by Julia Sykes
“Why not?” Carina asked.
“Don’t you think it’ll be weird?” I lowered my voice as we stepped into Starbucks and got in the long line that stretched nearly all the way to the door. “The agents won’t take me seriously if they know I write romance.”
“Nonsense,” she declared. “They’ll respect that you’re doing your best to portray the lifestyle realistically. And none of them think less of each other for being kinky. They’re a very tight-knit group, almost like family. They take BDSM every bit as seriously as they take their jobs with the FBI. It’s part of who they are.”
I mulled that over, digesting it in silence until it was our turn to put in our order. A few minutes later, we had our lattes in hand and found a table in a back corner where we could speak more privately.
“If I do come to Decadence,” I speculated slowly, “I don’t have to do anything, right? They won’t pressure me into participating? I’m not interested in sleeping with anyone.” I didn’t plan on breaking my three years of celibacy anytime soon, even if I did occasionally experiment with impact play. Floggers and crops were strictly for research purposes, not sexual enjoyment. And so long as any skin-to-skin contact happened on my terms, I could handle it.
“Of course not,” Carina reassured me. “Everyone will respect your boundaries. You can just tour the club and get a feel for the layout and what happens there.” Her smile turned sly. “I know just the guy to show you around.”
“Nope,” I said definitively. “Don’t you dare try to fix me up with someone, Carina.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she waved off my comment. “Besides, Dex isn’t interested in being fixed up, either. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess that’s all right, then.” Her words put me at ease. If her friend Dex was on the same page I was, I could trust him to show me around without trying to make a move on me.
“So you’ll come?” she pressed, practically glowing with excitement.
“Yeah, I will.” I made my decision. I’d carefully considered all the risks and determined that an evening at Decadence would be beneficial. I really could use more real-world experience to enrich my writing.
“Excellent,” Carina beamed. “Do you have something to wear?”
“Honestly, I’d planned to explore some of the New York clubs, so I brought a few outfits. I just hadn’t known I’d be attending a kinky FBI party. But based on what you’ve told me, I feel okay with it.”
She nodded encouragingly. “Kennedy and I will be there, so you can come to us if you feel at all uncomfortable.”
I thought of the intimidating FBI director. I wasn’t at all reassured by the promise of his presence. Comforting wasn’t a word I would use to describe Kennedy Carver.
2
Dex
Another night, another party at Decadence. I practically lived here these days. If I wasn’t in the office, I was fucking some stranger. Sometimes multiple strangers. Sex helped me escape the crushing weight of my grief, if only for a few fleeting hours at the club.
Other than fucking, I barely even bothered trying to claw my way out of depression. What was the point?
At least doing something good at work and giving my sexual partners pleasure brought me some sense of accomplishment. After two awful, lonely years, I was finally learning to cope with losing Katie to another Dom. Flashes of sexual pleasure and the high I found in dominating my partners was enough to keep me going; to keep me smiling around my friends; to keep me pretending that I wasn’t half-dead inside.
“It doesn’t look like New York suits you.” A familiar voice interrupted my brooding. “For a guy in a sex club, you look pretty damn miserable.”
Surprised, I pushed away from the bar and turned toward the man I hadn’t seen in two years. “Harper. What are you doing here?”
He gave me a sardonic grin. “Good to see you, too, Dex.”
I shook my head with a rueful smile and reached for the hand he offered, shaking it firmly. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” I apologized. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”
I’d worked with Jason Harper back when I was still with the Chicago FBI field office, before I’d transferred to New York to get away from Katie and the love of her fucking life, Reed Miller.
I struggled to maintain my smile at the thought of Miller. Thankfully, Jason didn’t seem to notice my lingering sour mood.
“I’m good, man,” he responded, still grinning. “As for what I’m doing in New York, I’m here for a job interview. Carver is trying to recruit me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course he is.” My boss was going to recruit every agent with a kinky bone in his—or her—body, if he had his way.
Jason’s green eyes danced with their usual easy humor. “Yeah, the new Chicago director isn’t too pleased with Carver poaching her agents. Ever since Franklin Dawes was killed and Georgia Parkinson took over, she’s been running a tight ship.”
This time, I couldn’t hide my scowl. To say my former boss was killed didn’t even begin to cover it. Jason made it sound like he’d been killed in action. That couldn’t be further from the fucking truth. I’d lost Katie forever the day Dawes died.
I failed her. I don’t deserve her, I reminded myself for what felt like the millionth time.
Jason ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, clearly flustered. “Sorry. I know Dawes is the reason you left. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I shrugged it off. “It’s okay. I’m over it.”
I could tell Jason didn’t buy it, but he was smart enough not to call bullshit.
“So, how’s the New York field office?” He tactfully changed the subject. “It seems like the job has its perks. Decadence is a great club.”
“It is,” I agreed. “The team is really close. You’d fit in here.”
His wolfish smile returned. “If you guys party at BDSM clubs regularly, I’m sure I would. But Dusk in Chicago is a pretty great club, too. And Miller’s there, so at least I have one person in the lifestyle on my team.”
My own smile was tight. Hatred burned in my gut, a reflexive reaction to any mention of Reed Miller.
“Yeah, I do miss Dusk sometimes,” I said. That much was true. Dusk had been my safe haven, the first club I’d ever ventured into when I discovered the lifestyle at the age of eighteen. It had been my home before I’d abandoned everything I’d known in Chicago and fled to New York.
“Do you want me to introduce you to the guys?” I asked, redirecting the conversation. “They’re all here tonight.”
Jason’s eyes strayed from mine to rove over the crowd filling the club. “I’m sure I’ll meet them tomorrow. I’d rather get to know her tonight.” He tipped his head toward a pretty blonde who was sitting on one of the red leather couches across from the bar. She caught his gaze, held it for a few seconds, then lowered her lashes in a show of submission. Jason’s grin turned predatory.
“All right,” I agreed easily, somewhat relieved he wanted to leave me alone. I didn’t like talking about Chicago. “I’ll be around if you change your mind.”
“I doubt I will. See you at the office tomorrow.” He gave me a vague wave, never taking his eyes off his target as he sauntered away from me.
I blew out a long breath and turned my attention to the bottles of alcohol that lined the wall behind the bar. A drink sounded like a great idea. Maybe even better than a casual fuck. I never mixed the two, so I had to make a decision.
Just as I lifted my hand to signal the bartender, Kennedy Carver and his new fiancé, Carina, approached me. I stepped away from the bar and mustered up my genial mask. I gave my boss a courteous nod. Even outside the office, he commanded the respect of everyone on the team. I knew better than to poke the bear.
“Hi, Dex.” To my surprise, Carina greeted me first rather than deferring to her fierce but loving Dom. She practically vibrated with excitement, her crystalline green eyes sparking with some mischief I didn’t under
stand.
“What’s up?” I directed my question at Kennedy, expecting him to explain his sub’s bubbly mood. Her happiness wasn’t out of the ordinary, but she usually focused solely on Ken when we were at the club, like he was the only person in the world.
I swallowed a grimace. Even the old man had found his soul mate. I was the only one on the team who was still alone.
That would never change.
Deal with it. Smile.
“Cheer up, Dex,” Carina encouraged, reading my moment of brooding. My conversation with Jason had put me in a foul mood, and it must be showing.
“I want you to meet someone,” she continued with a sly smile. “I think you’ll like her.”
Her?
Oh, no. Nope. I would not allow Carina to try to fix me up with someone. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.
“I’m good, thanks,” I lied. “I already have a play partner lined up for tonight.”
Carina’s brows rose. “Oh? And where is she?”
Kennedy’s fingers curled into her corseted waist. “Be nice to Dex, little sub.”
She shot him an innocent look. “I am being nice.”
“No,” he said dryly. “You’re being impertinent.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Dex,” she cajoled. “Chloe’s new in town. The least you can do is be polite and show her around.”
I shook my head. “Not interested.” I risked rudeness.
“Really, you’re being silly. She’s just here for research. She’s a friend of mine, and she’s also a BDSM romance author. Do me a favor and help her out?”
I had an idea of what helping her out with her research would entail. I didn’t want any part of it.
But before I could repeat that I wasn’t interested, Carina beamed at someone behind me. “Chloe!” she called out. “There you are. Come meet Dex.”
I ground my teeth and looked to Kennedy, silently willing him to get his sub in line. He simply shrugged.
Goddamn traitor.
I half-turned to face the woman who was approaching us. Dark hair fell well past her shoulders in long, glossy waves. It framed her ample cleavage that was lewdly pushed up by her tight black PVC corset. She looked like sex walking in strappy high heels.
Chocolate eyes framed in thick black lashes roved over my body as well, taking in my leathers and bare chest. Her white teeth flashed in a perfect grin.
“Chloe,” Carina introduced, “this is Dex. He’s going to show you around Decadence.”
Damn it. I couldn’t refuse now without hurting the sub’s feelings.
Is she a sub? I couldn’t tell. Her outfit made her appear more like a Dominatrix, and the way she boldly met my gaze didn’t indicate any deference.
She’s here for research, I reminded myself. She must not actually be in the lifestyle. She was nothing but a tourist.
I could handle that.
I extended my hand, clasping her small one in mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Chloe.”
Showing her around the club wouldn’t hurt. I could always find a play partner or drown myself in whiskey after I was finished with her. She might be gorgeous, but physical attraction was peripheral to me these days.
Then her eyes dropped from my gaze as I gently squeezed her hand. I recognized the submissive reaction.
I might be in trouble, after all.
I drew in a deep breath. What did it matter if she was a sub? That didn’t mean I had to fuck her. She was Carina’s friend, and I didn’t think Carina would appreciate it if I had a one-night-stand with Chloe. No matter how fuckable she might be.
Off-limits, I told myself sternly. I was certain Carina wanted me to hit it off with Chloe. Well, that just wasn’t possible. I didn’t have a heart left to give anyone, and the gorgeous brunette didn’t deserve for me to pretend otherwise.
I released her hand, severing the brief contact. To my relief, her sweet smile stayed firmly in place when she met my eyes again. She didn’t seem at all offended by the detached way I was treating her. I took it as a sign that she wasn’t any more interested in me than I was in her.
Good.
“Carina mentioned you write romance novels,” I said, making polite conversation. “Are you published?”
To my surprise, her eyes narrowed a fraction. “No,” she responded drily, “I just say I’m an author for shits and giggles.”
“Oh. Uh…” I had no idea what to say. I’d obviously put my foot in it. “Sorry.”
Kennedy snorted. I tried to ignore his derision.
“It’s okay,” Chloe said, giving me a small, apologetic smile. “I’m just sick of that question. Sorry I jumped down your throat.”
“So, how many books have you written?” I tried to move past the awkward moment. I hated feeling off-balance in Decadence. This was where I came to feel powerful, competent, in control. And I didn’t at all appreciate the way Kennedy was smirking at me.
“Nine,” Chloe answered.
“Wow. Nine books?” I didn’t bother to hide the fact that I was impressed. I might love to read, but I’d never written more than a lengthy online message. Well, other than college essays, but those didn’t count.
She flicked her red-lacquered fingers in a dismissive motion, as though it was no big deal. “It’s a fast market. I have to turn out my product as often as possible if I want to stay competitive.”
“Chloe’s very prolific,” Carina said, beaming at the younger woman with undisguised pride. “And she’s very diligent in making sure she portrays the lifestyle accurately.” Pale green eyes turned on me. There was still a sly tilt to her lashes I didn’t trust. “Dex, you’ll help with her research, won’t you?”
Chloe interjected before I could answer. “I’m not here to hook up,” she declared, shooting Carina a pointed look. “I just want to get a feel for what the scene is like at Decadence.” Her attention turned back to me. “Carina said you could show me around.”
“Ask him nicely,” Kennedy ordered. Chloe’s jaw dropped, but he spoke again before she could get an indignant word out. “You might not be in the lifestyle, but there’s a sense of decorum at Decadence. You chose to come here, and you’ll show some respect for the way things are done at the club.”
Her full red lips pressed to a thin line, and she met me squarely in the eye, not showing any deference. “Would you mind showing me around? Please,” she added after a short pause.
“Please, Sir,” Kennedy prompted.
She shot him an incredulous look.
“Oh, come on, Chloe,” Carina cajoled. “You write about this all the time, and this isn’t your first time at a BDSM club. You understand the protocol.”
Chloe’s jaw firmed, and her eyes found mine again. “Please, Sir,” the term came out hard with defiance.
I nodded in brief acceptance of her grudging respect.
“That’s settled,” Kennedy announced. “Now, my beautiful sub and I need to have our own talk about respect.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Carina exclaimed.
“You were rude to me at the office this morning. And you were needling Dex at the club.”
“Honestly, Kennedy, you’re being—”
Before she could finish telling him off, he lifted her up, swinging her over his shoulder in one smooth, practiced motion. She squealed her surprise. Forgetting Chloe and me completely, he carried her off toward the private play rooms.
I was alone with Chloe, and uncomfortable silence instantly stretched between us now that Kennedy and Carina were no longer there to facilitate conversation. I realized it had been a long time since I’d talked to a sub in a BDSM club without the intention of fucking her. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation with Chloe.
“Carina said you’ve been to a club before,” I finally said to break the awkward moment. “Which one?”
“Dusk. It’s in Chicago.”
I suppressed a grimace. Dusk again.
“I know,” I answered smoothly, not betraying my
lingering discomfort after my conversation with Jason. I could talk to Chloe about Dusk without allowing thoughts of Katie and Miller to take over.
“I used to go there all the time,” I continued. “I lived in Chicago before I came to New York two years ago.”
“Really?” she asked with a smile. “Where did you live? I grew up in Edison Park. I’m in Beverly now. I love the city.”
I returned her smile, relieved that the tension between us was fading. “Me too. I was in Lincoln Square. It’s a beautiful city, and Dusk is a great club. Did you go there for research? Kennedy said you’re not actually in the lifestyle.”
“I’m not,” she confirmed. “I have scenes sometimes so I can accurately portray the sensations of impact play, but I’m not interested in finding a Dom. I don’t want a D/s relationship. I just want my books to be authentic.”
“But you identify as a sub,” I confirmed.
“All my heroines are subs, so that’s how I do my research.”
“But you are submissive.” Her reactions to me proved as much.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
I wondered if my initial assessment had been correct. Was she truly a sub? She certainly hadn’t been deferential when Kennedy ordered her to address me with respect.
“I’d like to read one of your books,” I said. If she wasn’t a sub, I was curious to see how she got into the mindset of a submissive character.
She blushed and looked away. “You don’t have to do that. I doubt it’s your kind of book.”
“Romance isn’t my typical genre, but I do like to read. Do you write under your real name or a pen name?”
“A pen name. But really, you don’t have to read my books.”
“What’s your pen name?”
She hesitated.
“Tell me,” I prompted, my voice turning slightly stern.
“Alanna Granger.” Her eyes cut away from mine, and she spoke the name like a shy admission.
Without thinking, I reached out and caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger, redirecting her gaze to mine. “Why are you blushing? You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
