The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  The Fix

  Nightlong Series #2

  Sarah Michelle Lynch

  Copyright © Sarah Michelle Lynch, 2016

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. You must not circulate this book without the authority to do so.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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  For the kinky,

  because life’s just that bit harder sometimes

  The Nightlong Series So Far

  The Contract

  The Fix

  Contents

  Part One: Past

  Part Two: Present

  Part Three: Future

  Also by the Author

  “And, after all, what is a lie?

  ’Tis but the truth in masquerade.”

  – Lord Byron –

  Part One: Past

  Prologue

  1999

  DANTE SINCLAIR, A MERE EIGHTEEN year old, had the world at his feet. Women. Money. A flash car. A Chelsea pad his father just bought for him, now he was a fully fledged adult. To put it simply, this young man wanted for nothing.

  On the new, queen-size bed in his ready-furnished pad, sheets strewn around the edges but mostly on the floor, he watched as the woman he fucked doggy-style leant down to lick the other woman in his bed. Both of their moans drowned out the nonsense in his head and it was their combined calls of passion that kept him as hard as stone.

  “Such a pair of horny bitches,” he growled, and Heather who he was screwing pushed back hard against him, obviously in agreement. It was summer, July to be precise, and sweat trickled freely from the women and himself. He was proud his new crib was being bedded in, in such a fashion as this. It was only right.

  Could life get any better? he thought.

  Sure, he had to start university in Oxford soon, but he’d be back at his Chelsea residence whenever he got chance. Mostly for fucking, but also for sleep. He didn’t plan on sleeping at university. He planned on partying, making a nuisance of himself, and scraping by. It was what he’d always done and it was his place in the world – to be the clown. It went back to when he was ten and since then, he’d been forever pushing his luck – and getting away with it.

  Pushing his luck, he’d found, was the next best thing to an orgasm. Somehow he survived every scrape, every instance of derring-do, and he had no doubt he would continue to eddy like this throughout the rest of his life. It suited him.

  “You’re coming, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he said, looking down at where his condom-covered length began to be chewed up by her fragrant, pink pussy.

  “Yesssssss,” she moaned, and Dante pulled out as soon as he felt himself being dragged towards climax with her.

  He had more energy in the tanks yet.

  Heather flopped down on the edge of the bed while Kristina, whom Heather had been licking, lay flat on her back, ready for him.

  Replacing his condom with a new one, he dragged Kristina onto his lap and began a ruthless, punishing assault on her body, not once hearing her complain. Kristina, unlike Heather, was dark-haired but completely bald downstairs. She fit around him a little less tight than Heather which he preferred; so he could move inside her with more freedom.

  At a club earlier that night, he’d spotted Heather first and after she’d revealed she liked women too, they went to another club, on the hunt for a third party. It wasn’t anything new to him; it was something he’d done a dozen times or more. Fuelled by bourbon and lust, he was game for anything.

  He also knew how to pleasure women; in fact it was probably the only thing he knew well. He’d had several women, at least 100 (he didn’t keep count). He knew about how to drive a woman wild with his tongue. He was adept with his fingers also and knew that his cock was just one of his many tools. Basically the only thing he hadn’t done was ass-fuck someone, but he hoped one day he might find a woman brave enough.

  Never had he had a girlfriend, though – the thought of a relationship abhorrent to him.

  Even as he fucked Kristina, he deflated a smidgen, just at the thought of one of these bitches wanting to be his girlfriend. He had to sort his thoughts out.

  Yuck.

  “Such a dirty little slut, Tina.”

  “Yes,” she answered, breathless.

  “Tell me how much you want this cock in your pussy.”

  “All my older boyfriends don’t stay hard half as long as you… I want it bad! I want it!” Her head flailed; clearly she was enjoying herself. “Deeper! Harder! God, give it to me! HARD!”

  He needed the dirty talk, otherwise…

  “Oh god, don’t stop,” she begged, her black hair pooled around her, her legs wide open, body askew. She obviously didn’t care she was in the company of two strangers, throwing her head back and forth, her breasts covered in sweat and her body so pungent. Dante had often encountered such a woman, whose inhibition went out of the window at the sight and feel of his enormous…

  “Right there, right there!” she yelled, and he continued at the angle he was at, pounding her. Reaching for her own clit, she began to shriek and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heather pleasuring herself at the sight of them before her.

  “Oh god!” Kristina screamed, and Dante held her down on the bed, pushing through her contractions to find his own, satisfying – if quick – release.

  That was the thing – he knew he could get pussy and he always wanted it and the women always went away happy, but this had all begun to bore him.

  Yet the thought of finding something meaningful seemed just as tedious.

  Looking down at the condom, it was only slightly full; he’d not come as hard as he sometimes was able to.

  “Dante,” Heather called in a warm, cooing voice.

  He looked across to his left and found Heather, who was a stranger to him and Kristina also, still playing with herself. She seemed ready for a lot more.

  Horny bitches, he thought, chuckling internally.

  He wasn’t complaining, but sometimes – perhaps only for a split second – he couldn’t believe his luck.

  He strode across the room confidently naked, chuckling when the women rolled together to start kissing in the middle of the bed. Heather, a blonde, looked mesmerising while cradled inside the bustier, darker arms of Kristina, who had a slight Spanish accent.

  “You taste of me,” Kristina murmured into Heather’s lips, and a surge of desire filled his bloodstream. He had so many fantasies, some of which he wanted to exact tonight. But not all of them. It’d be a waste to give everything to two women when there were so many others in the world for him to also give pleasure to.

  After disposing of yet another used condom in the en suite bathroom, he walked to the drinks tray sat on a walnut sideboard and poured himself some more bourbon. The liquor took the edge off his melancholy, buried deep down. He wasn’t sad or depressed, no – that wasn’t it precisely. Anyway, he was a conqueror. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and that was all. Whatever was wrong with him could be fixed – with liquor and sex, he felt sure of it.

  Filling another glass, he passed it to the women who, giggling, began pouring the umber liquid down each other’s bodies, licking it all off. It was a sight to see. Already
hard again, he wasn’t too fond of the thought of putting on another condom. He wanted some real contact this time.

  He lay down on the bed and beckoned Heather to sit on his face. Really, they were both beautiful women, in their own, unique ways. He loved all women, all figures, all boob sizes and ass sizes and height wasn’t a factor for him either, although it was harder to fuck a woman standing up if she was too tall or too short. Anyway after a few minutes, Kristina began licking the length of him, moaning and groaning as she sucked him down the back of her throat.

  And so the night continued like that…

  Carefree, uninhibited and pleasurable.

  Dante always got what he wanted and it was surprising how many women didn’t want entanglement, too. A couple of girls in the past had asked for his number, but most knew his type – and didn’t relish the thought of undoubtedly being knocked back – so they never dared suggest a so-called second date, something he knew nothing about.

  Dante could never see himself wanting a girlfriend – certainly not a wife.

  (But then one day, that all changed…)

  One

  DANTE, JUST TURNED TWENTY-ONE AND now of age, finally had access to the kingdom his uncle, Lord Barlow, had left for him. At an old log cabin in the woods (reminiscent of a Girl Guide hut in the middle of Surrey), he and other men peeled themselves out of their normal clothes and put on the uniform of Pernox, a BDSM club the hut connected to via deep, underground tunnels. Pernox, an actual underground dungeon, was where a deeply secretive coven of women would be ready and willing to administer the men any sort of pain – any sort of humiliation – indeed any sort of fantasy, as long as it did not include sexual intercourse, one of the very few items off the menu.

  Dante had already decided that his first night at Pernox would be spent trying to bed as many of the women as possible. Little did he know that was not to be.

  In the dressing room of the Landing House (the hut’s official name), as all the men donned their robes and slippers, he learnt from some of the others that nobody broke the rules in fear of excommunication. A few men had been shown off the premises in the past and had never returned again – as a warning to others never to cross the line. Apparently Madam Shay was very clear on what was and wasn’t allowed and breaking of the rules certainly wasn’t allowed – by anyone. Privately, Dante wondered if he couldn’t somehow persuade Shay to break the rules, just for him. Well, he did own the place (not that he was eager to tell any of the other members that; after all, Barlow had left Shay in charge and he was owner in name only, meaning he had no influence whatsoever).

  An owner with no influence, right? He thought he may as well have been deemed a man with no balls…

  He’d learnt he would receive an annuity from Pernox, but it wasn’t actually as great as he thought it would be. The dommes got paid around fifty grand a year and the Madam – Shay – seventy.

  He supposed people had to eat – and buy clothes.

  He wondered where his uncle’s money had really come from because it obviously wasn’t from Pernox. His late uncle had owned no other business he knew of, except his land and title. The title had sort of been lost, since Lord Barlow was stripped of it after imprisonment. The Lord part of his name had only remained because he was known to many people – friends and strangers included – as nothing else but Lord Barlow. So, his land definitely wouldn’t have provided enough income to have made him a millionaire. He’d rented land to farmers and basically earned a pittance from that, too. Dante therefore wondered what had made him a millionaire, because he couldn’t see it.

  Dante was young, though and didn’t care so much about money. Opportunity however, was a different ballgame. University had been a complete fuck-fest in more ways than one but somehow he’d strung a few bits together and scraped a 2:2. Going on to study for the bar was something he fully intended to fail at. Wearing a wig and gown was certainly not the life for him. Sure he could achieve it if he wanted to, but real life didn’t appeal to him whatsoever. While he had his inheritance, he intended to use it to fund a lifestyle most people could only dream of.

  Young, free and single – all he wanted was variety – and freedom.

  “Where do these tunnels lead to, then?” Dante asked his friend Teddy, who walked along beside him as they travailed what appeared to be old mineshafts, held up by large wooden joists. For a moment he shuddered, thinking of the thousands of tonnes of mud above them. It could have all come crashing down anytime, right? Sinkholes were on the news everyday. How was this any safer than jumping out of an airplane? The thrill of the clandestine nature of this gathering raised hairs on the back of his neck, stirring a desire for exploration deep in his gut.

  “Nobody knows where precisely they lead to,” Teddy replied, “people have tried to figure out where these tunnels go but it’s a maze.”

  Teddy, young and sharp as a tack, was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Dante didn’t consider himself handsome, or good-looking. He was too thin and couldn’t put weight on. He was fit but not bulky. He hated the blond hair he shared with his father. All he knew for sure was that he had a big cock and he knew how to use it. He’d been proving this since he was fourteen.

  “Surely someone can work it out, like… I don’t know, remember it off by heart and… you know. Draw a map and figure it out sort of thing.”

  Dante had an eidetic memory and much to his mother’s chagrin, had found his own way to the sweet shop when he was four. While his mother slept off her lunch (more likely the cocktails), he often took himself off, all alone, for a bit of half inching. He got away with it many times before the shopkeeper had finally realised where the chocolate bars on the bottom shelf were disappearing to. His brother Daltrey had always been too busy trapping animals at the bottom of the garden to notice his little brother sneak off.

  Teddy shrugged. “I think fellers have tried but failed. The only building round here for miles is a health spa and according to a few of the guys, calculations bring these tunnels a hundred metres outside of the spa. Nah. Doesn’t make sense.”

  Dante kept quiet about the spa, quietly smug, knowing for once a piece of information Teddy didn’t. If Dante admitted he knew the spa was where the women lived, he didn’t doubt he would be excommunicated like the other lost souls long ago extracted from Pernox. Dante’s solicitor held the deeds for Pernox in his safe, seeing as though Dante was so careless – but Dante had spotted the address on one of the deeds. He was told that revealing the address of the spa could compromise Pernox and therefore compromise the business – and Dante’s annuity, which while pitiful, was still better than nothing.

  Teddy had turned twenty-one a few months before Dante so he’d already been visiting Pernox on his own. He’d always been very coy about it, though – leaving Dante in the dark.

  Under his breath, Dante told his friend, “I don’t know what the fucking point of me owning this place is. I don’t get a say in anything.”

  Dante and Teddy shared that secret and in fact, knowing that Dante owned the place had been the one reason Teddy wanted to visit. The simple fact of the matter was, Teddy hadn’t shown any interest in kink before learning about Pernox. He was inquisitive. Now, so was Dante.

  Teddy laughed. “Well, you might soon realise the benefits to a place like this…”

  “Sounds ominous…”

  “Well…”

  “Well, what?”

  “When you see the woman who runs the place, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Madam Shay? What about her… Dante thought.

  Behind them and in front of them, other men in pairs or trios walked leisurely through the tunnels towards the dungeons of Pernox. Voices echoed but couldn’t be determined.

  Still, Dante lowered his voice to say, “I don’t get how I can inherit this place, but I have no say in how it’s run, no say in how money is distributed… no say in anything. The annuity is rubbish and yet… my uncle left me a few mil’ of his own personal cash. I really�
�”

  “Ssshhh, we’re nearly there,” Teddy warned.

  Dante squinted as bright light showed where the tunnel came to an end up ahead of them – the unholy sanctum itself within spitting distance now.

  “What do we do when we get in?” Dante asked, urgent, nervous.

  “You’ll see.”

  For a brief moment, Dante thought about his brother, Daltrey. Training to be a paediatric surgeon, Daltrey would have hated to see him here, following the same sort of path as their father. Daltrey would have thrown himself under a bus for Dante, and Dante knew it. He would have done the same for his big brother.

  However as the light got closer, Dante was more interested in following that and learning what was beyond it, than thinking about his square of a brother and his misinformed notion that Dante was better than their philandering father. He knew himself, he wasn’t.

  So as Dante stepped inside Pernox for the very first time, Teddy at his side, as he had been so many times before, through so many firsts together, Dante wondered why his romantically minded best mate kept visiting Pernox… For the now, the reason eluded him.

  Dante sometimes hated his best friend, it was true. Teddy had held down significantly more girlfriends (Dante had yet to go steady with anyone). Teddy had more admirers because he was going to pass the bar and he had a mother and father who worshipped him. Dante’s father worshipped money, alcohol and sex, while Dante’s mother worshipped laying in bed – with her gin.

  “There she is,” Teddy whispered, subtly gesturing with his eyes at a petite lady dressed in riding clothes, a white riding crop in her hand.

  She had a shock of blonde hair running down her back, perfectly straightened. Her gait was remarkably poised as she walked authoritatively between the crowds, overseeing the dispersal of men with their partners. One woman for every man, it seemed.