Page 21 of Sinful Mafia Santa
“Can you stand?” I ask Aeryn. Obediently, she tries, swaying on legs that have been pushed to their limit. I cup my handsunder her elbows, relishing her weight as she steadies herself with fingertips to my shoulders. “Good girl,” I say.
Her blush is like sunrise.
I have a club to manage. A Masquerade to maintain. But the clock is ticking closer to midnight and members will be leaving soon, calling it a night, heading home for more mundane holiday festivities. It’s Sunday, and tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
I wrestle a cell phone out of my pocket. “Flynn,” I say when my chief of security picks up on the first ring. “I’m heading out early. Call if any emergencies come up.”
“There won’t be any emergencies, boss.”
There won’t be. That’s why I pay Flynn like a C-suite executive of a Fortune 500 company.
Aeryn is steadier on her feet now, but she’s starting to shiver. I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. She pulls the lapels close, setting her teeth to keep from chattering.
I collect her shoes and the damp black scrap that used to be her panties. She holds out her hands for her things, but I shake my head. The panties go in my pocket, next to my cell phone and keys. I dangle her shoes from two fingers as I lead her out of the Heart.
As I expected, the Secret Santa participants are putting their holiday gifts to good use. A few of the couples in the public playrooms have garnered spectators, but the crowd is thinning rapidly. My bartender stands alone in the center of the Great Room. Over in one of the conversation pits, two men are pumping some ropy Christmas cheer over a woman wearing nothing but a mistletoe collar. The rest of the space is empty.
When we reach the greenroom door, I brush Aeryn’s hair from her face. “Are you okay to get dressed on your own? I can send someone in to help.”
“I’m fine,” she says. As if to prove her words, she leans in for a kiss. Her lips part before mine do. I may own the club, but I’m not made of fucking steel. I cup the back of her neck and draw out the kiss until she moans into my mouth.
“Go,” I say, pulling back enough to catch a lock of her hair around my finger. She tries to steal another kiss, but I force myself to step away. “Take your time. I’ll meet you in the lobby.” I hand over her shoes like a man giving away a fortune.
She passes through the door to the greenroom, my tuxedo jacket swaying over the curve of her ass. The black wool covers my handiwork, but I know her creamy skin must be flushed crimson. She’ll be bruised by morning, something I’d apologize for if I didn’t know how much she’ll crave the reminder of what she endured.
Aeryn was always brave—letting me be her first, allowing me to gag her, then pushing for so much more.
But she has a quality that makes her even more valuable as a sub: Shetrusts. Once she’s committed to a Dom—to me—she shimmers with absolute faith in his commands. I don’t know another woman who could do what she did tonight—find the nerve to come to the club in the first place after ten long years, then take the full force of an unrestrained spanking in front of strangers.
She did it for me. Because I knew she could.
The door closes, and I curl my fingers into fists to keep from following her into the greenroom.Thatwould give Kynk an unexpected holiday spectacular—Flynn wrestling me out of my own club’s safe space. He wouldn’t hold back as he dragged me down to the cell in my own office. Rules are fucking rules.
Aeryn will need a few minutes. That gives me time to swing by said office, to pick up a few necessities and log out of my computer.
Back in the lobby, I text Curtis and tell him to bring around the car. After that, I chat with Felicia, asking about her holiday plans. Kynk is closed two days a year—Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I didn’t set the calendar because of anyone’s religious beliefs. I’ve just learned over the last eight years that Christmas has a way of locking down even the strongest kinks.
Aeryn finally steps out of the greenroom looking exactly likewhat she is—a submissive who just experienced the most earthshaking orgasm of her life. Her lips are swollen from our kissing. Her hair is tousled. Her eyes look sleepy, even though she smiles when she sees me.
She’s wearing a dark green sweater dress, covered by her wool coat. My jacket is folded over her arm. Her ankles sway in her stilettos.
I brush my fingers against the torn lace in my pocket. She shivers, as if we’re connected by a live electric wire.
“Have a good night, Felicia,” I say, not taking my eyes off Aeryn.
“Good evening Mr. Rider. Ms. Reardon.”
Both security guards step forward to open the door.
Curtis waits at the curb. Aeryn climbs into the back first, sucking in a sharp breath as she settles on the leather seat. I bite back a gloating grin.Idid that.Iset her flesh on fire. All because she trusts me.
As Curtis takes his place behind the wheel, he finds my gaze in the rear-view mirror. He’s waiting for instructions, for a destination. I’m waiting too.
Aeryn doesn’t hesitate. She leans into my side and whispers, “Let’s go home.”
I let out a caged breath, surprised to discover how much I care. “Home,” I say to Curtis, and I press the button that raises the privacy screen.
Aeryn needs food and drink, and she needs salve on her bruising skin. She whines, though, when I lean forward to open the cooler across from our seat. There’s champagne in there and a bottle of Grey Goose, a bottle of Glenfiddich too. But I skip over those and crack open a bottle of Voss water, helping her hold it so she can drink.