Nightclub Sins: A Billionaire Romance Series

by Michelle Love

  She extended a long, slender hand and I took it, delivering a kiss to the top of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Petra. I’m Nixon Slaughter. I look forward to seeing you both at my nightclub on New Year’s Eve. You’ll be my honored guests.”

  “Oh,” she looked at her husband. “That club, I read about it.” Her dark eyes turned to mine. “Have you come up with a name for it yet? Last I read, you and your partners hadn’t.”

  Shaking my head, I shoved my hands back into my pockets. “No, we’re at an impasse. But we’ll come up with something soon—just as soon as we can figure out how to get Gannon Forester to stop shooting down all of our ideas.”

  Petra’s eyes lit up as she said, “How about Club Exclusive? You know, because it’s catering to an exclusive branch of society, the ultra-wealthy?”

  “I’ll run it by my partners.” Our attention was then taken by someone who’d gotten to the mic on the main stage.

  “Happy Halloween, everybody!” the Master of Ceremonies called out.

  Thunderous applause boomed throughout the large room. Owen gave me a nod, and he and his wife moved forward to get closer to the stage. I stood back, watching the crowd move in. I wasn’t too keen on being in the midst of a crowd. I liked to be near an exit most times—it was an odd little quirk of mine. Getting trampled in a panicked frenzy was a bit of a phobia I had.

  Thankfully, staying on the fringes of any crowd kept me sane. A waiter came by with a tray of assorted cocktails. I picked up a clear drink that had some cherries floating in it. When I took a little taste, I found it was minty and fresh.

  Looking back at the stage, I found four people lining up on it. One man and three women—all wearing red cloaks—were getting into position. Chains fell from the rafters, and more men came onto the stage to string the women up.

  Playing with ropes and chains wasn’t a thing I’d ever done. Not that I wouldn’t like to someday, but I just didn’t have the know-how to put all that stuff up in a space. And I couldn’t have a room at home, the way a lot of Doms did. My parents visited from their home in Texas and stayed with me about three or four times a year. They’d usually stay for a week each time, and Mom was a nosy little woman. I’d never get away with having a red room of pain in my place.

  Not to mention, Malibu beach houses weren’t quite the place to practice things that had women screaming. The cops would be called, that was a given.

  So I was left with dabbling with my little fetish in another place. A few people knew my sinister secret. My partners, and my best friend, Shanna. My partners thought it was badass. Shanna thought it was freakish and that I’d get over it one day and grow the hell up.

  Shanna and I had been friends back in our tiny hometown of Pettus, Texas. When I came out to L.A., she got mad at me for leaving her all alone in the boring town. After I’d established myself, I gave in to her pleas and let her come out and live at my place until she was able to stand on her own two feet. A thing she did pretty rapidly. It was when she was living with me that she found out about my little secret.

  I’d brought a woman home with me one night during the first week Shanna was there. I’d forgotten she was there, to be honest. I was spanking the woman, and she was moaning—a lot—and begging me to hit her harder. Shanna knocked on the bedroom door and yelled at me to come out and talk to her. Which I did, reluctantly sending the woman home as Shanna berated me for my unforgivable behavior. She told me Fifty Shades sucked and anyone who followed such a mindless plot was a goddamned fool, a thing she knew I wasn’t.

  I was expecting another berating and a long sermon to come from her when I returned home from this trip. I’d managed to duck out of town before she could catch me and try to stop me from going to Portland—knowing what I did whenever I traveled there.

  “Excuse me, please,” came a soft voice as a woman touched my arm to get me to take a step to one side, allowing her to move into the crowd.

  She only made it a few steps in front of me before the outer wall of people stopped her forward progression. Even from behind she was alluring.

  Long legs, covered in torn black fishnet stockings, ended in a pair of red heels. A black bodice clung to her curves; her round ass gave way to a dip in her back, displayed by a panel of see-thru black lace splitting the silky material right down the middle.

  She wore her hair in a long dark braid that she had pulled over her left shoulder. When she turned around, clearly annoyed that she couldn’t see anything from where she was, her blue eyes met mine.

  Lifting my drink to her, I said, “Hey.”

  Hey? Really? How lame am I?

  Chapter 2

  Katana

  Although the night had started out badly, I found myself looking into the most gorgeous set of deep green eyes I’d ever seen. The mask he wore did little to hide the fact that the tall, muscular man was handsome. “Hey,” he said to me as he raised his glass.

  I needed a drink desperately. A thing he must’ve noticed as my eyes moved from his gaze to his almost full glass. Just then a waiter walked behind him, and he stopped the guy, grabbing me a drink off the full tray.

  Handing me a dark drink with a lime wedge hanging on the rim of the clear highball glass, he smiled at me. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “I’m dying for one, actually.” I took the drink from him and struggled to be somewhat classy, taking a dainty sip instead of downing it the way I wanted to.

  The last week had been hellish. I hadn’t paid attention to my schedule and had set up not two or three deadlines for myself, but ten of them. As a freelance book cover designer, I was self-employed, and that meant I was my own boss, a thing that was new to me. Not experienced in management, things had gotten out of hand. I’d get it down eventually, I knew I would—but the week had taken its toll on me.

  One would think going to a BDSM club for a Halloween party would be the last place an overworked woman would want to go. But being able to give my whole self over to someone else was always a relief. So I took the invite sent to me by my friend Blyss. We’d met long ago, when I was just a kid sent to an orphanage after my mother disappeared. Blyss and I were a lot alike. We were both quiet and kept to ourselves. We’d written to one another when I was sent to live with an elderly couple in foster care, and she stayed at the orphanage. We kept in contact just so we both knew there was at least one person in the world who knew we existed.

  Blyss had met the man she’d eventually married at this club, and she had encouraged me to check it out by coming to their first annual Halloween Ball. She knew I had little experience in the BDSM world but assured me that didn’t matter. I could just watch things this first time. If someone did ask me to do anything, she told me to let them know about my inexperience.

  I’d hoped she and her husband, Troy, would be at the club for the big bash, but he didn’t want to bring her back to the place for some reason. I thought it was odd that he wouldn’t want to come back to a place that had brought them together.

  “Do you come here often?” the hunky man asked me, shaking me from my thoughts.

  Only then did I realize I hadn’t even said thank you. “Oh, jeez!” I grimaced and felt the plastic of my mask gouge into my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a week. First, let me say thanks for grabbing me a drink. I need copious amounts of alcohol to rid my mind of all the clutter that’s been burning through it for over a week. And second, let me answer your question. No, I don’t come here often. This is my first time.”

  When his lips pulled up into one of the best smiles I’d ever seen, I couldn’t help but notice his perfect teeth. “First time, huh? Any experience with this type of thing?”

  My body tensed. I wasn’t used to talking about where I’d gotten my experience, limited as it was. “Well, I had this boyfriend when I was nineteen. He liked to spank me. And that turned into a little more, a little bondage.” I hesitated to tell him the rest, as our little playtime hadn’t ended well. I didn’t want him to think I was
scared by what had happened. But Blyss had urged me to be truthful with any man I might consider doing anything with, so I went on, “In the end, the BDSM thing turned into just plain physical abuse, coupled with mental abuse. It ended when he went to jail for beating the hell out of me and leaving me with a broken arm and jaw.”

  “Damn.” His one-word answer had me looking down. I knew he felt sorry for me and probably thought of me as damaged goods. His fingers touched my chin, pulling my face up. I saw the concern in his green eyes. “Are you okay now?”

  I nodded. “That was a few years ago. I got over it,” I told him.

  And I had, for the most part. The only remnant from that horrible time in my life was a nightmare sneaking up on me every now and then, telling me I still had a little damage leftover from the brute.

  “You can call me Mr. S. What should I call you?” He shifted his weight as he looked me over.

  “Katana,” I said, as I hadn’t thought of an alternate name for myself. Blyss hadn’t told me about doing that. “Katana Reeves.”

  “Nice to meet you, Katana Reeves.” He jerked his head to one side. “I’m not into crowds. You wanna join me in one of the smaller rooms? We can watch a scene together.”

  After a nod, he took me by the hand and off we went, leaving the large room behind us. A step behind him, I took the opportunity to chug my drink while he couldn’t see me. I needed to take the edge off, and quickly.

  As he pushed open a door, I heard horrible groans and saw a woman all tied up and bent over some kind of a table. Hushed whispers were heard as a handful of people watched what seemed to be a brutal scene.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bar and pulled at my hand to get Mr. S to let me go. He stopped and turned to look at me, seeing the empty glass in my hand. He smiled at me, and we headed to the bar first. “What would you like, Katana?”

  “Bourbon and Coke, please.” I already felt like he was taking care of me, and it felt awesome—exactly what I needed after my hectic week.

  “A double shot of Michter’s Celebration and Coke for the lady and some of the same for me, straight on the rocks.” He set his half-full glass on the bar, and I placed my empty one next to his. His dark green eyes moved to my lips. “I like that black lipstick you’ve got on. Shame it’s going to get all messed up later.”

  His confident statement took me by surprise, and all I could do was stare at the hot man who seemed to be made of muscles. A shiver ran through me as our drinks were put in front of us. He took mine, placing it in my hand. Then he grabbed his drink in one hand, my hand with the other, and took me to a little table for two at the back of the room.

  I gulped as I heard the loud smacking sound of leather meeting flesh and the yell of pain that followed. My eyes closed as I thought about what I was getting myself into.

  His arm moved over my shoulder, and he drew me in close. His lips grazed my ear as he said softly, “You’re perfectly safe with me, Katana. No reason to worry at all. Just sit back and relax. Enjoy the show—then perhaps you’ll think about what you and I can come up with together. I promise you won’t feel abused while in my hands.”

  The way he spoke, the look in his eyes, the way he touched me—it all made me feel at ease. He was a perfect stranger, yet I felt drawn to him in a way I’d never felt with any other man. Another smacking sound had me looking at the couple on the small stage.

  Sagging in the ropes, the woman seemed beaten down. My heart ached as I knew how that felt. In more ways than one. Lyle Strickland wasn’t the first person to beat the hell out of me and leave me wishing for death to take the pain away. But he’d sure as hell be the last.

  When the woman’s Dom untied her, he carried her wilted body to a bed and laid her down with gentleness. He got up to leave her, and her arms went out to him as she moaned, “Please, sir.”

  “Now you want me?” her Dom asked her. “I thought you wanted that other man.”

  “Only you, sir. I’m only meant for you. Please take me. I am yours.”

  Since we didn’t get to see most of the show, I figured she must’ve been cheating on her Dom and had gotten caught. My eyes cut to Mr. S’s, finding him none too pleased with the scene. A hard line had his lips clamped shut.

  He and I both seemed out of place in the BDSM club. The look on his face was different from the look most of the other men who watched the show had. He looked disgusted, while most of the others looked enticed. I had to admit, that particular scene wasn’t a thing I liked either.

  If someone cheated on you, you let their sorry ass go. No need to whip them into loving you. As if that could even happen in real life.

  It came as no shock to me when he leaned in close once more. “I’ve got a few toys at my hotel. What do you say we ditch this place and head over there?”

  My brain interjected. Um, hello, Katana. You don’t even know this man’s real name or one damn thing about him except he’s into BDSM.

  Cocking one brow, I dared to ask, “Do you think you could give me some identification before I take you up on that offer?”

  Without missing a beat, he pulled out his wallet and showed me his California driver’s license. “I’m Nixon Slaughter, owner of Champlain Services in Los Angeles.” He went one step further and took a business card out of his wallet, slipping it into my hand before putting his wallet away. “That’s my number. Feel better about being alone with me now, Katana Reeves?”

  With a nod, I agreed to what he wanted. “I’m in your hands now, Mr. S.”

  “I think for tonight I’d like to be called Master, my little slave girl.” He got up, took my hand, and away we went.

  Chapter 3

  Nixon

  Heading into the lobby of the Heathman Hotel, Katana and I got a few stares as we strolled in. She’d donned a red cloak to cover her little naughty negligee, but we’d kept the masks on. It felt more fun that way.

  In the elevator, we rode up to my room with two other couples. They seemed to sense we were up to no good and stayed on the far side, away from us. When we got out, the others stayed inside, and we both laughed as we walked down the hallway.

  Putting my arm around her shoulders, I gave her a little squeeze. “Think we intimidated them?”

  “Seems like we did.” Katana smiled, and it made my heart beat faster. Her smile was amazing. So bright, brilliant, and genuine. “I guess they thought they’d ended up in an elevator with a couple of freaks.”

  “Didn’t they?” I asked as I chuckled and pulled out the keycard to open the door to my hotel room.

  I let her go in first, and she looked around at the glamorous room. “I’ve lived in Portland for a long time now and have never been inside this place. It’s like a Portland treasure.”

  “It is. This hotel is where I always stay when I come to town.” I closed the door, locking it behind us.

  She turned around at the sound and looked at the door. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this.”

  “I thought you said you had, but it turned into a bad thing?” Was she getting cold feet? I hadn’t even done anything to her yet.

  She pulled off the cloak and draped it over the back of the chair in front of the small desk. “I mean, I haven’t gone to bed with a man I’ve just met.” She looked at me and grinned shyly. “Or are you one of those BDSM guys who just get off on the punishment phase and not the sexual one?”

  Stepping out of my shoes, I wondered what she was thinking about all of this. She seemed calm, but she had just come into a hotel room with a stranger. She and I had discussed nothing on the way in. Nor had I tested the waters on anything yet.

  For my part, I felt very unlike myself—and I had no idea why she would have this effect on me. But I was going to get past that for sure. Katana had a beauty about her that intrigued me. She wasn’t able to hold eye contact long at all. And when we were alone in the back of the car on the way to the hotel, she hadn’t spoken unless I’d said something.

  It was almost as if I was a vir
gin teen again with no real clue as to what to do, and Katana seemed to be having the same reaction to me. I found myself stumbling over my words as I tried to answer her question. “I, um, well—let’s see. I don’t get off on hitting, if that’s what you’re asking me. And I’d like to have sex, if that’s okay with you.”

  She looked down, her eyes glued to the floor. “Okay. I mean, I’d like to have sex too. It’s actually been a long time since I’ve done anything.”

  “How long’s a long time, Katana?” I took my jacket off and went to hang it up.

  “A year or so.”

  I dropped the jacket on the floor and turned around. “Are you shitting me?”

  She shook her head, and my heart went out to the young woman. “About a year and a half, actually.” She looked up and looked around the room, her eyes landing on the minifridge. “I don’t suppose you have any alcohol in there?”

  I unbuttoned my shirt, now completely understanding her need for alcohol. The poor thing was pent up. I could fix that. “No need. I know how to quench your thirst. On the bed, on your back. Your Master is about to please his little slave.”

  “Should I undress first?” She turned one heeled foot inward as she put her hand on her hip.

  “No. Just do as I’ve told you.” I stripped down to my tight black boxer briefs and went to the side of the bed where she lay down, waiting for me. “Close your eyes, slave. Relax.”

  Picking up her foot, I ran my lips up her long leg then grabbed the top of her thigh-high fishnet stocking with my teeth, pulling it down until it was at her ankle. I pulled off her high heel then removed the stocking.

  Running my hands up her bare leg, I felt goosebumps as they pimpled her cool flesh. I did the same thing to her other leg before I settled my body between her legs. She was nervous; I could tell from her shallow breathing.

  “One of the rules of the club is that everyone is screened for diseases and the females are in charge of the birth control.” I leaned in and blew on her panty-covered cunt, her essence already pouring through the thin fabric. “Have you taken care of all that, slave?”