Club Alpha: BDSM Romance Boxed Set

by Amy Valenti

  Taking her cue, I leaned forward and offered her my hand. “Lena, right?”

  Her skin was warm against mine, and the handshake brief. She was on her guard. “Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I’m kinda stubborn when I want to be.”

  “Know the feeling. Don’t apologise.”

  Her husky, distinctive voice had a soft Southern undercurrent, which I hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t let myself ponder what it would sound like in different situations; made breathless by my kiss or reduced to a plea under my hands.

  Lena offered to buy me a drink before I could make the same gesture. I opted for a beer, and spoke her name as she jumped up.

  She turned, expectant and a little nervous. I told her, “When you get back, if you sit on the couch, we’ll get to know each other as friends. If you sit on the floor…”

  She bit her lip as the unspoken implication sank in, and I shrugged, ending the moment. “The offer’s there.”

  With a nod, she fled toward the bar, and I watched her go with a small smile. Somehow I doubted she’d sit at my feet that night, however much I wanted to bend her to my will. She’d be worth waiting for, though, and she was definitely interested.

  Lena lingered at the bar for a little longer than she needed to, chatting with the bar staff. There was a lightly-held tension in her shoulders, despite her feigned casualness; I didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know there was a debate waging within her.

  And the more I pursued her, the more she’d run away. She seemed to have made up her mind about me already. Let her; I could be patient when I needed to be, and when I wasn’t working, I had nothing but free time on my hands.

  When she returned, she set down our drinks before sitting on the couch a couple of feet from me. Curling her feet under her and nestling into the corner, she gave me a smile that was a little more relaxed. “So where have you been the past couple of years? I’ve been on the local scene for a while, and I don’t remember seeing you anywhere.”

  I let her lead the conversation; something she seemed more than comfortable with, once time and alcohol had lowered her defences a little. A genuine passion filled her face as she described her work as a computer programmer, and I didn’t interrupt her, more than a little fascinated by the way she gestured and spoke.

  Maybe she was even a little too much for me to handle. As she’d informed me earlier, she was seventy-one point two percent Domme, and if she hadn’t submitted in a couple of years—hadn’t felt the urge to do so—then she might not want to start again now. I knew better than to act as though we were inevitably going to get together.

  I couldn’t take her for granted.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lena

  “I can’t believe it!”

  If it were possible, my friend Alex—also known as Smurfette, for her bright blue hair—was more hyperactive than a five-year-old on a cola high. She was practically bouncing up and down, staring at me as if I should already know what she couldn’t believe. “Huh?”

  “I go to Alaska for two weeks, and not only does a new club have its grand opening, but you and Josh have the most charged introduction DC has ever seen?”

  I stared at her, blindsided. In the couple of weeks since Rack and Ruin’s opening night, I’d tried to forget Josh. Tried not to regret sitting beside him on the couch, rather than at his feet. Tried not to wonder how the night would had ended if I’d knelt for him. “What did you hear?”

  Rolling her eyes, Smurfette picked up a flogger from the stall in the corner of the club, trailing the suede tassels through her fingers. “Only that when you guys faced off, the sexual tension was so thick that everyone within ten feet spontaneously orgasmed…”

  For a few moments, I was struck speechless by the blatant overstatement. “Did he tell you that?” I demanded finally.

  “Nah.” The voice was male, amused, and all too familiar. Josh’s arm brushed against mine as he leaned around me to pick up a wooden paddle from the stall. “Made for a good story, though. Hey, Alex,” he added, and Smurfette stepped forward to gave him a quick hug before excusing herself.

  After the hour or so we’d spent talking at the opening night, I’d realised Josh wasn’t a bad guy. Right then, though, I was conveniently putting that knowledge aside. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, testing the paddle’s weight. “Never much cared what people think.”

  Oh, I’ll bet you don’t, not when it’s something like this. I didn’t need to say it; he read the thought from my expression.

  “And you’re behaving like a petulant brat,” he said matter-of-factly. “But there isn’t anything I can do about that until you ask me for it.”

  “I will never ask you for it.” I meant it, too. Part of me regretted it, but I was too riled up to back down now, not when he was acting like my eventual submission was a foregone conclusion.

  Instead of giving me the cocky bullshit I was expecting, he just shot me an impassive sideways glance. “Shame. I think it’d be interesting…for both of us.”

  What was I meant to say to that? If he’d tried to make it all about my pleasure, then I could at least have called him an egotist. But he seemed genuinely regretful that he’d never know what it was like to top me, and it was really hot.

  No, not hot. Irritating.

  He set down the paddle he’d been examining, and I changed the subject. “Not buying?”

  “I make my own paddles,” he told me, and damn it, that was even hotter.

  I mean, more irritating.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted him. A lot. But I couldn’t back down now, not a couple of minutes after telling him I’d never play with him. “How?”

  “Out of wood. With hand tools. In my garage.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to resist asking him what else he had in his garage. I had an image of an entire handmade dungeon—St. Andrew’s cross, vault horse, rack… But I didn’t need to know. Didn’t even want to. Nuh-uh.

  “You make anything vanilla, or do you just have the tools on hand in case a kinky urge strikes you?”

  Rolling his eyes, he motioned for me to follow him toward the bar. “Just the occasional DIY project.”

  At his enquiring glance, I ordered a vodka Red Bull from the bartender, and Josh followed it with a request for a shot of neat bourbon, paying for both.

  “Like putting up shelves?” I asked.

  “And making them.”

  “You must be good with your hands.”

  Wait. Why had I just said that?

  He glanced over, smirking a little, and I narrowed my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” was all he said, innocently, and then we were greeted by a couple of mutual friends, and I didn’t get the chance to pursue it further.

  I hated that I didn’t hate him.

  * * * *

  Josh

  There was no subs-on-the-floor rule this week, so Lena wound up sitting a couple of people away from me, falling deep into conversation with the girls on each side of her about something completely vanilla, technical and beyond my comprehension.

  Between contributing here and there to conversations, I studied her, trying to figure out if her resistance had increased or decreased since our last encounter.

  Lena was part open book, part enigma. She was easy enough to read in some ways—enough that a lot of people probably judged her by initial appearances. But beneath the pigtails and girlish mini-dresses, I was starting to get a sense of what made her tick.

  It was only the tip of the iceberg, though. We hadn’t discussed kinks; that would be too much like negotiation to her right now, and she’d only shut me out. But I was curious. Maybe a little too curious.

  When Lena jumped to her feet to dance, pulling Alex and a girl whose name I couldn’t remember with her, I avoided the temptation to watch her go. God knew I’d been staring at her enough already.

  “Earth to Josh.” Mel was grinning at me, and she nudged Ben aside to sit beside me,
settling down to ply me for gossip.

  “That obvious?”

  “We’re already placing bets on when you two are gonna play.” I frowned at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Getting pissed off isn’t gonna stop the speculation. Watching you two last time was pretty memorable, and word travels.”

  She was right, and I reluctantly let go of the urge to tell her to shut down the impromptu betting shop. They’d only start another one the second my back was turned. “You know, if she hears about it, she’ll probably decide never to give anyone the satisfaction.”

  “And no one would care about getting the satisfaction more than you, huh?” she purred suggestively. “If you decide to make her jealous at any point, just say the word.”

  I wasn’t even going to step a foot down that road. I’d had my fill of opinionated redheads for a while—my ex-wife, for one. Cocking my head noncommittally, I watched Lena shimmy and sway to the beat. “So what are the odds right now?”

  “Popular opinion says about a month.”

  Something told me it’d take longer than that. A lot longer. “Popular opinion seems pretty confident in my abilities.”

  “Oh, come on! She might be mostly Domme, but when she goes down, she goes down hard.”

  I tore my eyes from Lena, focusing on this new titbit of information. “Yeah? When was this?”

  Ben chimed in, nuzzling Mel’s neck. “About a year after you vanished off the radar. Maybe six months after Lena moved up here? Something like that. The guy’s name was Matt. He was up here for some post-grad degree in some complicated area of math no one’s ever heard of. Anyway, she submitted to him for almost a year.”

  “You’re stealing my story, honey…” Mel tugged his earlobe in rebuke, then continued, “Lena has a thing for exhibitionism, so they did a lot of dungeon scenes. She’s a feisty one, but the right hand on her at the right time, and wham—she’s on her knees and halfway to floating. Dunno if Matt just had the special touch, though. I haven’t seen her kneel for anyone else.”

  I ignored the deliberate attempt to goad me, getting up and taking a step toward the bar. “Insider’s tip? I’d say longer than a month.”

  I didn’t wait for them to reassess their bets. I’d heard enough for one night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lena

  I’d definitely been losing ground against Josh two weeks ago. I didn’t know whether I’d liked it or not—I didn’t know him well enough to trust him, and it had been so long since I’d subbed that I wasn’t even sure I could anymore.

  Okay, that last part was a lie. I could definitely submit to him. But I shouldn’t. And just because I wanted to, that didn’t make me any less into topping.

  Josh didn’t seem to be around this week—not that it mattered. I didn’t come here for him; I came here to talk kink, watch kink and sometimes even do kink. So when Tamara gave me a sidelong glance and asked if I still felt seventy-odd percent Domme, I turned to Izzy with a grin. “Can I borrow your toy-bag for an hour?”

  I’d topped Tamara before; she was bad around needles and didn’t go in for much stingy pain. After a quick run-through of her limits to make sure nothing had changed, I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her through to the dungeon, making sure she didn’t stumble too badly.

  There was something calming about acting the Domme. When I subbed, there was never much going on in my mind—just the instinct to obey and the hyperawareness of sensation. When I topped, it was all about observation, reading body language, figuring out what was too little, what was too much… My focus was narrowed, but there was so much to pick up on that it felt as if I were noticing everything, all at once.

  It took my mind off all the stuff I’d been obsessing over since I met Josh. My role was clear, as was Tamara’s, and the charge between us was intoxicating. I taunted her affectionately, made her beg for pain, held back until she relaxed into it and then shocked the breath out of her with harder strikes.

  We had fun, and by the end of the scene I felt surer of myself than I had in a while. When I finally untied her and guided her to the couches reserved for post-play recovery, she curled into a ball with her head in my lap, dazed and smiling.

  I glanced around at the spectators’ area, stroking her hair, and… Oh, God. Josh was there. How long had he been…?

  He was watching another scene happening nearby, but then his gaze snagged on me and he nodded a greeting, smiling faintly. Then, before I could decide how to react, he took a step back and disappeared into the social area of the club.

  Well, at least he wasn’t jealous.

  * * * *

  Josh

  I got to Rack and Ruin a couple of hours later than I’d planned—I’d had paperwork to finish, and had figured I might as well get it done while I was motivated to do so.

  When I arrived, Heidi was the first to notice me. “Hey, there. Guess who’s in the dungeon right now?”

  “I’ve been working late. Don’t make me play guessing games,” I told her, then ordered us both a drink.

  She sipped her martini when it arrived, not taking offence at my abrupt manner. I’d known Heidi long enough that she was used to me by now. “Lena. And before you ask, no—she’s not submitting.”

  It didn’t surprise me. I’d known before that she was struggling against the urge to submit to me; that she had chosen to assert her Dominant side seemed natural. And I was more than a little curious to see what that intelligent mind of hers could devise when she played.

  “Hmm.” I sipped my bourbon, glancing over to the dungeon entrance. “That’d be something to see.”

  With a wicked grin, Heidi offered me her arm. “Shall we, then?”

  I took it, and we headed through to the spectators’ area of the dungeon. “You placed your bets yet?”

  The words startled a laugh from her throat. “You know about that?” Then, answering her own question: “Of course you do.”

  I waited her out, scanning the various playing couples and threesomes around the dungeon. Lena was easy to spot, and I couldn’t help but smile—the boots she was wearing probably made her taller than me, and she was circling the girl in her thrall—Tamara, if I remembered rightly—with confident grace.

  She leaned down to whisper something in the girl’s ear, and the sub bit her lip, trembling a little, and nodded. Lena grinned, lifted a paddle into view and sent it down with efficient accuracy, watching Tamara carefully for negative reactions.

  “To answer your question,” Heidi said dryly, “no, I haven’t. And watching this makes me glad of that.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, and she elaborated, “I hadn’t seen Lena play before, and I wasn’t sure what your reaction to her playing would be. Now I know.”

  “Is it what you expected?” I watched as Lena took a couple of minutes to let her sub breathe, smoothing away the hurt with her palm and leaning in to say something that was bound to be provocative.

  Heidi thought about it. “I expected you to be more possessive.”

  I shrugged. “Known the girl all of five hours over six weeks, Heidi. She isn’t mine to control right now. And you can learn a lot about a person from watching them play.”

  She cocked her head, smiling. “You’re serious about this one, aren’t you? What is it about her?”

  Yeah, she knew me, all right. “Hard to say. For one thing, I like a challenge. But more and more, it’s because there’s something about her. Can’t pin it down.”

  “And from you, that’s positively poetry,” Heidi teased.

  Before I could respond her cell phone rang, and she excused herself. I was left to watch Lena finish her scene; she ended with a barrage of hard, rapid bare-handed spanks that left Tamara gasping, and then some gentle words before she uncuffed her sub.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected Lena’s approach to aftercare would be, but she was good, offering lots of physical contact as well as some water. Tamara put her head in Lena’s lap, and Lena looked up, as if sensing my gaze on her for the f
irst time.

  She seemed startled to see me there, as if she’d already decided I wasn’t going to show. It would be interesting to see how she reacted when I complimented her on her technique.

  I left her to tend to her sub in peace, returning to the social space and joining Heidi and the rest of the group. It was a little while before they emerged, but when they did I moved over to give them room to sit.

  Lena was still riding her Domme-high; she met my eyes without difficulty. “Hey. Didn’t think you were coming by this week.”

  “Been working late. I see you’ve been keeping yourself occupied.”

  Her expression surprised me; pure, flirtatious mischief. It was as though she was letting me see a part of her I hadn’t even been sure existed. “I saw you seeing. What’s the verdict?”

  “Seventy-one point two points,” I told her, and she laughed softly, exchanging a glance with Tamara. “I’d need to see more than fifteen minutes to give a proper critique.”

  Lena shrugged. “You show me yours; I’ll show you mine. Anyone for a drink?”

  She headed off to the bar, and as I watched her go, Tamara touched my arm. “Different, huh?”

  “You could say that.” I focused on the petite blonde girl, sensing she was in a talkative mood. “There a reason for it?”

  “She got real defensive around you, since you got off on the wrong foot. And she knew people were watching you both. It made her throw her guard up. But that?” She gestured toward the bar. “That’s the real Lena. The one the rest of us see. I guess that’s a good sign for you guys. Well, unless it’s just the prickly side of her you want.”

  Filing away the information, I shook my head slowly. “Good to know. Thanks.”

  Tamara grinned. “Don’t thank me yet. Lena flirts with pretty much everyone without even thinking about it, but if she puts her mind to it… wow. You might find yourself outclassed.”