Mr. Lawford, I’m not sure. A lot’s happened recently. I’m doing some thinking.”
“Of course. But you can’t discuss the things on your mind with just anyone. We’ll meet, you’ll tell me what happened, and we’ll sort out what to do about it.”
That sounded great. “Yes, that would be okay.”
“Grand. Have you eaten, love?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Save your appetite.”
An hour later, she wore a black dress that didn’t fit as well as she would’ve liked. She reasoned that if they went to the club, she’d borrow something Coral had left for her. If they didn’t go to the club, the boring, ill-fitting black dress wouldn’t matter.
At eight, her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Miss Emma. I’m downstairs.”
Emma blinked, confused. This man’s voice definitely wasn’t English. “Sorry, who is this?”
“Mr. Lawford’s driver. I’m here to collect you.”
“Oh.” She paused. Don’t guys drive themselves places anymore? “I guess that’s all right.”
Emma rode the elevator down and pushed out onto the street. The driver handed her a large bouquet of purple orchids that must have cost a fortune. Kate’s comments about Randall’s generosity came rushing back. If she took the orchids, what would he expect in return?
Emma slid into the back of the silver limo and was whisked away from the curb.
“All right, Cinderella. Off to the ball you go again,” she murmured.
Randall’s house looked like an actual castle. There were turrets. Her jaw dropped at the brass bell pull. Seriously?
She expected a butler or a maid to answer the door, but instead it was a cocker spaniel who greeted her.
Emma smiled. “Hello, cutie. Who are you?” she asked, bending to pet the excited dog. She glanced up, and her eyes widened.
Randall was around six-feet tall and looked, despite the trousers and button down shirt, like he could’ve starred in Gladiator.
He was good-looking despite a scar over his right eyebrow and a slight crook in his nose.
He had brown hair peppered with gray and a gleam in his eye that immediately made her nervous.
He spoke into the phone he held, saying, “Colin, one-point-five million. Not a penny more. Don’t call back. I’ll be busy.” He disconnected and set the cell on a small table in the entryway.
“For once the rumors are true,” he said with a smile. “You’re bloody gorgeous. Stand up and let me look at you.”
She petted the dog’s head, not really wanting to stand.
“It’s an old dress. I hate to shop,” she confided as she finally released the dog and rose.
He looked her over. “Your body’s much too good for that dress. It’s a crime against nature for you to be wearing it. You don’t like to shop? You’re as rare as a pink pearl, aren’t you? In more ways than one. Come with me,” he said, walking to an enormous staircase and ascending the stairs.
She hesitated then followed him, and the dog followed them both.
He led her into what she presumed was a guest bedroom. There were boxes and bags stacked everywhere. He dug through them until he found a large garment bag, pulled the zipper down and nodded. He turned and held out a dress.
“Put this on.”
“Mister Lawford, I really can’t accept an expensive designer dress.”
“How do you know it’s designer?”
“Because I’ve been to your house.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a man can’t buy a dream girl a dress.”
She laughed and said softly, “That’s laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”
“I do. If you’re going to lay it on, it should be a bit thick, don’t you think?”
She blushed. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, I am. Put the dress from the bag on or don’t. But you’ll not wear that black one to dinner with me. It doesn’t suit you.”
She stared at him.
“Take off the black,” he said in a Dom voice that did things to her.
“This isn’t the club,” she whispered.
“There’s no need to be scared. It’s the same rules here as at the club. Nothing happens to you that you don’t want.”
She nodded, relaxing a little. “If I have to change clothes, I’d like you to wait in the hall.”
“Done.”
He stepped out and closed the door.
Her hands shook as she finished unzipping the garment bag.
The gown was rose satin with delicate gold beading, and it was beautiful.
She took off her black dress and slid the other one on.
It was cut to fit someone like her and shimmered over her breasts and hips like a silken waterfall.
In the mirror, she looked like a 1950s movie star. It almost made her cry.
Her shoes didn’t match. She left them off.
When she opened the door, she said, “You were right, Mr. Lawford. The black didn’t suit me.”
He looked her over and whistled. “I’m buying a one-and-a-half-million-dollar painting I won’t enjoy half as much as seeing you in that dress.” His voice was warm with approval that overwhelmed her.
Tears filled her eyes. “Mr. Lawford, could I kiss you on the cheek without you taking it the wrong way?”
“Probably not, but kiss me anyway.”
She stepped forward and stood on her tiptoes. He bent his head, and she kissed his cheek.
“As sweet as it gets,” he said. “Come downstairs. Let me feed you oysters and champagne and strawberries while you tell me why I had to track you down rather than meet you at the club.”
She sucked in a breath and exhaled. “I’m afraid you’ll think I was wrong for leaving.”
“I bet you’re right, but tell me anyway.”
She padded down the stairs and followed him into the enormous kitchen. There were a couch and chairs in a nook near a door leading to a sunroom, and a kitchen table that could’ve seated eight.
They sat, and she ate food that tasted like it had been prepared by angels.
She drank peach mimosas and when she started to talk about her night at the club, she couldn’t stop until she’d spilled the last detail.
He picked up her hand and pressed her knuckles to his mouth, then set it down. He got up and walked to the fridge and brought a dish of mini cherry cheesecakes to the table.
“Have one of those.”
“I’m pretty full,” she said. “But they look delicious.”
“Eat one for me.”
She smiled. “Do you have a fetish for watching women eat decadent food?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
She bit into the dessert. It was delicious. She licked her lips and held the rest out to him. He tipped his head forward and opened his mouth, taking the cheesecake and the tips of her fingers inside. He bit her fingers gently as he pulled his head back and swallowed.
“All right, let’s get you out of here before I become the black devil I’m rumored to be. Come along, love.”
She followed him outside and dropped into the back of the limo, feeling woozy.
“How many mimosas did I have?” she asked.
“Just enough,” he said.
“I don’t like shopping because of my mom.
She’s a former Miss Ohio. Even though she’s older now, she still looks fantastic.
My sisters look like her. Big boobs. Tiny waists.
Legs for miles like freaking giraffes. I was always chubby.
At first I didn’t even have the breasts.
She made us all shop together, and in the dressing room, she’d grab my extra flesh and lecture me.
My sisters would snicker and tell her all the ways I’d cheated on my diet that week.
” Emma closed her eyes. “I wish she could see me in this dress.”
“So do I,” he said.
“She’d probably still criticize me. Even in front of you.
She never cared who heard or if she hurt my feelings.
She thought if she humiliated me, I’d have an easier time sticking to my diet.
But it never worked. I think sometimes it made me eat more.
Maybe it’s better that she’s not here. I’ve had a nice time with you.
I wouldn’t want you to hear the mean things she’d say. ”
“Oh, my love, no one will ever say mean things to you in front of me. I cut the heads off snakes and use their skin to make boots.”
She descended into giggles. “You wouldn’t let her?”
“Oh no.”
“How would you stop her?”
His voice was deep and sure. “I have my ways.”
She smiled. “I bet you do. I should try harder to cut her off when she starts in on me. But it’s tough when it’s your mother… Hey, we left your castle, huh? Where are we going?”
“It’s time for the princess to go back to the dungeon.”