Nancy's mouth twisted into a moue of distaste, and she absently reached up to touch the bottom of her braided reddish-gold hair. The newly trimmed ends were soft against her fingertips.
Bess sighed. "I know. It's kind of exciting, though, right?"
Nancy shook her head. "Not at all."
"You're gonna look hot, though."
Nancy's frown became a scowl. "This is such bullshit," she said, looking down at the outfit Bess had laid out for her. No, not the outfit—the key, hanging from a chain. The rest of it, in every way, was irrelevant.
Bess touched her hand. "Been a while."
Nancy gave Bess's hand a gentle squeeze, then released it so she could cross her arms.
I don't want him to see me like this.
She knew she was the best person for this particular part of the operation, given everything else. Before Ned, she wouldn't have given it a second thought, and that rankled her. She had been very explicit with Ned about who she was, about what their relationship would entail. It wasn't like any of this would be a surprise. He had been to a white club before.
He had never visited a white club, especially this kind, with her before.
And she wouldn't be herself—
The tension lifted a little. It would be playing a role, but it would be so very close to who she really was. She would just need to have a talk with him.
And he absolutely would not wear the white during their visit.
--
The SUV waiting for him was the familiar glossy black. Ned absently adjusted his cuffs as he approached it. He wore understated club casual, a charcoal button-down and and black pants, with the trace of eyeliner that Bess had recommended. After all, he needed to fade into the background as much as possible.
And Nancy, he saw, when he slid into the backseat of the SUV... wouldn't.
The sight of her made Ned feel both incredibly turned on and a little… alarmed, because she was sunk fully into the persona of a woman displaying the key—or she was just channeling it, this life she had lived before him. She had said that she had given up seeking partners, at least temporarily, and he had been in her life long enough to know that was true, that her relationship with him had begun extremely reluctantly. She didn't do things by half-measures, and now that they were official, now that she had accepted him, she didn't hit the white clubs looking for brief encounters.
The club they were visiting tonight was a variety of white club he had never visited before, although in all honesty Ned had visited only a handful, and they had all been on the vanilla end of the spectrum. From what Nancy had told him and the way she had trained him, this likely wasn't the kind of place she had frequented either.
"Mistress."
She turned her head to meet his gaze, and her blue eyes were ice cold. Her makeup was subtle—no heavy eyeliner or bold lipstick—but her cheekbones seemed higher, her expression more severe, in a way that likely involved Bess's handiwork. In the time that he had known Nancy, he could count on one hand the number of times he had seen her fully made up that didn't involve a formal House function. She always gravitated toward functional, utilitarian pieces.
So the tight black leather dress, square at the neck, vaguely like a bustier in style, was giving him definite ideas. Ideas that he ruthlessly channeled into the lessons that she had taught him. Her pleasure was tantamount, always, and this wasn't her.
She had never said it in so many words, but his mistress loathed any hint of vulnerability. This was vulnerability. Her accepting him, and the ways that she had let him know her... that was vulnerability too.
"I'm here to serve you."
A flicker of amusement, even affection, crossed her face, so quickly that the mask was almost immediately back in place. "The rules?"
"Stay a full step behind and to the right. Scanner is in my pocket. Make eye contact."
"And not a hint of white." She checked him over, and when she reached for his hand to flip over his arm, to see his inner wrist, that smile flickered again. He had inked a temporary tattoo there, one that wouldn't be mistaken for a bracelet.
"The date we met." She shook her head. "Such a romantic."
"I am," he agreed. His skin was tingling pleasantly from the contact with hers. If she was in the mood tonight and invited him back... well.
She sighed. "Doing this... being there. It may be by next weekend that I'll have you claimed, Nickerson."
His heart started pounding. "Nothing would bring me greater joy," he said quietly.
"Permanently." Her tone was hard—a threat, a promise. A need.
"Only that," he amended. "Only that would bring me greater joy."
Her voice was quieter, but her tone was no softer. "I am a jealous mistress. I need no one, but you will have no other."
He nodded, holding her gaze. Breaking it felt like it would mean disappointing her, showing somehow that he didn't take her or this commitment seriously, and he was definitely not willing to risk that.
She held his gaze a moment longer, searching his eyes, and evidently didn't find him wanting. She relaxed slightly, leaning back against her seat. "Don't drink anything, either. Just in case."
"Is that common, at this venue?"
"No. But it's not unheard of." She scowled. "The absolute height of betrayal. Cowards."
Ned settled back too, reaching for his wrist. The thought of seeing the braided black leather there made him a little terrified, but mostly ridiculously aroused. An official member of her House, who would retain his current position—they had been clear about that when they first began discussing it. He would be by her side, supporting her in whatever way he could, and he would share her bed. Regularly.
And he would be hers. Absolutely, totally hers. His personality and choices would remain his own, but in his relationship with her, his private interactions with her, her will was absolute and unquestioned. She accepted debate, pushback, a rundown of pros and cons on the job. But she had made it very clear that negotiation was off the table in the bedroom. Oh, she had always asked for his explicit consent—at first, he hadn't been sure what wearing the key meant, especially specifically to her—and he had enthusiastically given it. The goal was her, all of her, and having a place in her life. Once he had understood that the cost was giving her complete dominance—and pleasure—in bed, that had seemed like no price at all.
Seeing her slide out of the car and straighten, put her shoulders back, arrange her expression... her body was breathtaking, she was a striking woman, but he could see the tension still in the lines of her.
"Mistress."
His voice was quiet, and she closed her eyes briefly before she turned to glance at him. That icy gaze had softened, at least for a moment.
"If there's anything I can do for you, please tell me."
Her fingertips fluttered. Acting on instinct, he took a step toward her and raised his hand, not quite touching her.
And she reached for his hand and clasped it.
For another woman, he would have been disappointed... but for her, this was an almost unimaginable intimacy. For her to draw any kind of comfort or support from him... his entire body felt warm, abuzz with quiet joy.
"I'm not the person I'm about to be," she said. "Just remember that."
He nodded once.
She drew a deep breath. He didn't let his gaze slide down to her breasts.
Yet, anyway.
--
She could feel Ned's presence.
At some level, she had known that; they had been around each other often, especially lately. But this confirmation was...
Not unsettling. It meant that she had chosen well, too well. And it had taken her so damn long to accept him because at some level she had recognized that this was where they were heading.
She put it out of her mind. In a way, Ned had given her a stability she had never known before, never let herself imagine before. He would be there for her, no matter what; he had sworn it, and she had to believe it.
He was hers. Completely hers.
But... but that claiming wasn't official yet.
That was her choice, had been her choice. But bringing him here made her so acutely aware of it that it put her teeth on edge, set up an insistent warning in her head. She had brought him to a place where he would be seen as prey, even though she had done all she could to cloak him.
She strode into the club wearing the persona of a dom like armor. The decor was tastefully done, with a lot of brushed steel contrasting with gleaming chrome and supple leather. Clusters of people, those wearing the white—almost exclusively as braided leather bracelets—and those wearing keys, were chatting, flirting, gazing at each other with open interest. The air was thick with tension, with lust and need. Pain and pleasure.
She had considered this, once. But even imagining it hadn't tempted her to try it. Pain wasn't anything she relished.
But the woman who walked into the club did.
Nancy didn't exactly suffer from resting bitch face; she cultivated it, in fact, and only those who knew her well or who were being actively solicited by her House saw any other aspect of her. She was ruthless, businesslike, laser-focused. Amping it up a notch wasn't hard.
All members of her team had memorized the photo of the guest they were tracking down, and Nancy fought a sigh as she scanned the crowd around them. As she had dreaded, that person was nowhere in sight, which left the private spaces.
George caught Nancy's glance, and returned within a few minutes with a prescreened martini glass. George herself looked very comfortable here; her makeup and outfit were severe, and while she didn't wear a key, she radiated the same energy Nancy did. Like she was in the mood to absolutely destroy anyone with the audacity to look at her the wrong way.
Ned, on the other hand, just looked faintly bored, which Nancy imagined would be incredibly potent to some of the clubgoers around them. He was a stranger here, not the kind of person who would frequent this place, and he should have looked—well. Outraged, curious, and turned on, all at once. Instead, he was looking through everyone around them, tuned into whatever information was coming through his earpiece, as he scanned the crowd around them for their target and for any threats to her.
Nancy ran her hand over her hair and headed for the back, her heels sounding smartly against the concrete floor. Then the hallway: high-pile carpet, sumptuous velvet wall hangings feigning windows, gold filigree patterned paper. The sight was a grotesque Victorian brothel catering to those who hid their proclivities from most partners and sought enthusiastic participation.
From most rooms, they could hear various sounds: the smack of a riding crop, cries and moans, the impact of a palm against flesh. Nancy's mouth tightened even further.
"Down the hall," Ned murmured. He was holding a fingertip to his earpiece.
George was the one who spotted their quarry, ultimately. Nancy was itching for a resolution to the tension simmering in her blood since they had strode in, and the break was a relief. The witness was post-session and looked dazedly blissed-out and exhausted, and in need of a shower. Nancy was more than ready for one herself.
She had made the right decision when she had stopped visiting the clubs. Tonight was just cementing it. She had never felt comfortable fully immersing herself in the casual relationships that so briefly thrived on those nights, and what she had with Ned was so much more.
Nancy didn't stay in character—but in all honesty, she had never really been in character. She asked a few questions to confirm the witness's identity and presence at the event, then cut directly to the point. It took at least thirty minutes to work through the concerns and protests, fears about retaliation, so ending with a promise to record a deposition left Nancy feeling a step below elated. This wouldn't solve everything, but it was close, and going on the record about the espionage would make the witness an incredible resource. The contact had been hiding out, avoiding anyone who knew anything about the case, but this was somewhere… safe. Panic buttons, roided-out bouncers…
That was part of it, Nancy mused. The clubs were artificial, a prepared set for an expected series of acts, and it was all a game, complete with tourists. Those who wanted to gawk, get off on, dip a toe in, or otherwise just experiment. No one screened at the door for paper-bracelet voyeurs versus permanently tattooed veterans. No personality tests, counseling, cautions. The few people she had dated more than a handful of times hadn't been anything more than an entertaining diversion.
The man behind her had been so far off her radar that he hadn't existed. God. Just sharing a glance with him made her fantasize about all that could happen before they even found a bed.
Hell. They could easily get a room here.
She was trying to talk herself out of it when a tall woman, wearing the full armor of black leather bustier, stockings and a garter belt, and a whisper-brief thong, strode purposefully up to Ned and slapped his cheek with a loud crack.
Not the entire hall, but their immediate area, stopped with a communal hiss of indrawn breath to see what would happen.
Nancy turned a very cold gaze on the woman, whose blood-red lips were turned up in a smirk, her dark eyes dancing. "Where's your white, baby?" she crooned. "Need me to find it for you?"
"Touch my pet again and he'll end you." Nancy's voice was freezing, each word slow and deliberate.
The taller woman turned to Nancy and quirked up one brow. "Your pet," she repeated. "Here for a session? I'd love to participate. The rooms on the right have drains installed."
Nancy's pulse was pounding so hard that she knew it would be a visible throb in her neck. She was here and she needed to protect the witness, definitely until the testimony was recorded. "We've found our third," she said, gesturing toward George. "And our tastes are a bit more exotic than this place can accommodate."
The taller woman's other brow rose. Nancy sensed as Ned shifted his weight and glanced back to confirm it: their contact had faded safely into the crowd, escorted by another member of her staff. RFID tag was in place.
Nancy relaxed slightly, but only internally. Her spine remained straight, her expression icy.
"Lucky. Well, handsome, if she cuts you loose…" The taller woman's lips curled up in a smile that brought Nancy a half-step toward her, a possessive instinct to shield Ned with her own body.
But he didn't need that. And that tantalizing paradox made him all the hotter.
"I have one mistress," he replied, holding up his wrist to display the tattoo. "Forever." Then he looked over at Nancy, locking his gaze to hers. Absolute trust and faith in her shone in his eyes.
She needed no one.
No one save him. Immediately.
Without sparing a glance toward anyone else, Nancy took Ned's hand and left the club, bristling with impatience at the delay. Two other doms tried to lay hands on her pet; Nancy slapped one, and elbowed the other in the gut. The mood had shifted, become wilder, on the main floor in their absence, and Nancy was already spoiling for a fight. She wasn't holding herself back anymore, wasn't apologizing for shouldering through the press, and that drew more people into their wake. There was no way Ned wasn't hearing the appreciative, boldly speculative comments.
Fuck it. She couldn't bear this. If he wore the black, no one would dare risk offending her this way.
But then, she reflected wryly, this was exactly the place where they would try.
-
Ned wasn't exactly shaking when they returned to the SUV, but he was shaken. He'd been sized up as a piece of meat before, generally in far more controlled situations but also in white clubs, and he had never felt quite so unsafe.
He shook his head. While working with Nancy's House, he had put his physical safety and freedom on the line to help her and save missions. This had just been a bunch of horny clubgoers.
Still.
Her growl became a cry of frustrated rage in the backseat. She yanked the key away from her skin, swiftly taking the necklace off, treating the chain like the metal burned her; she hurled it into the front seat, and Ned relaxed slightly. Then she jerked her belt into position and fastened it.
She was his mistress. Seeing her advertising her availability, while he had known the entire time it was just part of her cover for a case—he'd had no right to feel so hurt by it, and he had known better than to mention that or let himself indulge in it.
"I'm sorry. That was inexcusable."
He swallowed. "There's a cache attached to being with me," he said quietly, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "More than just how physically attractive I am."
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"This lifestyle is new to you. You're being trained. Molded. A pristine virgin." When he glanced over at her, she was already tilting her head. "In the more important sense."
Ned snickered. "For a man?"
"For any pet. You're strong-willed, handsome, physically imposing, more naturally perceived as a dominant. You don't shrink back from conflict or naturally defer. Which makes your submissiveness a significant prize for a dominant. The chance to break—to break in, a strong partner."
He held her gaze, as he realized. "But you rejected me."
She blew out a long breath. "Yes."
"You didn't defend me. You just told her that I would hurt her." Ned searched her eyes. "Because your pet is that strong."
She nodded. He saw no apology in her eyes, nothing beseeching his understanding or forgiveness.
"Jesus."
"Next weekend. Private ceremony."
"I was part of your entourage but I wasn't wearing the black." Ned sat back, processing it all. "Fair game."
"Next week," she repeated, steel in her voice.
She hadn't liked it either. He had seen the rage snapping in her eyes, there at the end.
His heart shouldn't be this warmed by that. By her realizing that she could no longer wait to make their relationship official.
He locked his gaze to hers again. "Would you have asked me to kneel at your feet?"
She studied him. "Your devotion to me isn't a public performance, and our relationship isn't for tabloid consumption. Would it have aroused you, to humble yourself before me?"
"How would it be humbling?" His heart was pounding. "Displaying my devotion to my mistress. My only one. I will never doubt you or second-guess you. Whatever you ask me for, as long as it's within my power, it's yours."
Her eyes glittered. "Your place tonight. Is that all right?"
He nodded, and listened as she reeled off his home address from memory. The SUV changed course.
"My home is yours."
She shook her head. "I want you in the black. It's…" She growled again, more than frustrated.
The black. To be hers, claimed, forever. His cock immediately responded to that, and he worked hard to control his arousal. He wanted her so much, and knowing both that she was proud of who he was and she hadn't accepted him merely for that reason...
"I would wear it for you tonight."
With a snarl she unbuckled her belt and launched herself at him, landing in his lap, and her mouth was demanding on his, claiming, daring him to cry off. She wrapped her arms around him, and the points of her fingernails grazed his scalp.
He returned her kiss, letting her lead, letting her direct him. His hands rested on her hips, and when she bucked, he traced the hem of her dress with his fingertips. She growled and released his hair to touch his fly. He was already straining against it, and she nipped at the soft flesh just behind his ear as she palmed his cock.
Ned's eyes rolled back as he barely suppressed a frustrated grunt.
The trip back to his place wasn't long, but they still had to tug clothes back into place and swipe away errant smears of lipstick before he opened his door and circled the vehicle to open hers, hoping he wasn't walking too stiffly and knowing that it didn't matter. Staff from the other vehicle were already streaming into the apartment house lobby; her father was paranoid about Nancy's safety, and while Ned was aware of the perpetual passive surveillance he was under, he would have insisted on more for her himself.
No one in the group acknowledged why any of them were there, just that the building and his apartment had been pronounced secure. When Nancy slammed his door closed behind them and drove the deadbolt home, one of her security staff was standing guard outside.
It would have unnerved him, if every encounter they'd ever had hadn't been under the same circumstances. They had seen him come to her, so many nights, so desperate for a moment of her time or a fraction of her attention, nearly convinced that she would never return his feelings. They had seen him on his knees, demonstrating his devotion with no hope or expectation that it would be appreciated, commented on, even acknowledged in any way. Once upon a time, they had likely pitied him.
Now, what they had was beyond all he had ever let himself imagine.
"Bed. Now."
He hardly needed to be told. She was wrapped around him, her mouth hot and demanding, and her kisses left him reeling. He rebounded off a doorframe, nearly sent a potted plant crashing to the floor, and groaned in need when she tugged his earlobe with her teeth.
When she yanked down the zipper of her dress and shrugged it off, Ned's gaze lingered on her underwear, in the scant few seconds before she whipped it off too. Plain unadorned black that felt smooth against his skin before she drew it away. Then her mouth was fused to his again in another hot, demanding kiss as she unfastened his pants. As soon as she had sent them to his ankles with a rough shove, then tugged down his underwear in economical, gentle movements, she pushed him back onto his bed and straddled him.
Her lashes fluttered briefly as she palmed his cock. Her lips turned up, an almost predatory, anticipatory smirk.
"Are you ready?"
His body was responding on complete instinct as they hurtled toward this. "We're protected," he replied, breathless. It was his responsibility, and he was very conscientious about it.
Then she leaned over him, still gripping his cock, and filled the entire field of his vision, searching his eyes. "From this point on," she said, her voice a low growl that sent a shudder down his spine, "every drop of your cum is mine. I'm greedy for it, pet. You spend it inside me, at my request, or ask my permission. Is that clear?"
"Yes, mistress." Ned's heart was pounding so hard it threatened to choke him.
She paused. Her fingers were still massaging his shaft, and he knew he would die tonight. This would finally end him.
There could be no better way.
"You are mine," she said, slow and deliberate. "You had no past before me, no present outside me, no future without me."
"Yes, mistress. Forever."
"I promise you the safety and strength and protection of my House. I assure you a place by my side and in my bed. No other will have you. For as long as we both shall live."
Ned arched under her, crying out soundlessly, just a loud shivering sigh as she mounted him. "Jesus, yes, mistress, oh God yes."
"Your worship is appreciated." Her blue eyes were sparkling a little when he managed to force his own open to look at her. She was riding him in controlled even thrusts. "Show me what you've learned, precious."
His thumb rubbed her clit as he panted for breath, and she cupped her breasts, teasing her own nipples as she kept riding him. "Please, mistress, let me," he begged.
It took a bit of adjustment, but she groaned in pleasure when he managed to suckle against one nipple while fondling her other breast and her clit, all with the same rhythm. The jolts of her hips became rough, needy, punctuated by her gasps and breathless urging. When her orgasm broke and the hot slick passage inside her squeezed him tight, Ned growled in helpless need at the exquisite agony.
Only she could give him permission to come.
"Yes." She had an arm looped under him, cradling his head to hold his lips to her breast, still grinding against him. "So good."
His heart warmed. "My only one," he breathed against her breast. "I will give you everything. You deserve everything. You make me whole. I'm unworthy of you."
"You have earned this place, Edmund." Her sex clenched around him, deliberately, and he nearly lost control then. "Mmmmm. Such an incredible cock. Come, beloved."
He would never make her say it twice. With a relieved cry—he was learning, but the absolute abandon of their joining was more than enough to overwhelm him—he thrust his hips and spent himself, and with every jolt her slippery inner flesh gripped his cock in a fluttering spasm. Slowly, moving like a man in a dream, he transferred his mouth to her other breast, scraping his teeth against the pebble of her nipple in a deliberate firm movement, easing the rhythm of his thumb against her clit.
She released a broken sob. Ned could count on one hand the number of times she had made that sound in bed, and a hot spike of arousal speared through him. "That's what I get for being nice," she groaned.
When she rolled off him, Ned gasped. The slippery warmth of their joining began to cool on his skin, and he pushed himself up, stumbling toward his bathroom to find a washcloth.
She was sprawled naked on her back when he returned, her legs spread, ready for him to clean her. He took his time with it, keeping his motions gentle, and gazed up at her face as he cleaned himself.
"Take your shirt off," she said, and only then did he realize he was still wearing it. "Then get on your knees and suck my clit until you're hard again."
There was no hint of doubt or pleading in her eyes. This was what she had decided their relationship would be, and it was his job to obey her.
His privilege to obey her. To please her until she released another broken cry and pulsed around him, finally moaning her permission for his own climax.
He thumbed the first button open. "Mistress," he breathed in quiet joy, as he fell to his knees to worship her again.