Brazen Seduction

by Brazen Seduction (lit)

  Molly averted her eyes and followed Jonathan. Her heart pounded heavily as they skirted the stage and entered a side door.

  She didn’t have to wonder any longer if Richard had come to his club tonight or not. He had, he’d seen her, and now there could be no going back.

  Molly’s nerves came alive as if hit with an electric current as she wondered what would happen next.

  Chapter 2

  There’s something in the air tonight.

  Richard Grant leaned against the bar, his back to the bartender, his attention on the room and the sea of bodies that flowed and ebbed more or less to the music. Richard thought the sound, heavy on beat, light on lyrics, could have been connected to human history, that sense of ages past that lived within every psyche. A primal, feral sound.

  Scrape off enough layers and one came down to the basic animal. His thirty-six years of life had proven this to Richard beyond any doubt. He didn’t consider himself, however, a cynical man.

  He found the animal inside him cause for celebration, not shame or, worse, penitence.

  He allowed himself the pleasure of a smile as he contemplated his own personal nature. He considered himself a hedonist of the first order. He performed the necessary minutiae of life, fulfilling the obligations of a responsible member of society and a business owner. But once those chores had been completed, he turned all his attention to the pursuit of pleasure. Unabashedly, enthusiastically, and with no holds barred.

  “Good crowd.”

  Richard turned to the blond man standing beside him. Looking at Alan gave him pleasure. Not so much because he was handsome—truthfully, Richard had met and bedded more handsome men. The attraction he felt for Alan had nothing to do with physical beauty. There existed a beauty inside Alan, a kind of shining faith in life that endured and held fast in the face of enormous personal tragedy, a beauty simple, steadfast, and pure.

  “It is a good crowd,” Richard agreed. “Jordan must be smiling.”

  Alan chuckled. He moved just an inch or so closer to Richard so that their bodies touched. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s been smiling a lot lately. Ever since that party they threw where he, Marcus, and Chastity pledged themselves to each other, mates for life.”

  “I have noticed. Jordan is a lucky man. As a matter of fact,” Richard turned so that he could hold his lover’s gaze, “seeing how happy the three of them are together has inspired me to thinking, lately. I know we talked about it when we first got together, and I know we’ve both enjoyed ourselves the couple of times we’ve entertained female guests. How would you feel about adding a woman to our relationship on a permanent basis?”

  “She’d have to be a sub.”

  The speed with which Alan answered told Richard he’d been giving the matter likely as much thought as he. “Because?”

  Alan lowered his gaze and pressed himself even closer to him. The scent, part cologne and part just Alan, surrounded Richard. He felt his cock begin to stir and knew when they got home tonight he would immerse himself in his lover.

  Almost shyly, Alan lightly kissed Richard’s ear. “Because I want only your hand on the paddle when I need to be spanked, only your hand gripping my hair when you command me to worship your cock.”

  “And if it pleases me to have someone else administer your discipline?” Richard heard the edge in his question, recognizing that the part of him that loved being master asserted itself.

  “Then I will obey you without question or hesitation, of course, Master.”

  Damn, Richard really loved this man.

  “Good. And on this, I can set your mind at ease. I thought of taking on a female sub.”

  “Is that why we’re here tonight? For the auction?”

  He heard the note of disbelief in Alan’s voice. When Richard raised his eyebrow and looked at him, the other man shrugged. “You always refer to these kinds of events as D/s light. I would have thought that you’d canvass the members you knew if you decided to look for a new sub.”

  “You know me well,” Richard said. That Alan did know him so well, paid attention to him, to his thinking and his ideas, pleased Richard immensely.

  There wasn’t anything about Alan, in fact, that Richard didn’t like. If it not for the fact that he liked pussy as much as he liked cock, Richard figured he could be quite content keeping things to just the two of them.

  He turned his attention back to Alan. “We’re here tonight because Jordan called and wanted me here.”

  “Do you think he has a problem?” Alan asked.

  “We’re about to find out. There they are now.”

  “Chastity isn’t with them,” Alan said quietly.

  It would be just a minute before Jordan and Marcus joined them. Richard turned to Alan. “I want what they have. The kind of family they have. You?”

  “Yes. I want that kind of family very much. A forever kind of family.”

  Alan didn’t often show his vulnerabilities, but Richard knew them all. He liked being a Dom. He liked the mix of sex and power. But he liked being the one who took care of Alan, in ways subtly different from the way Alan took care of him.

  “Yes,” Richard said now. “A forever kind of family.”

  He turned his attention to the man approaching them.

  He’d first met Jordan Fitzpatrick more than a dozen years before, not long after Jordan arrived from the West Coast. The three of them—him and Jordan and Michael Durant—hit it off almost immediately. In those days, Richard had just started exploring his bi-sexuality, and he thought maybe he and Jordan saw that side of the other then, that common thread. He didn’t act on that feeling because he liked Jordan and wanted that man in the role of friend only.

  Richard nearly smiled. If he’d made a pass at Jordan, it would have freaked Michael out. But Richard didn’t know for certain that Jordan was involved in the lifestyle until just a few years ago, when the man opened Reckless Abandon.

  “Richard, Alan,” Jordan greeted as he approached. Marcus also nodded, then turned his attention to the bartender. He ordered two club sodas with lime. Richard did smile then. The owner of Reckless Abandon habitually ordered the same drink he and Alan did whenever they came here.

  What with all the concern over drinking and driving, and given the activities he and Alan partook of from time to time, he believed it best, all around, to leave the consumption of alcohol for evenings at home and the occasional dinner out.

  “You need to know she was pretty determined on this course,” Jordan said quickly, quietly. “So I said yes and called you. I figured, between us, we could control the situation and her.”

  “She? What situat—” Richard stopped mid-sentence as a woman came into the room. Instant lust turned him numb. He watched the glorious redhead being led before them all by collar and leash, paraded in for the benefit of the patrons.

  Another sub for the auction, but this one is the jewel of the lot.

  Her eyes downcast, her wrists and ankles shackled as befitted an unclaimed sub, the woman dripped sex. His eyes drank her in, bodacious breasts, luscious legs, and an ass he wanted to paddle, bite, and fuck. His cock hardened. The sound of an indrawn hiss beside him meant Alan saw her as well. He shot a sly glance down, pleased his lover sprouted an erection in reaction to her. Putting his glance back on the redhead he tried to get a good look at her face.

  Come on, sweetheart, show a little spunk. Look up. Look at me.

  She must have heard his urgent summons, for in the next instant she raised her head, then locked her gaze on his. Richard’s back straightened and he took one step forward as recognition blasted through him.

  “What the fuck?”

  He thought he said that softly, but Marcus’s snort told him he’d been loud enough. Molly’s eyes widened. Then she redirected her gaze to the ground. In another few seconds, she disappeared from sight.

  Richard wanted to punch something, or someone. He turned to Jordan, ready to do violence.

  “What did you want me t
o do? She begged me to help her. Was I supposed to say no and let her try to find a partner in the lifestyle on the street?”

  “Jesus Christ, Jordan, she’s just a kid!”

  “I beg your pardon? Molly is twenty-five years old. And I hate to break this to you because I know that your self-preservation instincts have shoved her in the box marked ‘child,’ but that woman is no child. Besides, she very likely has indulged in sex before.”

  Richard opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again.

  What the hell was he going to do? Everything Jordan just said hit the mark, damn it. He’d been keeping an eye on Molly since she was a kid.

  Truths he’d hidden from himself began to surface. His better angel struggled to hold back the tide of those thoughts, while the little devil that lived inside him felt like a dieter who’d just discovered zero-calorie whipped cream.

  Oh God. Molly covered in chocolate and whipped cream. He could just imagine…

  He shook his head, suddenly aware that his companions, all three of them, silently watched him, waiting.

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?” he asked Jordan.

  Jordan stepped closer. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Bid on her. Win her. Then train her to your tastes.”

  Richard ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Michael will fucking kill me.”

  “Michael is in Wyoming, if you’ll recall. And I believe he realizes Molly isn’t a teenager anymore. I doubt very much he’s even aware you’ve kept yourself as her pseudo big-brother all this time.”

  The music faded to silence and the lights came up just a little. Excited chatter rippled through the assembled crowd. Richard cast his eye over the sea of bodies. Some people wore costumes, some came dressed in business casual, and some even wore blue jeans.

  Reckless Abandon packed in an eclectic mix of people. Some of them played at various renditions of BDSM. Some took the lifestyle a lot more seriously. He knew that he and Alan likely ranged in the middle between the players and the very serious. One thing all the patrons had in common, they all belonged to this private club, which meant Jordan had vetted every one.

  Of course, no system could be foolproof. For all Richard knew, there might be a deviant bastard right there with them tonight, disguised as a regular member.

  But Jordan was right. If Molly wanted to explore this lifestyle, better she came here than some out-of-town biker bar.

  And better she have me as her master than any other man.

  Over the loudspeaker, a cultured female voice began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, our charity auction is about to get underway.”

  “All right.” Richard said.

  “You’re going to buy her?”

  Richard heard the thread of excitement in Alan’s voice. He shot his sub a glare. “What choice do I have? I’ll buy her, and then maybe I’ll put her in a cab and send her home.”

  “I never knew you possessed this stubborn streak,” Jordan said.

  “Fuck you.”

  In hindsight, Richard supposed it wasn’t such a good idea to say something like that to as powerful a man as Jordan Fitzpatrick.

  The Dom in Fitzpatrick may have raised one eyebrow at his rudeness, but the rest of him, the man who had been one of his best friends for the last decade, just laughed and clapped a commiserating hand on his shoulder.

  * * * *

  “Number ten, step forward.”

  Finally! Molly thought the moment would never arrive. Her rotten luck saw her given the last number for the night. Nine other subs went before her, six men and three women. But from the moment she came out on stage, she’d been aware of Richard.

  He didn’t leave his post by the bar, but neither did he take his eyes off her. Alan, on his left, stood quietly. She understood the nature of their relationship now that she’d done some reading and studying. Alan didn’t seem overt in his submissiveness. But then, she didn’t know how much of their roles they shared with the world. She’d been taking covert looks at the crowd during the auctioning of the other subs. She saw couples—both same sex and mixed gender—who seemed to enjoy showing off the D/s dynamic with leashes and collars. And she saw couples like Richard and Alan, and Jordan and Marcus whose behavior appeared much more subtle.

  Richard left the bar and slowly made his way toward the stage. She couldn’t read his expression. She quickly cast her glance down, as she’d been told to remain until directed otherwise.

  “Number ten, turn around slowly, three hundred and sixty degrees.”

  Molly did as the faceless female voice commanded her to do. She made her movements slow so that each quarter turn provided ample opportunity for the club’s patrons—Richard—to look their fill.

  “Number ten, turn your back to the audience, spread your legs, and bend over.”

  Molly felt her face heat. She cursed her vanity for having chosen such a blatantly sexy garment in the first place. She didn’t know how much the audience could see because she simply never checked herself in the mirror at this angle. She suspected they were getting an eyeful of pussy.

  “Number ten, stand straight and face the audience. Raise your head and focus your gaze on the bar. Master Jordan has decreed that the bidding on number ten shall begin at one thousand dollars.”

  One thousand dollars?

  Molly should have been used to this process by now, as she listened to the bidding back and forth for all nine of her predecessors. It felt a hell of a lot different when she knew the patrons would be bidding on her.

  “One thousand dollars.”

  That was not Richard’s voice. Though difficult, she managed a small glance to her right. The lights thwarted her, and all she got was an impression of a tall man wearing some kind of strange mask. Then the image of black eyes, Satan’s eyes, returned, and she knew who’d just bid on her.

  “Master Bacchus has opened. Any others?”

  “One thousand, one hundred.”

  Thank God. That was Richard. She tried to read his mood from his voice. It might have been an easier proposition if he put some inflection into his words.

  “One thousand, five hundred.”

  “Two thousand.”

  “Two thousand five hundred.”

  “Three thousand dollars.”

  “Five thousand dollars.”

  Oh dear. It seemed that someone really wanted her, and she very much feared that someone was not Richard. Her heart thudded in her chest and sweat slicked her breasts.

  Shit. She didn’t like the odds of her top staying up if she sweated too much.

  “Master Bacchus has bid five thousand dollars. Master Richard?”

  The crowd fell silent, the bidding for her having eclipsed all others tonight. She began to shake, because something about the man, Bacchus, frightened her, though she couldn’t say what, and because it looked like he might win.

  It seemed odd to her he’d call himself Bacchus. Every depiction she’d ever seen of the minor god showed a plump, jovial man with a face wreathed in pleasure.

  Nothing about this Bacchus spoke of pleasure.

  Molly didn’t want to become the sub of a man whose face she couldn’t even see, a man who set her inner alarms off. She let her glance slide to him once more, and nearly jumped when she realized he’d been waiting for her to do that, and met her gaze steadily with two eyes as black as tar.

  Molly swallowed hard and turned her gaze back to the bar. It felt as if long minutes passed since the emcee asked Richard whether he would care to bid over five thousand dollars.

  Oh, my God, that’s a lot of money. What if he isn’t prepared to go any higher? What if…

  “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  The crowd gasped and then began to applaud. Not caring if she broke the rules or not, she let her gaze meet Richard’s.

  She’d never seen quite that look on him before. What did it mean? What was he thinking?

  “Master Bacchus?”

  Molly held her breath and mentally crossed her f
ingers.

  “Sadly, I must decline to continue.”

  “Going once, going twice…sold to Master Richard for the generous sum of fifty thousand dollars. Master Richard, the AIDS orphans’ charity thanks you. Number ten, go to your new master.”

  Molly felt so relieved Richard bought her, she could barely move. Taking the stairs on her left, she kept her eyes downcast as she made her way to where he stood, waiting. She reached him at the same time as the masked man.

  “Congratulations, Richard.”

  “Thank you, Bacchus.”

  “Perhaps if you tire of her, you’ll be kind enough to remember me?”

  Richard didn’t answer, he just nodded his head. Bacchus raked Molly with a gaze that felt as malevolent as it did intrusive. Then he turned and headed toward the bar.

  “I have a good mind to put you in a cab and send you to your mother.” Richard’s words sounded terse.

  Defiant, Molly met his gaze for the first time. Before he realized who she was, she saw heat in his expression, and she could have sworn she saw it again, just after the emcee announced he won her. She had to believe he wanted her. She had to hold on to that faith with both hands as she took the biggest gamble—the biggest bluff—of her life.

  “I will be a sub. The only question is, who will I belong to? You? Or that gentleman in the lovely orange mask?”

  Richard’s eyes widened, and then a coldness entered his expression that froze her right to the bone.

  “Oh, you’ll be mine, all right. In fact, as of a few moments ago, you are mine. You challenged me just now, and for that you deserve to be punished. How fortunate we have the perfect place to do just that upstairs.” He reached out and took her arm in his hand. Turning, he looked at Alan who hurried over to join them.