Free Longing: Club Inferno by Jamie K. Schmidt Page B

Clint said, hanging up.
    “Yeah, hard limits,” Anya said to herself as she emptied her drawers looking for something to wear. She settled on a black corset with matching panties and a red garter belt. Attaching black silk stockings, Anya wished she had the guts to just wear that and a pair of heels. But she slipped on an ASOS red swing dress with a low crisscross back. Leaving her hair bed-tossed and wild, she ran her fingers through it with a drop of styling product to give it some texture. She did her eyes big and smoky, with eyelashes you could see from the space station, and topped it off with ruby-red lipstick. Her shoes were killer pumps that had a band of sparkly crystals across the toes.
    She made it to the dungeon in what she considered a compromise, twenty-five minutes.
    “Hi, Axe,” she said to the bouncer, who was running the elevator.
    “Hi, gorgeous,” he said. “You doing anything tonight?”
    “I’m going down,” she said suggestively, and reached across him to press the button to the dungeon level.
    “Who’s the lucky fellow?”
    Anya shrugged one shoulder just as the doors opened. Clint stood there, his bare arms crossed over his naked chest.
    She expected him to be glaring at her or doing the “Dom thing,” but his wide, appreciative grin had her preening.
    “You look beautiful,” he said.
    “Some guys have all the luck,” Axe said as he pressed the elevator button.
    Clint hooked his arm through hers.
    Shivering as his bare flesh hit hers, she pressed in closer. “I hear it’s role-play night. Do I dress up as Red Riding Hood and you get to be the Big Bad Wolf?”
    “My, what big…” Clint dropped his eyes to her cleavage.
    He caught her hand when she went to whack him. A tingle of that fear/arousal thing went through her again, and she caught her lip between her teeth.
    “Why don’t we find a private place and we can discuss our scene.”
    “Scene?” Anya balked. “I’m not putting on a show for people. I told you I’ve got stage fright.”
    “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
    Anya narrowed her eyes. “You mean that? I thought Doms liked to get their own way.”
    “We do. It’s just that your pleasure is going to be my pleasure.”
    Stumbling, she felt her face redden. He led her through dark corridors that echoed with the sound of the whip and lash. Tortured and ecstatic shouts cried out in the dark. Anya nearly bumped into him when he stopped to open a door that she didn’t even know was there. The room he guided her into was about the size of a large closet. A king-size bed took up most of the room. He tumbled her onto it, following her down. Leaning up on his elbow to look at her, Clint eyed her from the top of her head to her already curling toes.
    Anya smoothed her dress, which had ridden up over her thighs, but Clint brushed it back up. “Why did you wear the garters if you didn’t want me to see them?”
    The garters, yes. Her thighs, not so much.
    “So now what?” she asked, trailing her fingers over those washboard abs.
    Stretching, he let her pet him. “Tonight is a role-playing fantasy. We can stay here and act it out, or we can get dressed up in costume and walk around for a bit.” His fingers caressed her under the garter.
    “I want you to finish the choking story.”
    Clint rolled on his back. “It’s a better visual.” He tapped his thighs. “Straddle my legs.”
    “Are you serious?” Anya said. She knew better than to be shocked, and after he’d fingered her to an orgasm in a room full of people, she really didn’t want to be shy. Hiking up her dress, she threw her leg over him.
    His hands went to her waist and settled her closer so her core rested on the hard bulge of his cock. Anya froze. Was she crushing him?
    “So she was on me, like this—only I was deep inside her.”
    Anya was mesmerized by the sensual look in his eyes. She traced the full curve of his lower lip and he nipped at her fingers.
    “Mistress Claire had your