Michaels, Skye - Paula's Commitment [Le Club 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  She knew that originally he had not admired her dogged determination to “get the scoop.” He had felt that she had taken advantage of her friendship with Calleigh to find out the details of the very secretive Laurel Oak Estate project. Neither she nor Calleigh had been aware that the property had been turned into a BDSM sex club. Boy, were they ever surprised when they had found out exactly what went on behind the ten-foot-high stone walls that surrounded the property. After their initial misunderstanding and over time, Paula and Trent had worked out their problems, and he had apologized for not giving her a chance. But she still wasn’t sure that he fully trusted her.

  “I’m going to be really busy while I’m there trying to get as much accomplished as possible in a short amount of time, but I’ll definitely be thinking about you. I’ll have my international cell phone, so I will be able to call you. You know you mean a lot to me, Paula,” he said without coming right out and saying he loved her.

  The omission did not go unnoticed and tore at her heart, and it cracked a little. Well, that really said it all, she thought in despair. I mean a lot to him. Damned with faint praise. “You mean a lot to me, too, Trent.” If you only knew.

  He rolled over between her legs and replaced his fingers with his tongue, bringing her body to a fever pitch while her mind roiled with unsaid words and shattered feelings. When she was almost ready to climax, he reared up over her back and entered her, rocking slow and gentle at first, and then pounding hard and fast until they had both rocketed into orgasms that took them over the moon. As he settled back down to earth, he released her bindings, pulled her into his arms, and cuddled her close to his heart. Several small, silent tears rolled down Paula’s cheek and fell on to the quilt on the bed. Although she was tough and determined in her professional life, she was a marshmallow in her personal life. Paula knew that Trent never felt the small shudder of despair that quaked through her body as she fought to control the sobs trying to break free.

  * * * *

  Trent was amazed at how much this woman had come to mean to him since they had met less than a year and a half ago. So much had happened in that time. He wasn’t ready to say he loved her out loud yet, although the feelings were roiling around his heart. He felt like a coward. He had tried to convey his feelings without words. He didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t say it. It wasn’t that he was insecure or insensitive to Paula’s needs, he assured himself. He just needed more time.

  Chapter Four

  Calleigh and Jason Steele were relaxing in the double hammock on the veranda of the Southern Plantation Suite. A corner suite on the second floor decorated in plantation style with heavy, carved mahogany furniture, beautiful Oriental rugs, and original oil paintings, it could have been a layout from a decorating magazine.

  Jason Steele was an imposing figure at six foot two with broad shoulders and a killer body tapering into long, powerful legs. He had slashing eyebrows over smoky, gray eyes, dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, and he had one quirky dimple. Calleigh found him irresistible. She knew that he found her—and her J.Lo butt—irresistible as well, and had from the beginning. She could never understand why it had taken him about two years to get around to doing something about it. He sure wasn’t slow about anything else!

  Calleigh snuggled into Jason’s wide, muscular chest and sighed in contentment as he rubbed her sore back with his strong hands. His hand migrated down over her belly and lower to her mons and pussy out of habit. It was a well-known and frequently-traveled path. He slipped his hand into her maternity slacks and flicked her damp clit. “Oh, baby, that feels so good,” she moaned. Calleigh had been constantly horny during her pregnancy. She turned to face him and kissed him teasingly. “Want to get frisky?”

  “No, Calleigh. Don’t even think about it. That is not how I intend to meet my daughter for the first time!” he said sternly. “You are almost ready to pop. No more hanky-panky.” He grinned, his dimple flashing.

  She grimaced when a sudden cramp made her flinch.

  “Are you okay, babe?” he asked with concern in his deep voice. He reached his hand down and began to gently rub her belly.

  “Fine,” she said as she surreptitiously checked her watch. She didn’t want to alarm Jason, but the doctor had said she could expect to go into labor at any time now. She relaxed against him and zoned out as he continued to rub her back until she felt another twinge in her lower belly. She noted that the contractions had been approximately ten minutes apart. It was not time to get concerned yet. When they were five minutes apart, she would call her doctor and go to the hospital. Plenty of time to relax yet. Baby Emily Rose is almost here! They continued to rock and snuggle as dusk began to fall, and Calleigh’s contractions continued to get closer and closer together.

  “The girls and I saw something really interesting at the pool today,” she said just to make conversation as the hammock rocked in the breeze. “The new manager and his assistant had a session in the Playroom. My goodness, what a sight they are! They both have absolutely stunning dragon tattoos and spectacular bodies.”

  “Yeah, Greg and Natasha. They are definitely a colorful couple.” He chuckled. “And why are you noticing his spectacular body Mrs. Steele?” he said with a mock leer.

  “It would be really hard not to.” She giggled. “I’ve never seen anyone so ripped.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate him though. He’s an ex-SEAL and has a double master’s degree from Tulane—Hotel Management and Business Administration. Jamie assures me he is totally capable and that the club in New Orleans runs on military time!”

  “Good to know. Because you are going to be really busy for a while, getting me to the hospital and all,” she said slyly. “I hope my ‘go bag’ is in the car, Mr. Steele, because I think your daughter is knocking at the door.”

  “Oh my God!” he said as he jumped out of the hammock. “Let’s go!”

  “Jason, relax. I’ll call Dr. Rodriquez’s service and alert the hospital that we’re coming in. We have plenty of time. I have everyone on speed dial. Calm down,” she said as another contraction gripped her belly. “I’ll let Paula and Trent know we’re on the way to the hospital while you get the car. They can let everyone else know.”

  Calleigh’s water broke as they were walking down to the car. The fact that the medical center was just minutes away was one of the reasons Jason had agreed to another weekend at the club this late in Calleigh’s pregnancy. They were both grateful that some of their closest friends were also on site and available for baby watch.

  When they arrived at the hospital after a rapid and somewhat erratic drive, Calleigh and Jason were whisked up to the delivery room and settled in to wait. Paula and Trent and then Robbie and Mike paid short visits to the delivery room to help pass the time.

  * * * *

  Paula and the others made themselves comfortable in the maternity waiting room and were soon joined by Justin and Kelly Devereau. Paula and Robbie filled Kelly in on the excitement at the pool while the guys discussed Trent’s imminent trip to Central and South America.

  “This trip should prove interesting. Among other surgeries, I’m going to be participating in the separation of a set of conjoined twins. I haven’t seen all their records yet, but I don’t think the operation will be as difficult as some. They have totally separate and functioning organs and limbs. The separation and reconstruction will probably take most of a day. The surgical team is impressive. I don’t think my specialty will be called for, but they want all eventualities covered.”

  Paula had one ear open to Trent’s conversation with the guys. As she chatted with Kelly and Robbie, Paula’s mind and emotions were whirling. What am I going to do? She didn’t like the thought of him going to a third-world country and possibly into danger, but she knew she had to check her emotions and start to let go. This was going to be one of the hardest things she had ever done.

  “Most conjoined twins don’t survive pregnancy from what I understand,” Mike said. His t
horoughbred breeding background had exposed him to many strange genetic scenarios.

  “About seventy-five percent don’t survive,” Trent informed them. “An even smaller percentage can be successfully separated. This pair is extremely fortunate. I’m told they should be able to lead normal lives after the surgery.”

  “Get me some information on the organization, Trent, and I’ll see what the Devereau Foundation can do for them. Maybe we can donate a mobile operating room and funds for pharmaceuticals. I’m always on the lookout for worthy causes,” Justin said. “Also, let me know if you need access to the jet.” Justin Devereau was tall and sleek, and a master of several disciplines of Japanese martial arts, as well as an international-level polo player and a very astute businessman.

  “That would be great....”

  Just then Jason, grinning from ear to ear, entered the waiting room and said, “Well, our girl is here—ten fingers and ten toes, thank God! Emily Rose and Calleigh are both doing great.”

  Spontaneous exclamations of joy and delight were forthcoming from all as they trooped to the viewing window to see the latest addition, Emily Rose Steele, who was a healthy, if petite, six pounds five ounces. She had curly, dark hair and was howling up a storm.

  “Well, she has good lungs!” Jason said with a grin. Clearly, he was as proud as a peacock.

  Paula smiled at her new “niece,” and love curled around her heart. She and Trent were to be the godparents. She had determined that it was going to be one of their last joint efforts. I really need to get out of this relationship. It’s going to be like amputating a limb, but hopefully not life threatening, which it might be if I wait much longer. I can’t risk any more of myself if he can’t even make the commitment to say “I love you.”

  Chapter Five

  Jamie Devereau, Justin’s brother, walked into Anne Sutton’s office in Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans on Monday and said, “How do you like your new temporary office, babe?”

  “Oh no! This is ‘Gregory the Terrible’s’ office, not mine. Those are some big shoes to fill. I have to say the staff here is in awe of him—not to mention Natasha. I hope they aren’t decimating my staff in Ocala as we speak.” Anne knew her outfit, a form-fitting red suit and the black Christian Louboutin “fuck me” pumps with the red soles, drove him mad. She was a few years older than Jamie, who had an impressive bad-boy aura. Anne had had some very serious body-image issues resulting from her mastectomy six years earlier. If that wasn’t enough, she had also had to deal with the emotional issues raised when her fiancé had broken off their engagement after the surgery. It had taken Jamie Devereau’s brash insistence and no-nonsense attitude to batter down her barriers.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is fine,” he said with a grin. “I came to take you to lunch. You should see as much of the French Quarter as possible while we’re here.”

  “That sounds good. Oh, I had a call from Kelly. Calleigh had the baby Saturday night, and they are doing well. Kelly also told me that an old friend of hers, Madison Snow, who left town several years ago, is considering moving back to Ocala. She could be interested in the job at the club. Kelly thinks Madison might be perfect for the position, and she told me she would set up an interview appointment for her when we get back. She’s going to be in town visiting her parents. If she’s the right person for the job, she would have to sell her house in New Jersey before moving down.”

  “I hope that works out. You really need an assistant. The job of running the club is too much for one person. Besides, that will give you more time for me,” Jamie said with a grin.

  “You’re too much. But I am anxious to meet with her. Kelly says her qualifications are excellent, and I would be willing to hold the job for the right person. As you know, I can’t bring just anyone in for that position. As to my staff...Kelly tells me that Natasha had to ‘discipline’ Steve Paggette, one of the pool boys. Apparently she caught him napping behind the cabana and marched him into the Playroom and whipped his butt then and there. Not that I haven’t wanted to do the same thing myself on more than one occasion. He is an annoying young man, but really, Jamie, that is just not done. I’m going to have to talk to Greg about this. I can just see the workman’s comp claim.”

  “I see your point. I know that Natasha sometimes disciplines the staff here as well, but all of the employees here are submissives and also participate in club activities, so it’s a little different. There are no ‘noncombatants,’ so to speak,” he said. “I’ve never personally seen her do it, but I have heard about it. Believe me, efficiency will improve over night. I think she frightens the employees more than Greg does, and he can be pretty damn scary. I guess that’s one of the reasons things run so smoothly here. I agree, though, you certainly can’t do that in a general business setting, as tempting as it might be. I’ve had some secretaries…” Anne laughed and punched him in the arm. To look at him, one wouldn’t know that he was an investment banker who controlled an enormous private investment portfolio for his family and their employees.

  Jamie took Anne on a walking tour of the French Quarter for lunch, stopping to pick up po’boy sandwiches from a street vendor. Later they had coffee and beignets at Café du Monde. The weather was warm but pleasant as they walked the streets hand in hand, admiring street art and other items for sale by street vendors.

  “Can we take one of the theme rooms at the club for a spin when we get back?” he asked with a low growl and sexy grin. “How about the Royal Bedchamber?” One look at Jamie Devereau’s dark, wavy hair had Anne longing to run her fingers through it. His worn jeans and tight, black T-shirt fit his muscular body like a glove, and his five-o’clock shadow emphasized his tantalizing, sculpted features and added to his bad-boy image. The strong line of his jaw, prominent nose, and sparkling, brandy-colored eyes, not to mention his naughty suggestion, made her panties dampen.

  “Mr. Devereau. That is not what I generally do during office hours,” she exclaimed.

  “Relax, chère. This is the Big Easy. Everyone has a naughty nooner once in a while.”

  After lunch they walked back to the tall, narrow house on Chartres Street. Anne admired the facade of the building, which gave no indication that it was a BDSM sex club. There was no identifying sign. The heavy wooden gates embellished with scrolled wrought iron securing the lush, tropical courtyard overflowing with flowers and the splashing central fountain were monitored by security cameras, and access was controlled by a keypad outside the gates. Black wrought iron lace bracketed the small galleries fronting the house, and wooden shutters covered the windows, effectively blocking any view of the interior of Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans. It was dark and mysterious and much larger than it appeared from the street. The private BDSM club had been located in the French Quarter for many years without the general public or government officials being any the wiser. Confidentiality and absolute privacy were sacred tenants of its existence.

  Anne secured the keys to the Royal Bedchamber, located at the back of the house, marked the private theme room in use on the board in the office, and grabbed the French maid costume Jamie had suggested from wardrobe. Jamie took the ornate, antique key from Anne and opened the door to the room. Anne had not seen all of the private theme rooms in the house and was surprised at the opulent, antique English furnishings, dark, luxurious fabrics, and valuable, old paintings on the walls of rubbed wood wainscoting.

  “This room is stunning, Jamie,” she said in awe as she admired the heavy wall hangings and bed coverings. Henry the VIII would have been comfortable in here. It’s totally decadent in a dignified, Old English way.

  “The furnishings in the club have been here since the inception. There are a lot of really fine antiques, some of which came from Devereau Plantation and from my great-grandmother’s house in the Quarter. My father did a lot of the decorating himself, including most of the theme rooms. Okay, get into costume, sub. You may call me ‘Mr. Devereau’ or ‘Sir’ during this scene,” he said with a gleam in his
eyes. Anne ducked into the bathroom and scrambled out of her suit and into the French maid’s costume. Anne knew that Jamie loved role-playing, since it enhanced the dominance and submission aspect of BDSM for him.

  “Well, FiFi, I see that you have broken another valuable antique vase. I am going to have to punish you for that.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Devereau, it was already broken when I came into the room. The cat must have knocked it over,” she said, cowering against the door as her pussy gushed. She got into the scene quickly, and they often picked up the thread of the story line from one another. Anne had found that she really needed to think on her feet to keep the scene flowing.

  “Lying again, FiFi? I am going to have to double your punishment,” he said menacingly. “Bend over the foot of the bed.” She complied. “Ahh, I see you have also broken the house rules by wearing panties.” He pulled the frilly, white panties of the maid’s uniform down her thighs, baring her bottom. “And I see that your naughty pussy is all hot and wet.” She knew this was all a game, but her heart began to race nonetheless. The spanking play was unexpectedly erotic to her, and she had found that surprising. She had never indulged in any of the BDSM aspects of the club before she met Jamie. She knew he would be the first to admit there was little he liked better than spanking a cute, round butt until it was nice and pink.