In short, he dripped with the essence of an entirely different person than the guy Dante usually knew as his best friend.
“Shit.” His stunned mutter was due to more than just the wardrobe change, even more than the “Master Mark” who’d unveiled himself during their conversation at Delilah’s on Thursday. Dante still couldn’t believe where
that
casual meeting had gone. He’d learned more about his friend in one hour than he had in the previous three years. Amazing, eye-opening stuff that had helped him learn and accept a huge part of himself in the process. He’d heard about Mark’s own discovery of his Dominant side, followed by the blessing of meeting and marrying Heather. He’d also watched his friend get out the difficult truth of how it had felt after she’d died, how he hadn’t even tried seeking a new submissive, for he’d basically concluded such a miracle was impossible. Then he’d watched new life burst onto Mark’s face when he began talking about Rose.
The words Mark had given him then were what made him finally agree to this crazy plan tonight.
“Dante, my friend, when the gods smile upon a Dom with the gift of a subbie with a spirit, a will, a heart, and an ass that fit perfectly with him, then that Dom is an idiot not to fight for her. Fully. Fervently. Ferociously.”
So here he was, still shaking in his boots—literally—though he made a good pretense of relaxed as he moved to greet his friend, giving him the once-over again. “Well.” He chuckled. “What a difference an hour and some leather can do to a guy.”
Mark spread his arms, showing off the gauntlets. “They were a birthday gift from Rose. She gets all gooey when she sees me in them.” He smirked. “So needless to say, I wear them to bed every night.”
Dante chuffed. “Marker Man, I think you’d do just fine without them.”
Mark’s attention switched to Celina. Though his smile warmed, not a shred of his commanding demeanor lessened. “Good evening, sweet girl.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. “That navy uniform didn’t do you justice. She’s stunning, Dante. No wonder you’re here fighting for her.”
He grinned in gratitude. Mark always came through with the words to make
him
shine. “Damn straight,” he affirmed, pulling her close. A little more hope spiked when he felt no resistance in the press of her body.
“And, ummm, what exactly is ‘here’?” she asked then.
“Welcome to Dark Escape,” Mark replied. “Let’s say it’s a clubhouse…for special kinds of fun and exploration. Don’t worry, Celina. It’s very private, members only. Your identity is safe.
You’re
safe. It’s the first point of what we’re here to help you explore tonight. It’s also the most important.”
That was when she pressed a hand to Dante’s ribs and tried to push away. “Look, I—I’m not some repressed submissive, waiting to discover my sexual freedom and—”
“Funny,” Mark replied. “That’s nearly word for word what my sweet pet said before she let me unleash her.” He gave a cocky wink. “Of course, she looks so pretty
on
a leash too.”
Celina gasped. Dante glared. “Not helping, man!”
“Sorry. It slipped. Honestly, Inferno.”
He ignored his friend’s little smirk, yanking Celina close again. This time he stepped in front of her, bracing her face and making her look up at him. “What have I asked you for, stellina? I haven’t taken more than a kiss from you tonight. My purpose is to
give
you something. Understanding. Awareness. To know that what we tasted Friday night wasn’t something weird or wrong—that it was beautiful, right, and rare. Mark and Rose have agreed to help us see more of that.” He brushed her temples with his thumbs, relieved to see tiny glimmers of interest in her gaze. Reluctantly, he dropped one hand to curl it against hers. “You can handle thirty minutes of enlightenment, can’t you?”
Though conflict still skittered across her face, she finally gave him a jerky nod. “All right.”
Her fingers trembled against his, and he lifted them to his lips. Without another word, he led her to the large leather chair tucked in the corner, a twin to the one they’d just shared back in the anteroom. Like before, he sat, then pulled her into his lap. But unlike then, her limbs were now stiff logs in his hold. She didn’t spare him a glance. Tension wrapped her. Again, this was either really great or really shitty for his cause. He glanced at his watch. He now had twenty-nine minutes to figure out which one.
Chapter Ten
Shit, shit, shit.
If her heartbeat didn’t pummel her chest to the point that it hurt, Celina would’ve written this off as a dream. An insane, bizarre,
why the hell did I just dream all that?
kind of thing. A secret bondage club? Hidden in the Willis Tower? With Mark Moore and his wife as members? And her, sitting here about to watch them, with Dante Tieri’s lap as her voyeur post?
She took it back. This
was
a dream. Which meant she was about to wake up and wouldn’t have to process any more of what was going on. She wouldn’t have to deal with how much faster her pulse kept speeding, or how that beat of hot blood made itself most known in the folds between her legs, where she was discernibly, uncomfortably soaked now.
A dream. A dream. Wake up! Wake up!
But her breath came faster as Dante eased her deeper against his chest. His own heartbeat felt magnificent beneath her ear, especially when the playroom door opened again, and Rose Moore came into the room.
Mark Moore was a stunning man, but he turned radiant when turning and seeing his wife, who wore her mahogany hair long and loose and had dressed in a stunning black shift. Celina was riveted by his face. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a look of such deep devotion before. But her fascination turned to total absorption when she watched how Rose looked back at him. The woman went from sublime to glowing in the five seconds it took her to reach her husband. Her dark eyes turned to rivers of deep emotion. She closed them in bliss as Mark grabbed her scalp, pulled her head back, and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Celina swallowed hard as the kiss went from possessive to carnal. She wondered how Rose summoned the self-control to keep her hands at her sides as her husband kissed her longer, harder. She watched as Rose’s hands curled on themselves, fighting the urge to touch him. Even that was strangely moving, especially when Mark used his other hand to bracket her cheek, stroking her there with steady, certain command.
The moment felt so raw and intimate, Celina forced herself to look away. But she didn’t find much relief in the doing. Her face ended up inches from Dante’s. How long had he been watching her? More importantly, how long had those new dark amethyst glints been in his gaze, like he craved to kiss her in the exact same way? She knew it took about three seconds for
her
mind to be consumed with the thought. And the tissues of her sex to flood with the hot, beating need.
Mark’s growl actually came as a welcome attention grabber. Celina looked up to find he’d released his wife from their kiss with the sound. As soon as he did, Rose dropped her head, then the rest of her body. Celina watched in fascination as Rose slid to her knees before her husband, her hands dropping to the tops of her thighs, her body a beautiful line of perfect posture. In return, Mark’s hand never left her hair. He rotated his hand in deep, sensual movements, almost as if massaging her, letting out an even more primitive sound as she leaned into his thigh, sighing in pleasure.
Celina didn’t want to love what she watched. A woman sinking to her knees for a man, from just a kiss? Then practically snuggling his crotch like a kitten, coaxed only by his touch? Forget about shoving the woman’s movement back by a hundred years. This spun the gender role clock back to the Stone Age.
But maybe that’s what felt so right about it.
She watched more closely as Rose lifted her face and smiled at Mark. His stare was completely wrapped in her too. They looked at each other like they were the only man and woman in the world. Their bond was formed with a language that needed no words, entwined with an energy that was part of their DNA. A man and his mate. A leader and his helper. Primal and simple, yet more complex and perfect than every damn psychology book out there.
Celina slanted her head as another revelation struck her. At Friday’s party on the dance floor, Rose Moore had been the embodiment of the modern sass-and-fire wife. But at the feet of her man, she was a woman come full circle in herself. She hadn’t given up any part of herself to do this. She’d added to all of it—with a magnificence that made Celina smile.
“You please me, pet,” Mark murmured then. He stroked the top of her head.
“Thank you, Master,” she replied.
“You remember your safe word, honey?”
“Yes, Master. It’s ‘worth.’”
“Perfect. You also remember we have visitors tonight, yes? Are you going to help me show them more ways you can be good?”
She leaned her cheek into the palm he pressed against it. “Oh yes.” An eager smile parted her lips. “Yes, I want to please you, and them.”
“Mmmm…yes, honey. So up with you now. On your feet, love.” He helped Rose stand again but released her right after she had her balance, then leaned against one leg of the large truss. “Take off the dress for me, pet. Look at me as you do.”
Celina took a shaking breath. With the grace of a dancer, Rose peeled her shift over her head. By tantalizing inches, her creamy skin and a red leather bustier with matching panties were exposed. The woman had the figure of a curvy Hollywood pinup idol, and that was clearly fine with her husband.
“Damn.” Mark’s gaze went visibly dusky, even from across the room. “The red leather. Oh, pet, you know how I love the red leather.”
Rose nodded but didn’t move otherwise. She must have given Mark a taunting look, because he broke into a hearty chuckle. “You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you? Daring minx. For that naughty tease, you’ll lose the corset first.” He stepped around her, backhanding a swat to her tush as he started toward the rack of handheld implements against the wall. “Off. Now.”
She tossed a pout at his back. “But I just put it on.”
Celina grabbed Dante’s hand before she could stop herself. Her knowledge of all this was a line drawing at best, but even she already saw that Mark Moore meant business tonight. She rested a little easier as she caught the smile Rose inserted at the end of her rebellion. Maybe the woman knew damn well what scary buttons she was pushing in her very authoritative husband.
But maybe not.
In a flash, Mark whirled back and caught Rose by the arm. “I know damn well when you put it on, pet.” All the gentle edges of his voice were gone. Low precision took their place. “But after you stepped through that door, who did it belong to?”
Rose’s answer came on a rough rasp. “You, Master.”
“And who says when it comes off?”
“You, Master.”
“And who did you turn your safety, your body, and your spirit to, when you came in here?”
“They all belong to you, Master.”
A guttural hum of approval accompanied his slide of fingers up over her bare shoulder, making Rose’s breasts pump against the corset with her rising heartbeat. She tilted her head, offering her neck to him, clearly begging for more. While Celina’s pulse surged the same direction, she again felt her head warring with her heart. To need a man’s contact that badly—it couldn’t be right.
Yet as Dante slid a hand up to her nape, gripping her with the same hard possession, she never craved anything more. Or felt more right in letting out a word of breathless entreaty. “Yes…”
Dante didn’t say anything. Neither did Mark. The Dom pivoted away from Rose, leaving her gasping and swaying as he went back to the rack on the wall. Rose quickly got to work on taking off her corset. It laced in the back but had hooks in the front, which she detached with urgent twists. Her breasts came free, the centers already tight and dark around nipples that were high and erect. She bit her bottom lip as she pulled the corset away. As a woman newly pregnant, just the kiss of the air was likely as stimulating as hell to her.
She was beautiful.
The fabric against Celina’s own skin suddenly felt like a straitjacket. It was a thought she should’ve pulled back as soon as she had it. She’d forgotten how Dante had that damn mental X-ray, and how he’d made a very good career of exploiting the talent.
In one smooth shift, he changed their positions in the chair. Suddenly, she was no longer in his lap. He pressed her forward over one of the wide arms, with the wall of his torso encasing her from behind. As her body acknowledged his nearness, her head tumbled further down the rabbit hole.
Just as he slipped a hand beneath her top and unsnapped her bra clasp.
“Yes!”
She was unable to control the exclamation, but felt awful about it. She and Dante were sexual spies, leeching on something special between this couple. But then Rose and Mark smiled her way together, almost like approval, as if her outburst were applause. Though they were across the room from each other, she felt clasped to Rose now, bound to her by a strange yet awesome sisterhood. Rose’s smile grew as if she recognized the connection too.
Sisters.
She’d never had a sister.
She shook her head, fighting that Lifetime movie stupidity. Why the hell was she reading so much into this? This was only about great sex. Wild, intense, off-the-charts sex, for certain, but—
“My my, pet.” Mark’s lust-heavy declaration was her perfect diversion. It looked that way for Rose too. The woman dipped her head as her Dom approached, though she sneaked peeks at Mark through the fringe of her dark lashes. She watched him latch a pair of suspension wrist cuffs into bolts along the top of the truss, her breasts shaking a little with her breaths, though she went utterly still as he swung to brace himself in front of her again. As he ran his gaze down her body in open appraisal, he murmured, “Much, much better.”
“Thank you, Master. I always want to please you.”
“And you do.” He lifted both hands to her breasts, stroking the coral nipples with his knuckles. “Damn, Rose…that child is already being good to these lovely tits.”