Take Me, Sir: Billionaire's Sub Book 3

by M. S. Parker

  I didn’t bother to respond. Turning around, I opened the door and shoved inside. Bethany followed me, but I ignored her, keeping my focus on Leayna. She was sitting in the chair, arms wrapped around herself and rocking as if she ached deep inside.

  Her eyes, big and scared, met mine.

  I went back to the seat I’d been using and took her hand. “Good news. We’ll be having the bail hearing soon.”

  “That’s good news?”

  “Once you post bail–”

  “We’re going to ask that bail be denied,” Bethany interrupted as she gave Leayna a smile that brimmed with mock sympathy. “Standard procedure in murder cases.”

  Leayna flinched and I almost wanted to put my arm around her.

  “You don't have any proof,” I said.

  “I’m simply pointing out–”

  I stood up and cut around the table, moving out into the hall again. Bethany was too much a bulldog with her cases to chance having this fucked up by her staying in the room alone with my client, so she followed, as I’d expected her to.

  Once she did, I closed the door again, resisting the urge to slam it. Once it was shut, I pivoted on Bethany, eyes narrowed and voice cold. “Don’t pull that shit again. I’m not some idealistic public defender fresh out of law school. I’ve been arguing cases almost as long as you, and I’m better.”

  Her eyes glittered bright and hot. I'd seen this side of her before, and it hadn't been pleasant then either. She opened her mouth.

  I cut her off before she could speak. “I’ve had less than thirty minutes to discuss things with my client and she's been in shock the entire time, which means she isn't yet capable of assisting in her own defense. So, unless you want me to bring this up to a judge, you're going to back the hell off and do things the right way.”

  She sauntered closer, reaching up to stroke her fingers down my jawline. I jerked my head back out of her reach.

  “You know, when we first met, I'd really hoped we could be...friendly,” Bethany murmured.

  I shook my head. “No offense, I’d rather be friendly with a snake.”

  She laughed, but it wasn't a nice sound. “Better prepare your client, and yourself. It doesn’t look good for either of you.”

  I was starting to regret coming to New York after all.

  Chapter Six

  Dena

  “Interesting.” Bethany looked at me after I finished and gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Her eyes were hard to read.

  My new boss might've looked like the meaner, harder version of Lawyer Barbie, but she had one hell of a game face. After a moment, she shifted her attention to the file I’d given her and tapped it with a French manicured nail.

  “You present a good argument.”

  That sounded suspiciously like a compliment. I didn’t say it out loud, though. I simply inclined my head and said, “Thank you.”

  She made a noncommittal sound under her breath and flipped through a few pages. “It wouldn’t have convinced a jury, of course. But it’s still a good argument.” Now she did look back at me and gave me a patronizing smile. “I think you’ll get there, Dena. It just takes a bit of time to make the switch from divorce and family law to criminal law.”

  Without waiting for a response from me, she looked at Pierce and began to fire a barrage of questions at him.

  I tried not to let any reaction show, returning to the chair a few feet away from the one where Pierce normally sat, sinking down into it. I wished I could've just walked out since it was clear that she wasn't going to treat me like she treated Pierce, but I wouldn’t stoop to being petty. I was an adult.

  No matter how much it sucked.

  “Impressive.” Bethany drew the word out long and slow and I continued to study the window so I didn’t have to see the pompous prick preening.

  Her phone buzzed on her desk and she picked it up, effectively letting us know that the rest of the discussion was over. That was fine with me.

  Rising, I gathered up the information I’d brought in for my presentation, and began stuffing everything into my briefcase.

  I was almost out the door when she called after Pierce and told him to wait a few more minutes. Obviously, he did so, relaxing back in the chair as I ducked outside, quick as I could. I was ready to get out of there.

  It was finally Friday.

  As I was making my way out along with the rest of the people who were done for the day, I heard snatches of conversations and greetings. Plans being made. People laughing.

  Loneliness settled along with a knot of edginess that grew with every step I took.

  It’s finally Friday...

  I hit the doors and decided I needed to go out.

  Club Privé wasn’t high on my list of places to go tonight.

  I was feeling a little too rough to have the watchful eye of my best friend’s husband on me. Not to mention the best friend herself. As much as I adored Carrie and Gavin, they’d taken it upon themselves to look out for me every time I came in, and I didn’t need that. I could look out for myself.

  What I needed was...

  I sighed. What I needed was something I was beginning to think I could never have.

  So I went to Leather and Laces. It wasn’t quite as upscale as Club Privé, but they played excellent music and looked out for their guests as well as Gavin did. I knew the guys who handled the doors too, and when they saw me approaching, they automatically waved me in, much to the disgust of the people waiting in line. I ignored them. Once upon a time, I’d been the one waiting in line. It was my turn to move ahead now.

  The dark silver mini dress I wore stopped a few inches below my butt and I’d paired it with boots that came up a few inches over my knees, leaving only a couple inches of thigh bare in between.

  I’d chosen a pair of platform boots for tonight since I didn’t know if I’d be staying here or going somewhere else, and I wasn’t overly thrilled at the idea of walking a lot in heels. The platform boots were a lot more comfortable and solid, and they still gave me three more inches. That might not have sounded like a lot, but to someone who barely hit five feet, any extra height was nice.

  Inside the club, low lights pulsed in time to the music, and I breathed in the familiar scents that came with any sort of place like this. Sweat, perfume, soap. Sex. Here, there was also just a hint of leather since at least half the crowd was wearing it.

  I let the rush of energy wash over me as I moved deeper inside and looked around. I hadn’t been to L&L in a few months, and while there were some familiar faces, more were unfamiliar. I wondered how many of the patrons had left for Club Privé when it'd reopened its doors.

  Somebody bumped into me, and a hand followed to steady my hip. When the hand didn’t immediately fall away, I shifted my gaze over and stared levelly at a short – at least relatively speaking – rail-thin man who wore a leather vest and equally tight pants to match. I continued to stare until his hand fell away and then I continued my trek toward the dance floor.

  One of the men caught my eye and a slow smile spread across his face even as his gaze dropped so that he was looking at me through his lashes.

  I smiled back. Leather and Laces had private rooms in the back as well. They weren't as nice as the ones Gavin and Carrie had, but they were far better than some sleazy hotel.

  I held out my hand and he came to me, his head bowed. He was average height, which meant I didn't have to strain to whisper in his ear.

  “I'm Dena.”

  “Edward.”

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  A shudder ran through him, and while that answered my question, I waited for him to nod before I turned and started for the back. He trailed after me, his fingers still twisted tightly in mine.

  Sweat still dewed my flesh as I pushed my skirt back down and adjusted my underwear. I hadn’t been able to climax, though not due to lack of trying on Edward's part.

  I'd gotten him worked up first, trying to lose myself in his trust, in controlling
his pleasure, but it hadn't worked. Well, it hadn't worked for me. He'd been practically shaking with need when I'd made him stretch out on the bed. I'd ridden his face, my desperation growing as his tongue and lips weren't able to get me off. When I'd finally rolled on the condom and lowered myself onto him, I'd resigned myself to leaving without being satisfied. I'd focused all of my attention then on making sure Edward found his release.

  He moaned from beneath me, his eyes half-rolled back in his head. When I rose, he started to lift his hand. I caught it, squeezed, hoping he'd take the hint and not say anything. He smiled as he rolled onto his side. I brushed some of his dark hair back from his face, using the touch to make sure he was okay. Some subs needed extra aftercare, but we hadn't done anything particularly intense so I was thinking he'd be fine. When he nodded at me, I squeezed his hand again.

  “I’ll take care of the room. Thank you.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek, leaving before he could ask me what was wrong.

  I couldn’t tell him that I was miserable because nothing made me happy lately. It wasn’t his fault. I was pretty certain I’d given him what he needed, but it hadn’t done anything for me, and it wasn’t fair to him to make him think that any of this was his fault. Plenty of subs got pleasure from the actual submission and knowing it was arousing to their partner. Edward was one of those.

  But I didn’t want anybody submitting to me right now.

  I was tired of being in the driver’s seat. I just wanted an hour where I didn't have to think, didn't have to be in control. An hour where I could completely rely on someone else to take care of me.

  When I stepped out of the hall, I was tempted to head for the door, go home and find my vibrator. If I closed my eyes and imagined really hard, I could make myself believe for a few minutes at least that somebody could give me what I needed.

  Instead, I went to the dance floor.

  I had to burn out this energy, and it looked like dancing was my only option. I threw myself into the music with sheer, reckless abandon, grateful to at least be able to shed the straight-laced image I wore most of the time.

  A couple of hard-bodied, younger wannabes were there and they quickly surrounded me, keeping just enough space free that I didn't feel claustrophobic or threatened. I’d never be interested in joining any of them in a room, but for dancing? They looked like they could be a welcome distraction. When one of them came up behind me and lightly rested his hands on my hips, I let him.

  If this was the only outlet I had, I was going to make the most of it.

  Chapter Seven

  Arik

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Porter?”

  The soft, almost breathy voice coming from the doorway had me looking up from the reports and other files I had littering my desk. A few days ago, the glossy black surface had been clean, not even a paperclip out of place. Then Charles Sheldon had dropped by my office with his little bombshell, and my nice, neat organization had gone straight down the path of hell.

  I didn't like that very much. I liked things to be exactly where I wanted them. I knew I had some control issues, but I also knew that was one of the things that made me good at my job. That and the fact that I was a bit of a workaholic.

  The paralegal standing in the door smiled at me, her pretty face not showing any of the exhaustion I knew she must be feeling.

  This case was a big one for the firm. Leayna was rich, well-known and her marriage had been almost as sensational as the death. All eyes were on us. I hoped I didn’t fuck things up. I’d been told any extra hours I needed from my paralegal were fine, and when I mentioned it to her, she’d told me she didn’t have any family or children, no boyfriend.

  She’d hesitated on that last one, her voice trailing off.

  At the time, I’d wondered if she had been trying to tell me something. Now I was sure of it.

  She slid into the room, sauntering closer with a slow, deliberate walk. Ella Pott was a beautiful woman in her early twenties, and a sensual one at that. It was in the way she moved, the way she used her body. The way she watched people. I was usually a good judge of women, and I had a feeling she’d be a pleasure in bed. The way she was watching me now made me think she wouldn’t be put off if I invited her back to my place. She’d probably beat me out of the door.

  Chestnut brown hair. Big blue-green eyes. Nice curves. She had a full, pretty mouth that looked slightly puckered all the time, almost as if she was waiting for a kiss…or to kiss something. I tried to imagine her on her knees, wrapping those pouty lips around my cock.

  I felt sluggish interest, but nothing strong enough to warrant acting on it.

  That was good though. I didn't want to fool around with someone I worked with, let alone someone who was technically working under me.

  “No. I think I’ve got everything under control,” I told her, shaking my head. “I’ll be wrapping up soon, Ella. Have a good weekend.”

  I hated that her shoulders sort of drooped when I said it. She was cute, but even if she hadn't been my paralegal, I most likely wouldn't have gone after her anyway.

  She wasn't exactly my...type.

  Since I'd come to New York, when I wanted to go out, I usually went to Club Privé, but I wasn’t in the mood for its sleek elegance tonight. I hit another place a friend from back home recommended. Leather and Laces was still a decent club, but the crowd was a little rougher than I usually went with. I was more into the control than some of the...other aspects of the lifestyle. Tonight, however, I was in the mood for something a little darker than normal.

  A little less than a year before I'd moved, I’d had a somewhat regular thing going with a woman, and it had worked for us, but then she’d wanted something more like a relationship, and that wasn't something I wanted. I liked her well enough and the split had been amicable. I'd even been happy for her when I heard she'd found a serious boyfriend, but I never once regretted not ignoring my instincts and giving in. Relationships and I didn't work.

  Since moving, I’d had a few encounters, but they had been brief and not particularly satisfying, nothing more than taking care of a physical need. The part of me that needed that extra...edge hadn't been sated.

  Briefly, I thought about Ella, and knew she'd be willing, enthusiastic even. She might even be willing to learn about what I needed, but I wasn't in the mood to teach someone. Some men might've leapt at the chance to teach some wide-eyed newbie, but I wasn't one of them. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't sure I'd ever find it.

  Music pounded in the air, and I leaned against the bar, raising my voice to be heard so I could order a scotch. A brunette with a short cap of hair crossed my line of sight and paused, looking at me speculatively. A smile curled her lips, soft and hesitant, but the shyness was more for show than anything else. I could tell she was one of those people who came to a place like this looking for a thrill. She'd play a bit, then go back to whatever vanilla boyfriend or fiancé she had waiting for her.

  I ordered another scotch before moving into the crowd. There was a stage to my left and people were setting up for some sort of show. I didn’t need to know what was going on to know I’d be bored. None of the displays that happened in the BDSM clubs had ever appealed to me. There were plenty who enjoyed the spectator aspects of the lifestyle, but I wasn't one of them.

  I preferred to be involved. Once, I’d told a sub that spectator sports were fine for something like football, but anything else, I wanted to be hands on. It was like how I wasn't really into the whole humiliation and pain aspect of it. I had no issues with anything that happened between consenting adults, but it just wasn't me. I mean, a little spanking and punishment were fine, but I didn't go for any of the harder stuff.

  Strobe lights pulsed in time to the music as I cut around the edge of the dance floor. I glanced over almost reflexively, and that was when I saw her. For one moment, she was clearly illuminated in the light, and that moment was enough.

  She was slender, delicate. Yet the way she moved o
n the floor exuded confidence and strength. Three men crowded around her, and one of them reached up, his hand moving to her throat in a clearly dominant gesture.

  A smug smile curled her lips. I watched as she reached up and caught the man's shirt, hauled him toward her as though they might kiss. Their faces hovered no more than a few inches away, and when he moved to close the distance, she pushed him back and spun around. Now with her back to the man’s chest, she caught his hands, guiding them to her hips.

  A second man moved in. Her slim form was practically hidden by the two men for a moment, and then she slid out from between the two of them. When they tried to close her in again, she pressed her hands to their chests. There was something both playful and commanding about how she did it.

  She was controlling every damn thing about the dance, and those two men – barely old enough to drink, I suspected – didn’t even realize how completely she was doing it. They clearly thought themselves dominants, but they were clearly no match for this tiny little thing.

  Intrigued, and more than a little curious, I finished my scotch and passed the glass off to a nearby server without taking my eyes off the woman. Her eyes flicked toward me, and then moved back to her partners. Then, slowly, she looked back at me again. Her chin angled up, head cocked slightly to the side, as if she was reading me.

  The smile on her lips tugged up at the corners just a bit as I moved closer, arching an eyebrow. She responded in kind, and moved away from the men she’d been dancing with. When they made to follow, she shook her head, and then looked back at me.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth and then let it roll out. I imagined her doing the exact same thing before I kissed her. She had an absolutely perfect mouth.

  I made up my mind then and there that I was going to taste that mouth tonight.

  I reached out as soon as she was close enough and settled a hand on her waist, slowly drawing her toward me. She came easily, and when I set my other hand on her hip, she did the same thing to me she’d done earlier. She brought her hand up and curled her fist into the front of my shirt. She didn’t pull me in or push me away, though.