What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6)

by Maddie Taylor

  “I’m a big girl, T.”

  “I know, though it would kill me to see you hurt.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Don’t fall for me, Angie. This will have to be it. I don’t—”

  “I understand, T. You don’t have it to give.”

  “Yeah.” He paused, his thumb stroking her chin, taking in her beautiful face. So brave, and naïve. “I want to clarify that I’m not asking you to do this, nor is Eric or Cap. Hell,” he huffed a laugh although far from amused. “Cap doesn’t know. He told me to find another way.”

  “He’s family and protective. Not to mention, Megan would lose her mind.” She glanced up at him. “But this is my decision, T. It’s my body, my mouth—”

  “Some find that much more intimate.”

  Processing that for a moment, she glanced hastily away. He could practically see her mind working as she imagined herself taking him into her mouth. The image ran through his mind as well and he hardened. He couldn’t deny he hadn’t fantasized about this exact thing, but it wasn’t something Angie did. She might be caught up in the excitement of the case and the intrigue of the lifestyle now, but what about the aftermath. He wondered what about the carousel would bother her most the morning after, being on display, having strangers touch her, or giving him pleasure as she took him inside her hot mouth, letting him glide over her plump, pink lips.

  Her low voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. “It’s not like I’ve never blown a guy, T.”

  His back went rigid, as if a steel bar had melded to his spine. He did not want to hear about the men in her past. Jealous anger ran all over him. Fortunately, she had looked away and didn’t see his inexplicable reaction.

  Still not meeting his gaze, she murmured. “Maybe we’ll catch a break in the case and it won’t come to pass. We’ve got two nights to solve this, don’t we?”

  “We do, and I hope like hell that wish comes true, but we went back through the logs, each abduction happened on Saturday, on the night the subs rode the carousel.”

  Her head came up and she read the truth of his words. A shadow of alarm crossed her face as she whispered, “Fuck me!”

  “Although I hate to hear you say it, baby, that about sums it up.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was nine o’clock. She sat across from Master Eric in the owner’s booth while Val went over the Doms he had recommended for her first scene. She was sure the reason for her presence tonight was more than that. Most likely she was there for moral support, or as a licensed therapist, to pick up the pieces if she fell apart. As a fairly new sub herself, she was also watching her with sympathetic eyes.

  “It’s either George or Renaldo, Angie. I wouldn’t match you up with anyone else.”

  She looked to Eric for his opinion. He nodded.

  “I’ve known them each for a couple of years. Experienced, yet not old enough to be your daddy, which you’ve made clear you’re not into, although that would almost be easier.”

  “Eric!”

  He wrapped an arm around Val and pulled her into his side, giving Angie a shrug in the way of an apology. “Thinking aloud when I shouldn’t. Age play certainly isn’t for everyone, although the nursery upstairs gets a lot of use.”

  “Focus, Sir. You’re freakin’ her out.” Val wrinkled her nose. “And to be honest, me a bit too.”

  Eric’s arm gave his sub a good squeeze, as he continued. “I’d say George. He’s mid-forties, like me. Although I’m not the one to judge, the subs think him handsome and he’s quite tall.”

  Val rolled her eyes, then proceeded to impart what would actually reassure Angie about a potential Dom more than his good looks. “He’s popular with the subs and not into anything extreme, and Master George has the kindest voice and smile.”

  Eric shot his fiancée a disgruntled look. “I wasn’t aware you knew George quite so well.”

  “We had him over for dinner last month, Sir. He told us funny stories all evening, if you recall.” She winked at Angie, obviously trying to put her at ease. “He’s a pediatrician and says what I already knew was true having raised two precocious youngsters, kids say and do the darndest things.”

  “Hm,” Eric grunted in acknowledgement, although he didn’t seem too thrilled. “What do you say, Angie? He’s right there by the chain station. I can call him over.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should get on with it.”

  When he had the chance, Master Eric signaled the Dom over. After a brief introduction, he explained the situation. “She’s eager for a taste, George, but under my care because her friend and Dom wannabe wimped out. In spite of that, she has an avid interest that she wants to explore. I’m seeking someone who will give her a gentle introduction.” Eric advised him of this straight off, authority ringing clear in his deep voice. “If you’re looking for more adventurous play, we’ll turn our focus elsewhere.”

  George nodded in understanding and accepted Master Eric’s restrictions. Partial nudity, bondage, and moderate spanking were all a go, although sex was off the table. Giving his word to adhere to the limits the Master Dom had set, he offered Angie his hand. A verbal contract to play having been struck, she placed hers in his and let him lead her away.

  “I’m a little scared, Sir.”

  “That’s to be expected, pretty girl, though I hope there’s some excitement mixed in as well. We’ll see if we can’t coax that to the surface.”

  *****

  T watched as George Atkins, an older, well-respected, conservative Dom, the exact type he would have selected for Angie himself, lead her to a private booth where he seated her and slid in on the same side close behind her. He turned his back to the room, affording them privacy without the intimacy of drawing the curtains, but effectively blocking his view of Angie. Shifting his position didn’t help much other than to give him a better angle on George, who lifted his hand and began to play with a lock of her long hair, curling it around his finger. Irked over the familiar gesture, T could only imagine how he’d feel when the scene began and more intimate touching followed.

  Feeling wired, he was aware that his annoyance showed on his face, mostly due to the wide berth other members were giving him. He tried to lock it down, attempting to smooth out his features as he covertly observed the pair while circulating nearby, acting like he was interested in the scenes going on when all he could think of was Angie in an upcoming scene of her own.

  He welcomed the distraction when one of the members he’d met during previous visits came up to say hello and filled him in on several pieces of new equipment and changes to the theme rooms upstairs. As he spoke, T scanned the room as if looking for an available sub or scene, yet his focus kept going back to the booth in the corner. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed and they remained seated. The Dom had shifted closer, giving him a clear shot of them both when he slipped his arm around her and brushed a hand along her cheek. T’s jaw clamped tight as he ground his teeth.

  “Master T.” A soft voice rose from the floor, drawing his attention. “So good to have you back in L.A., you’ve been missed.”

  The lovely blonde on her knees at his feet was familiar. He’d enjoyed her company in the past, but tonight, it irritated him. She was near perfect in her pose: head bowed, back arched slightly to show her body in the best light, palms open and resting on her parted thighs. That only irked him more. There was no spark, no sass, and no flashing enigmatic hazel eyes. He politely declined her implied offer and moved away, then his brows drew together in a frown. He was supposed to be working. The Master T who came to play in the past would have jumped at the offer.

  “You’ve changed, Master T.” Another Dom who’d witnessed the interaction observed, proving he wasn’t playing his part.

  “My tastes have changed,” he stated simply, hoping that was explanation enough.

  “Interested in a little fire, instead of a simpering slave?” He nodded his head behind him. “Too bad she’s taken, eh?”

  Glancing where he
indicated, T saw that Angie and her Dom had left the booth. Standing only a few feet away, they were having an animated discussion. At one point, she folded her arms and stamped her foot, her lower lip turned down in a pout. She was a sight to behold—cute, spoiled, sassy—and in need of a sound spanking. Her Dom should feed right into her bratty behavior, T predicted, and wasn’t surprised when he did exactly that.

  Following at a discreet distance, he watched as the Dom hauled his spirited brat over to a spanking bench. Unlike the traditional prayer bench or sawhorse, this one had a T-shaped design, with a wide cross bar at one end where the knees could be secured on extensions set well apart. The other rail extending out long enough to support the chest and head, but was narrow to allow the breasts to hang down on either side. As he knew she would be, she was a sight to behold strapped to the bench, particularly since she was playing her part to the hilt, wriggling and squirming as she declared loudly that he was a “big meanie” and being most unfair.

  Wishing he was in George’s place, he watched through gritted teeth as the other man effectively ended her fidgeting with adeptly applied leather restraints to her wrists and above both knees, using an additional strap at her waist. That quickly, she was fully immobilized, the padded split-leg supports keeping her thighs spread and her bottom up thrust, ready for her punishment. He stroked a hand down her back and over her covered bottom. Then, with a flip of one hand, her skirt wasn’t a barrier any longer.

  “That sharp tongue has earned you a sound thrashing,” Atkins drawled as he stepped to the side and caressed her beautifully round cheeks, “and I’m just the Dom to give it to you.”

  T’s belly roiled with a mix of emotion, wanting to cold cock the man in the jaw and whisk her away, despite knowing that wouldn’t be right for her, for him, or their mission. Although he wanted to move closer, ready to intercede in a second, instead he moved back, taking a position off to the side and toward the back of the crowd that had gathered, drawn by Angie’s squealing protests no doubt and anticipating a rousing punishment scene in response.

  He steeled himself to observe quietly while acting no more than mildly interested. It was an act, appropriate considering a Hollywood soundstage was only minutes away, his performance worthy of an Oscar because what he really wanted to do was break the damn paddle over George’s head.

  When he laid the first crisp swat across both cheeks, she yelped. The next few brought more of the same. By the time the count was ten, he had her begging him to stop. On the fifteenth she was crying, apologizing for some insult she had given. When the twentieth arrived, T had enough and was ready to intervene but a hand clamped on his shoulder holding him back.

  “Stand down, T.” It was Eric.

  “She’s had enough.”

  “You taught her the club safewords?”

  “Yes,” he bit out.

  “You’ve practiced that in her training?”

  “Of course, what little she’s had.”

  “Let it play out, then, man.”

  “I told her to negotiate the entire scene, Master T,” Val added from beside him. “Like a script for a role play, and I think that’s what she did. Think about it, if you were her Dom and she threw such a temper tantrum, would her panties still be in one piece? Besides, she doesn’t seem like a noisy crier to me.”

  Val, intuitive as always, made him look at the scene through different eyes. Angie wasn’t a pouter or a brat. Still seething with anger, he forced out a deep breath, trying to maintain control. “All right, but get me a DM badge for tomorrow night, so if I can’t stand it and have to break in, I won’t be as apt to blow her cover.”

  “Excellent idea,” Eric agreed. T felt his eyes on him. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

  “We’re partners, nothing more.” If his growled denial didn’t convince himself, he knew for damn sure it wouldn’t fool Eric or Val.

  “Yeah, bud, and Val is really my sister.” He shook his head sadly. “Keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll believe it, poor bastard.” He and Val moved away as George assisted a sniffling and contrite Angie from the bench. The scene was over and the risk of T charging in like a jealous lover had passed.

  Chapter Ten

  Shifting to her hip on the thickly cushioned couch eased the tenderness in her bottom slightly. Her Dom for the night had done as she requested by administering a firm paddling over her panties. In retrospect, she should have defined the word firm. Still, George had been sweet, sensing her unease and going along with her scripted scene. When she’d brought it up, negotiating as Val called it, he had smiled and patted her hand.

  “I was an actor in college. I’m always up for a rousing melodrama.”

  And boy had he delivered. For a moment, she thought he’d gotten too much into his role and yellow was on the tip of her tongue, but he seemed to know she was approaching her limit and paused to rub her scorching bottom while lecturing her as if she was a misbehaving teen.

  Afterward, he’d helped her from the padded bench and escorted her to a private booth. Pulling the curtain, he’d cuddled her close, stroking her back and brushing away the real tears that beaded on her lashes yet hadn’t fallen. He’d even convinced her to bare her bottom for real so he could check the damage and apply a soothing lotion he’d called Arnica.

  Rolling gingerly to her other hip, she wished she had some of it now. She also wished she hadn’t had to disappoint George by turning down his invitation for dinner. He was really a very nice man. With the drape closed and no prying eyes to see, she had politely declined as she’d given him a soft kiss on the cheek. She’d gone on to thank him for the scene—essentially thanking him for spanking her, which a week ago would have seemed surreal—telling him it was exactly as she envisioned it.

  A knock on the door, startled her. As she stood, she winced and made her way slowly to the door. She opened it to find T lounging against the door frame, gorgeous as ever. Offering him a bright smile, she said, “Good morning.”

  “Is it? I came to check.”

  “I’m good. Come in,” she pulled the door wider. “I have coffee.”

  “No time. We have to be across the street in twenty minutes for a meeting with the Rossi team and the lead detectives involved with the investigation.” His gaze dropped to her body, taking in her t-shirt and shorts.

  “It will only take me a minute to change.” She left him standing in the entryway as she went to the bedroom only realizing he was a step behind her when she turned to close the door. “Um, T. What are you doing? I’m going to get dressed.”

  “I told you, I came to check.”

  He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant, surely. “Check on what?”

  The look he gave her seemed to question her intelligence. “You got paddled last night. Take off your shorts and lay down on the bed.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re tender. I can tell.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her across the room.

  “T!” Protesting, she dug in her heels, though in bare feet, she slid across the hardwood floor. “I’m not dropping my pants for you.”

  “Don’t argue. We don’t have time. This is happening.” He sat and easily toppled her over his thigh.

  “I can’t believe you,” she gasped as she struggled to break free of his hold. He was too strong.

  “Hush now.” He held a small white tube in front of her face. “I’ve got something that will soothe the ache.”

  Recognizing the lotion as the same George had used last night, the same kind she’d been wishing for more only minutes before, she stilled, torn with indecision.

  “Nothing I haven’t seen, darlin’. I promise to be gentle.”

  She snorted. “I wonder how many subs have heard that line.”

  “Those with a good Dom probably hear it a lot.”

  His hand slipped around in front and undid her button, sliding the zipper down. Her shorts were around her thighs with her panties in a flash. She stiffened, about ready for a seco
nd round of protests, when the cool lotion touched her skin.

  “You’re still pink and warm hours later. I’ll kill him.”

  “T.”

  “I’m kicking Eric’s ass for this too. He was supposed to find you an easy Dom.”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  “Hell yeah! He should have found you someone like me. I didn’t make you cry out with pain or cause your skin to sizzle with heat and redness.”

  “T—”

  “Dammit. I should have stopped by last night. You needed aftercare.”

  “George took care of that.”

  His massaging hand stilled. “What?”

  “Something called Arnica, it helped. Just like this is. Thank you.”

  The soothing massage resumed. “Where?”

  “Uh…” she realized her mistake too late.

  “Answer me.”

  “I realize I shouldn’t have, T. My bad.”

  Without warning, he flipped her upright, her bare behind connecting with his denim-covered thigh. “Explain.”

  “Um, following the scene, George took me to a booth and he held me for a bit. He put some of the cooling lotion on my—.”

  “Drapes open or closed?” he demanded heatedly

  Her non-answer was answer enough.

  “Angie.”

  He’d made the leap as she had, turning nice, sweet George into a brutal serial killer. They were often charming and looked like anyone else. “I know. I screwed up. It was dangerous, but I was emotional—”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “Well, yeah, I told you. He held me and rubbed on some lotion.”

  “No. Did he touch your pussy? Did he make you come?”