The Dom's Virgin: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  When I finally find Scarlett she’s breathless and has lost the coat she was wearing when we came in. Her skin glistens with sweat and she’s wearing a perpetual smile. The smile falters a little when she sees the look on my face. “You okay?” she asks as we slip outside into the cool night air beside the pool and find chairs.

  “I met Mr. Steele,” I say.

  “You met him?” she asks.

  “I walked into his master bedroom as he was coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel.” The look on Scarlett’s face makes me laugh. “Nothing happened! I mean, he did zip up my dress…”

  Scarlett’s jaw drops and she’s looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Shut up! He did not!”

  I bite my lip, grinning. “He did.”

  “Why the hell was your dress unzipped?”

  I finish telling her what little else there was to the encounter as the night grows colder and the intensity of the party burns down to embers. We laugh and talk about nothing, and for at least a little while, my mind moves away from the debt and the problems in my immediate future. I’ll be talking to Scarlett’s contact at Club Crave tomorrow morning and possibly starting soon. But that’s a worry for tomorrow. Tonight, I’m perfectly fine with Mr. Steel dominating my thoughts. I just wish he was dominating more than that.

  25

  Logan

  My driver parks behind Club Crave’s private entrance. I step out of the car, slipping on the simple leather mask that covers my eyes and the top of my nose. Even before I had a desire to protect my identity, I always chose to wear a mask here. The thrill of anonymity and the extra degree of control always gave another layer to my enjoyment. Control. It’s what drives me. It’s what I thrive on.

  Dean is already waiting for me. Club Crave is a simple building from the outside. Unassuming. Red brick, blacked out windows, and nothing to mark it as a favorite spot of the filthy rich and filthy minded. Dean wears a mask similar to mine, but I would recognize what little I can see of his face anywhere. He smirks at me and claps me on the shoulder.

  “Logan Steele is back on the prowl. Women beware,” says Dean. “How does it feel?” he asks. Something in his tone irks me. It’s a little patronizing, maybe, but I can’t be bothered right now. I have other things on my mind.

  I straighten my jacket and tie, fixing him with a hard glare. I’m not in a mood to joke or banter. I’ve waited too long for this. My body hums with energy, cock already hard and pulsing. I have to grit my teeth to hold back the anticipation, the burning need to dominate. I push past Dean, leaving him at the entrance.

  The club is full, doms and subs on full display even in the lobby. The walls are deep black polished stone marbled with white. Flickering red candlelight illuminates the room, casting everything in a sensual scarlet color. I move past security, flashing the pin on my lapel that marks me as a member. I’ve still been paying the exorbitant membership fee all these years, despite not knowing if I would ever come back. Canceling my membership would have felt too permanent, and I think I always knew I would come back.

  A dom in an expensive suit and leather mask walks by, dragging his sub by the diamond-encrusted collar wrapped around her neck. She follows, hands folded in front of her submissively. Her dress is nearly transparent, and she wears only a thin black thong. Another dom is reclining while a sub rubs her small hand up his thigh and squeezes his cock. A blonde stands and watches them with a look of irritation. My guess is he’s punishing her for something, but the sub is doing a poor job of hiding how much her punishment is turning her on.

  I breathe in deeply through my nose. All the old heat and energy of this place seeps into me. Whether I find a sub or not tonight, just being back is good. I’ve repressed this for too long. I need it.

  I see Dean passing through the lobby of the club, toward a pretty young redhead wearing a sleek dress with deep cuts up the sides that don’t leave anything to the imagination. He leans in close, speaking to her softly as she nods her head obediently. When he walks back to me, she follows closely behind him, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “New sub?” I ask him.

  He nods. “Ava has a habit of misbehaving. We were just establishing the newer, more strict rules for tonight. I was very clear about the consequences, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says meekly.

  Dean favors her with a light dragging of his fingertip down her jawline. The corner of her mouth pulls up in a satisfied smile, and Dean hisses in a quick breath. “Your ass is mine for that later.”

  Her cheeks redden and she bites her lip.

  Dean sighs, shaking his head, but not completely hiding the grin on his mouth. “Training this one hasn’t been easy.”

  I nod distractedly, eyes scanning the room. I still remember when I was first introduced to the lifestyle. I learned early the most important element of a dominant and submissive relationship is communication of desires. The line between enjoyment and abuse is an easy one to cross, and it’s a line I don’t take lightly. I’ve always been careful, which gave me all the more reason to be pissed when Lana claimed I had abused her.

  What a bunch of bullshit.

  I’ve never found enjoyment in causing pain. When I punish a sub, it’s not her pain that turns me on. I’m driven by the complete trust required for a healthy relationship between a dominant and his submissive. When a woman gives complete trust and control to me, the power is like a drug. All I want to do with the power is explore her limits and bring her to new levels of pleasure she’s never found. That’s what it is for me. Just like I enjoy pushing myself to the absolute limit in my business, I like to bring women to theirs in the bedroom. I like to watch them learn what they’re capable of and love every second of it.

  I move away from Dean and his sub, drawn toward a young woman near the edge of the lobby, where a dark hallway leads to some of the public pleasure rooms. I can tell from her outfit she’s new and uncomfortable. Fresh. The thought sends a burst of predatory excitement through me.

  She’s talking to Madam Montpierre and nodding her head obediently as the Madam explains something in her slow, elegant way. I slowly move closer, ears straining to hear the conversation.

  “...will under no circumstances do anything to damage the atmosphere. No matter who you are out there, here you play a role. You are a submissive. They say, you do.” Madam Montpierre pulls a white set of dangling earrings from her bag and hands them to the girl, who takes them questioningly. “Put these on. They make it clear to our members what you are and aren’t comfortable with. White means you’re new to BDSM and aren’t interested in any hard bondage, scat, bloodplay, or most of the other more exotic tastes some of our clients may have.”

  The girl swallows, turning slightly and giving me the first clear glimpse of her face. Emmaline? It’s the same woman from my party who wandered into my bedroom. Fuck. My already hard cock twitches. I wanted her from the moment I set eyes on her. Having her just a few feet away from my play room was almost too much temptation. But if she was an employee like she said, I wasn’t going to risk getting involved, no matter how badly I may have wanted to, even though I was fairly sure she was bullshitting me.

  She wore a relatively modest dress at the party, only giving me the slightest glimpse of her cleavage and the smooth curve of her hips. Her clothes tonight are equally modest, and are bordering on offensively conservative in this setting. She wears a red dress that’s entirely opaque and only dips slightly in the chest. The dress ends a few inches above her knees.

  “I thought I was just here for show,” says Emmaline. The way her voice is full of hesitation and fear makes me want to reach out and put her at ease. “You make it sound like…”

  Madam Montpierre tilts her head slightly. “Our clientele is not accustomed to the concept of something being out of reach. Our guests typically bring their own partners and will leave you alone unless you are out of line. Cases of guests wanting more from employees are… rare, but not unheard of.”r />
  Emmaline nods, but her chest is heaving. I love the way she gets breathless so easily. If I had her in my play room, I would blindfold her, lay her out naked, and bind her to my bed. I can imagine how her chest would heave with anticipation as I teased and tempted her, the way her nipples would harden into nubs for me. Fuck. I have to have her.

  “What if I’m not comfortable. I mean, what if one of them wants to do something with me and I don’t want to?” asks Emmaline.

  The Madam smiles reassuringly. “You’re always in control. Remember that. But keep in mind, we’re selling the fantasy that you’re not. Do your best to go along with whatever a guest wants to the best of your ability. That’s all I ask.”

  Emmaline nods, licking her lips. I watch her little pink tongue flick over her lush lips and almost can’t contain myself. I need to have her.

  “What did you mean when you said they would leave me alone unless I got out of line?” asks Emmaline.

  “Like I said earlier, avoid eye contact. Do not move too close to members. Assume submissive posture. Only speak when spoken to. All guests should be addressed as Sir or Ma'am unless they instruct you otherwise.”

  “Right,” says Emmaline.

  “You’ll be fine, honey. Just remember, you’re here for atmosphere primarily. Circulate the room. Be responsive when guests engage with you, and relax. Oh, and don’t dress so modestly. You can grab something from the back for tonight. That dress won’t do.”

  Emmaline looks down in confusion. I love the way her forehead wrinkes with worry. She tucks her silky black hair over her shoulder and licks her lips nervously. “Okay…”

  I watch as Madam Montpierre leads Emmaline through the hallway and toward a back room. I realize Dean has slid up beside me.

  “I know that look,” he says. His sub is a foot behind him, eyes down and hands clasped in front of her.

  “It’s her first day,” I say.

  He whistles appreciatively. “She’s sexy in an innocent sort of way too. You may want to move fast before someone else breaks her in.”

  I growl under my breath.

  I try to keep my mind open for the next hour. I let Dean talk me into watching a public scene in one of the play rooms. A thin, willowy woman with blonde hair lets two masked men strap her to the ceiling by her wrists and ankles. They take turns with her, drawing out her pleasure inch by inch, making her shake with anticipation before they finally plunge inside her. My mind is elsewhere though, and threesomes never interested me. I’m drawn to the intensity that can only exist between two people. Two minds locked in the delicate play of domination and submission, pushing and pulling to reach the perfect balance where pleasure, fear, and pain all become one.

  The woman is moaning loudly when I see a flash of gold pass by the hallway outside. I’m up and following before Dean can say anything to stop me. I step into the hallway, feeling my breath hitch when I see her. Emmaline. She’s wearing a sequined gold dress with a transparent cutout that goes wide from her shoulder blades to a narrow point just beneath where the crease of her perfect ass begins. My cock hardens immediately, already aching painfully from so much pent up desire and no release. I move behind her, evaluating how she’s holding her head too high and her back too straight. Too confident. Her eyes wander the room boldly, begging for someone to pull her aside and punish her.

  She stops just inside the lobby and turns, eyes meeting mine directly.

  Someone needs to teach her a lesson.

  I hope you enjoyed this sneak peak of Punished! You can find the full book here (completely free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers)

  I have a dirty little secret. No guy has ever been able to get me off. They try. They fail. They leave. Rinse and repeat. Until I met Logan Steel. Until he punished me.

  Download it here!

  Bonus Content

  I hope you enjoyed The Dom’s Virgin! As part of my way of saying thanks, I wanted to include a free copy of “Dark”, one of the standalone books from my Citrione Crime Family series.

  Dark was a really special book for me and will always have a place in my heart as one of my favorites. I’ve included it also in part because I hope you’ll enjoy it so much that you decide to go check out the rest of my work!

  I also apologize to anyone who gets irritated by bonus content. I made sure to make note of it in the product description on Amazon this time around, so hopefully it doesn’t come as a surprise for anyone!

  26

  Dark

  She had my baby and now she’s mine.

  Women know I’m a bad boy. They know that they should keep their distance, but they never do. All they ever get is one night. The dirtiest, wildest, hottest night of their lives.

  Court appointed shrink Dr. Julia Connors shouldn’t have been any different. She shouldn’t have changed me. But she did.

  She asked me to tell her how I felt. All I wanted to do was lay her down on that couch and make her scream my name.

  She was the only one I ever wanted a second night with. She was the only one I couldn’t take it from. And when old rivalries flared, I had to leave to keep her safe…I had to break her heart.

  When my enemies find her, nothing’s going to stop me from coming back to protect her and the son I never knew I had.

  I made a mistake by letting her go once, but I never make the same mistake twice.

  27

  Julia

  I lean back in my office chair, looking at the wall where my credentials are on display. Julia Connors, PhD. Psychologist. I still remember hanging it proudly on the wall a year ago, thinking how my life was finally about to change for the better. I’d be able to buy a cocktail or go out to dinner with my friends once in awhile without feeling like I was breaking the bank. That was true for a while, at least, until I got the news about my mom.

  I look at her smiling face on my desk and already feel tears pricking at my eyes. For as long as I’ve known her, she has been like a rock in my life, the one steady thing that I could always go back to and get my footing. Cancer? It still doesn’t seem real. My training kicks in against my will: Denial, the first stage of grief according to the Kübler-Ross model. I shake my head in frustration, wiping away tears and feeling like the one who should be sitting on the couch while someone else doodles on a legal pad and pretends to listen. You’re losing it, Julia.

  I check my schedule for the day and wince. It’s 9:57 a.m. already? My 10:00 is a parolee named James Delany. I specialize in abnormal personality disorders, which my boss, Ted, knows perfectly well, but he insists on scheduling these parole cases with me. There are two general types of clients I deal with on a regular basis. The legitimate patients who need my help, and the criminals who are forced to come see me as part of their parole. They’re easily the worst. They’re usually belligerent, rude, and often want to be anywhere but in my office. It’s more a test of patience, but as Ted says, they help keep the lights on. If he really wanted to keep the lights on, he would work more than three days a week.

  I mentally brace myself, remembering to project calm. Project confidence. One of the first steps to establishing an effective patient-therapist relationship is in the first impression. There’s a knock at my door. Ted refuses to pay for a secretary, so the patients just knock or sometimes barge in, interrupting sessions if they come too early. I move to the door and open it. A rail-thin man with tattoos on his face and neck walks in, scratching his forearm. Substance abuse and dependence. He glances around the room, shuffling his feet as he moves toward the couch and then hesitates. He finds the chair furthest from my desk and sits. Anxiety. Sits near the closest exit. Possible paranoia.

  “You’re the shrink?” he asks.

  With an effort, I smile. “Yes. You could say that.”

  28

  Leo

  I sit in the waiting room, already feeling pissed off at this waste of time. It’s my first day out of prison and the fucking judge makes me go to therapy. Apparently, shooting and killing someone inside a cr
owded restaurant means I have anger issues. Bullshit. I’d have stupid issues if I didn’t shoot someone who pulled a gun on me.

  I make a mental effort to get my mind out of the past. I’m out now. It’s behind me. One year of my life for carrying an unlicensed firearm and parole. Considering I planned on killing the guy before he ever pulled the gun on me, it could have been a lot worse. I guess I’m lucky the Bianchis were willing to bribe whoever they did to get me out so soon, but it feels like a deal with the devil. They probably think they have me bought and paid for now, but they are idiots if they really believe that. I’m Leo fucking Citrione. No one buys me and no one owns me. Anyone who says otherwise can happily test me on it. My only loyalty is to my family. That’s it. I watch out for my little brother, Angelo, which is what got me in prison in the first place, and I give respect to my cousins, Vince and Damian, up in New York.

  Maybe the Bianchis were in such a rush to get me out because they were afraid I’d talk to the cops. But I don’t beg. I did my time quietly. The cops tried to offer me deals and get me to rat out associates. They got nothing from me, just like this therapist isn’t going to get shit out of me. The judge said I had to come here, but he didn’t say I had to talk.

  I’m the only one in the waiting room until a young guy in slacks and a dress shirt comes in. He lifts his sunglasses and rests them in his hair, putting his hands on his hips and glaring around the waiting room, as if something is pissing him off. A few seconds later, a very thin guy with tattoos rushes through the waiting room and leaves. I check the time, 10:27 a.m., time to meet my therapist.