Risqué Business (Club Risqué #8)

Chapter 1

CONNOR AND LAUREL

C onnor brought down the cherry wood paddle on Laurel’s perfect ass. He didn’t think he had a romantic bone in his body, but he’d had hearts cut into this particular paddle after seeing a similar one Jake had. He’d given it to Laurel as a birthday gift, and his girl loved it.

It left heart-shaped marks all over her sweet derriere, and Connor would be lying if he said it didn't give him some satisfaction to see them there.

He loved marking her. Showing the world she belonged to him. Funny really, considering just how long he'd denied that reality.

Laurel gasped, her breath hitching with each smack of the paddle. His touch was both firm and loving, a reminder of his ownership and devotion. The sting wasn't something she shied from; it was something she craved. And Connor gave his little submissive what she needed.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand tracing the heart-shaped welts, tenderly. He loved how responsive she was to his every touch, every word. It made him feel powerful yet vulnerable at the same time.

He slipped his fingers through her swollen folds, checking for her arousal. A satisfied grin crept on his face as he found her wet and ready for him. He couldn't resist tasting her sweetness as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease her throbbing clit.

Each sound she made was like music to his ears, coming together to create the notes of their shared passion and desire. This was their dance, a delicate balance of pain and pleasure that they navigated together.

"More," Laurel whimpered, arching into his touch, craving the sting only he could give. Connor's lips curled into a wolfish grin as he picked up the paddle again, ready to mark his woman once more. This never got old, but his cock was straining against the unforgiving leather of his pants, aching to get to her. He knew he wouldn’t hold out much longer.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he undid the laces to free his rigid dick.

Seeing her gasp for each touch, each spank, only added fuel to his lust. He stroked himself once, then again, groaning as the pleasure rolled over him. "Look at me, pet," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

Laurel turned, her cheeks flushed and her eyes heavy with want. His dominance made her melt even more than the sting of his paddle. The primal look in his eyes told her what was coming next.

The crowd around them in Club Risqué’s dungeon, where they were publicly scening, faded into nothing, neither of them paying them any mind.

Connor's focus shifted from the marks on Laurel’s ass to the lustful gaze she held him with an explicit invitation he was all too ready to accept.

Without any preamble, he lined himself up with her dripping slit and slammed into her with a grunt, the need for domination overtaking any sense of control he might have had left. He reached forward to twine his fingers in her hair, pulling gently at first but increasing the pressure when she moaned loudly.

"Yes," he growled in response to the sound of her pleasure. “Take it. Take every inch.” Each thrust was synonymous of the desire between them - rough yet tender, commanding yet yielding.

"Connor," Laurel whimpered, clutching onto the spanking bench as he drove into her over and over again, bottoming out against her cervix every time. The edge of pain that came with each thrust only heightened her pleasure, her body welcoming the delicious agony and ecstasy he delivered.

He felt her sheath tighten around him, and her thighs shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. A loud scream tore from her throat as the climax roared through her body, consuming her entirely. She convulsed around him uncontrollably, spurring on his own release. He growled her name into the crook of her neck as he filled the condom with his seed. The only way this could be any better was if he didn't have to wear the damn thing. But here at the club, there were rules. Even for him as one of the owners.

As their heartbeats slowed and ragged breathing evened out, Connor gently pulled out. Tenderly caressing the welts on her ass before unfastening the restraints on her wrists and ankles. Then he moved around to crouch in front of her, checking she was okay before he helped her up.

Laurel sagged against him, sated and spent, a soft smile playing on her lips. He scooped her up in his arms, kissing her forehead lightly before carrying her to one of the plush sofas in the corner of the club. Despite the public display they'd just put on, their aftercare was always private, a contrast to the raw heat they’d just exhibited.

As he wrapped a fluffy blanket around Laurel’s naked body, Connor couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky he was to have found someone so perfect for him in every way. Their love story wasn't traditional. It had been hard won, and they defied societal norms with their practices.

But love was love in whatever form it took. And he wouldn't trade what they had for anything.

He gently brushed a few stray strands of hair from Laurel’s face, his gaze softening as he watched her slowly drift off to sleep. The sight brought forth a sense of peace within him; a contentment that felt like home.

The crowd was long forgotten as he held her close, savouring the comforting silence that blanketed them. He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering sweet words into her ear. "Sleep well, little one.”

Laurel stirred only slightly under his touch, her lips parting into a blissful smile. Her dreamy, mumbled response warmed his heart. There was no denying the depth of their bond - one that was built not just on shared kinks and sexual desire, but on mutual respect, trust, and love. A love they had both fought tooth and nail for. A love that had once threatened to destroy them both.

“Love you, Sir,” she murmured softly against his chest.

Connor smiled down at her, tracing his fingers along her curves beneath the blanket. "I love you too," he whispered back, pressing another kiss to the crown of her head.

“Laurel?” He used her given name rather than her club name, and despite her stupor, she realised and gave him a little more of her attention.

“Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t the most romantic of proposals. But many would agree it was typically him. And it was perfect for them.

And for once, Laurel, who more usually resembled an excited puppy, didn’t jump and shout and draw attention. She simply snuggled into him with a smug little smile and said, “Of course.”