Page 35 of Cruel Master

"Thank you. That’ll be all," Gaven replied. The woman nodded and stepped back into the club, turning and striding away. I watched her go with a mixture of irritation and mild curiosity.

Before I could ask what that had been about, Gaven pivoted to face me once more and pressed the package into my arms. I stared down at it before lifting my gaze to his. "Through that door is the ladies' locker room,” he said, gesturing to one of the only doors beyond this lobby that wasn’t glass. “Go put this on and meet me back out here."

I had no clue what he’d been expecting when bringing me here, but I’d already known that Gaven’s sexual preferences were anything but normal. With one last look out into the main floor of the new version of the club, I turned on my heel and strode for the door in question. Dread filled the pit in my stomach. Would this be the night that I truly learned what kind of things he expected? Was there more than what I’d already experienced? I didn’t know, but I had a feeling that I would find out soon.

16

ANGEL

The package was light in my hands as I pushed open the door to the locker room. We were in a sex club, so I had an idea of what it could be. Memories of the first gifts Gaven had ever given me flashed in my mind. The diamond choker that I’d taken apart and sold to start my new life. The barely there scrap of lace. A hidden twist within the delicate fabric. The vibrating bullet that had been sewn into the underwear was nothing in comparison to the torturous wand he'd hooked to the chair he’d strapped me to days ago. Another shiver wracked my frame at the mere thought of that pleasure and pain-filled piece of furniture before I shoved it away, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

I moved further into the locker room. It was different from a normal locker room, more luxurious and elegant. That made sense, I supposed. I strode across the dark marble floors that glinted in the soft glow of the crystal chandeliers, past red velvet couches and loungers towards the rows and rows of dark gray lockers towards the back. There were several closed and locked, so I stepped up to one of the open ones and set the package on the shelf inside, gripping either side as I tried to take a breath.

Seconds stretched into minutes as I tried to calm my racing heart. My eyes gradually rose back to the package. If I delayed for too long, I had no doubt that Gaven himself would come in to find me and I … didn’t want to find out what would happen if he did that. Taking the package down from the shelf, I slipped a finger into one folded end and peeled the thick paper back.

Inside, I found a lace bra and underwear set. The cups of the bra were delicate and so white, they were practically translucent. I ran my fingers down them and then, almost hopefully, lifted them out of the wrapping, but nope … there was nothing else inside. I wasn’t stupid. The color had been fucking strategic—as if Gaven was reminding me of what my place was supposed to be. Of what we were supposed to be.

Damn him. It worked. I pictured myself wearing this. I pictured his ring back on my finger—the ring that I hadn’t taken with me when I’d run after Jackie’s betrayal.

With a sigh, I placed the package back on the shelf and reached back to undo the clasp keeping my zipper shut at my back. Before I could start undressing, however, the door opened and footsteps entered the locker room. I turned abruptly, faced with a woman who was slightly shorter than me in a slinky black gown and wavy golden hair with streaks of brown in it.

She didn't look familiar, but when she spotted me, her eyes lit up and she smiled widely. She switched directions from the couches to me. "Hi, you must be Evangeline," she greeted me warmly.

“Hello?” I stared at her. “Yes, I’m … erm, just call me Angel. Who are you?”

"Ah, it seems my husbands forgot to tell you to expect me.”Had she saidhusbands? As in multiple?“I'm America.”

“America…?”

She chuckled. “I’m married to the big guy who owns this place,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember, but I actually met you a long time ago—our dads worked together.”

“Who was your dad?”

“Jason Perelli.” I watched the play of emotions over her face—from happy to sour the second she spoke the man’s name. No love lost there, I supposed. That wasn’t uncommon in mafia families, though. My father had been an anomaly. The name, however, was familiar. It clicked.

“Ian Marshall? That’s your husband?” I bypassed mentioning her father—rumor had it that she’d had him killed a few years ago, so I doubted it’d be a good topic to discuss.

"Yes, Ian's my husband,” she said, her smile returning. “So are Archer and Jensen—sorta. Ian’s my husband on paper, but in my heart, I’m married to all of them.”

“Wow.” It was all I could say. “You have a big heart.”

She laughed at that and moved down the line to another locker—one of the closed ones. “What can I say, my heart is probably as big as their dicks,” she replied, pausing as her locker swung open. She looked back at me. “And just in case you’re wondering—they’re fucking huge and even better, they know how to use them right.”

“Congratulations,” I said, and meant it. “Big dicks are one thing, but knowing how to use them … that’s rare.” I finally reached back to unclasp and unzip my dress as America began to undress as well.

"I know it isn't traditional, or 'normal,’ but who really is in this life?"

Ice coated my veins. Traditional.Normal. The thing I'd tried my damnedest to obtain for myself before it all went to hell. No, Gaven and I weren't normal, not by a long shot. I doubted we ever truly would be.

"Angel?" America's voice penetrated the dark turn that had clouded my thoughts, her tone suggesting that she’d said my name more than once.

When I looked over at her, I was startled to see her already out of her gown and into what could only be described as fetish wear. Her stomach, which hadn’t been super obvious beneath her evening gown, protruded slightly, softly rounded in a way that made me realize she was pregnant. I gaped at her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

I hadn’t been alright since the moment I’d laid eyes on Gaven Belmonte. Instead, though, I lied. "Yes, of course,” I said, pulling my gaze away from her stomach. Her breasts were covered in a deep red bra that looked like shells of lace similar to the bra I’d been given. Red straps crisscrossed over her ribcage and the matching underwear she wore barely covered her pussy. Heat stole over my cheeks and I hurriedly turned away.

"Mare! I see you've met Gaven’s wife,” Katerina’s familiar tone called out. She was followed closely by her lover, Genevieve, the other woman I'd met upstairs.

"Yes, we were just talking," America—Mare—replied. I held the fabric of my dress against my front, frowning as I debated on how to change without them seeing me. Though I supposed if I was going to walk out there in little more than see-through scraps of nothing, it didn’t really matter, did it?

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