by Dani René
“I’m buying her a ticket. She’s going to stay with me for a while,” I tell him, making up my mind. I wasn’t there for her the way I should’ve been. I need to make this right.
“You sure you want her in your shit? Since you didn’t want me there?” His chuckle grates my nerves. My brother knows what sort of kink I enjoy, only because he’s the one who walked into the club and told me that he’s here for the pretty women. He’s an asshole. So am I. But at least I admit it.
“Send her over. I’ll take care of her,” I tell him, picking up the coffee cup now filled with dark liquid. Taking a sip, I revel in the heat and bitter taste.
“If she gets into—”
“She’s a fucking grown woman, Callan. If she wants to do something, I’m not stopping her,” I bite out angrily. I know Leigh. She’s sweet, beautiful, and this life won’t appeal to her. And if it does, I’ll cut the fucker’s dick off who comes near her.
“Yeah, you say that now . . .” he warns, his words tapering to a silent warning.
Sighing, I question, “Is that all you needed?”
“Aye, see you soon, brother.” He hangs up before I have time to respond with a fuck you too. We’ve had our fights growing up, but I know Callan is the only person who will forever have my back.
Dropping my phone on the marble top, I head back into the bedroom. My body tingles with anticipation of finally making the fucker who killed Rory pay. I don’t remember a time when revenge didn’t flow through my veins, and I can’t recall a moment when vengeance wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.
The only time I ever had any semblance of normalcy is when I’m fucking. My mind is blank. This is the only reason I’ve spent the past few years indulging in women. As many as I can because the memory of Aurora burns me every moment of the day. She was the only woman who could disarm me. Her long, flowing, honey-blonde locks reminded me of strung silk. And her eyes, the color of jade, seemed to always pierce the armor I wore so savagely.
Heading into the bathroom, I turn on the double showerheads, and I step under the cold spray. It jolts my system harshly, readying me for the day ahead. Running Sins is part of my life now. Along with Mason, my partner, we have made a living by allowing people a safe place to harness their darkest desires.
Closing my eyes, I allow the now scalding water to cascade down my body. Moran is so close I can taste his blood on my tongue. It’s been years coming. After he went underground, we searched high and low. He’s evaded us for far too long. A smirk tilts the corner of my mouth at what’s to come.
Once Callan sends me the information I need, I can plan and ensure Aurora’s death is not in vain. What happens after that, I don’t know. Sadness claws at me. The memory of her still fresh in mind as if she’s with me right now.
Shaking the feeling off, I close the taps and step out into the chilly room. I glance in the mirror, taking in my naked form. The scars of the past dot every part of my chest, abdomen, and my upper thigh. All from fights I’ve had before. From an ugly past, which I hope doesn’t follow me into the future.
When I glance up, I notice it’s almost six in the evening. The day has passed by, and when Callan’s email came through at midday, I set in motion my plans to corner Moran. Pushing up from my desk, I stalk toward my office door, pulling it open to find a tiny blonde with her back to me.
I’m guessing she’s one of our new barmaids standing there like she’s lost. Mason must have hired her. I step out of my office, pulling the door shut behind me.
“What the fuck do you want?” I grunt out harsher than I expected. When she spins around, my breath is knocked from my lungs as jade orbs pin me with a glare so ferocious I feel it like a punch to the gut. As if a ghost is standing before me, all I see is her resemblance to the woman I lost.
She doesn’t respond at first, which grates on my nerves. Her small chin juts out in confidence, and her eyes narrow as she regards me.
“I asked you a fucking question.” I expect her to cower, but she shocks the shit out of me when she squares her shoulders, meeting my gaze dead on.
“I’m Peyton. Should you really be speaking to Savannah’s best friend like that?” she retorts hotly, and I find for the first time in years my dick gets hard for a woman with hair the color of gold and eyes the color of green gemstones.
“Why are you standing at my door?” I ask, ignoring the fact that she’s just told me who she is. Savvie is going to have my balls for being rude to her friend, but I don’t give a fuck. I eat up the distance between us as I step closer to her, and the scent of orchids hits me right in the nose. When I lean in, her fragrance only intensifies. She lifts her eyes to meet mine. The heat of them burns me right to the fucking core.
“I’m here for Savvie, Carrick,” she bites out angrily. Her delicate hands press against my shirt, pushing me hard, causing me to stumble backward. Fucking bourbon. “She told me you’re an asshole, but I didn’t take you for such a dick.” Her voice is melodic, and even though she’s just insulted me, I can’t help but want to hear more.
“You have a fiery little mouth. Rather than standing in my club talking to me like that, I can put it to better use.” I smirk when her cheeks bloom with a gentle rosy hue. What she said about Savannah has me pondering why the girls have been talking about me.
Savvie is one of my best friends by default since she’s Mason’s submissive. But it’s her personality that makes everyone around her feel the need to be good. She’s always there, just waiting for you to do your best, but in my case, my worst. The beauty that’s stolen more than just my partner’s attention but his heart, too, is something of an enigma.
With her sensual curves, long, flowing, white-blonde hair, and her striking blue eyes, she’s every man’s fantasy. But it’s more than that. She has an air of authority, even in her submissiveness. She exudes a fierce personality that makes her a handful.
I stalk by the petite woman glaring up at me, but when I head down the hallway, I hear her shoes click behind me. “Why are you following me?” I question harshly, not wanting to look at her, because my heart can’t take it. She’s the spitting image of Aurora, right down to her sassy mouth.
“I’m looking for Savannah. Can you please take me to her?” I stop at her question. Turning to face her, I smirk. My mouth curls into one of those signature grins that seem to appease any woman. She said please. That’s how I like my women, obeying and respecting me.
“Seems like the feisty little minx can be a tamed kitten?” I quip, facing her completely. She’s about a head shorter than me, and I wonder what it would feel like having her body above mine. It’s the first time in years a blonde has grabbed my attention like this.
“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m only asking because I was taught manners. Something it seems you’re lacking.” Her response makes me chuckle. Sweet, sexy, and sassy. I love it.
“Clearly you don’t know how to respect a Dominant.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re acting like an asshole. You know, Carrick, being a Dom doesn’t give you the right—”
I break off her tirade by grabbing her face, crashing my mouth on hers, feeling her lips mold to mine. Her lips open on a gasp which I swallow, licking into her sweet mouth, tasting every inch of her delicious flavor. The hint of mint and lemon seems to intoxicate me, making me drunk on just the one harsh kiss.
Finally, I break away from her to find her green eyes glistening with both desire and burning with anger. She rears back, and her hand makes contact with my face in a slap which stings her more than it does me.
“Don’t ever kiss me without my permission,” she scolds me with anger hanging on every syllable. I watch as she grasps her hand, rubbing the palm in circles. A smile cracks on my face as she glowers at me, possibly wanting me to shy away, but she has no idea who she’s dealing with.
“I never ask permission for anything I do, Pet,” I tell her, leaning in to brush my lips over her ear. “And let me make one thing clear. The next time you at
tempt to slap me, I’ll spin you around so fast, bend you over anywhere we are, and spank your sweet little ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for weeks. Do you understand me?”
I don’t wait for her to answer. Instead, my tongue darts out, trailing along the shell of her ear, causing her to shudder in response. I shouldn’t be doing this. She’s a distraction. A ghost I have no reason to be kissing. But deep down I wonder if she’s here for a reason.
“Good girl,” I utter, then turn to walk away. She doesn’t follow. She doesn’t say anything more, and I saunter into the club with a smile on my face. My chest feels tight with the reminder of the past, but there’s also a lightheartedness to the banter. I’ve missed a woman who gives back, and perhaps my soul feels released, free from the cage for a moment. Confusion settles around me as I head to the bar and order a drink.
Almost eight years, and I’ve never had such a need to take a submissive back to my room and show her exactly what I’d like to do to her. Savvie didn’t tell me her friend was visiting, but now that I know, I can’t wait to see more of the little minx.
Dylan sets my drink down, and I offer him a nod. “Thanks,” I tell him as I lift the glass and press it to my lips. The club is full already, and it’s not even seven yet. I wonder if the little blonde will want to play, because my dick is hard, and I’d love to sink it deep inside her tight body.
4
Peyton
Insufferable asshole, I think to myself as I make my way down the staircase. When I reach the main area of the club, I notice him rising from his bar stool and stalking toward the back where a long, dark hallway beckons. Although I can’t fault him on the kiss, I can’t believe he actually did it. My body is still thrumming from the electric currents that shot through me when his lips made contact with mine.
He’s taller than I pictured, probably around six-four, with broad shoulders, and lean muscle beneath his tailored suit. His messy hair, the color of syrup, and those eyes. In the dimly lit hallway, they pierced me with their golden intensity, but the playful greens and browns danced in them. He had a day-old stubble on his chin, which causes me to lift my hand to my own, feeling the friction.
The man knows how to make my toes curl, which has me wondering what else he can do. My inexperience in this life, in this sordid world Carrick lives in, is evident as I think about what Savvie’s told me. I know Mason. I’ve known him for a long time, but nothing prepared me for the moment Savannah, my best friend, told me she was into spanking and whipping, and even rope play.
I wonder how dark Carrick’s hunger goes. How much of this does he really enjoy? I’ve heard about sadists, the pain they love to inflict, which makes me wonder how any woman can want that.
All men are the same though. Michael was evil, dangerous, and he took and took from me until he left me with nothing but a shell of who I once was. When I learned the truth about him, it hurt me right down to my core that all those years spent together he lied every moment.
But that is my fault.
I almost gave him everything. What’s left is just a broken mess.
“Peyton!” My best friend’s voice comes from beside me, and I realize I’d wandered to the hallway where Carrick had disappeared and didn’t even realize it. Is my subconscious really that desperate for an asshole like him? “What are you doing back here?”
“I’m not sure. I was looking for you, and—” I cut myself off, because for some reason, I don’t want anyone to know what happened between Carrick and me. I don’t know why, but deep down I feel like keeping It to myself. “I wanted to see what the lure was,” I tell her instead, causing those big eyes to narrow in suspicion.
“Uh uh.” Her disbelieving response is expected. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink. I wanted you to meet Eva tonight. She was supposed to go out with us, but . . . Well, she’s rather tied up at the moment.” Savvie smiles as she says this, and I know exactly what she means. This lifestyle has always been a mystery to me. Since my best friend told me about it. Yes, I’ve Googled things she’s mentioned and found myself rather intrigued. I expected to be horrified, but there was something alluring about it. Call it curiosity. I just hope this kitty doesn’t get killed.
Since I’m still so innocent, I wonder if any of the men in here would want to take on a virgin. Someone to perhaps train and mold. Maybe it’s time to test the waters. Surely one man in here would want to have someone pure. Show me the bite of his flogger, or something like that.
“So . . .” I start as we reach the bar, but my words filter into silence when my eyes land on Carrick, who’s back in the club and at one of the booths with a beautiful brunette in his lap. He’s talking to another man I don’t know, but it’s the way his hand is possessively gripping her ass that causes me to falter.
“That’s Carrick Anderson; he’s Mason’s partner. Total gentleman, when you get him on his good side, but if you ever walk into him in a bad mood, it’s like a tornado taking down anything in his path,” my best friend informs me, whispering conspiratorially in my ear.
“He doesn’t look that scary,” I tell her, eventually dragging my gaze away from him and meeting Savannah’s knowing stare. “What?”
“No. Oh, no, no, no. You are not going near Rick,” she tells me, wagging her finger in my face. Even though she’s older than me by a year, you’d think there was a bigger age gap the way she admonishes me. “He is not someone for you. At all. Ever.” She’s adamant, but she knows how stubborn I am.
“Please, what can he do? I mean—” Flitting my eyes to him, I notice his heated stare on me. While keeping direct eye contact with me, he tugs the brunette down, kissing her almost violently. His one hand gripping her ass cheek causing my heart to slam against my chest wildly and my thighs to squeeze together as my core tightens with need. An ache so profound steals my breath, and I want to know what his hands would feel like on my body, on my ass, and even stroking my now wet panties.
He demands my attention, holds my curiosity, and I’ll be damned, but he makes me want him.
“He’s intolerable. Should he be doing that in the middle of the club?” I ask, meeting Savvie’s gaze.
She shrugs it off as the barman sets glasses down in front of us. When she finally takes a peek at her boyfriend’s partner, she smirks. “He’s a little . . . overbearing.”
I think for a moment before voicing my opinion. “That’s not the word I’d use,” I respond. Lifting the drink to my lips, I take a long sip of the minty cocktail. The alcohol hits my bloodstream, the ice causing the glass to frost over, but nothing can cool me down from the way Carrick has turned me molten.
“And what is the word that you would use?” A deep, smooth voice comes from behind me, causing me to pivot into the solid chest of Carrick Anderson, my drink drenching both of us in sticky, clear liquid.
“Shit!” I lift my gaze, meeting his burning one as he smirks.
“I wanted to get you wet, but that’s not what I had in mind.” His tone is playful yet commanding, and I can’t look away. The man is every bit as handsome under the lights of the club than he was in the darkened hallway where he stole a kiss from me.
“Don’t be an asshole,” I bite back, but the falter in my voice is enough to tell him I don’t mean a word I say. I want him to be that. I want him to take me right here on the bar.
Calm down, Pey. You’re like a bitch in heat.
“Okay, you two.” Savannah rescues me from the searing torment of Carrick’s penetrating gaze. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She tugs on my arm, but before we can leave, Mason saunters up to us, taking in the scene before him.
“Hi, Pey,” Mason says in his thick accent while he leans in to brush a kiss on my cheek, then turns to Savannah. “I need you, Sav. There’s a girl who needs some support in the rope room. She’s tensing up too much,” he orders. “I’m sure Rick can show Peyton to the change room to get cleaned up.”
“I can certainly do that.” Carrick’s words drip with desire. His hungry gaze n
ever falters as he regards me. “Let’s go, Kitten,” he says, turning on his heel, walking toward the staircase I’d earlier descended.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell Savvie before rushing to keep up with the man who I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of. The way his slacks hug his thighs, the roundness of his ass taunting me as I take each step behind him. Once we reach the top, he holds out a hand to me, and I allow mine to slip into his. The gesture is slight, a gentlemanly one, but his grip on me is more than friendly. As if he’s trying to hold on and not let go.
He doesn’t say a word as he shoves open a door to a cloakroom. It’s plush, elegant with walls of soft cream. The chandelier shines an intricate pattern against the surfaces. The gleaming drops of glass hanging from the ornate fixture flash with a gentle golden light as we step inside the bathing room. There are cubicles which have doors the color of raven’s feathers, and they’re all shut. A black pincushion sofa of what looks like smooth velvet sits in the center of the space, and sinks line a wall of mirrors.
“You can wash up. I’ll grab something for you to wear,” he says. Releasing my hand, he leaves me in the immaculate room. The mirror on the wall reflects my wet T-shirt, showing off the pink bra underneath. Great. He’s probably got an eyeful. I pull off the wet shirt, dumping it in the basin.
Opening the tap, I grab some paper towel and wipe the sticky alcohol off my skin, leaving me glistening. I don’t hear him when he finally returns. Instead, I feel him behind me. His heat cocoons me, causing me to want to melt into it, but I don’t.
“This should fit,” he whispers in my ear. When I glance at my reflection, I meet his softened yet commanding gaze. His eyes are the color of warm honey, shimmering with longing, which makes me curious as to what he’s hiding. Their golden depths hold pain, so much agony it causes my heart to lurch in response. He sets a black shirt on the counter beside the basin without touching me, and I want to sigh in relief and disappointment. But then he lifts his hand, his knuckles brushing along my bare arm in a white-hot trail. Goosebumps dot my skin. A tingle shoots through me.
