Taking It All(28)

"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."