"Thank you," she whispered. "But you picked everything out so I'd say your taste is pretty darn impressive."
"Baby, that dress would not make every woman look as sensational as you. It's you. Not the dress. One hundred percent you."
She smiled her pleasure at his sincere compliment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet drawstring bag with the name of a prominent jeweler monogrammed on the front.
"Sit down," he said, a quiet command.
She sank onto the couch and he pulled out an intricately designed leather choker with aquamarine stones that matched her dress to perfection. She was awed by the obvious amount of time he'd devoted to pulling together her outfit for the evening. And even more impressed with the brief amount of time he'd had to work with in order to have it all ready on such short notice.
Then he turned it over to the side that would lie against her throat and burned into the leather were the words "My Girl."
Damn it, she would not cry. She'd shed far too many tears both in sadness and joy lately. She would not ruin the evening before it ever truly began.
"It's beautiful, Tate," she whispered.
"You truly like it?"
She was surprised at the vulnerability in his tone. She wouldn't have ever imagined him worrying over her liking a gift from him. Anything he gave her was very precious to her. But the best gift of all was simply himself.
She leaned up just a bit to kiss him and then nipped playfully at his jaw. "I don't like it. I love it."
He smiled then, and perhaps it was her imagination, but his shoulders seem to relax as if in relief.
"My girl is playful tonight, I see. That's good because I intend for us to play a lot. Let me change right quick and we'll go."
"I'll be waiting," she said.
AN hour later, Tate pulled up the winding driveway of The House that sat atop a gentle hill and looked down at grassy, green rolling landscapes. Everything about The House screamed wealth and privilege even though membership didn't require either. However, Damon Roche, the owner of The House, was the epitome of wealth and class. And he was extremely discerning when it came to membership in his establishment.
Members were carefully vetted and background checks were required for all prospective members. In addition to the care Damon took in screening the members, there was careful attention to security. Even in the private rooms members could avail themselves of if they didn't want to be in the public common room, security cameras were in place and the safety of the participants was monitored at all times. While the non-public rooms offered the illusion of privacy, in fact they were all under vigilant security surveillance for the safety of all parties involved.
Tate stopped the engine after pulling into a parking spot and then turned to look at Chessy. "Is my girl ready for her night to begin?"
"Oh yes," she breathed.
He squeezed her hand and then opened his door. She knew the drill. She waited for him to come around and open her door. He leaned in, attaching a diamond-studded leash to the loop at the back of the collar and then held out his hand to assist her in getting out.
She stumbled at first when her heel caught a crack in the pavement and Tate immediately wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Yes. Just caught my heel."
He led her to the entry where a man in an expensive black suit had them sign in and Tate showed ID. It had been so long since they'd last gone to The House that Chessy didn't recognize the new doorman. But then for all she knew he could have been working here for quite some time.
Tate curled his hand around the leash and rested his hand underneath her hair that hung to the middle of her back, not making it obvious she was leashed as he led her into the downstairs social room where people met and mingled and drank expensive wine and snacked on delicious hors d'oeuvres. It was also a place for hookups. Singles looking for a night of adventure or simply people wanting to visit with other like-minded individuals who shared the same kinks and sexual preferences.
"Would you like some wine?" Tate asked as they entered the room.
Chessy shook her head in response and drank in the occupants, studying the people in attendance with her usual fascination. One of her favorite activities when they'd previously visited The House was to play the guessing game and match proclivity to person even though she had no way of confirming her guesses. But it was fun.
In a way she was relieved that she didn't recognize anyone in the room because then the inevitable question would arise as to why she and Tate hadn't been in for so long. After several minutes of circling the spacious luxurious room, Tate guided her out the door. She knew that he'd made the rounds in the social room to, in his words, show her off. It had always been a point of pride with her that he found her beautiful, that he was proud to arrive with her on his arm and that he made his claim so publicly.
"Be careful on the stairs, baby," he said when they mounted the first step. "I bought those shoes because I wanted to fuck you in them, but I damn sure don't want you falling and breaking your neck."
She laughed softly. "You'll catch me, Tate. I never doubt that."
He gathered her more closely into his side as they climbed the stairs together. But once they reached the top, he gently disentangled his hand from her hair and pulled the leash out so that it called attention to her collar. And his claim on her as her Dominant and she his submissive.
As soon as they walked through the entryway to the common room, the sights and sounds overwhelmed her. Even the scent of sex was heavy in the air. She did a quick scan of the room, looking for anyone she recognized, but all she saw were unfamiliar faces. Except for Damon Roche, who stood in the far corner, a glass of what was likely very expensive liquor in hand, conversing with another man.
It was unusual for him to be at The House these days and especially without his wife. Though he still oversaw the running and operation of The House, since his marriage he'd devoted most of his free time to his wife, Serena, and Dash had mentioned that Damon and Serena now had a daughter.
Damon glanced up as if sensing her scrutiny and nodded his head in acknowledgment of both her and Tate. Then he said something to the man beside him before excusing himself to cross the room to where Chessy and Tate stood.
"It's good to see you both," Damon said warmly. He leaned in and kissed Chessy on the cheek and then shook Tate's hand. "James is waiting by the bench. Everything you requested is available. I hope you both enjoy yourselves tonight."
Ever the consummate host, Damon escorted them to the far corner of the room, where a tall, attractive dark-haired man stood in casual jeans and polo shirt. Butterflies danced through Chessy's stomach when the man lifted a chin in greeting as the group approached.
So this was James. The man Tate had chosen for her tonight. She was careful not to offer Tate disrespect by being too open with her admiration, but her husband had indeed chosen well. James was broad-shouldered and muscled, his arms bulging at the short sleeves of the shirt he wore and his expression was one of complete dominance. And yet he was ceding control to Tate, acting as an extension of him for tonight.
They'd certainly done this before, but none of the other men Tate had ever chosen seemed this … Dominant. James didn't appear to her to be a man who so easily gave up power to another man. A shiver worked its way up her spine as she studied him further. Trepidation squeezed her chest before she admonished herself for entertaining such apprehension. Tate would never put her in a position where she would be overwhelmed or hurt.
"James, good to see you again." Tate ceremoniously handed over the leash to the other man. "This is my beautiful submissive, Chessy. She is yours for the evening to do with as I dictate," he said formally. "Her safe word is ‘rain.' You are to take absolute care in your handling of her. Her mouth is mine and mine alone. I expect you to treat her with utmost respect."