James dressed me again, but thankfully, the man had good taste. Some of the women walking into Taboo had on the tackiest latex outfits that I wouldn’t be caught dead in, even if the Master holding my chain had an eighteen-inch pecker and made me orgasm from a single touch. I didn’t want to look like a complete wank in public even if was only at a sex club. Tonight, he’d dressed me in a dark turquoise bustier, with a black skirt that barely covered my ass and my favorite black Lady Peep Louboutins. Thank God he knew the difference between vixen sexy and trashy whore.
I picked at the edge of my skirt, trying to pull it down a little because Hagan’s office was like a meat locker. But the material wasn’t forgiving and wouldn’t budge.
Hagan sat across from us, flipping through a filing cabinet filled with past member’s applications. “I remember that bastard. He seemed okay, but he was one of the nastiest pricks we’ve had in here. I had to toss him out. I still can’t believe I fucked up.”
James had asked him about Matías, showing him a photo, and shared the details of the investigation. Hagan went off the rails, slamming his hands down on the desk and muttering profanities about how he’d let a criminal slimeball into the club.
“It happens, Hagan. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” James told him as I sat next to him, glancing around the office and staying relatively silent. “Guys like him know how to fly under the radar just long enough to get what they want. If the FBI can’t catch him, why would you?”
Hagan let out a huff as he pulled out the folder for Kent Wilken, the alias Matías had used when applying at Taboo. Even with a thorough background check, nothing sent up a red flag, so he was permitted a trial membership, which was then revoked due to his piss-poor behavior.
Hagan slid the folder across the desk before leaning back in the metal chair, rocking back and forth with his lips twisted. The guy was intense and a little bit scary, but some people would probably say the same thing about James just by looking at him.
A photo on a shelf to my right caught my eye. It was of a group of men with oversized cigars hanging from their lips as they held up a gator they must’ve caught during alligator hunting season years ago. The man on the far left looked like my Jimmy, only twenty years younger and way tanner. Hagan was in the photo too—younger, handsome, and with the same intense stare he still had.
But I kept staring at James. He looked so happy, carefree, and hot as fuck. He was still mouth-watering, but damn it if he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous in his early twenties. I would’ve been all over that. Wait. I was, not too many years after that photo was taken. The rest was history. I imagined he had quite the following at Taboo too before he joined the DEA and eventually ended up in my bed.
James flipped through the folder on Kent aka Matías. When my leg started to shake, he placed his hand on my knee with a light squeeze. I dragged my eyes away from the photo and glanced at him with a smirk. Some women might be jealous when they thought about their husband’s past, but I wasn’t. I was proud he was mine, and above all, he slipped a ring on my finger and not anyone else’s.
“Can you make a copy of everything in here for me?” James asked, closing the folder and placing it on the desk in front of us.
Hagan grabbed the folder and nodded. “Anything you need, James. You know that.”
“I’ll pick it up on my way out.”
Hagan smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Staying for a little while?”
“We had such a great time last night, I thought I’d treat my wife to another night.” James peered over at me and winked.
My face heated with embarrassment, but it quickly vanished when a dull, steady ache settled between my legs at the memory of last night. If James was giving, I was all about receiving.
“Same room?”
“What’s open?” James slid his hand up my thigh and settled his fingertips just under the hem of my skirt. The ache turned into a deep, needy throb.
“Paradise, Punishment, or Pain.”
“Hmmm,” James muttered, his eyes sliding to me as I chewed on my bottom lip.
Fuck, I had punishment last night, and that was kick-ass. I’d take anything they had to offer because one thing I knew about my husband, he was going to do me so good that I’d be walking funny tomorrow.
A slow smile spread across James’s face as he looked over at a waiting Hagan. “Paradise.”
“Ahh.” Hagan chuckled. “My favorite.”
Everyone else was smiling, so I did too. Fuck yeah. Bring on paradise, baby.
“It’ll be open in an hour,” Hagan told us, typing James’s name into the schedule. “Until then, there’s a demonstration on whips in the main room that your li’l one might enjoy.”
Um, nope.
I was not a whip girl.
Never been one and never would be. Even if that shit was hot last night. The girl who got her back almost branded by the soft leather looked like she dug it, and therefore, it was sexy. But in no way, shape, or form was James ever to use a whip on me. The man would soon find his balls missing if he even tried.
Now, spanking… That was an entirely different story. I relished the sting of his hand against my ass, especially when his dick was buried so deep inside me that I could barely breathe. That was hot, and I did as much bad shit as I could just so James would smack my ass.
Sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do to get her rocks off. Plus, messing with James’s head was fun, and the spanking was the bonus.
