Melodie's Song [The Black Dahlia Hotel 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 11

  “Not that you’ll see much of us. Honeymoon and all.” Kaylin was obviously excited about the wedding and the honeymoon. “But seriously, maybe you should talk to my friend, Chloe Carlton, about your stalker. She’s with the Strategic Investigation Division. I’m a homicide detective, and we sure don’t want to see this situation get to my division. I wouldn’t brush this off. It could be very serious.”

  Logan nodded his head. “I’ll make a point to advise Dane and talk to your security team tomorrow. I sure don’t want to brush it off, either. If you think we need to bring the police in, I can give you the contact information for the detectives in New York who are handling the case.”

  “Maybe we should talk to them.”

  The steaks were superb, and after finishing a bottle of excellent wine, Jack ushered the group to the elevator. He swiped his key card and the elevator zoomed up to the penthouse at warp speed. He repeated the procedure at the carved, mahogany double doors that opened into the club. There was a discreet brass sign next to the double doors that read, “The Black Iris Club—Private.”

  * * * *

  Melodie watched with interest as Jack swiped his card again and put his hand to the palm plate outside the heavy mahogany double doors. There was a ton of security, just like at Le Club Eastside. He opened the doors and they walked into the elegant foyer. There was a stunning original Georgia O’Keeffe painting on the wall over the mahogany reception desk. The floral painting was done in black, white and vivid pink, and resembled a woman’s sexual organs, a theme that O’Keeffe was known for.

  Melodie exclaimed, “Jack! I love your O’Keeffe—very appropriate for a club of this nature.”

  There was an intimate seating area, and the desk was flanked but rows of computer screens. Apparently, the entire club was covered by surveillance cameras.

  The receptionist had the requisite confidentiality documents ready for signature. After taking care of business, Jack swiped his key card again, and he led them through another set of double doors into a huge room with dark-red walls.

  “The windows are covered with a film that lets in light but keeps out prying eyes. We do take the confidentiality aspect very seriously. You would think that being twenty floors up would take care of that problem, but once, an enterprising paparazzo got a picture of me skinny-dipping in my rooftop pool and it ended up in the Enquirer.”

  Melodie giggled. “Did that stop you from skinny-dipping?”

  “Hell, no. I just glance around for hovering helicopters first.”

  Melodie glanced around herself, and she was shocked to see the selection of equipment spread out over the room. Each separate area was lighted by overhead spotlights. She had seen most of this equipment in Logan’s dungeon and at Le Club Eastside, but it was still impressive.

  Logan took her hand and turned to Jack. “We have a reservation for the French Room, so point us in the right direction, and maybe we’ll see you later.”

  “Across the dungeon and down that hallway. Your key card will open the door. Enjoy. See you later. My sub and I have plans as well.”

  Melanie gripped Logan’s hand. She was a little nervous in the very elegant and intimidating club. The Le Club facility was very nice, but this was several steps up.

  * * * *

  In the French Room in The Black Iris Club in the penthouse of the JDB Building in Downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Friday night, December 4, 2015

  Melodie was curious as Logan took her arm and led her down a corridor containing several locked doors. He swiped a plastic I.D. card through the reader and opened one of the doors. They walked in, and she looked around in delight. The decadent, French-inspired boudoir was gorgeous—tasteful and sensuous. The bed was well-dressed with linens of red-and-gold silk brocade. Elaborate French-style mirrors were centered on three of the walls to frame the scene. There was a smaller version of a St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner with a set of hanging chains, a spanking bench and a luxurious, soft, leather-covered French-style chaise lounge in one of the corners. A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket rested on a carved credenza near the door, next to a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries.

  * * * *

  Logan pulled her into his arms and said, “You know the drill, subbie.” His deep Dom voice rumbled. He could see the effect he had on her, and it never failed to make him smile and his cock harden in anticipation.

  “Yes, Sir.” She hastened to obey and removed her clothes, put them in the armoire, and put on her wrist and ankle cuffs. She was quickly buck-naked and in the slave position in the center of the room.

  Logan pulled her up and into his arms. He kissed her roughly. His tongue explored her mouth while his hands explored her breasts and fabulous ass. As always, she melted against him helplessly. He loved how responsive she was, but he hoped she was responding more to him than the ambiance of the BDSM theme room. He looked around to see if there was something new and different—something they hadn’t done yet. Then he saw it. In a cubby behind the armoire was a wooden board with spring clasps. It was meant to be attached to the hanging chains to form a swing. Perfect.

  Logan secured Melodie’s cuffed wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling and then secured her ankles to bolts in the floor with legs spread. He stood watching her. He could see the nerves jittering in her muscles as she looked at the whip in his hand. He had never used a whip on her before, and the four-foot dragon-tail whip was scary-looking. His muscled arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he knew his dominant posture would heighten her tension and her pleasure. He strode around her, trailing the flexible, petal-shaped tip of the whip on the floor. He inspected her naked body from all angles.

  “Very nice, sub. I think you are going to enjoy meeting Mr. Dragon, here.” He ran his big hands up and down her spine and over her butt, kneading and massaging the muscles to warm them. Without warning, he cracked the whip, and she flinched. She was nervous.

  “Are you ready for your punishment, sub?” he asked. “You will receive five strikes for disobedience.”

  “Yes, Master. I am sorry, Master,” she said submissively. He continued to circle her naked form, letting the tension build ominously.

  When the first strike of the dragon-tail whip kissed her right cheek, she cried out in surprise. She clearly had been expecting a sharp pain. Instead, the butterfly kiss of the whip’s tip barely touched her skin. She looked at him in surprise, and then she smiled that wide-open smile he loved. “I knew I could trust you and that this was all just for the drama, to make me think you were going to whip me.”

  “I do not believe I gave you permission to speak, sub. You are not to try to analyze the Master, and don’t forget, no coming until I say so.”

  The other strikes nipped across her butt in little sharp, stinging kisses, and she gasped. By the time the punishment was over, Logan could see that the tension and expectation of pain had brought her to the verge of a massive orgasm. Endorphins pumped through her system, and she gasped for air and tried to regain control of herself.

  “Sub, you may not come. Hold it until I give my permission,” he warned. Forcing her to wait for her pleasure added an edge to the experience. He released her bindings. He moved her aside as he attached the wide wooden seat, with the cutout for access to male or female genitalia, to the stout chains hanging from the ceiling. Then he picked her up and set her butt on the seat of the swing. He settled her, bound her arms above her head, and raised the seat so her pussy would be level with his engorged cock.

  He walked to the armoire and looked inside. He was sure there would be a supply of natural hemp bondage rope. He took several lengths of the soft rope and walked back to the swing. All the while, her eyes had never left him. He tied an intricate design of knots binding her to the swing like a butterfly in a cocoon, the thin, silky dark-blue bondage rope crisscrossing over her bare skin. He loved the act of tying the complex knots. It was a symbolic binding of her soul to his. The beauty lay in the arrangement of the knots against her silky
-smooth skin. Melodie was breathless as she looked deep into Logan’s eyes. That was technically not correct protocol, but he wanted her to see what was in his heart, his soul. She was the center of everything for him.

  She leaned back and spread her legs on the swing seat. She opened her drenched pussy to his gaze, and he pushed the swing into motion. Logan lowered the zipper of his slacks, freeing his erection. He stepped into the arc of the swing and imbedded his hard cock in her hot pussy up to the hilt as she screamed out her pleasure.

  “Oh, Master,” she gasped.

  Logan let the swing do the work, stroking his cock in and out of her wet, silky pussy again and again, and increasing the pace and depth of penetration until he could no longer hold back. His cock throbbed with his heartbeat.

  His order of “Come now, Melodie,” was perfectly timed as she reached her final barrier. She rolled into a stunning orgasm that crashed through her system, and he followed her over the brink with a shout of triumph as his own completion ripped through his system. With his cock still hard within her, he let the motion of the swing continue the stroking as its momentum slowed and each of them came again.

  As the frantic beating of their hearts slowed, he brushed the hair back from her face and gently kissed the scar at her temple. He lifted her naked body into his arms and carried her to the bed in the corner.

  * * * *

  Melodie was breathless. When he had stripped out of his clothes and lay down beside her on the bed, she opened her arms to accept him—accept him fully into her heart. She knew she had been harboring a small corner of doubt. The scar on her face had done deep damage to her self-confidence, but now she knew she could trust him with all she was.

  Logan drew the silk sheet and blanket over them, and cuddled her up against his chest. She laid her head against his chest, and she fully relaxed for the first time since they had arrived. Karin Sanders was forgotten for the moment as she gloried in the strength and safety of Logan’s arms. She sighed. The look in his eyes and on his hawk-like face made her pussy flutter. He always had that effect on her. She just never seemed to become immune to him. She suddenly knew what she wanted to do with this quiet vacation time. She was going to paint Logan. She could already see the work in her head. She felt her eyes grow heavy, and she drifted into a light sleep.

  * * * *

  Logan loved to hold a sleeping Melodie, knowing that she was dozing and not unconscious. That small fact made all the difference.

  He had to settle this Karin Sanders situation. Having Melodie in danger again for any reason, especially one that was his fault, was unacceptable. He was beginning to think that some of his ancestors had the right idea about how to deal with problems—on both sides of the DNA chain. Those Irishmen could be fierce as well. He didn’t want to go there, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow Melodie to be victimized again. Karin would have to go through him to get to her this time. He hoped Jack’s security people would be able to offer a solution.

  When Melodie began to stir, Logan saw her eyelids flutter open and said, “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’ve got champagne and strawberries for dessert.”

  “Oh, yum! That’s my favorite.”

  He got up, went to the credenza near the door and took the chilled bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. He expertly popped the cork, and without spilling a drop, he filled the two flutes. He brought the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries to the bed and then returned for the two glasses. He handed one to Melodie, clinked rims, and said, “Here’s to us. I love you, baby. We’ll get through this.”

  “I know we will, Logan. We can depend on each other.”

  “That’s right, Melodie. I hope you know you can always depend on me. I’ve felt that we belonged together since that day on the sidewalk. Feeling your pulse under my hands and having your blood running through my fingers was life-altering.”

  “You know, Logan, even though I was unconscious, I felt you there with me. I knew I wasn’t alone. It meant so much. I tried to find out your name, but the EMTs didn’t know who you were, and the police wouldn’t release the information because you were a possible witness.”

  “I wanted to come into the gallery so many times, but I didn’t want to intrude. I could see how you turned away from people. I wanted to give you the time you needed to heal, and then when I saw your painting, I knew I had to take a chance. I’m going to take another chance now, Melodie, because I’m not sure you’re ready. Baby, I want us to get married. I don’t want to wait. Life is uncertain, and I don’t want to waste a minute of it.”

  “Logan…” The surprise was evident on her face. She clearly hadn’t been expecting this.

  “If you’re going to say no, I’d rather you just waited and gave it some thought.”

  “Logan, I wasn’t going to say no, but are you sure? Can you look at this scarred face every day for the rest of your life?”

  “Melody, I can look at your beautiful face every day for the rest of my life.” He tossed the covers aside and pulled her out of bed and over to one of the ornate mirrors on the wall. He pulled her hair back and held it in one hand while he turned the scarred side of her face toward the mirror and forced her to look.

  “Look. Take a good look for once. Your scars are not as fucking bad as you think they are. Your avoidance has built something up in your mind that is simply not there. And frankly, I wouldn’t care if it looked as bad as it did that day. I love you. Yes, I love your beautiful face and body, but I love your strong spirit and loving heart more.”

  “Oh, Logan.” Tears began to leak from her eyes and down over her cheeks. “That is so beautiful.”

  “No. You are beautiful. We’re standing in front of this mirror until you acknowledge that fact, until you accept it bone-deep. A little puckered skin, a small flaw, does not define you. I didn’t plan on asking you to marry me today, so I don’t have a ring. There will be a ring. We’ll pick it out together. But for now, I want you to wear this bracelet. It belonged to my Apache grandmother. The silver work was added later to protect the delicate antique beading work.” He handed her a beautifully made, heavy silver cuff bracelet with an intricate geometric pattern of tiny beads of colored glass in the middle. The pattern was protected by a design of overlapping silver leaves and flowers. “It has been passed down in my family for over a hundred years. I was planning to give it to you today, though not as an engagement present. But for now, it will have to do.”

  “Logan, it’s beautiful.” He put it on her left wrist.

  “I don’t want a long engagement, Melodie, so start thinking about what you want for a wedding ceremony.”

  She turned and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, Logan. I’ve been sure of it for a while. I’m glad you feel the same way.”

  “I’ve loved you for over two years, Melodie.” He turned her back to the mirror. “I wasn’t kidding. We’re going to stand her until you figure this out, woman. I hope you don’t need a spanking to help it sink in. I really don’t want to do that today.”

  “You know, I think you might be right.” She stared at her face in the mirror, and she rested her weight back against his chest. “It isn’t as red as it was. I hadn’t really looked at it in quite a while.” Obviously, the possibility of a spanking right now got her attention.

  “You think? If I were you, I’d rephrase that. I am right. Hopefully this next surgery will be the last one you need. If not, you’ll have another one. What does your doctor say?”

  “He says the same thing. I just didn’t want to count on it, to be disappointed again. You can’t know how it felt to wake up in the hospital and know I had a knife scar on my face. I don’t think I’ve ever confronted my feelings full on before. I was afraid of what the result would be.”

  “Oh, baby. I know it’s a woman thing. But you’re my woman—my beautiful woman—and I want you to accept that fact.”

  She looked up at him through her long eyelashes. “Do I get an Indian name?”

  “Yeah. How about �
�Princess Pain-in-the-Butt’? I’ll call my grandfather and find out how to say that in Apache. That phrase has never come up in conversation before.”

  “How do you say ‘big mouth’ again? Es ka min zim, was it?”

  * * * *

  Melodie shrieked as he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He landed two good, sharp smacks on her bare butt before he dropped her back on the bed and came down on top of her. “Now you’re in trouble.” He kissed her hard. She still felt the sting of his hand on her butt. God, she loved that. She loved Logan.

  She sighed as he entered her hard and fast. Slow and easy was lovely, but hard and fast was the best. He took her over the moon again.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the administrative offices at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Saturday morning, December 5, 2015

  Logan and Melodie met Jack Brown, Jamie Devereau and Dane Dunross in the admin offices on Saturday morning. Dane had his secretary bring in coffee and a pastry platter from the kitchen. Dane sat behind his desk, and Logan and Melodie sat in chairs in front of the desk. Jack and Jamie were standing by the tall windows overlooking the beach.

  “I understand that Jack knows what’s going on with you two. Please fill me and Jamie in.”