He would enjoy taking all that nervousness and channeling it into something more.
The small reception area was well lit and familiar, with wisps of music, thumps, and sounds of pleasure trickling in through the partially opened door on the other side. As a stranger, Jaz wouldn’t usually be allowed entry, but Liam had made calls ahead of time.
“Liam!” A raven-haired woman in a Shadow Cove T-shirt came out from behind the counter, her smile bright as she twined her arms around him. “You’re back. We’ve missed you.”
“Good evening, Solana.” Liam patted her back, but didn’t return the embrace. Then he gently pushed Jaz forward. “This is my guest for the evening.”
Solana’s smile stayed in place as she checked her computer, then turned to greet Jaz, but the expression held more politeness than warmth. The receptionist was one of the women Liam had played with before. She’d enjoyed herself thoroughly—he’d made sure of that—but like everyone else, she’d mistaken their time together for something more. It was one of the reasons Liam tried not to tangle with the same woman more than once.
“Welcome,” Solana told Jaz, the politeness slipping a bit. “The club safe word is red, and if you have any questions… Well, I imagine you have someone to help you along.”
Jaz must have picked up on the sentiment, because as he guided her toward the main room, she gave him a suspicious gaze. “Let me guess. Ex-girlfriend?”
“I don’t do girlfriends,” Liam answered with the same quiet voice she’d used. “Now quit stalling and let’s take a look.” With a sweep of his arm, he pulled Jaz against him, wanting to feel her body’s responses as they took in the room.
Shadow Cove was busy tonight, with most of the stations in use and lively chatter filling the seating area around the bar. On instinct, Liam surveyed the whole room with his gaze. The light was low, the music playing an upbeat tune that at least three couples were using to set various rhythms. On the left side of the room, a pair of women were playing with hot wax, the one lying faceup on the table arching up in obvious ecstasy as pearly heated drops slid across her full breast. A few yards past that, a shibari rope master spoke softly to a woman he had expertly suspended in the air.
Jaz studied both the scenes with curiosity, but her body tensed at a harsh flogging scene playing out past the ropes. Liam recognized Noah, the naked young man being flogged, as one of Shadow’s resident masochists—knew Noah was jerking against his restraints for a very different reason than Jaz imagined. Noah’s weighted nipple clamps clanked as he moved.
Jaz twisted away, her hand crossing protectively over her breasts. “How can he like that?” she whispered.
Liam stepped behind Jaz, pulling her back against him. Gritting his teeth against his cock’s sudden hardness, he ran his hands slowly over her arms, the curve of her hip, the tight swells of her breasts. He focused his thumbs on these, rolling the nipples into aroused bunches that hardened along with Jaz’s intake of breath. She wriggled against the sensation, her breathing quickening when Liam put a restraining arm around her waist. “You have sensations you enjoy too, little sprite,” he whispered against Jaz’s ear. “Don’t begrudge Noah his fun.”
She said something under her breath that might have been a curse, and Liam slid his free hand down her back, letting his palm rest in warning against her taut backside. He could feel her thighs clenching at the erotic threat, her responsive body tightening.
Damn it, but was there anything more tempting than the open sincerity of Jaz’s body? Ignoring the painful pulsing of his groin, Liam held his hand in place a few heartbeats longer, then released her completely.
Jaz shuddered, giving him a dark look as the arousal he’d brought her went unfulfilled. Rocking back on his heels, Liam put his hands in his pockets and stared down at her. Watched her shift her feet to ease the tension between her legs.
“Consider yourself punished,” he murmured, still holding her gaze.
“You—” Jaz swallowed what she was about to say, and the blush already touching her cheeks deepened.
Liam chuckled. Then, putting his hand in the small of her back again, he steered her toward something he had an inkling Jaz would find more appealing. Several people waved and nodded to him as they passed, a few of the women—some utterly naked—giving him hopeful looks, but the growing buzzing in Liam’s blood had nothing to do with them.
22
Jaz
Jaz stared at the naked woman bound against the wall. She wasn’t naked, exactly, but given that her corset covered nothing of her bottom half and had been unlaced at the top enough to let her breasts spill free, she wasn’t exactly dressed either. Her arms were raised over her head, the silk ribbons tying her wrists going to a mounted bracket on the wall behind her. A bar attached between her ankles kept her thighs spread for the man before her.
Tall and muscular, the man had short-cropped curly black hair, a golden tan to his skin, and the kind of bearing Jaz had learned to recognize as military training. Like Liam, he was dressed in dark slacks and a black shirt, though his was open halfway down his chest. As Jaz’s gaze continued to take him in, she realized that the man held a riding crop in his hand—the kind Kyan had in the barn for horses, except this one was turquoise in color. With slow, deliberate motions, the man dragged the crop along his partner’s arms. Breasts. Glistening inner thighs. Then higher.
The woman gasped as the small leather tip traced a line along her sex, back and forth across her folds. Her clit. She began to writhe, but the bar between her ankles kept her open. Pulling back the crop, the man wielding it slapped the moist leather against the fleshy part of her thigh, leaving a light pink mark. Again. Again. The woman bit her lip and panted, seemingly holding back her moans.
“Mmmm, very nice.” The man with the crop had a deep voice, and Jaz couldn’t stop herself from imagining Liam teasing her that way. Holding her that open and making good on the unspoken threat of his callused palm against her backside.
Jaz’s channel clenched over its emptiness, though for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why the thought of being exposed made her wet. Why the whole thing made her needy and weak-kneed and so damn aroused.
Behind her, Liam gave a soft, all-too-knowing chuckle.
Flame rushed to Jaz’s cheeks. She didn’t like how easily he read her. Didn’t like what image of her it painted. Recalling Liam’s prediction that she’d enjoy this scene, Jaz turned to glare at him. “Just to be clear—if you come at me with a riding crop, I’m taking it and beating you over the head with it.”
“Are you now?” Liam said mildly. Without taking his eyes off the scene, he stepped closer to Jaz. Ran his hands along her bare arms. And in a smooth, easy motion, gathered her wrists behind her back, trapping them in his large hand.
She pulled against the living handcuffs. Instead of loosening, the grip holding her cinched tighter in a strange reassurance.
Before Jaz could process the irony, the man before them exchanged the riding crop for a leather implement with a handle and dozens of suede thongs. He swung it against the woman’s skin, the light slapping sounds mingling with her growing gasps. Once her nipples were each standing out pebbled, proud, and a bit inflamed, he switched to the area between her legs, swiping up and down her folds and clit until her whimpering became loud, high-pitched groans. Just as those groans reached a fever pitch, he took the tip of the handle and entered her with it, uttering a demand at the same time. The woman climaxed, wailing at the top of her lungs, her ecstasy filling the room.