Their Famous Dominant (Office Intrigue, 4)

by Nicole Edwards

  Greg spun away from the television to face me as he took the drink. For the past half hour, most of the club’s Masters had been sitting in the lounge watching the interview I’d done with McKenna Murphy last week.

  “No, but it’s not usually romanticized, either,” he said with a grimace. “She made your collaring ceremony sound like some fucking fairy-tale fantasy.”

  I grinned. She had done a damn good job. Then again, my memory tended to make it out to be pretty damn romantic. Maybe not the scene that had taken place a short time after, but the ceremony had been perfect.

  “Just out of curiosity, what made you decide to do it here?” Greg asked. “I always thought you’d do it somewhere fancy and elaborate.”

  “Like where we had ours?” Langston asked as he sauntered up. “Yeah. Why is that, Ramsey?”

  I held up an empty glass and Langston nodded.

  “Because this place is important to me,” I told them simply, pouring Langston’s drink.

  The truth was, I’d opted for the club because I felt safe here. It was the one place I could go and know I didn’t have to be on my guard. I could trust the people around me to take care of me and my submissives. It had felt right.

  “Well, you’re important to this place,” Greg stated. “So, I guess it makes sense.”

  Zeke approached, a stern look on his face. “Rumor has it you’re nixing the New York idea.”

  I didn’t bother to ask the big man if he wanted a drink, I merely poured. “I am. With so much going on here, I won’t have time to dedicate myself to it.”

  I had also sold the New York apartment I’d recently purchased in lieu of a house here in the Chicago area. While I would keep the penthouse apartment in the Chatter building for times when it was necessary, I wanted a place where Clarissa, Troy, and I could put down roots. We were in the process of narrowing down a few choices. Turned out, it wasn’t easy convincing Clarissa that money wasn’t an issue. She couldn’t seem to grasp that concept.

  “I heard they’re bringing up criminal charges on that old agent of yours,” Landon said when he appeared. He motioned toward the big screen television. “Just announced on the local news.”

  “Let me get my hands on that little bastard,” Zeke grumbled. “The fucker deserves to become someone’s bitch for a little while.”

  Yeah, Ken had wreaked quite a bit of havoc on my life. While I was still adamant he be brought up on criminal charges for hiring someone to break into Clarissa’s and Troy’s residences, I had already moved past it. The agency had opted for a settlement agreement rather than face me in court. I was donating that money to a couple of domestic abuse organizations here in Illinois and also in Texas. They needed the money a hell of a lot more than I did.

  “Besides getting things up and runnin’ here,” Langston prompted, “what else do you have in the works?”

  Taking a sip of my drink, I grinned. “You know me. I’ll sit back and take it easy for a while.”

  Zeke barked a laugh. “Easy? Word is you’ll be directing a movie.”

  “Directing?” Greg asked.

  “And starring in,” Zeke added. “And it’s set right here in Chicago.”

  Yeah. Just because my personal life had finally settled down, it didn’t mean I was. There were plenty of opportunities out there, and with Clarissa and Troy at my side, the sky was the limit.

  Zeke

  Later that night…

  THIS WAS MY SAFE HAVEN.

  This was where I fit in.

  This was the one place I could go where I didn’t get wary eyes pinning me in place, curious as to whether I was going to do some serious damage.

  I was used to those looks, the ones from strangers who weren’t sure what to do with the man who didn’t buy his clothes off the rack because even the big-and-tall store didn’t know how to outfit six foot eight inches, two hundred eighty pounds of solid muscle.

  No, here in the club, I was the giant with a sadistic streak a mile wide, a Dominant every masochist hoped would look his or her way. I was the king in this particular realm, the man who wielded all the power.

  And just like every other time I was in the club, I gauged the submissive pool, wondering which of these eager fuck toys would become my play thing for the evening. I would bring at least one to tears tonight, of that I had no doubt. It was my mission, my goal in life. I wanted to break them, to hear them beg and plead, tears streaming down their faces as I brutalized them the way they fantasized about.

  Some people craved sugar. I craved doling out pain.

  While they were prancing around in an attempt to catch my attention, I was trying to figure out which submissive could handle me. Even if only for a few minutes. Which one I wouldn’t cause irreparable damage.

  I had yet to meet the one who could endure the darkest side of me. I figured one day I would find him, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

  “Master Zeke?”

  I turned to see a sweet little fluff of a girl with wild eyes and glossy lips, weighing in at a buck five soaking wet. I knew without asking what she wanted from me. This one wanted a firm hand, someone to smack her ass and make her beg for mercy while she giggled and pleaded for more. If I had to guess, she’d heard about me, knew the pain I ached to bestow, and she hoped to experience it for herself.

  I knew her type. She was too soft, too sweet. No way would she allow me to have my way with her, to treat her like a piece of furniture, to manhandle her before I breached her virgin ass with my nine-inch cock. Hell, her ass wasn’t even as big as my fucking hand. I would likely fracture her if I attempted to spank her the way I needed.

  She couldn’t handle me on her best fucking day.

  Those big eyes peered up at me full of hopeful anticipation. She wanted the big, bad Sadist to toss her around a little, then pull her close and shower her with praise and attention.

  I was not that man.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. Not in this lifetime.” I shooed her away with a flick of my hand, dashing that hope in an instant. She wasn’t my type.

  Not only did I want a man, I needed a man. One with power and stamina, hide as tough as leather, an ass made to be plowed, a throat strong enough to take the brutal pounding of my cock.

  A scene caught my eye and I sauntered over, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared over the heads of the other bystanders. I couldn’t see the submissive’s face because he was facing away from me, his hands cuffed above his head, legs spread, ankles chained to hooks in the floor. Long limbs, thick muscle, juicy ass.

  It was the tattoo blazed across his back that caught my attention. A dragon rose up along his spine, wide body curling over his shoulder blade, the head disappearing on his other side, lying over his chest.

  I knew this because it was a tattoo I’d seen before.

  Recently, in fact.

  I watched as the baby Dom laid the flogger tails across the submissive’s broad shoulders, hitting hard enough to thud but not nearly hard enough to leave a mark. The submissive’s body was rigid, but not from shock or pain.

  “What’s your color, sub?” the baby Dom questioned.

  Sadist Rule One: Colors are for kindergartners.

  “Green, Sir,” the submissive said with a bored monotone that would’ve been obvious to an infant.

  “You want more?” the baby Dom asked.

  Sadist Rule Two: Don’t ask what they want.

  “Yes, Sir,” he replied, no inflection in his tone.

  The baby Dom swung the tails again and again, over the man’s ass, the backs of his thighs. There was no power in his swing, no effort to inflict pain whatsoever. It was the equivalent of a fucking massage.

  “Tell me when you’ve had enough,” the baby Dom told the submissive.

  Who the hell was this asshole and where did he think he was? This submissive wasn’t here to play Twenty Questions. Dominants didn’t ask permission, they set up the structure beforehand, had a plan and an end goal. A good Dominant didn’t ask them what they
wanted. A good Dominant merely gave it to them because that was what they needed.

  After a few more swings, the baby Dom turned and I noticed he was covered in sweat. He’d been at this a while from the looks of it. His eyes met mine and I instantly recognized the respect there. I got it everywhere I went. Not because of my size, either. I’d earned it. And I’d come to expect it.

  “Master Zeke,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water while he clearly took a break.

  Sadist Rule Three: A submissive should not wear out the Dom.

  Yeah. Fine. I just made that one up.

  I nodded to the sweaty baby Dom, but my eyes shifted back to the submissive. I could envision myself standing behind him with my whip, applying the stinging burn from the knotted ends that would have him jerking and twitching, his cock so hard he could hardly breathe from the need to come.

  That thirty-five tail, deerskin flogger the baby Dom wielded was the equivalent of a feather as far as this particular masochist was concerned. An attentive Dominant would’ve known that.

  I glanced back at the baby Dom, who was clearly out of sorts, unsure what to do to make this submissive beg.

  “Hit him harder,” I said, the deep rumble of my voice causing several heads to turn my way.

  “What?” The baby Dom appeared confused. “I’ve been at it for thirty minutes. He’s not in the right mindset.”

  Mindset, my ass. That was a Dom’s excuse as to how he’d fucked up a scene.

  “You’re not hittin’ him hard enough.” I turned my attention back to the restrained man. “He’s not a goddamn toddler. Hit him harder.”

  The baby Dom clearly didn’t like that I was correcting him. Not that I gave a fuck. It was a Dominant’s responsibility to see to the needs of his submissive. This fucker was failing in every respect.

  “Think you can do better?” the baby Dom taunted.

  I jerked my gaze over and cocked an eyebrow. This time, his tone lacked any respect whatsoever. Normally, I would shrug it off, but there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right with me.

  “I don’t think I can. I know.” The crowd parted as I moved forward. When the baby Dom held out his little toy, I chuckled. “Your five-and-dime toy’s useless.”

  The baby Dom huffed, then turned to walk away.

  “Uh-uh,” I snarled. “You stay and watch.” I leaned in closer to him, keeping my voice low so no one else could hear. “And don’t you ever disrespect me again. Understood?”

  The baby Dom’s eyes widened, but he managed a jerky nod.

  “Good.” I turned my back to him and focused my attention on the masochist.

  Wanting to get a feel for the submissive’s state of mind, I walked over and pressed myself against his back, leaning down and putting my mouth close to his ear.

  “Tell me what you need, pretty boy.”

  The pretty boy’s head shifted only slightly. “Pain, Zeke. I need pain.”

  “Do you want me to deliver it? And remember, I don’t provide aftercare. I’ll ensure you fly, but I won’t bring you down after.”

  “Yes,” he said on a breathless moan. “Yes, Zeke. I want you to deliver it.”

  “Tell me your safe word.”

  “Red, Zeke.”

  “I trust you to use it should you need it.”

  He nodded and I stepped back, allowing my gaze to run the length of his naked form as I retrieved the whip I had attached to my belt.

  It was time to show the pussy Dom exactly how to handle a masochist.

  And it was time to show this squirrelly pretty boy exactly what it meant to submit to me.

  The question was…

  Could the pretty boy handle it?

  ***

  You’ve met Zeke Lautner. Now, are you ready for what he has in store for you?

  Preorder THEIR RUTHLESS SADIST now!

  Releases September 4, 2018

  ***

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  Acknowledgments

  First and always, I have to thank my wonderfully patient husband who puts up with me every single day. If it wasn’t for him and his belief that I could (and can) do this, I wouldn’t be writing this today. He has been my backbone, my rock, the very reason I continue to believe in myself. I love you for that, babe.

  Chancy Powley – You continue to slay me with your feedback. And this book was my longest one to date and although you were fighting a vicious sinus infection, you still pushed through in record time. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you.

  Allison Holzapfel – I always love getting your notes on the book. They bring a smile to my face. Thank you for being my friend and my fellow coffee addict.

  Thank you to my proofreaders. Jenna Underwood, Annette Elens, Theresa Martin, and Sara Gross. Not only do you catch my blunders, you are my friends and it is an honor to call you that.

  I also have to thank my street team – Naughty (and nice) Girls – Your unwavering support is something I will never take for granted. So, thank you Traci Hyland, Maureen Ames, Erin Lewis, Jackie Wright, Chris Geier, Kara Hildebrand, Shannon Thompson, Tracy Barbour, and Toni Thompson.

  I can’t forget my copyeditor, Amy at Blue Otter Editing. Thank goodness I’ve got you to catch all my punctuation, grammar, and tense errors.

  A huge thank you goes out to Wander Aguiar and Andrey Bahia for the spectacular cover image. The instant I saw it, I knew it was exactly what this book needed.

  Nicole Nation 2.0 for the constant support and love. You’ve been there for me from almost the beginning. This group of ladies has kept me going for so long, I’m not sure I’d know what to do without them.

  And, of course, YOU, the reader. Your emails, messages, posts, comments, tweets… they mean more to me than you can imagine. I thrive on hearing from you, knowing that my characters and my stories have touched you in some way keeps me going. I’ve been known to shed a tear or two when reading an email because you simply bring so much joy to my life with your support. I thank you for that.

  About Nicole Edwards

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Nicole Edwards is a hybrid author who has published over 50 books since 2012. Nicole lives in Pflugerville, Texas with her husband and their youngest of three children. Her oldest two have left the nest, but Nicole does her best to keep them close by. Nicole also keeps busy with four rambunctious dogs of her own. When she’s not writing about sexy alpha males, she can often be found with a book in hand, spending time with her kids and her granddaughter, or making an attempt to keep the dogs happy. You can find her hanging out on Facebook and interacting with her readers - even when she’s supposed to be writing.

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  By Nicole Edwards

  The Alluring Indulgence Series

  Kaleb

  Zane

&nb
sp; Travis

  Holidays with the Walker Brothers

  Ethan

  Braydon

  Sawyer

  Brendon

  The Walkers of Coyote Ridge Series

  Curtis

  Jared

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Handle

  Beau

  The Austin Arrows Series

  Rush

  Kaufman

  The Club Destiny Series

  Conviction

  Temptation

  Addicted

  Seduction

  Infatuation

  Captivated

  Devotion

  Perception

  Entrusted

  Adored

  Distraction

  The Dead Heat Ranch Series

  Boots Optional

  Betting on Grace

  Overnight Love

  Jared

  The Devil’s Bend Series

  Chasing Dreams

  Vanishing Dreams

  The Office Intrigue Series

  Office Intrigue

  Intrigued Out of the Office

  Their Rebellious Submissive

  Their Famous Dominant

  Their Ruthless Sadist

  The Pier 70 Series

  Reckless

  Fearless

  Speechless

  Harmless

  Clueless

  The Sniper 1 Security Series

  Wait for Morning

  Never Say Never

  Tomorrow’s Too Late

  The Southern Boy Mafia/Devil’s Playground Series

  Beautifully Brutal

  Without Regret

  Beautifully Loyal

  Without Restraint

  Standalone Novels

  A Million Tiny Pieces

  Inked on Paper

  Bad Reputation

  Bad Business

  Writing as Timberlyn Scott

  Unhinged

  Unraveling

  Chaos

  Naughty Holiday Editions