Hooked (Decadence Nights Book 1) (2 page)

“Mm…” he suddenly hummed and turned. “Have a pleasant night, Olivia.”

The next instant he was gone, the door to his office clicking shut softly behind him. She quelled the tremor of excitement low in her belly. He’d shown concern for her safety, but that wasn’t unusual, he’d always been considerate of her. Holding the door, helping her with her coat, and if they went out to meet with clients or for depositions, he walked beside her with a guiding hand on the small of her back or beneath her elbow. He was a gentleman, but that was as far as it went much to her regret. It was undeniable that she’d had strong feelings for her boss for three long years, starting way back during her job interview.

Joseph was like a throwback to a more courtly time, his mannerly ways holding great appeal, and he’d demonstrated them from day one. So rarely did men help women with their coats, hold a chair or open a car door for them anymore, women’s strides for independence backfiring on the niceties they had once enjoyed, ones that Livvy, who was rather old-fashioned herself, sorely missed. He also had an air of authority, which in other men she found off putting, bordering on arrogance and self-importance, but in Joseph was different, more of an innate sense of confidence. He ruled his domain with a quiet authority, rather than a tight fist, which she also found very attractive.

Prior to her, rumor had it he’d gone through secretaries like water through a sieve. Some of the girls still with the firm accused him of having a stick up his ass, although not to his face, of course. Livvy could understand how that could be misconstrued as petty or difficulty, but she recognized his need for structure and his almost obsessive adherence to rules and order. She certainly didn’t mind because she knew what to expect from him and found that easier to deal with than the disorganization and unpredictability some of the other partners exhibited. Having survived three years in his employ, she was the longest in the position in his twelve-year tenure with the firm.

Sadly, in all that time, he’d never shown the slightest interest in her other than as a valued employee. Self-consciously smoothing down her skirt, she asked herself for the millionth time, why. She’d often wondered if it was her clothing. It was conservative enough for the office, but hardly dowdy. It was Ann Taylor, after all. Granted, consignment shop Ann Taylor due to her meager budget, which meant it was a few years behind current fashion, but it was her usual pencil skirt and blouse. Did those ever go out of style? It was also snug enough on her five foot six inch, one hundred forty pound frame to show her curves, which she had plenty of, but not be tastelessly tight.

Today, she’d topped the winter white skirt with a floral shell in blues and corals, a coral jacket, and matching heels—double strap, four-inch heels—which she thought were sexy but not over the top for work. She’d been in and out of his office a dozen times today, but he never seemed to notice, unlike the other partners who she often caught staring at her legs or her ass, and most especially her D-cup breasts. She had often rationalized that maybe he was gay, but that was sour grapes on her part because he never lacked female company.

As the saying went, he just wasn’t that into her. Still, what had the odd look been about?

Reproving herself silently, she pushed aside the irrational delusion that there was something there. For years she’d subtly flirted, hinting and hoping, but coming up empty handed and disappointed time and again. She’d finally conceded that her feelings would not be returned, that her love was unrequited and that her efforts were futile. But no more.

She shook her head, letting out a long-drawn-out sigh of disappointment before stretching to switch off her desk lamp. Apparently, he didn’t see her as more than a loyal employee. She smiled to herself. If he saw her in the outfit she had laid out for the club tonight, maybe she’d earn a second glance.

“Are you ready to get your spank on tonight, Livvy?”

Twisting her head in horror, her eyes shot to the interior office door—thankfully, still firmly closed—before zoning in on Emma. A paralegal at the firm and her BFF from high school, she stood in the doorway to their suite with a big goofy grin on her face.

“Keep your voice down,” Livvy shushed with a flapping hand as she rushed toward her. “Someone will hear you.”

“You mean one particular person will hear me.” Emma knew she lusted after her boss and didn’t miss an opportunity to bedevil her about it. “Would that be such a bad thing? Maybe that would wake him up to the smoking hot submissive who’s been parked outside his door for three years, unnoticed, un-spanked and un-fucked. Then, if he still doesn’t get the stick out of his ass and stake his claim, you can finally get over this crush.”

“I swear, Emma Jean Briscoe, if he hears you, or anyone else for that matter, you’ll have to find a new best friend. Here’s why. First, I’ll never speak to you again, and second, I’ll be in Vancouver, having quit, packed my bags, and snuck out of town in the dead of night never being able to show my face at this firm again. Is that what you want?”

“Honey, you’re making more noise than I did.”

“Yeah, but you said the s-word, which tends to get folk’s attention.”

“Submissive?”

“Shh!” Grabbing her arm, she dragged her out into the corridor and pulled the main door firmly shut before setting her straight. “‘S’ as in spanked.”

“Ah.” Emma’s pretty blue eyes sparkled with humor. “You’ve got a point there. A spanking is known to make people stand up and take notice. Or should I say bend over?” She laughed at her own joke as usual. When she settled, her eyes narrowed on Livvy in concern. “Are you sure you need to go all the way to San Antonio? Why not let David and me take you to Shackles and Chains on Saturday? We can help you scope out a nice local Dom.”

She frowned at her friend. “You said that place was a meat market full of posers and wannabes.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you called it that several times, as a matter of fact.”

“Mm,” she grunted. “I guess I did. We haven’t been in a while.”

Tilting her head, Livvy’s brows arched as she asked, “And why is that?”

“Um, because it’s a meat market full of posers and wannabes.” A blush crept into her cheeks, and she had the grace to look ashamed when she added, “Maybe it’s changed.”

“Em, I know you’re worried, but I’m a big girl. David went to the trouble of getting me this invitation and arranging an escort, so I’m going. If I don’t feel comfortable, I’ll leave, but you both said this is the best club in the southwest.”

“It is, but I’m afraid it might be more than you can handle, Liv. I hear this club is the real deal. The owners are ex-Special Forces—Green Berets—big beefcake kind of men who don’t take shit from anyone, especially their subs.”

“And your point is?”

“Livvy.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m not stupid, nor am I inexperienced, just a tad rusty.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You haven’t had a Dom since Vaughn. How long has that been? Three years?”

“So?” She didn’t want to think about Vaughn, not tonight, not ever. After two years as his submissive, one day, out of the blue, he ended it. She’d been crushed, especially when she saw him less than a month later with her replacement on his arm, a cute twenty-something blonde with unquestionably fake boobs, an extremely short skirt and wearing his collar.

“You’re out of practice, honey. Maybe you should ease back into the game. Let me fix you up with Evan, David’s friend.”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s thirty.”

“Compared to me, that’s a kid. He’s also inexperienced. You said David only started mentoring him last month. No thanks.”

“He’s a good-natured sweet guy.”

“That’s just it, Em. I don’t want good-natured and sweet. I want a badass Dom.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many BDSM romances, honey.”

“Really? Is David good-natured and sweet, or does he get your heart pumping with only a look? Does the tone of his voice when he goes all alpha on you make you tremble with excitement? Moreover, when he tells you in no uncertain terms what to do in the bedroom, does he make your panties wet? If he lets you wear any, that is.”

“Liv!” Emma gasped, her face flaming scarlet.

“See? You have that. Why can’t I?” By verbalizing her own fantasies, she’d made herself hot. She glanced at her watch. “I gotta go.” She turned and started walking, knowing her friend would follow. “My clock is ticking.”

“Wait!” Emma grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “Did you just say you wanted a baby? Since when? Is that what this is about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that clock, my countdown to forty clock. After that, my odds at finding a husband and getting that white picket fence are a pathetic 2.6%. My pool of candidates is dwindling as we speak.”

Livvy stopped again, causing Emma—who was on her heels—to brake hard to keep from plowing into her. She did want a baby, and a husband, and that white picket fence, but she wanted her husband to be her Dom as well. Was that too much to ask?

At your age, yes.
The unfortunate truth rattled around in her brain, as it always did when she went down this path. She’d done the research and the math on this extensively. Statistically speaking, if she reached forty without finding her man, her chances were a dismal slim to none.

“2.6%,” she whispered. “Can you believe that?”

Her friend scurried around in front, looking up into her face with a worried expression. “What do statisticians know about love and romance?”

“Numbers don’t lie and if you eliminate all the vanilla men, my already miniscule odds of finding Master Right are cut by another two-thirds and that’s being generous considering only a third of that pool of men have only considered it, never having actually participated in BDSM. I want someone experienced so it’s more like a tenth, which makes my odds of finding a good Dom, marrying and having the family I want before my eggs turn to dust is much, much worse. A pathetic 0.26% by my calculations.” Out of breath after her diatribe, she leaned against the wall, here head falling back with a thump. With tear-filled eyes, she rolled her head and looked at her friend. “How the hell am I supposed to find Master Less-Than-One-In-A-Hundred, Em? And if I do, how do I know he won’t turn out to be another Vaughn Steros?”

“Oh, honey.”

“Maybe I should forget about love altogether and get a cat, or ten.”

“You’re upset. Don’t go to San Antonio. Come have dinner with me and David instead.”

Livvy considered it, sorely tempted, but if she didn’t go, she’d always wonder. What if this was the night her true Dom was there and she missed him?

“I’m going.” She pushed off from the wall and whirled, rushing to the door. She held up her damaged nail, aiming it back at Emma.

“Olivia Wright,” Emma demanded, hands on her hips. “Did you just flip me off?”

“Sorry, inadvertent bird,” she called over her shoulder while beeping her auto locks. “I’ve gotta hurry. I’ve got to add nail repair to my long list of things to do before I hit the road.” As she climbed in, she grinned up at Emma who had followed her all the way to the lot and now stood in her open car door. “Wish me luck. If I make it by nine, it will be a miracle.”

“Be careful,” Emma urged as she leaned in to give Livvy a quick hug, “both on the road and at the club. Remember, you have a safeword and don’t take any shit from any of those drill sergeant Doms. You’re in control, not them.” She winked. “Unless they’re as hot as they say and you really want them to drill you, that is.”

“Emma!” She groaned as she rolled her eyes, then gave a soft laugh. “You know, I have a feeling that something is going to happen tonight. I’m not exactly sure what, but I’ll be in a new city, a new club, and with new people. This may very well be my last shot. I’m going to take it by putting myself out there.

“As gorgeous as you are, you’re going to rock their world.” She stepped back and let Livvy slam her door shut. Then, clearly feeling the need to say more, she rapped on her window. As soon as it was unrolled, she started in again. “Call me for a safety check when you get there and when you’re ready to head home.”

“Yes, Mom,” she called and with a wave, started the ignition.

Despite her bluster with Emma just now, she was a nervous wreck. As Livvy put her car in gear, she wondered where she would get her new cat.

When she arrived at 8:59, the line was out the door. Thirty minutes later, she at long last made it into the lobby. When she was next in line to register, a man in black entered the lobby and quietly surveyed the scene. Livvy had to concentrate on not gaping at the sheer beauty of the man. He was built, the muscles of his massive chest, shoulders and biceps testing the quality of the stitching in his black silk shirt and he had the most spectacular sky blue eyes, which flicked over the line of women briefly. Fluidly, which was impressive for a man of his size, he crossed to the main doors and addressed the women still waiting outside on the steps.

“Ladies,” he began, his voice as creamy and smooth as the finest Belgian chocolate, rich enough to make her mouth water. “Regrettably, we are at capacity.” Grumbles of disappointment greeted his announcement. “To make it up to you, I have VIP vouchers for two weeks from now. Arrive by eight and you are guaranteed admittance and a table in the lounge.”

A moment later, he stood beside Livvy at the high desk. He laid his large hand with its long, broad fingers and carefully manicured nails flat on the gleaming mahogany top as he spoke to the girl checking everyone in.

“Hurry it along if you can, Astrid. I can’t hold them off much longer. Elena goes on in five, check-in completed or not.”

“Yes, Master Dex,” she answered softly, her eyes flicking to the man with unconcealed adoration.

He nodded, spared Livvy a brief glance, then disappeared behind the double doors behind them.

“Who was that?” she asked Astrid, her mouth gone dry.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” the girl all but cooed. “Sadly, he’s taken. As are all the owners now, except one. But don’t get your hopes up there. No one has been able to corral Master T for more than a few nights at a time.” As if realizing that she’d probably shared too much, she rushed to say, “There are plenty more available Doms, though. Don’t you worry.”

She took Livvy’s paperwork, which consisted of a confidentiality agreement and a mini-questionnaire, and scanned it. She then handed her a pink ribbon from the pile of pink, red and white ones in front of her. “Wear this somewhere visible, in your hair, around your neck, the wrist is good, too.”

“What does it mean?”

“It tells interested Doms your experience level.”

“Pink signifying what?”

“Intermediate. White is novice and red means an old pro,” she giggled. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Not that kind of pro, I didn’t mean—”

“I think she knows what you meant, Astrid,” said another man who had appeared suddenly out of nowhere. He was just as gorgeous as the last one, and even taller.

“I’m sorry, Master Sean. I can’t seem to keep from putting my foot in my mouth.”

“How about we get Master J to work on those loose lips in the office tonight?”

She blanched, but bowed her head dutifully. “If you think that’s best, Sir.”

“Not Master J?”

“I hear he uses a cane,” the girl whispered.

“Dano is available—”

“Oh, yes,” she gushed, her face lighting up with a wistful smile. “Please, Sir. Master Dano would be wonderful.”

Master Sean shook his head. “Leery of the cane, but not of the sadist. Amazing.”

He scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it and tucked it into one of her wrist cuffs. “Report to him after you’re finished checking everyone in.”

“Yes, Master Sean. Thank you.” She beamed up at the man and then turned to collect the last girl’s papers.

Master Sean turned to Livvy. “The show starts any minute, little sub. Best head on in.”

He strode to the door and pushed it wide, holding it open for her. His gaze shot behind Livvy, then came back. “No girl crew for moral support?”

“No, Sir, I’m alone. I was supposed to meet someone here, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” David would be furious if he found out she’d gone on by herself, but she didn’t plan on that happening.

“Let me find you a friend,” the beautiful, muscular man offered. As they stepped inside, his vibrant blue eyes, not sky blue like the other, but just as compelling, scanned the crowded room. Suddenly, he grinned. “This way.” He was speaking loudly to be heard over the band who had just begun to play and the crowd that was cheering wildly. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia, Sir.”

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her through the throng of people. It seemed more like a concert than a sub mixer as she assumed it would be. At a table up front, he stopped behind a stunning redhead in an off-the-shoulder black dress. He wrapped her long ponytail around his wrist and pulled her head back until she was looking up at him. Livvy noticed the huge smile on her face before Master Sean’s lips lowered and he devoured her mouth.

After several minutes, he raised his head. “I brought you a guest, nightingale.” He pulled up a chair and seated Livvy. “Olivia, this is my sub Mara. She’ll keep you company until someone claims you.”

“She’s lovely, Master,” the green eyed beauty said, her cheeks flushed and slightly breathless from the impassioned kiss. She still managed a friendly smile. “My guess is that won’t take very long.”

“We’ve got a room at eleven, baby,” Sean murmured privately in her ear, although his voice carried to Livvy. “Don’t be late or the Sultan won’t be happy.”

“Never. Tardiness would be an insult to the Sultan.” She flashed a beatific smile. “I’ll make sure to bring my seven veils, to keep the Supreme Potentate very happy.”

He grinned, clearly in love with his submissive and took her lips again, briefly. “I’m on crowd control, gotta go.”

Enthralled by the affection between the two, she watched as Mara followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight.

“How long have you been together?”

“Which time?” she replied, a dreamy quality to her voice as she turned back. She held up her left hand and flashed her wedding rings. “The second time stuck, well, it was really the first. I just didn’t know it.” She saw Livvy’s puzzled expression and shook her head. “Sorry, long story.”

She leaned in shouting to be heard over the screaming crowd as the band started Pink’s
Raise Your Glass
. “Elena’s doing a set of her Pink covers. So relax and enjoy. Nothing will happen until she’s done. Trust me.”

*****

Standing three deep, the crowd at the bar was lively and animated, but Joseph wasn’t in the mood. He cursed for the hundredth time that he’d come on a Wednesday night. He’d left Austin tonight on a whim, usually only coming to play on weekends. But he felt the need to blow off some steam as well as some long pent up sexual frustration. It seemed that would be delayed until after Elena’s concert.

Irritated, he blew out a breath and veered left to where two of the owners, Rick Spencer and Jonas Mitchell, were sitting keeping an eye on things from a corner of the bar. Priority, no doubt, their subs who always commandeered a table near the stage. Six in all, seven if you counted the silent partner, Major General Peter Davis, who wasn’t quite so silent since retiring from the Army, the owners all came from the same Special Forces detachment, or A-team. After leaving the service, they had settled in San Antonio, home to most of them, and embarked on two very lucrative ventures, Club Decadence and Rossi Security, Inc.

The Rossi group was high profile, not least of all their pivotal role in shutting down a major drug cartel in south Texas. The club on the other hand was private and very exclusive, but word had spread quickly to the kink inclined and BDSM communities from coast to coast of this jewel of the southwest, nestled in the hills a few miles north of the city.

Joseph was privy to most of the inner workings of the group having represented the owners for several years. Usually not one to delve into contract law, he made an exception due to the sensitive nature of the club’s business. He soon found it was only a small fraction of the work he did for the group, case in point, his recent representation of one of their subs for attempted murder charges.

Bumped into from behind by a bouncing cheering young woman, he scowled. With too long of a drive to go home now, he determined to deal with it as best he could—with alcohol. He shouldered his way through the throng with the taste for a bracing shot of scotch on his tongue.

“Joseph,” Rick called in greeting. “You look harried.”

“Beer?” Jonas asked as he flagged down the bartender.

He shook his head. “Single malt, top shelf.”

Jonas grunted. “One of those days, eh? Highland Park 25 for Joseph, Ben.”

The bar manager’s eyes widened. Jonas had gone beyond the top shelf and ordered him a shot from a $500 bottle of scotch.

“Dex got a case as a thank you from a client,” Rick explained. “Only you and Cap drink the stuff, so it’s yours whenever you want it, Joe.”

“Appreciated.” A stool opened beside Jonas and he sat, taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. “Elena really pulls in a crowd.”

“Yeah, too big,” Jonas commented as he shifted to survey the room. “We’re going to have to move our open sub night to when Elena isn’t headlining. It defeats the purpose when the subs are hanging around the stage instead of the Doms.”

“Good idea,” Joseph agreed. “It’s almost ten and I haven’t had time to circulate, not that I could in this crush.”

“Still on the hunt for the perfect sub, old man?” Rick chuckled. “Don’t get discouraged, she’s out there.”

“Let’s hope she wasn’t among the dozen or so Dex had to turn away at the door.” Sean put in as he came up behind them. “He hates doing that. There were a lot of disappointed faces when he broke the news. He gave them vouchers hoping they’ll return next time. Unfortunately, some won’t have the nerve.”

“What was the breakdown tonight?” Rick inquired.

“Twelve red, fourteen white,” Sean replied.

“No pink?” Jonas said in surprise.

“Only one. A stunning blonde. She came in alone, so I sat her with the girls.”

Jonas whistled. “That’s a brave girl.”

“More like a brave woman. Thirty-five, I’m guessing.”

“She might be what you’re looking for, Joe,” suggested Rick. “Not a newbie to try your patience or too well trained thereby lacking a challenge.”

“I think you gentlemen have read my file,” Joseph murmured as he pulled out a linen handkerchief and began to clean his lenses.

The three owners chuckled. When he settled his frames back on his nose, he followed their eyes to the head table. Their lovely ladies were instantly recognizable, fixtures in the club for months, some for years. Except Mara, who wasn’t actually new, but had been absent for a time. His eyes fell on the woman sitting next to her. The long golden fall of wavy blonde hair made him surge to his feet. Even across the jam-packed room, she was achingly familiar.

It can’t be.

Sidestepping to get a better look, he was thankful for his above-average height that gave him a better view over the crowd. He watched as her head tilted back, sending the blonde waves brushing across her shoulders and the curled ends bouncing along her back. Almost positive of her identify, he became more sure as his body responded as it had so often in the past.

“Her name?” His question, uttered in a disbelieving tone was directed at Sean.

“How’s that?” Sean responded, leaning in as a crack of thunder shook the room.

“Her name, man,” he demanded. “What is the lovely pink ribbon’s name?”

“Olivia. Don’t have the last name, but it’s on file.”

“That won’t be necessary.” His disbelief was expressed in a whisper. He knew the lovely blonde without a doubt and intended to find out what the hell she was thinking coming here alone. Tossing back the dregs of his scotch, he slammed the glass down on the top of the bar and stepped away.

He felt the men’s eyes on him. “Something wrong?” Jonas asked.

A colossal understatement to be sure. Something was most assuredly wrong.

Without answering Jonas, he moved forward through the teeming crowd. He felt like his head was going to explode with incredulity. For three years she’d sat outside his office door, quite literally at his beck and call, efficiently following his directives, bending over backwards to please him, calling him sir while he nursed a perpetual hard on. He thought she was efficient and professional, not submissive. Dammit! Why hadn’t he recognized what was beneath his very nose?

Of course, he’d noticed her beauty. Her thick, glossy hair, the full pink lips that she kept slick with gloss, and her stunning, curvaceous figure. With the snug skirts she wore, how could he not notice? Especially when she bent over to get a file or like earlier this afternoon when she retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer and the material had pulled tight across her hips and that full, round, spankable derriere. It hit him, as sure as his cock lengthened in his trousers. He had noticed all of that, but not consciously. He’d suppressed a lifetime of dominant urges all this time. The question remained, why?

He determined to reflect on his cluelessness later. Right now his mission was to get to her in the throng of bodies because something was definitely wrong here, many things in fact. Foremost, that Olivia had driven two hours in the pouring rain, in her piece of shit car, most likely. The one he’d had to jump start for her twice in the last month. It tied with her coming alone to an unfamiliar club—a sex club of all places—which he found beyond reckless and in his mind wholly unacceptable. Ranking right up there as a close third, was the pink ribbon she wore, which was intriguing, but also left him seething with jealousy that someone else had initiated her into the lifestyle. Lastly, it infuriated him that they were obviously in search of the same thing, but neither had the guts or the intelligence to open their eyes and see what was right in front of them for three long years. That was definitely a terrible wrong and one he was determined to put to rights pronto, as soon as he maneuvered his way to her side through the mass of wall-to-wall people.