Nightclub Sins: A Billionaire Romance Series

by Michelle Love

  When lunchtime came, I met her at Providence to enjoy some seafood. She met me at the door, and I hugged her. “There he is.”

  “I made it. Today has been one hell of a day.” I took her hand, leading her inside.

  In no time at all they had us seated, and our appetizer of oysters on the half-shell was brought to us along with some white wine. She rocked back in her seat as she swallowed one of the oysters then looked at me. “So, you disappeared on me. I thought you and I might go trick-or-treating last night, just like we did in the old days. I’d dress up as a witch and you’d throw a sheet over your head and cut out a couple of holes for your eyes.”

  “Yeah, I did do a little dressing up. I wore a mask, anyway.” I sipped my wine then ate an oyster as she looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  “A mask, huh?” She kept on eyeing me. “In Portland, no doubt.”

  Shanna was one of the few who knew about my dabbling in the darker side of sex. And she absolutely hated it. So I was always a little leery of admitting to her when I’d gone. “Um, maybe.” I took another sip of wine.

  “And you hooked up with a random sub?” she asked, but quickly raised her palm up to stop me from answering. “No, I’m not going to make you lie about it. I know you did pick up a little tramp and screw her mercilessly while spanking her until her ass …”

  “Shanna, stop,” I hissed at her as I gestured around to the other patrons of the fine dining establishment. All conversations around us had gone silent as they honed in on what she was saying.

  She looked around before lowering her voice as she leaned across our small table. “But you did find a girl. You can’t lie to me, Nixon Slaughter. I’ve known you for too damn long.”

  “Okay, so I did find someone, and we had some fun. But my trips to Portland are a thing of the past.” I ate another oyster as she pondered what I’d said.

  “Good. But what happened to make you decide not to go there anymore?” She eyed me again, scrutinizing my every word.

  “The club I belong to has been destroyed,” I told her, then shrugged. “So I have nowhere to go now to get my fix.”

  “Good,” she proclaimed as she picked up her glass and held it, as if to toast me. “The sinful place is no more, and you can stop that little bit of evil you’ve been doing and get to finding the right woman for you.”

  “I’m not looking,” I said as our main courses—king salmon for her and vermillion rockfish for me—came to the table on a large round tray, carried by our helpful waiter.

  “You’re not getting any younger, Nixon. Twenty-nine is barking at your door,” she reminded me.

  So I reminded her of the same thing. “Neither are you, Shanna. And you’re only three months younger than me.”

  The waiter left us, and she smiled at me. “Maybe it’s time we both started looking for people we can settle down with. Maybe then you’d stop yearning for a submissive on occasion.”

  I looked down at my delicious meal, but the image wavered in front of me as Katana’s face filled my head. I didn’t think I’d ever stop yearning for at least one sub.

  Chapter 8

  Katana

  The weeks after the best night of my life passed by quickly, and soon enough Thanksgiving was just a week away. Many people looked forward to Thanksgiving and the celebrations they’d have with their families, but not me. I hadn’t had a real Thanksgiving since I was eighteen. I’d had to leave the foster home after that, and I wasn’t gone a year before both the people who’d taken care of me had passed away.

  The holidays always got me down. But this particular season was hitting me a lot harder than usual. I just didn’t feel well most of the time. I had a hard time waking up in the mornings, and I couldn’t make it through a day without taking a nap—a thing I’d never done.

  I was just off. And my mind drifted to Nixon and that night way too often. It was like he was haunting me, and I didn’t have a clue as to how to stop it from happening.

  One night, when I woke up after a three-hour nap that started at seven in the evening, I flipped on the TV as I knew there was no way I’d be falling back to sleep anytime soon.

  After clicking through the channels, I found a romantic movie and sighed as I lay back on the sofa to watch it. It was all well and good until a steamy scene came on and I felt a surge in my lower regions. And whose handsome face had to pop into my mind once again? That’s right, Nix’s.

  A moan escaped me as I closed my eyes and relived the feeling of his hands moving over my body. I stretched out and arched my back as I pretended his mouth was on my skin again.

  My hand moved on its own to the soft hairs that topped my pussy. I left a bit on top but kept the rest cleanly shaven. I didn’t want to look like a little girl, but I also didn’t want to look like a Sasquatch down there, either.

  Dipping my finger into my wetness, I pulled it up my slit then tapped my clit. In my mind, Nix’s mouth had found mine, and he gifted me with a gentle kiss. Our warm breaths mingled as he eased his mouth off mine and looked into my eyes. “Good little slave. Now your Master will satisfy your cravings for him.”

  “Yes,” I moaned. “I’m yours, Master. Only yours.”

  I imagined him taking my tit into his mouth, sucking on it softly. He was teasing me, not letting me have the harder sucking I craved. Light licks and gentle pulls were all he did. I grew antsy for more.

  Pushing my hand under my T-shirt, my finger traced a circle around my nipple, pretending it was his tongue. “Oh, Master, it feels so good.”

  I could hear his deep voice in my mind. “You make me feel so good, slave. My sexy little slave girl.”

  In my mind I belonged to him. I had no desire to be with anyone else. And that thought made me inexplicably sad. I knew what I’d gotten myself into. I’d been told the rules of membership at that BDSM club. Essentially, I was nothing more than a body for some rich man to use for a while.

  I stopped touching myself and sat up, sick to my stomach. Even as I hurried to the bathroom, afraid I would puke on the light tan carpet, I thought about what I’d eaten last. That morning I’d had two bites of a bagel with cream cheese. My stomach just didn’t agree with it, and I never found my appetite for the rest of the day.

  When I got into the bathroom, I stepped on the scale as a series of burps popped out of my mouth. I’d lost five pounds in the last week.

  I barely ate and slept all the damn time. Did I have mono?

  After a couple of dry heaves, I left the bathroom to get my laptop to search the symptoms of mononucleosis. Fatigue was at the very top, but everything that followed that—high fever, body aches, headache, muscle weakness, sore throat, swollen glands in the neck and underarms, rash—I didn’t have.

  Well, at least it wasn’t mono. At least it wasn’t something I could’ve contracted from my one beautiful night with Nix. I wouldn’t have wanted the memory of that night to be tarnished by anything negative, like me getting sick.

  And I’d also really hate to have to call Nixon to let him know that he should get checked for the virus because of our night together. That would be uber-embarrassing.

  I turned off the television and headed to my bedroom to finish watching the movie in there. Grabbing a bottle of water and a sleeve of saltines out of the cabinet, I brought the crackers with me to eat in bed. Not a thing that a person with a partner would get to do. I guess I was lucky.

  I could eat in bed, sleep at odd hours, work when I felt like it. Many had it far worse than me. I wondered if depression had caused my problems. I knew a lot of people only got depressed during the holidays—maybe I’d become one of those people. The good Lord knew I didn’t have anything to be happy about this season. Nothing to look forward to.

  As a matter of fact, one of my clients had asked me why in the world I had given her December 25th as the date I’d deliver her cover to her. I’d told her that it was just another day for me. She’d told me that was sad, and I supposed it was.

  With no family, days
like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and even New Year’s meant little to me. Hell, even Halloween hardly registered on my radar—I hadn’t participated in that since I was a kid in foster care. My mother had never taken me out on Halloween from what I could remember. I also didn’t remember ever having a Christmas tree or anything else special when I lived with her. My birthday must’ve come and gone without me knowing it, up until I was put into the system.

  My heart felt heavy as I lay in my bed, the television off. I didn’t feel like watching any romantic shit anymore. It settled in that I had to be depressed. Who the hell wouldn’t be, considering my past?

  While my night with Nixon Slaughter had made something inside of me light, there was no one there to keep that flame going. It had started to dwindle into nothingness the moment we parted ways.

  I’d been a damn fool to go to that club. Up until that night, I’d been just fine with how things were in my life. Yes, I did work myself too hard at times. Yes, sometimes I drank a bottle of wine all alone as I sat in bed and watched scary movies until I’d end up looking around my room, paranoid about what might sneak out to get me. But I’d been okay with that life.

  Right?

  I moaned as I got into bed, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and closed my eyes. They burned, and I felt dehydrated.

  Sitting up, I chugged the water, praying I could just rehydrate and make everything okay again. I would put Nixon out of my head—refuse to let that memory enter my brain. I’d whack at it with everything I had each and every time he tried to come back to visit me in my imagination.

  No more Nixon Slaughter!

  Even though I’d slept some ten hours that day with all my naps, I found myself tired still. As I drifted closer to sleep, I began to think about one of the ideas my client had run by me.

  Baily Sever routinely ordered book covers from me. She wrote young adult romance under a pen name, specializing in BDSM. When I’d told her about my little encounter with that world, she’d begged me to let her interview me. She’d pay me for my time, and better yet, she’d give me part of the royalties and tag me as a co-author.

  I hadn’t taken her up on the offer yet but as I lay there and thought about what I’d been doing, falling down the rabbit hole, I decided I would take her up on that offer.

  Getting back out of bed, I headed to the living room and my desk. Right then and there, I got on my laptop and sent her an email, telling her I wanted to take her up on her offer. She could call me as soon as she wanted to do the interview. Hell, I’d even make the cover of the book free of charge since she’d said she’d give me credit as the co-author.

  The prospect of this new work had me feeling pretty peppy, and I headed to the kitchen to make me some eggs and bacon. Crazy how getting a new project started can get you up and going again.

  I had to move on from that night. As spectacular as it had been, it was over. I had to get that through my head; I’d never have another night like that one. Not ever.

  Chapter 9

  Nixon

  The month after Halloween both dragged on and flew by somehow. It was the day before Thanksgiving and Shanna and I were on my private jet, heading back to Texas to spend the holiday with our families.

  Like every day before that one, my mind was on Katana, wondering what she’d be doing for Thanksgiving. Shana sat across the narrow aisle from me, filing her nails as we sped through the sky. “Why do you seem so zoned out, Nixon?”

  I’d been laying my head on the headrest, eyes closed, picturing Katana in that hotel room. I turned my head to look at her. “I’m just wondering what Katana is doing tomorrow. And wishing like hell I’d gotten her number or at least her address so I could send her flowers or something.”

  One blonde brow arched as she looked at me with an incredulous expression. “Why? Why would you still be thinking about that little brainless twit?”

  I sat up, taking offense at what she’d said. “Hey, no reason to call her names, Shanna. And need I remind you that you don’t even know her? What grounds do you have for calling her anything at all?”

  “I know all I need to know about the girl. She’s into some sick shit and can’t have a brain in her head if she’s into that stuff. Now, I can see a man being into that lifestyle. Of course, who wouldn’t get off at least a little bit, ruling over someone? But being the one who’s ruled over—well, that only means one thing in my book: no brains.” She put the nail file down and picked up a magazine, thumbing through the pages. “Put her out of your head, Nixon.”

  Closing my eyes again, I tried not to think about Katana—but did anyway. Shanna was wrong about her. She wasn’t brainless. Sure, I didn’t know her that well—or at all really—but I knew she wasn’t dumb.

  “You know who I bet will be in town, too, Nixon?” Shanna asked with a lilt to her voice.

  “Nope,” I said without even opening my eyes.

  “Bianca.”

  My cock twitched. Bianca had been a couple of years older than me and often taunted me when we were kids. By the time we were in high school though, I’d caught her giving me sideways glances, admiring how I’d grown up.

  I’d always had a crush on her—she was the hottest girl in school. Long legs, tanned skin, dark hair that hung to her waist. And then it hit me—Katana and Bianca had a lot of similarities. Maybe that was why I had felt so instantly attracted to Katana.

  I sat up and looked at Shanna. “You really think she might be visiting her parents?” I had to admit I was a little excited about seeing her.

  “Why wouldn’t she be there?” Shanna asked. “Everyone comes home for the holidays.”

  I nodded and lay my head back again. I tried to picture Bianca. It’d been two years since I’d seen her last. That was at Christmas. She’d been with some guy then, but gave me a sexy little smile that told me she would’ve given me a bit of her time if she’d been alone. It was a smile she’d never given me before.

  But as hard as I tried to bring Bianca’s face into my mind, I couldn’t. The only face I saw was Katana’s, and it was beautiful. So beautiful it made my heart ache.

  I should’ve gotten her damn number!

  When the jet stopped at the San Antonio International Airport, we hopped into a rental car and headed for Pettus. It took us a little over an hour to get home, and when we did, we were greeted with open arms by our families.

  Just like we always did during the holidays, everyone ended up at the only café in town, the Dairy Queen. Shanna and I were sitting in a booth, catching up with a couple of guys I played football with in high school. They’d never left the tiny town, both working as guards at the nearby prison.

  I hadn’t even noticed anyone coming into the place, but when a hand moved across my shoulders, I looked back to find Bianca. “Hey!”

  “Hi,” she purred. Wearing a maroon jacket, her dark hair pulled up into a long ponytail, she looked just like she had back in high school. “When did you get here and how long are you staying, Nixon?”

  “Today, and leaving the day after tomorrow,” I answered as she came around to stand at the end of the table.

  The conversation at our table ceased as she ran her finger along my jaw. “I like the beard. It makes you look distinguished.”

  I chuckled. “I was going for dangerous, but thanks.”

  Her dark brown eyes cut to the side, looking out at the parking lot. “I was thinking about going to Charlie’s for a beer or two. Wanna take me?”

  I sat perfectly still, unsure if I truly did want to take her. It was pretty easy to see she wanted me. And after all these years, that was a pleasant surprise.

  Shanna jabbed me in the ribs as she whispered, “Are you crazy? Get the hell up and take her. I can walk home from here.”

  There went my only excuse not to take Bianca to the bar.

  The guys looked at me like I was insane for not jumping at the chance to be with one of the hottest chicks ever to grace our little hick town. But the fact was, I wasn’t jumping. And there w
as only one reason why.

  Katana.

  Before I could say a word, the bell on the door jingled, and this time I noticed it. When I looked to see who it was, a tall, decently built dude was heading our way. “Shit,” Bianca hissed. She walked toward him. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

  He gave me a look before he looked back at her. “Come on.”

  She glanced back at me and shrugged. “See you guys around.”

  I’d missed my chance with her and knew it. I couldn’t say I actually cared, but Shanna seemed invested, as she waited until Bianca and her guy walked out before lighting into my ass. “Are you crazy, Nixon? You mooned over that girl all through junior high and high school. You said if she gave you half a chance you’d make her see God. Well, she just gave you a hell of lot more than half a damn chance. She was throwing herself at you, Bianca style.”

  With a shake of my head, I said, “Did you not notice that she has a man, Shanna? Damn. I’m not about to get some redneck pissed off at me over a piece of ass.”

  Plus, even before he walked in, I couldn’t seem to make myself get up and do it. Katana just kept flashing through my mind like a strobe light. I had to do something to get myself over the girl who obviously wanted nothing more to do with me. She had my number, and she had never called.

  The fact was Katana had signed a paper that had had her promise not to contact any man she encountered at the club. But after Halloween, the Dungeon of Decorum was destroyed, destroying all that with it. Nothing could stop her from calling me if she wanted to. She wouldn’t be in trouble or get fined by the club.

  So why didn’t she ever call?

  The answer was simple. She didn’t want to.

  Maybe I’d been too rough. Maybe I’d gone too far. Or maybe I hadn’t gone far enough or been rough enough. Who knew what the reason was.

  Why should I care? I kept asking myself that question over and over again.

  There wasn’t any reason for me to care why she hadn’t called.

  As I sat there, sipping on my chocolate shake, a thought I’d never had before popped into my head. What if she had lost my card?