His Sub

PART ONE – HIS SUB CHAPTER 1: Terry –––––––– Terry wandered through the crowd of well-dressed women and men at La Petite Mort Club. It was the same scene every time Ethan, his friend and owner of the Club, threw one of these events. The members mingled with the newbies, hoping to snag something different or someone interesting. Ethan strolled casually toward him, a ready smile on his face as he greeted his guests. “Terry, about time you made it down here.” “Like you can talk.” His friend spent most of the time in the back office, watching the Club on monitors. “I’ve been mingling for over an hour.” “It’s your business not mine.” He leaned against the balustrade, peering down on the crowd. “True, but you could sell your practice and buy me out.” “And run this place?” He laughed. “No, thank you.” He tossed back his scotch. “I spend enough time here as it is.” He used to practically live here except when he was at the office or in court, but lately he’d been staying home more. “Good turn out tonight.” Ethan waved at a waitress and a moment later they each had another drink. “Yeah, but I don’t see one interesting person in this crop of wannabe members.” “And you can tell if someone is interesting just by looking at them?” “I can tell not one of them has an original thought. Look at them. They’re all in red.” The Club was awash in a sea of red dresses—short, long, dark, light but always red. “It is a Valentine’s Day party.” “I know but you’d think one woman”—he held up his finger—“one would consider that everyone else would be in red and wear a different color.” “There are some pinks out there.” “Same thing, just lighter.” Ethan grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the text, frowning. “Problem?” The Club was usually a safe place but on open night events, when Ethan allowed non-members access in order to recruit new members, the place could get dangerous. “A little skirmish over a woman.” Ethan grinned, his blue eyes sparkling as a couple of young guys hurried past them, almost tripping in their haste to stay close to a group of very attractive women. “These youngsters haven’t learned that sharing is more fun.” He ignored Ethan’s teasing. He’d taken a lot of s**t from Ethan, Nick and even Patrick because he wasn’t into the sharing thing. He preferred it to be him and one woman, one sweet, little sub. Since he was in no mood to listen to any more crap, he’d change the subject. “Those kids barely look old enough to drink.” “You’re showing your age.” Ethan patted his shoulder. “You should find some nice, young thing and teach her how to please her master.” “Maybe I will, if any of them show enough originality to dress in something other than red.” “I’ve got to go and sort out this problem.” Ethan slid his phone into his pocket. “I’ll find you later. If you find that elusive non-red dress, I’d suggest we share but...” He chuckled as he headed down the stairs, maneuvering through the crowd like he had nowhere to go, when in reality he was heading for the back—the playrooms. Terry’s eyes stopped and lingered on the new hire, Desiree, who was moving around the room, talking and flirting with all the men and some women. She was interesting—exotic and beautiful—but there was a shrewdness behind her eyes that he’d learned a long time ago to avoid. A woman like her had an agenda and she stuck with it, no matter what. Someone slammed into his back, causing his drink to spill down his front, staining his shirt and suit. “Oh...oh, I’m so sorry.” He spun around and encountered a red dress and breasts—milky white and lush. The skin would be fragrant and softer than rose petals. “Oh. Your shirt. Let me get something to wipe that up.” He forced his eyes away from those lovely breasts. Her hair was a rich mahogany. It’d probably hang past her shoulders in waves of curly silk but right now it was piled haphazardly on her head in what had been some kind of elegant style before disobedient strands had escaped their restraint. She looked mussed and damnit, he wanted to be the one to muss her. “Paper towels? Napkins?” She glanced around and then hurried over to the bar. She was short and curvy—her body succulent, ripe and he’d bet juicy. She grabbed a stack of napkins and headed for him. Her dress was too tight, like she’d recently gained some weight. He usually went for the tall, athletic types but for some reason his d**k had picked this woman. She returned to his side and dabbed at the wetness on his shirt and jacket as if she actually gave a s**t about his clothes. This was no subtle caress, no flirtation—just indifferent efficiency. “I’m so sorry.” She wadded the napkins in her hand, still patting at his clothes. “You said that already.” His words came out gruffer than he’d meant. No one treated him with disinterest. He was a rich, successful, attractive man and she was treating him like a child. He wanted to pull up her—unfortunately, red—dress and f**k her right here. They were at the Club. It wasn’t out of the question. Her hand froze. “Oh.” Her large hazel eyes looked startled and then hurt. “Sorry. Ah, excuse me.” She headed toward the stairs, dropping the wet napkins in the trash before disappearing in the crowd. He turned around, so he could see the first floor and waited for her to appear. She hurried across the downstairs room, bumping and stumbling through the crowd. A lone, scared, little rabbit in a room full of predators. She stopped for a moment, scanning the crowd as if searching for someone. “Who are you looking for, little rabbit?” he mumbled to himself. “A husband? Boyfriend?” He grinned as he lifted his scotch to his lips. “Girlfriend?” He frowned at the empty glass. “You spilled my drink. I’ll forgive you, but it’s going to cost you.” He waved at one of the waitresses. “Everything has a price, little rabbit.” As one of the best divorce lawyers in town, he knew that better than anyone. The waitress brought him another drink. He paid, giving her a large tip before turning to find his little rabbit. He took a sip of the scotch, enjoying the smooth burn and his lush little bunny’s journey through La Petite Mort Club. She froze in her tracks, her jaw dropping open as she gazed at a threesome on one of the couches. The woman was sandwiched between two men, stroking one’s c**k as the other man fondled her beneath her red dress. The man behind her looked up and said something to the little rabbit. Her face heated and Terry’s eyes dropped to her chest. Yep, they were a pretty shade of pink but what he really wanted to know was if the color matched her p***y. She stumbled away from the threesome, bumping into another man. It was Richard, who stopped her from falling and then immediately let her go, stepping away. She was safe with Richard. As a member of the Club and a gentleman, he knew that safewords were law and consent was absolutely necessary. She said something to him and continued through the Club, disappearing in the crowd. “You’re not getting away that easily.” He followed along on the upper floor, keeping her in sight. He had no idea why but he wanted her. Maybe, it was simply because she was different than everyone else here. He took another sip of his drink. It was obviously the little rabbit’s first time at a place like this but she didn’t seem eager to participate or interested in watching. She truly seemed to be looking for someone specific—not just someone to f**k. Well, she’d found the latter because he was going to f**k her. In the office he followed his head but at La Petite Mort Club his c**k was king. She headed toward the playrooms. There was no way he was going to miss this. He sauntered down the stairs, grabbing another drink on the way. She wasn’t hard to follow. She left a path of irritated people in her wake as she bumped into them and apologized profusely before hurrying forward. Her full, round hips swayed under her tight, red dress that’d seen better days—hem frayed and at least five years out of style. Not that he minded, especially the snug fit of the cloth, but his women were usually much more put together. They were the CEO types—women who thrived on being in charge. He enjoyed teaching them how much fun turning over control could be. When they were with him, he was their dom, their master and he made sure they loved every second. He told them when to kneel, when to suck, when to spread their legs or a*s and when to come. The more power they had in their everyday life the more they craved bowing to his wishes. His little rabbit wouldn’t know what power was. She was a hot mess of a woman. Still, his d**k wanted her, so his d**k would have her. She was hurrying out of the first playroom when he entered the hallway. Her eyes were huge and her cheeks were on fire. She ducked into the next room and quickly came out—even redder than before. “Excuse me.” He’d offer his assistance in her search. She’d be grateful. He could capitalize on that unless she was looking for her husband or boyfriend. He wasn’t in the mood to share. He would, however, allow the other man to watch. He could give the guy some pointers on how to take care of his wife because this woman needed guidance. “You?” Her eyes narrowed. That wasn’t the reaction he was used to. Women usually purred for him. “Are you following me?” “What would you do if I said I was?” He took a step toward her. “I’d scream. There are bouncers here. I saw them.” Lord, she was cute. “Yes, but if they came running at every little scream they’d die of exhaustion.” As if to emphasis his point, a woman screamed in ecstasy. His little rabbit’s face heated and she averted her gaze. “Who are you looking for?” He skimmed his finger down her cheek. Her skin was as smooth as porcelain but much warmer and softer. “Ah...” Her breath hitched, making her breasts swell dangerously above her gown. He could have her out of it in a minute. The skin would be even softer than that on her face. “Did you lose your husband?” “No.” She licked her lips. There was no way he could let that offer pass. He slowly bent, giving her time to refuse him. He may command his women but he made sure they always wanted it first. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and he couldn’t help a slight smirk. She wanted this as much as he did. He moved closer and let his lips rest gently on hers. He’d take it slow, make her yearn for him and then he’d make her obey. “What are you doing?” She turned her head. “Kissing you.” His lips brushed against her cheek. He wasn’t about to lose ground. “Why?” She turned again, her eyes meeting his. The confusion in her hazel gaze was as clear as the hideous dress on her gorgeous body. She may remind him of a rabbit but she couldn’t be that naive. She had to be in her mid to late thirties. He should use flowery words—tell her she was beautiful, desirable—but that wasn’t him. Blunt was the kindest word to describe him. “Because, I want to.” “You don’t even know me.” He was losing ground. The interest in her face was being replaced with disgust. “No, but I know I want you.” Damn, he shouldn’t have said that. “Well, too bad.” She pushed on his chest and he stepped back, letting her pass. “This is a s*x club, you know.” He followed. “If you aren’t here for s*x, why are you here?” She spun around. “I’m quite aware of what this place is and just because I don’t want you, a stranger to...to”—she waved her hand about—"in the hallway.” He laughed. “We wouldn’t be the first. There are people f*****g in the main room.” “I know. I saw.” Her cheeks heated. He stepped closer. “You are adorable.” He touched a strand of hair that was resting on her shoulder. It was like satin. “I’m a mess.” She pulled her hair from his fingers. “A hot mess. A fiery, hot, sexy mess.” He moved closer with every other word. “One I want to f**k, right now.” Her eyes hardened. “Too bad because I don’t”—again she waved her hand about—“you know, with strangers in the hallway.” She shoved his chest again. He took a small step back but he wasn’t giving up yet. “We can go to a private room.” “No.” Shit. By the look on her face, he’d just made a bigger blunder. “Let me go.” She pushed him again. Damn. She’d said the worst three words in the English language besides I love you. He moved away, releasing her for the moment. “Sorry.” She harrumphed. “I made a mistake.” “Yes, you did.” She hurried down the hallway but not before he’d seen the look of hurt in her large eyes. “What the f**k do you want from me? I made a mistake and apologized.” He trailed after her. “I want you to leave me alone. Please. Go away.” He stopped. His little rabbit was running but perhaps, he shouldn’t chase. She darted down a hallway toward the hardcore b**m rooms. Normally, she’d be fine—embarrassed but fine. Except with all the newbies here, tonight wasn’t a normal night. He hurried after her. “Hey, I don’t think you want to go—” “Leave me alone.” She walked faster. “I need to find my friend and get out of here.” “Okay, but I don’t—” “Go away.” She sounded both mad and as if she were going to cry. “Suit yourself, but I warned you.” She strode into the closest room. He should leave. Let her find out that he wasn’t the worst thing in a place like this, not in a long shot, but his feet followed her. She was his little rabbit. He’d found her. No one else was going to enjoy her until he’d had his taste. “Vicky? Vicky? Are you in here?” He stepped into the room, staying in the shadows. She was looking around in the dark for her friend. It only took a moment for one of the six guys to notice the little rabbit who’d stumbled into their den. “s**t,” he mumbled. Not one of those guys was a regular.