THEY’D MADE SURE Dennie and Annalee had all of Joy’s supplies, and they’d kissed their little girl a dozen times before Duff took Layla home to rest and change. Home these days was the house they’d just bought and were planning to remodel—a beautiful old New Orleans shotgun style with three fireplaces and a large studio in the back for Layla. The kitchen had been done before the baby was born, as well as one bathroom. Bit by bit, they were making a home together. How had she never known she’d wanted this until Duff had come into her life? There was even a white picket fence out front.
She’d taken a nice, long bath, submerging into the ritual of preparing herself, her head already sinking into subspace as she rubbed lotion into her skin. She’d dressed for him in a little black dress that fit her curvy body like a glove, making her glad that nursing had helped her lose most of the baby weight. Her body would never be quite the same again, but it had made a baby—a new life—and somehow that only made her feel the sacredness of her form. She had a new appreciation for everything these days.
She was quiet on the ride to The Bastille, and Duff let her be, knowing this was part of her process, how she transitioned into subspace, readying her mind for play and for the roles they assumed even before Duff began to prepare their scene space.
The doorman ushered them inside, and they walked into the foyer of The Bastille, where Pixie, the club’s manager, sat behind the enormous antique desk.
“Good evening, you two.”
“Evening, Pixie,” Layla said.
“No fee tonight for you guys. Go on in.”
Layla glanced at Duff, but he simply nodded. “Thank you. Nice of you.”
Pixie sent him a saucy wink, but Layla didn’t have time to wonder what was up before Duff slid a hand across the small of her back and guided her into the club.
Ambient music and low lights in shades of amber and red shone on the highly lacquered black walls and created the rich, sensual atmosphere she’d always loved about this place. But the club felt different to her, maybe because they hadn’t been there since the earliest days of her pregnancy. It took her several moments to realize the main play area was empty, then understanding forced its way through the momentary shock.
She turned to Duff. “What did you do?”
He slipped his big arm around her waist. “It’s for you, my lovely. We have the place to ourselves all night.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“Why? Because you deserve it. And because I could,” he answered, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I wanted you to be able to ease back into things—you’ve been away awhile. And I admit I wanted my girl all to myself tonight.”
She looked up into his glittering hazel eyes. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”
“‘Amazing’ hasn’t even begun yet, lovely,” he told her, one dark brow arched. Then, laying his hands on both her shoulders, he caught her gaze with his and held it. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Excited. And oddly nervous. I guess because it’s been a while. And the itch to play is . . . a little distracting.”
“Then I need to make you focus.” His tone dropped. “Look at me now, love. Hear my voice. I want you to breathe. Yes, you know exactly how—deep and slow, more slowly as you exhale. Look right into my eyes. Yeah, that’s it. Be with me. Be a part of me. Align your breath with mine.”
She did as he said, her body falling into rhythm with his breathing as he spoke, his low voice soothing her nerves, bringing her into the sphere of absolute connection he was such an expert at creating. When he pulled her black leather collar from his back pocket and buckled it around her neck, a shiver ran over her skin, arrowing deep inside her, and she sank deeper into subspace, feeling her submission to him in every cell of her being.
“You are mine, Layla. Say it.”
“I’m yours, Duff.”
She reveled in the sense of belonging as he took her through more synchronized breathing. It all went to work on her body as well as her mind, lighting her up inside with need. She had no idea how long it went on before he slid his hands down her arms, took her hand and led her to the play station in the center of the room, where two lengths of chain ending in a pair of padded leather cuffs were hung from a hard point in the high ceiling.
“I’m going to undress you now. To unveil you.”
She nodded, her mind already in that lovely, ethereal space he’d taken her to—a space filled only by love and desire and utter trust.
He slipped her dress over her head, pausing to lean in and kiss her cheek softly, and she closed her eyes for a moment with a sigh. Then he kissed her wrist before buckling her into one of the cuffs, and did the same with the other before working the pulley that drew her arms over her head, elongating her body.
“Such pretty lingerie, I had to leave it on. The pink lace is so lovely against your skin. And let’s leave your pretty heels on, too.”
Her stomach went tight with need when he ran his hands over her sides. He blazed a trail of hot kisses over her shoulders, the tops of her aching breasts, up one arm to her hand, where he kissed her palm, then her fingertips. Then, reaching into his back pocket, he came back with a leather blindfold.
She let out a small gasp, part fear, part anticipation. He was quiet as he slipped it over her eyes, adjusting it to make sure it was secure.
“Good girl. Breathe. Yeah. I like that you have no idea what I’m going to do to you. I love that element of surprise. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she murmured, desire running hot in her veins, in her pulsing sex, driving away the edge of panic that always came with being blindfolded. Panic, and a sense of freedom, of release.
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, then her lips, and she tilted her face, hungry for his mouth, but he pulled away.
“Ah, ah, don’t be too eager, princess. I’m running the show right now, and you’re in my hands. Give yourself over to me.”
She sighed, her body full of wanting so keen it hurt. But she took another cleansing breath and tried to calm herself, to force herself to comply.
“Better,” he murmured, running his hands over her skin. “So beautiful, my love. More beautiful than ever, I swear it.”
He kissed her stomach, grazing her skin with his teeth, and she shivered.
“You like that, do you? That little bit of pain?”
He slipped a hand between her thighs, making her gasp, but just as quickly he pulled away.
“You are going to kill me, you know,” she grumbled.
He laughed. “Oh, I think you’ll survive.”