He took her hand. “Give me another chance to prove that I do accept you for who you are … and I’ll give you all the space you need.”
* * *
Janine wasn’t quite sure what to expect when she walked down the steps to the dungeon area of the cabin they’d rented for this weekend fantasy. A dungeon-and-breakfast. She’d never heard of such a thing before. Sloan certainly was getting good at being a little kinky.
Sloan had told her she’d be serving in a bar, but he hadn’t explained how she’d be serving. Was she to be a barmaid? A love slave? A stripper doing lap dances?
At the bottom of the steps she found a hallway. In front of her
was a door with a sheet of white paper taped to it. The word BAR was written in bold black letters. She opened the door, then stepped into a softly lit room with two round tables like you’d find in a café, a bar at the end, a stripper pole in the center and … four cops in uniform. Her knees felt weak as she glanced around at Jonas, Derek, Liam and Sloan in full uniform, hats and all, sitting at the two tables talking.
“Ah, there’s our waitress,” Sloan said, and all the men turned to stare at her.
“Waitress, bring us beers all around,” Jonas said.
She smiled. “Of course.”
She walked to the bar and opened the small fridge under the counter. All she could find were cans of root beer. She pulled out four cans and placed them on the counter. Next to an insulated bucket were four tall glasses on a round brown tray. She filled each glass with ice, then opened each can and poured it into a glass to the sound of cracking ice and fizz.
She carried the tray to one of the tables and raised an eyebrow. “Root beer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Liam said. “We’re on duty.”
“I see.” She set a glass in front of each of them.
Sloan tossed a couple of bills on the tray, with a slip of white paper between them. She took the bills, pretending not to notice the paper, and slid them into her neckline, then stowed them in her bra cup. When she returned to the bar to set down the tray, she pulled out the note.
Go to the staff room.
She glanced across the room and noticed a white piece of paper taped to a door with the words STAFF ONLY written on it. She crossed to the door and stepped inside. A large bed with a big wooden headboard dominated the room. Around the room were various pieces of equipment. A St. Andrew’s cross stood in the corner, chains near the ends of the X for attaching wrists and ankles. On the other side of the room was a spanking bench with padded knee and chest rests. There was even a suspension hook on the ceiling and an array of floggers, whips, and crops along one wall.
On the bed was a note and a small overnight bag. She walked to the bed and read the note.
Put on the outfit in the bag, then return to the bar.
She unzipped the case. On top lay a short leather jacket and a pair of thigh-high, spike-heeled boots. She picked up the boots and set them on the bed, then the jacket. Underneath, she found a short black leather skirt with a silver zipper down the front edged with silver studs, and a sexy bra and thong in black lace with red lining. She slipped off her clothes and put on the bra and thong and glanced at herself in the mirror. The thong was basically a three-inch-wide lace band around her hips with a tiny bit of fabric covering her crotch. She put on the short skirt, then sat down and pulled on one of the boots and tugged the zipper tag to the top at mid-thigh, an inch below the hem of the skirt. She pulled on the other boot and zipped it up, then stood, grabbing the jacket and tugging it on. She gazed in the mirror, turning from side to side. Anticipation quivered through her as she thought of returning to the room with the four uniformed men.
She zipped up the jacket just enough to cover the bra, then walked to the door.
She opened it and walked across the room, then stood behind the bar. None of the men even glanced in her direction. They just talked and drank their root beers.
A moment later, the lights dimmed and an overhead light turned on, casting light on the pole. Then music began to play. One of the men must have started it with a remote control. The lights, too.
It was deep, jazzy strip music. Obviously, her cue.
She sauntered to the pole and smiled at the men. They watched her, keeping their expressions serious. She swayed her body to the music and unzipped her jacket slowly, then lowered the jacket over one shoulder then the other. Then she drew open the jacket to reveal her sexy bra. Leaving the jacket draped low on her shoulders, she unfastened the zipper down the front of her skirt and tossed it aside. She turned around and swayed her behind back and forth. When she turned around again, all four pairs of eyes stared at her with tremendous heat, despite the men’s carefully maintained, reserved expressions.
She smiled and allowed her jacket to drop off one arm, then the other, and she kicked it away. Grabbing the pole, she spun around, then stopped behind it, facing them. She arched toward the pole and stroked it lovingly, giving them an idea what she’d love to do to their swelling poles right now. Her lips met the cold, hard metal and she wrapped her hands around it and kissed it, then ran her tongue along it.
Jonas shifted in his seat and Derek’s gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts. She hooked her leg around the pole and drew her body close to it, then arched her pelvis against it. Liam watched her lower body as she pivoted forward and back against the pole. Sloan took a sip of his root beer, his gaze gliding up and down her body.
Her nipples hardened and her insides tightened at the anticipation of being touched and caressed very soon by these sexy, hunky men in uniform. She turned her body around the pole until her back was to them, then released the pole and reached behind her. A quick flick unhooked her bra and she glided the garment from her body and tossed it over her shoulder. She turned back, her hands covering her aching breasts. All eyes were on her hands as she squeezed her breasts together, then slowly glided away, finally baring them to view.
Derek licked his lips. Liam’s hand tightened around his glass. She stroked down her torso, then over her panties. She caressed the fabric, sliding her hand over her mound, up and down. She could feel the tension in the men, especially as they tried to keep their expressions solemn. She dipped her hand under the fabric and stroked her damp slit. God, she was hot for them. She could hardly wait to feel their hands on her, to feel their cocks inside her.
She glided her damp hand upward and pulled at the elastic, then hooked her other hand under the elastic, too, and drew it away from her body, teasing them. She turned around and pushed the thong downward, over her thigh-high boots to her ankles, then tipped one foot forward, lifting the heel from the floor.
“Freeze, ma’am,” Liam said.