Billionaire Bad Boys: A Collection of Contemporary and Paranormal Bad Boys

by Calinda B

  “Colt!” Ambrosia said in a lilting tone. “Rex!”

  She waved and threw the bartenders a kiss.

  They smiled and lifted their hands in greeting.

  Savannah struggled to keep up as Ambrosia proceeded through the lounge and down the hall to the dreaded Diamond Strumpet’s club.

  When they entered, the other women looked up.

  A few of them clapped.

  Same as last time, they lounged on sofas, plush chairs, and loveseats, arranged in a circle. They all imbibed in various intoxicants.

  In the center of the circle stood the fur-covered, coffin-sized table Savannah had noticed pushed against the wall when she’d first arrived. The fur draped over the edge. Whips of every size dangled from the table. Handcuffs hung from the corners. A black and white blindfold had been carefully spread along the white fur.

  Savannah shivered. Some of the tools of this trade were the exact same kind used to torture people. She’d witnessed it firsthand. Don’t forget, this place is all about pleasure and power.

  “Naeva. You’re the talk of the club,” a short-haired brunette said to her, snapping Savannah’s attention back from horrid memories. The brunette rose to her feet and drifted toward her as if riding her own cloud. “I’m Siobhan.”

  She extended her hand, weighted with jeweled bangles.

  “Enchanté,” Savannah said, giving it a gentle shake, the way she’d been groomed to do. She turned her attention to the others.

  Several of the women waved to her, smiling.

  She lifted her hand and returned the greeting.

  Monique glowered from her perch on the sofa.

  “Come, come,” Ambrosia said. “Let’s get the festivities started, shall we?”

  She led Savannah to a loveseat. Then, she directed her attention down a darkened hallway at the back of the room, snapping her fingers at someone Savannah couldn’t see.

  The lights dimmed.

  The whir of a projector sounded, followed by movies displayed on every wall. They showed giant black and white images of Master Steele wielding a whip, cracking it along a woman’s bare buttocks, over and over; Master Steele, his head thrown back in rapture, his hand fisting his massive cock; Master Steele gripping a handful of a willing participant’s hair, her mouth around his cock. Ecstatic moans played over the speakers. The slap of skin on skin, coupled with grunts and groans, provided a backdrop of sound.

  “There he is,” someone whispered.

  Another woman gasped.

  Savannah’s gaze lifted to the dark hallway.

  There, in all his leather-clad, hooded, bare-chested glory, stood Master Steele. His gaze, simmering with violent intensity, focused directly on her.

  Tonight’s entertainment had begun. And she was the main event.

  13

  A shiver convulsed through Savannah’s body as Master Steele sauntered into the room.

  He trekked at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world.

  Patterns from the projected images danced across his skin. As he grew closer, the movies disappeared from the walls, and the dim lights resumed, creating a soft vibe.

  The atmosphere grew hushed, expectant. The only sound in the room was that of women breathing.

  And my heart beat. She sniffed the air, fragrant with the scent of flowers and perfume; heady with the smell of musk, sweat, wine and marijuana. Gripping her hands in her lap, she swallowed.

  He kept his eyes pinned on her as if no one else in the universe existed.

  She couldn’t look away.

  His body looked oiled, glistening in the low light. His muscles rippled as he moved. His erect cock strained inside his tight leather pants at an angle. Everything about him spoke of danger…control…ferocity.

  The air became charged with a voltaic current.

  Savannah rubbed her fingers, massaged her palms—anything to keep her fret at bay.

  When Master Steele stood at the edge of the circle, he crooked his finger and beckoned for her to approach.

  “Oh, this is so exciting,” Ambrosia whispered.

  It’s terrifying. I can’t do this. I can’t…

  He patted the fur, then ran his hand back and forth along it. Gripping the corners of the table, he rocked his hard-on against the fur, closing his eyes. “Mmm.”

  The electronic sound reached inside her as if he’d inserted a finger and now slid it along her silken core.

  “Oh, my God,” a woman said. “He’s on fire.”

  Savannah glanced at her.

  She lay back on the sofa, her legs spread, stroking her panties.

  Wow. No boundaries here.

  “Come,” Master Steele called, in his deep, muffled voice.

  “You got that right,” someone said, and a titter of laughter rippled around the circle.

  “Quiet!” Master Steele let his gaze roam the circle of women.

  They all stilled, sheepish expressions clouding their faces.

  He let his attention land on her.

  Savannah gulped.

  “Now. On. Your. Knees.” He licked his lips.

  She stared at him defiantly. Like hell, I will.

  “Go!” Ambrosia hissed. She gave her a firm push.

  Savannah took a deep breath. She slid to the floor and rolled to her hands and knees. Her short tight skirt hugged her ass. Her loose top hung low, no doubt giving this jerk an eyeful. Imagining herself a jungle cat, hunting—hunting him—she slunk across the center of the circle. Each placement of her hands, of her knees, landed slowly…deliberately.

  Her belly tightened. She loathed Master Steele. She despised the Diamond Club. So why am I so aroused?

  She closed the gap between them, letting her gaze track the carpeted floor. She dared not look at him.

  When she’d reached his bare feet, she knelt, kissing one foot and the other.

  “How may I serve you, Master Steele?” She stared at the space between his ankles.

  “Everything off. Except your panties.”

  Her nostrils flared. She pressed her lips together. You can do this. After taking a deep breath, she sat up. Keeping her gaze glued to his knees, she slowly lifted the shirt over her head, arching as it fell away from her body. Her eyes closed. She felt exposed in front of this group of women—in front of this man. Isn’t that the point? He keeps the power?

  “I said everything.”

  His words penetrated, vibrating into her chest and belly. She placed her fingertips on the floor, curled her toes under, and pushed her hips up until her ass pointed at him. Her long hair draped along his feet.

  He unzipped, hissing.

  She brought her hands back, hooked them under the waistband of her skirt, and slowly snaked it from her legs. One step, and another, and she was free from the garment. Then, still bent over, she reached back and unclasped her bra. It fluttered to the floor. She knelt, forehead on her hands, not wanting the room to see her naked breasts.

  His heat and musk surrounded her.

  He must be crouching.

  His hands spread across her back. He stroked down to her derriere, cupping her butt cheeks, then, swept his hands along her sides. He brought his warm palms to her shoulders and then paused.

  Her breath quickened.

  His fingers stroked over her shoulders and came to rest on her collarbones.

  She stopped breathing.

  He traced a downward trail and caressed her breasts. His fingers found her nipples, which were swollen with need, begging to be touched.

  Yet, she hated to be touched by him.

  He pinched each nipple between thumb and forefinger.

  She sucked in a breath.

  His fingers pinched harder, rolling the nibs.

  She gasped, caught between excruciating pain and pleasure.

  He guided her up to sitting, keeping his palms over her breasts.

  She placed her hands on her knees, and let her eyelids flutter closed as if keeping them shut would prevent anyone from seein
g her vulnerability.

  His pinches grew harder still. He tugged at her breasts until they ached.

  She arched into his palms.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, almost gently.

  She did so, staring at his sculpted chest.

  He knelt before her, still toying with her nipples. His breath fell ragged. His fly hung open. Sweat pooled in the hollow in his neck. It dripped down his torso.

  Her gaze dropped to his hard cock, free of constraint, stiffly pointing.

  His hand rose to her scalp. He drew her close to his swollen head.

  Her lips brushed the tender skin, but she didn’t open to let him enter.

  His grip tightened. His fingers shook.

  Please. I don’t want to suck him off. A single tear fell from her eye. It landed on the tip of him and rolled down his thick shaft. She shuddered.

  His fingers dug into her scalp.

  She winced.

  He twirled a lock of her hair around his hand, pulling it as if he might yank her hair out by the roots, forcing her head back. “Look at me.”

  She did, lips parted, breathing heavily. Tears filled her eyes.

  No one spoke. It seemed as if no one breathed.

  Without breaking eye contact, he said, in a loud, clear voice, “This. This is how you submit. Class is dismissed.”

  “But I didn’t get a turn,” Monique cried.

  “You’ll get yours. Later.”

  He released Savannah’s hair with a sharp yank. “Get out of here,” he said to her. “We’re done for the moment.”

  He rose to standing.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. He turned and strode from the room.

  Her hands darted out to retrieve her clothes, hugging them to her as she knelt again.

  Conversation rose, surrounding her.

  “Did you see how he treats her?”

  “I’ve never seen him treat anyone like that.”

  “What’s he trying to teach us?”

  “Maybe he’s saving it up for Monique.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s what it is,” Monique said. “He can’t hurt her. She might break.”

  A few women laughed.

  Savannah swiftly donned her garments and stumbled to her feet. She scurried over to Ambrosia.

  “That was wonderful. Exquisite. You’ve learned so well, dear,” her fake mother-in-law cooed. She reached out her hands to clasp Savannah’s.

  Savannah tried hard to blink back her bewildering confusion. “Thank you. The courtesans taught me well.” She stretched her lips into a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be back, I promise.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Ambrosia started to rise.

  “No, no. I’ll be back. I need some air.” She tried to smile encouragingly.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” Ambrosia’s eyebrows stitched together.

  Savannah fanned her face. “Honestly, Mother, I need to cool off. Master Steele made me hot.”

  Ambrosia chuckled. “Didn’t he? I guarantee you the club will be hopping tonight. All that sexual tension.”

  “Ambrosia…” Siobhan extended a vaporizer in her direction.

  “What?” She turned toward Siobhan. She shook her head. “No thank you.”

  “Suit yourself,” Siobhan said, inhaling a long suck of smoke into her lungs.

  Savannah took the distraction to scurry from the room, feeling like a tornado had whirled through her insides.

  Out in the hall, she looked right and left for Adam. Oh, that’s right, he said he’d meet me around the corner from the cafe. I’m supposed to have arranged a meeting with Liam.

  She took the elevator to the bump and grind lounge area, hoping to find Marcus. Maybe he’d be here eager to hook up with Monique. Sure enough, he sat at the bar chatting with Colt, the bartender.

  She hustled across the couples glued to one another, swaying to dirtier downbeats. “Father! There you are. Where’s Liam?”

  He swiveled to face her. “I don’t know. He didn’t come with me. How was your…”

  “Training? Superb,” she lied. “Can I use your phone? Since mine has been compromised?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  He plucked it from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

  She scanned his contacts list until she found Liam’s name. She tapped the phone icon and pressed it to her ear.

  “What?” Liam yelled into the phone. “Marcus?”

  It sounded like he was at a loud nightclub.

  “It’s me. Your fiancée.”

  He fell silent.

  “Where are you? At the Diamond Club?”

  “Not currently, no.”

  A woman’s voice said something as if she sat right next to him.

  His voice muffled like he put his hand over the speaker. When he spoke again, Savannah could no longer hear the noise. “There. I can hear you. What do you want?”

  She forced back her jealousy and irritation. “Can we meet somewhere? And talk? The day hasn’t been the best for me.”

  “Now isn’t a good time.”

  Prickles of hurt stabbed at her heart. She pushed them away. “Why not? Are you with someone?”

  He said nothing.

  She tried again. “Look, I don’t care if you are. Men do what men do, like your mother said. Please meet me. We can talk. Then, you can get back to whoever you’re doing.”

  “What makes you think I’m ‘doing’ someone, as you so inelegantly put it.” His tone sounded harsh.

  “Okay, whatever you were doing, not whomever. Please, Liam?” She clutched the phone to her ear.

  “Where?” he snapped.

  She gave him the address to Charlie’s Place.

  “Okay, I can get there in thirty.”

  “Great. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and shoved it in Marcus’s hand. “Thank you, Father.”

  “Going somewhere?” He sipped his drink.

  “To meet Liam.”

  His eyebrows arched.

  She leaned close to his ear and hissed. “You’d better hope this works, Father. Your well-being is as much on the line as mine.”

  She eased back, pasted on a cheery smile, and kissed his tobacco scented cheek. Then, she bustled away, making her way past all the checkpoints and security to reach the outside.

  Once out of the building, she hailed a taxi, climbed inside, and gave him the address where Adam waited. Sitting in the back of the taxi, she asked the driver, “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Sure,” he said, in broken English, his gaze meeting hers in the rearview mirror. “Who doesn’t have a phone?” He turned his attention toward the street.

  “Can I use it?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “No, miss. I don’t share phones.”

  She reached in her purse and pulled free a few bills. Waving them at the mirror, she said, “Now do you share?”

  He pulled up to a stoplight and greedily eyed the cash. He handed her his iPhone and held out his hand for the cash.

  She handed it to him, saying, “Green light. Go!”

  The driver took off.

  She dialed Adam’s number.

  “You in position?”

  “Roger that. I am ready to serve.”

  “Good, because I am ready to bring this to an end. You’re right. All this sexual tension is getting to me. These men know how to play. We’re not talking amateurs here.”

  “It’s still not too late to back out.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m about to enter the lion’s den. I’ve got this.”

  “Oh, hey,” Adam interjected. “Get this. I talked with a buddy of mine at SLAE.”

  “And?” She glanced at the cabbie, hoping he was minding his own business.

  “And there’s talk of Agent Lambert having been found beheaded.”

  A chill launched up her spine. “Christ.” Savannah touched her throat. The same thing might have happened to her. “Does that mean I’m absolved?”
<
br />   Adam said nothing.

  “Adam,” she whisper-hissed. “Does it? Am I in the clear now?”

  “No,” he said glumly. “The beheading…well, the entire situation is so fucked up. My buddy said she overheard Ryan talking about how they needed to use you as a scapegoat now more than ever. Lambert going rogue and then being murdered totally wrecks the agency’s impeccable reputation.”

  “Shit,” Savannah said. “They’re fucking assholes.” She eyed the little cross swinging underneath the rearview mirror. She smiled apologetically at the driver.

  “Anyway. Gotta go. I’ll see you in a few.”

  Several minutes later, after paying the cabbie and exiting the vehicle, she hustled toward the designated building at the corner of 80th Street.

  A massive bank-like structure, it loomed about twenty stories high. Square concrete pillars shielded the front door from view.

  He stepped out of the shadows to greet her.

  She jerked, taking a step backward. “Good thing I knew you were here or I might have screamed—before I pulled my gun out.”

  “Good thing. Except you’re not carrying.” He smiled. “Here.”

  He handed her a sophisticated listening device.

  The size of a small diamond, it fit nicely in her ear. A translucent fiber hung over the outer shell. A clear, quarter-inch connector affixed to her skin. She fluffed her hair, hiding the device.

  “Get him to open up by sharing something about yourself. You’ve memorized details of Naeva’s life, right?”

  “The best I can. I sure wouldn’t want to tell him about my nonexistent personal life.” She grimaced.

  “I’ll be right here.” He tapped her ear. “I’ll give you tips and suggestions if it doesn’t seem to be going well. Otherwise, I’ll only be listening in. If I hear muffled moans, I’ll know you’ve made a connection.” He grinned.

  She scoffed. “Like that will happen. I think I interrupted him in a hook-up.”

  Adam’s jaw tensed. “Asshole.” He put his hands on her shoulders and considered her eyes. “You’ve got this, right?”

  “Got it.”

  “Okay, agent. Do your thing.”

  She hurried to the cafe, then composed herself and eased open the door.

  Smooth jazz slithered through the speakers. The walls had been painted brownish-gray with a faux stone finish. The words “Have I got a surprise for you,” had been stenciled along the top. An Uzi had been painted underneath the words. Hand-painted butterflies and flowers exploded from the gun tip. The cafe oozed of hip, trendy appeal.