Rock's Redemption(Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)(10)

"I don't know. Mr. Blair will let you know when it's over. Sometimes his  parties can go all night, and other times just a few hours." Kevin  turned and pointed to Rock, Wheelie, and Bear, motioning them to follow  him. "You three will do inside duty. The rest will be out here. I'll be  in and out all night, so let me know if you have any questions or need  anything."

The three brothers followed him to the house, entering and then staring  up at a wood staircase that spiraled around an enormous wrought-iron  chandelier that Rock surmised to be about three stories high. Their  leather boots tapped loudly on the pristine white marble floor as the  men followed Kevin into a spacious room that had large cushy couches,  several armchairs, an enormous fireplace, and, in the back, a large  wooden table with twelve chairs around it.

"This is where the party will be. Mr. Blair wants two of you present in  the room and one in the front hallway. At no time does he want you to  engage in conversation with him or his guests. You are not to talk with  each other. Your job is to be alert for anything amiss, nothing more."                       
       
           



       

Rock clenched his jaw. The prick was starting to piss him off. He looked  over at Wheelie and Bear and saw their tight faces, and clenched fists.  He chuckled inwardly. Insurgents didn't like anyone telling them what  the hell they could or couldn't do. This Mr. Blair could take his rules  and shove them up his ass.

Kevin bowed his head slightly. "I'll leave you, then." In a few seconds he was gone, disappearing down one of the many hallways.

"This is gonna fuckin' suck," Rock said to Bear and Wheelie, who nodded  in agreement. "I can't believe Banger got us into this shit."

Before the other two bikers could answer, a tall, lean man in his early  forties entered the room. He had blond hair and pale blue eyes  surrounded by fine lines. He wore perfectly pressed khaki trousers and a  lime-green sports shirt with yellow pinstripes. He smiled when he  stopped before them, his too-white teeth looking ridiculous against his  overly tanned face. "You must be the backup Liam promised me."

You fucking know we are, asshole. For reasons Rock couldn't articulate,  he didn't like their employer. There was something about him that was  cruel and evil just below the surface of his too-tanned skin. Rock could  sense it, smell it, and its scent was rotten to the core.

The three bikers stood stone-faced before him, and Blair chuckled  nervously while he jammed his hands in and out of his pockets  repeatedly. "I'm sure Kevin explained everything to you. Right?"

Rock jerked his chin up.

Blair licked his lips, then pressed them together. "Okay. Well then, I  don't need to tell you that anything that goes on inside the house is  private. I don't want the names of my guests or what we do or talk about  ever leaked out. Understood?"

Rock crossed his arms and stood stiff with his legs spread apart. His  tattoos rippled as his muscles tensed. "We're not fuckin' snitches," he  growled.

Blair's eyes widened. "No, I didn't mean that you were."

"Then you don't have to tell us that shit," Bear gritted.

Rock glanced at Bear's darkening face. He hates this asshole too. He  stood frozen to his spot, his eyes boring into Blair. An awkward silence  fell over them and they stood rigid as soldiers as their employer ran  his hand through his short hair.

"Well then," Mr. Blair's voice sliced through the tension, "take your  positions. The guests will be arriving shortly." He turned around  quickly and disappeared from the room.

"What a fuckin' prick," Rock said. Wheelie and Bear voiced their agreement.

Wheelie would man the hallway, and Bear and Rock would stay in the  living and dining room. They stood around for about thirty minutes  before the doorbell rang and Blair appeared out of nowhere to answer it.  "John, Sebastian, Alex, it's so good to see you. Peter and Roger, you  both as well. How've you been?"

"Very good, Frederick," several voices chimed.

Rock turned to look toward the hallway, watching Wheelie's eyebrows rise  and then lower immediately. Five men from their late thirties to early  fifties came in with five attractive women behind them who wore  raincoats. When they entered the living room, the men turned to their  women and gave them a hard stare. They each took off their coats,  handing them to one of the staff. Rock sucked in his breath and heard  Bear do the same: the women were naked except for black collars. Long  leashes were attached to the metal D-rings on the collars. What the  fuck? Frederick gestured to the men to sit and they sank down on the  couches and armchairs while the women knelt-butts against their calves,  hands on their thighs palms up-next to their partner.

"What the fuck is this?" Bear said in a low voice.

"A dinner party." Rock grinned. "Getting some ideas, are you?"

"I can't see the club girls kneeling next to us without a cock in their mouths. No way."

"Yeah, they're not the submissive type. This must be a play party."

"All of a sudden this gig doesn't seem so bad." Bear turned his gaze back to the living room.

The waitstaff filled drinks, passed hors d'oeuvres, and acted like it  was an everyday occurrence to have a dinner party with naked women  kneeling in front of their men, collared and silent. It blew Rock away;  he surmised they must be part of the lifestyle. The caterer came out of  the kitchen, bent down, and said something in Frederick's ear. He  smiled, stood up, and announced that dinner was ready. The male guests  rose to their feet and followed him into the dining room, tugging their  crawling women behind them.

Rock couldn't help but gaze at the women, catching the eye of one who  quickly looked down, her face reddening in embarrassment. He felt bad  and made himself stare at the paintings on the wall, but out of the  corner of his eye, he caught her looking at him and wiggling her butt on  the rug. The man with her yanked her leash hard, jerking her forward.  She yelped and he said in a cold voice, "Be still, slutty vixen, or I'll  punish you." She immediately shifted her gaze downward.                       
       
           



       

"And where is your beautiful fucktoy, Frederick?" one of the men asked as he brought a glass of white wine to his mouth.

"She's coming. If I didn't know you, I'd swear you're trying to steal  her away from me, John." Frederick laughed, but Rock picked up a hard  edge in his laughter.

"She is beautiful," a portly man said as he patted his woman on the head. "Have you changed your mind about lending her out?"

Frederick's eyes narrowed. "No, Sebastian. I haven't."

As if on cue, a woman with brown hair streaked in golden highlights  entered the room. She wore a tight-fitting red dress that hugged all her  curves, three-inch-heeled shoes that made her rounded ass higher, and a  black collar with metal studs. She walked with elegance over to  Frederick. Her long hair hung over the side of her face, and all Rock  could see was her ripe body busting out of her dress. When the scent of  amber and vanilla ribboned around him, his dick twitched and he cursed  under his breath.

"Come here, pet." Frederick stretched his hand out and smiled when she  placed hers into it. He yanked her down to his face, kissed her, and  then placed his arm on her shoulders. "Kneel," he ordered. She  immediately dropped to her knees, her head bowed.

Rock watched the lust shine in the eyes of the men seated at the table, and he wished he could see the woman in red's face.

"It doesn't seem fair that we lend our whores to you but you keep yours  all to yourself." Sebastian licked his lips as he boldly stared at the  woman kneeling next to Frederick.

"You and your slaves signed a contract allowing for lending out. My pet  and I did not. However, I may feel generous tonight and let you touch  her."

Rock saw the woman in red jerk at his words. For a split second, Rock  wanted to know how she'd ended up kneeling on the floor next to the rich  sonofabitch. But he reminded himself it wasn't his business. The power  play between the men and women was something they all wanted.

As the men gorged on steak, asparagus, and potatoes, the women knelt  patiently by their partners. Every once in a while, the men would cut a  piece from their steak, pick it up, and put it in their women's mouths,  letting their fingers linger so the women could lick them. As the women  were fed, they seemed to become more aroused-except for the clothed one.  She opened her mouth and took the morsels of food Frederick fed her,  but she didn't seem to enjoy his fingers lingering in her mouth.