Knight: A Club Alias Novel

by KD Robichaux

  He shakes his head at me. “You come all this way to visit me, and you want me to take you to McDonald’s?”

  I turn my body to face him, propping my hip against the vanity as I dry my hands with a towel. “I’m a simple girl, Bri. And this simple girl needs her Mickey D’s.”

  He chuckles. “As you wish.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re at the front counter of the closest McDonald’s.

  “May I take your order?” the teenaged guy asks, his hands at the ready over his register.

  Brian gestures to me. “Go ahead, babe.”

  Completely straight-faced, I tell him, “I’ll have a McGangBang, please,” and the teenager doesn’t even bat an eye, putting it into his computer. After a long moment of total silence, waiting for Brian to order his dinner, I finally look over and up at him, and I fight with all my might not to burst out laughing at the look on his face. “What?”

  He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, no words forming before he finally manages to speak. “Did you… just order something called a McGangBang?”

  I lift a brow. “Um… yeah,” I tell him in a duh voice.

  He looks from me to the teenager then back again, confusion written all over his face. “Is that like… one of those secret menu items or something?”

  The McDonald’s employee takes the reins. “It’s pretty popular. Even Lebron James orders it. You order the McDouble and the Spicy McChicken sandwiches off the dollar menu, take the bottom bun off one and the top bun off the other, and then you put them together.”

  “And voila, there you have the McGangBang. And it’s fucking delicious,” I say with a grin.

  And to my surprise, Brian turns to the boy, nods, and replies loudly, “I’ll have two McGangBangs, please. And a large fry.”

  I run to the bathroom, almost peeing myself I laugh so hard.

  Brian

  I DON’T THINK anything will ever top the feeling of Clarice sprawled on top of me, in my bed, in my home. When I wake up the next morning, after a night of just hanging out at my house before crawling into my bed with her, I realize it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in ages. Normally, I wake up several times a night to toss and turn until I finally lose consciousness out of pure exhaustion. On the nights I get to sleep next to her in hotel rooms, it’s a little better, her presence soothing. But the combination of her beside me along with being in my own territory is priceless. I feel like a whole new man.

  I run my hands up and down her back beneath my T-shirt she put on last night, and she groans unhappily into my chest, where I can feel a wet spot as her breath hits it. It makes me smile like an idiot.

  “Uh-uh. Too early,” she grumbles, as my hands rub her a little more insistently.

  “Wakey, wakey,” I singsong, feeling and hearing her suck in a bit to stop any more drool from escaping as she shakes her head.

  “Why in God’s name…,” she whines, making me chuckle.

  “We have our appointment with Doc in half an hour. I let you sleep as long as I could.” I roll to my side, forcing her to roll to hers as I go, knowing full well she’d just lie on top of my other side if I don’t. She’s done it for as long as I can remember, sleeping right on top of me. I’d once told her I wanted to try one of those weighted blankets to see if it’d help me sleep at night, and she told me to save my money, sprawling her much smaller body across mine instead. Surprisingly, it worked, and she said she loved it too and that it reminded her of that scene in the first Jurassic Park when Alan lies on the Triceratops to feel it breathe.

  “Ugggghhh,” she groans, rolling to her back, and when I lean over her, as always, she slaps her hand over her mouth before I can kiss her. She fights her way out of the covers, her sexy tan legs kicking at the sheets before she stands and walks into the bathroom. I hear the sink turn on.

  A minute or two later, she comes to stand next to the bed, her hair a nest on top of her head, her eyes a little puffy from sleep, her lips red from brushing her teeth, and a cranky look on her face.

  She’s never been sexier.

  “What’s the matter, grumpy gills?” I use the line she always quotes from Finding Nemo.

  “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he won’t let me into the cool kids’ club?” She pouts.

  I sit up, scooting to the edge of the bed until she’s standing between my legs. “The only way he’s not going to let you in is if you don’t answer his questions. Just be honest, and you’ll be in like sin. And there’s no way in hell he won’t like you. Doc is the smartest guy I know, and he’d be stupid not to like you, lover,” I tell her, rubbing my hands up and down her arms.

  After a moment, she tucks her bottom lip back in and nods, straightening her shoulders. “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” she states, grasping the hem of my shirt she’s wearing and whipping it off over her head. Before I can grab her naked body, she twirls then prances away, smirking as she grabs an outfit out of her suitcase. She slips on some flared blue jeans that fit her ass like a second skin, and a gray T-shirt with Luke’s Diner across the back. She eyes me. “You gonna get dressed, big guy?”

  I could sit here and watch her every movement for the rest of my life, but I shake myself out of the spell she put on me the second her breasts were exposed. I throw on some jeans and a black tee along with my usual boots, grabbing my keys off the top of my chest of drawers.

  When we arrive at Doc’s office, Clarice is a little hesitant to get out of the truck at first, but then she seems to give herself a little pep talk before reaching for the door handle. There’s nervous energy radiating off her while we sit in the waiting room, and she jumps a little when his door clicks open.

  Doc’s smile is genuine when his eyes take us in, her hand held in mine as her toes make her flip-flop snap against her heel over and over where her legs are crossed. He gestures in welcome. “Brian, is this the lovely Clarice you’ve been telling me so much about?” he asks, and we stand.

  “The one and only,” I reply, my hand going to her lower back to urge her forward.

  “It’s so nice to meet you. Truly,” Doc tells her quietly, holding out his hand to her. When she places her fingers against his palm, he engulfs her little hand with both his giant mitts, his expression emanating nothing but warmth. He’s one of the only men I’ve met tall enough to look me in the eye, and instead of being intimidated, it’s as if his size puts Clarice at ease, and I hope it’s because it reminds her of me.

  She relaxes into my side as Doc lets go of her hand. “Nice to finally meet you too, Doc. I feel like I already know you since Brian’s been talking about you for years,” she says, and we follow him inside the office before he shuts the door behind us. He gestures to the couch, and we take a seat.

  “Well, I knew you existed, since it was through your amazing article about Brian that I found him. But I was admittedly very surprised to learn how important you’ve been to him these past eleven years,” he explains, and I watch his ever-observant eyes take in the way she stiffens for a split second beside me.

  She lets out a breath and then nods. “Yeah, he’s pretty important to me too.” She turns a small smile toward me before meeting Doc’s gaze again. “The best friend a girl could ever ask for.”

  He picks up his notepad and pen from his side table, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee. “Has Brian explained how these sessions usually go?”

  “Yes. I get to come and spill all my deepest, darkest secrets for the next four days in exchange for getting to go to your club.” She turns to me. “And let me just say that if this club isn’t as badass as you’ve described it to be, I’m kicking your ass.”

  I tell her out the side of my mouth, “Ninety-three different floggers split between five private rooms.”

  “Fuck me,” she murmurs, sitting back on the couch and crossing her arms. “Where do we start, Doc?”

  The two of us chuckle at her response, and Doc asks, “As curious as I am to ask you about how you were brought into
the world of BDSM, it’s better if we start at the beginning of your life and go in order, so we don’t skip something that could be important.”

  Clarice nods, slipping off her flip-flops and pulling her legs up beneath her. I know Doc is taking in every little microexpression, every hint her body language gives off, in order to derive more from these sessions than what just her words provide. And with her arms crossed and her legs up, she’s basically placed herself in the fetal position, unconsciously guarding herself as much as possible.

  Doc knows exactly how to put her at ease. “I don’t know how in-depth Brian has explained the purpose of these sessions, so I’ll just give you a crash course.” When she nods, he continues, “In order for our club to maintain the highest caliber of safety, we are very careful of who we allow membership. With the level of trust a submissive gives a Dom who will be using potentially dangerous equipment and devices during a scene, we have to make sure we aren’t accepting anyone with ill intentions into what should be our haven. These sessions weed out a Dominant who might want to harm someone. We permit sadism, of course, but there’s a difference between a person who wants to provide pain to a masochist who derives pleasure from it, and a person who wants to just hurt someone.”

  “That’s brilliant. Really. I’ve been to so many clubs before where a Dominant has gone too far with their sub, not listening to their safewords and such,” Clarice replies, and before I realize the sound is coming from me, a growl fills the room. She looks up at me and pats my thigh. “Not me, big guy. I only play sub for you.”

  “Play sub?” Doc prompts. “I’m aware we’re going out of order here, but I can’t help but ask.” He glances between the two of us, and I reach up to rub the back of my neck.

  “About that. We didn’t get that far during our solo sessions for me to tell you, Doc.” Heat radiates out of the collar of my T-shirt. But I promised I would be totally honest and open during our times with Doc in order to let Clarice know it was okay for her to be too. So I just let the words tumble out. “She and I are switches.”

  He lifts his brows but then nods. “Actually, that’s not all that surprising. From the stories you’ve been telling me, it makes perfect sense.”

  “What have you told him?” Clarice cuts in, a small smile on her face.

  “Well,” Doc answers for me, “he explained that you’re a bit older than he is—”

  “Only five years,” she murmurs defensively.

  “—so, therefore, a bit more sexually experienced. He had only been with two partners before meeting you, and you were already well versed in BDSM by then. We hadn’t made it to the first time the two of you had intercourse—”

  “Ew. He really is a doctor, isn’t he? Intercourse,” she says in my direction with a shudder.

  Doc seems like he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. He looks at me. “It’s like a therapy session with Seth. Can you imagine a conversation between him and Clarice?”

  “We’ll never get a word in,” I agree.

  She bounces a little in her seat. “I totally can’t wait to meet him. He’s so funny on the phone. It’s really hard to keep quiet and not laugh when Bri talks to him during his missions.”

  All I can do is shake my head.

  “We’ve managed to go way off course now. My fault, I should’ve known better,” Doc says, making a note on his pad of paper. “All right, Clarice. Let’s start at the beginning. What can you tell me about your childhood?”

  I feel her weight lean against my side, and I automatically wrap my arm around her, letting it rest on the back of the couch as she begins to speak.

  “I actually had a pretty great childhood. My parents are super supportive of what I do. I’m an only child, and we did a lot of traveling my whole life. That’s where I got my love of photography. They’re flight attendants. During the school year, they only did domestic flights on alternating schedules. But during the summer, they flew internationally on the same routes, and they were able to take me with them. I considered myself pretty lucky that I was able to grow up in one place with parents who had severe cases of wanderlust.” She smiles.

  “From what I know about you, you come by the same wanderlust honestly,” Doc acknowledges.

  “Definitely. It would be miserable for me to be stuck somewhere for too long. That’s why Brian’s and my friendship is so awesome. He calls me up and is like, ‘Hey, we’re going to Nashville, or New York, or Florida,’ just out of nowhere. I love it,” she says, her voice enthusiastic.

  He eyes her for a moment, reading deeper into her answer than what she’s probably used to. “So there was nothing momentous that happened during your childhood that stands out to you? No deaths in the family, nothing traumatic.”

  She purses her lips, shaking her head slowly. “Not that I can think of.”

  “What about in your teenage years?” he presses.

  “Nope, regular ole high school stuff. I wasn’t popular, but I wasn’t the lowest on the totem pole either. I had my small group of friends I hung out with all four years, and we were kind of just invisible. I wasn’t bullied, or anything.” She shrugs.

  “Young adulthood?” he prompts.

  “I went to college and studied photography. Very soon after I graduated, I was hired on to Sands of Time Magazine by someone who discovered my website when one of my photos of wildfires in California went viral. They sent me all over the world, including Afghanistan, where I met the big guy here.” She hitches her thumb at me. “Oh, there’s a traumatic experience for ya. I was like, twenty feet away from an IED that went off. That was pretty crazy.”

  Doc makes a note then lifts his head once more. “And finally, adulthood.”

  “Uuuumm… Oh! That serial killer in Raleigh tried to put me in his trunk. That was a little terrifying. But Brian saved the day. He tends to do that.” She smiles over at me.

  “Clarice,” Doc calls, pulling her attention back to him. “You realize you never once mentioned a single relationship in all of your summaries?”

  She shifts on the couch cushion. “I’m aware.”

  “And yet, from what I gathered from Brian, you were sexually experienced when you met him. Already versed in BDSM, in fact.”

  “I was,” she murmurs, obviously not liking where this line of questioning was going.

  Doc swipes a hand down his beard, thinking for a moment before he speaks. “I believe we’re going to have to use a different tactic with your sessions.”

  “Oh?” Her voice sounds nervous.

  “Most people, when we get to the teenage years, don’t graze over them so quickly without mentioning a single love interest. They at least talk about their first crush. And once we move on to the young adulthood, they have even more to say about the people who were in their lives. Not just their education and career. And once we get to adulthood, unless the person is a virgin—which would very rarely, practically never be the case—they wouldn’t be attending these sessions in order to be granted access to a BDSM club. You obviously weren’t a virgin when you met Brian. And you obviously practiced the lifestyle with someone before him. Yet you never once mentioned any one person of importance while you were talking,” he points out.

  I look between Doc and Clarice. This is the moment I’ve been dreading since all this began. He’s pressing her, much further than I’ve ever tried since I’ve always been wary of pushing so hard that I’d drive her away. Instinctively, my arm tightens around her, as if to keep her from taking flight, hoping she’ll choose to fight instead.

  Her voice is quiet when she answers. “I’ve had one actual boyfriend in my life. And I had a friend who was a sub who introduced me to the world of BDSM. After that, I’ve had quite a few sexual partners, but no actual relationships.”

  “Can you expand on that, please?” he asks, his pen at the ready.

  “Um… I’d rather not, if that’s all right.” She swallows. “That was so many years ago, and I’ve moved on.”

  Doc watches her clos
ely, and I wonder if he can see the slight trembling of her body that I feel with her pressed against me. “There’s nothing you’d like to add? The story of how you met your one boyfriend, maybe?”

  “Mm, not really. He was just a boy. We had regular, vanilla sex. He never hurt me. And when I got into BDSM, no one hurt me there either. And for the last eleven years, I’ve only been with Brian,” she states, and a sense of relief I didn’t know I was holding out for washes over me.

  All these years, we didn’t talk about things like that. We made the agreement a long time ago that we would only sleep with each other without protection, with the promise that we would always use condoms if we slept with anyone else. I tried to put it out of my head that she might be having sex with other people, holding onto the trust that I was the only one who got to feel her bare, with nothing between us. And I certainly wasn’t fucking anyone else. No one could possibly compare to Clarice, so what would be the point?

  Doc then puts his notepad back on his side table, placing his pen on top of it, before leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. His eyes bore into Clarice’s so intensely I feel like he’s trying to look into her soul. When I glance at her, she’s pale, and she looks more petrified than I’ve ever seen her.

  That’s when Doc drops a bomb, taking aim directly in the center of the fortress Clarice has built around herself.

  “You’ve never been hurt. There’s never been anyone in your life who’s important enough to mention now. Yet when the one person you gush about, the one person you’re holding onto for dear life—” He gestures to where she’s now gripping my shirt at my side. “—tries to portray his love for you, you hold him at arm’s length. If you’ve never been hurt, then why do you refuse to acknowledge the fact that you too are 100 percent completely in love with the man you call your best friend?”

  And for the first time in all the years I’ve known Clarice Lorenson, she runs from me, her eyes welling with tears as she rushes out of the office, the door slamming behind her.