Rescued in Paradise

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2014 Nicole Christianson

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-898-4

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry
Designs

Editor:
Brieanna
Robertson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

DEDICATION

A very special thank you
goes to my family for their constant support and encouragement. I especially
appreciate the tolerance or my time spent writing. Love you all!

A
special thank you to my many virtual friends.
You know who you are. Without
your encouragement, I would have never even considered writing.

Finally,
to
Evernight
and the wonderful staff who made the
process a pleasure and gave me a voice.

RESCUED IN
PARADISE

Paradise, 1

Nicole
Christianson

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Arriving
at Club Paradise later than her usual time of nine o’clock, Sydney checked her
appearance in the rear view mirror once more, making sure her hair and makeup
were presentable before stepping out of her car. Locking the door behind her,
she made her way to the club entrance. Well past ten p.m., she noticed the
parking lot was filling rather quickly with eager bodies ready for their night
to begin.

The
club was built in a remote area where only a few warehouses shared the roughly
five-mile clearing, giving the members plenty of privacy when they arrived. The
owner thought of everything, all the way down to the security cameras
strategically placed on the various electrical poles and towers as far back as
a mile in either direction. That little bit of information she heard while
eavesdropping on a group of security personnel one night.

 
Months prior, Sydney Carter’s close friend and
co-worker, Tonya, brought her as a guest on Beginner’s Night, a once a week
open house event at the club. It was designed so that newcomers could explore
the
BDSM
lifestyle. It afforded a chance to see
whether or not it truly suited them, or if the reason for their curiosity was
those damn
Fifty Shades of Grey
books
every housewife was ranting and raving about.

Yes,
she’d read the
Fifty Shades
books,
but her overall reasoning behind finally visiting with her friend was that deep
down, she sensed she was a submissive woman in the bedroom. Whenever anything
sexual was involved, that little voice in her head kept telling her she needed to
be dominated, but it was too taboo of a thought, so she kept it to herself, not
understanding what it was she really wanted and needed.

Strolling
up to the front entrance, she climbed the narrow stairs behind a well-known
Master with his beautiful slave. As she took in their attire, she noticed the
couple was decked out in fine, matching black leather from head to toe. A thin
chain hung from the woman's black leather collar, fastened by a heavy, rounded
hook. The pattern on the leather was breathtaking, row after row of woven
tethers in an almost Celtic design. It was intricate and stunning. A lot of
thought and love went into choosing such a piece, a gift of elegance from her
Master, no doubt.

The
Dom, who must have been relieving one of the regular bouncers for a bit by
manning the front doors, looked them over once before greeting them properly. “Master
Tomas,” he intonated, and the men shook hands. He made a respectful gesture—hand
politely posed up in question toward Master T’s bowed slave. Master Tomas gave
a curt nod, and the acting bouncer addressed the collared slave for the first
time since the pair had walked up to them. “Good evening,
Feeah
.”

Feeah
remained quiet,
as if waiting for something.

Master
Tomas spoke. “You may answer, little one.”

Feeah’s
response was
immediate. “Good evening, Master K.”

Master
K proceeded to open the oversized crimson doors, allowing the pair to pass. Everyone
who worked in the club was required to know every single member on the list not
only by face, but by their full names.

Taking
the last few steps toward the entrance, her heels clicking as they made contact
with each stone on the concrete staircase, Sydney smiled coyly before lowering
her eyes in respect, knowing full well who the burly man was. Master Kane. She
remembered seeing
him
on numerous occasions in the
club with several different seasoned subs. Master Kane liked to work his subs
rather hard, excelling at needle work as well as handling the long whip. One of
the more intense scenes she’d witnessed involved what a few onlookers described
as a pierced corset. She had been unable to tear her eyes from the breathtaking
procedure he performed in the designated medical play area. Each delicate
piercing was a work of art. Once he was finished, he threaded a silk purple
ribbon through each hoop residing along each side of his sub-for-the-evening’s
spine. She had gasped in amazement. It had been a gorgeous sight. It took
someone with a high tolerance to pain to work with him. Just the thought made Sydney
shiver in apprehension. So far, she hadn’t been pushed to those extremes, but
was eager to try.
Maybe soon.

“Lift
your eyes, pet,” Master Kane said in a smooth voice. She was sure it made women
fall at his feet and
beg
for a chance to submit to
him.

Bringing
her eyes back up, she squared her shoulders. He gave her an appreciative once-over
before opening the door for her. Her body instantly responded to his inspection,
her nipples pebbling to taut buds, hard enough to cut glass. Tall, dark, and
sexy noticed her reaction and grinned. One night, she would definitely consider
approaching him for some playtime
.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She was glad she decided on a bright blue and black
corset that accentuated her full breasts, lifting them so they were almost
ready to burst free of the top edges of the hem that now showcased her arousal.
The beautiful piece paired perfectly with an extremely small black leather mini
skirt that stopped just short of the top of her thighs. With four-inch stiletto
heels to give her a few much-needed inches, the combination was the most
provocative set she owned.

By
no means short, she cleared five-foot-seven, however, most of the
Doms
at the club were at least six feet or taller. They
came in all shapes— lean, muscular, and in between. One thing they all seemed
to have in common was that they weren’t hard to miss. Even a blind person would
be able to recognize the aura around them. In their own unique ways, the
Doms
in the club could all be classified as sex gods. They
were walking fantasies.

Master
K grinned, pushing the door wide open, and those sexy dimples surfaced. Damn,
he really was handsome. His thick, dark caramel hair looked almost black in the
dim light and was paired with the most mesmerizing sapphire eyes she had ever
seen with specks of gold rimming the iris, making them shine bright. A tight
black shirt with the club emblem on the right corner just above his right
pectoral showcased his muscular physique. The material was straining against
his biceps, threatening to rip if he moved the wrong way. She would have loved
to be that shirt right then, wrapped around his tanned form.

Biting
her lip, she looked away. Maybe one day she would have the nerve to approach
him for a session. Flicking her tongue against the back of her teeth in
contemplation, she ran her eyes over him once more.
Yeah, maybe one day.
With a
smile, she passed by his side, her arm brushing over his lightly as she moved. Crossing
the threshold into the lobby, she heard the door click shut behind her.

Lifting
the ink pen up off the receptionist’s desk, she signed her name on the
register. The foyer was eloquently designed. The décor reminded her of a castle
for kings in the Mediterranean. Lush, vibrant colors were scattered strategically
throughout the opulent space. On every surface rested crystal vases with
freshly cut bouquets of flowers in every hue one could imagine. Their fragrance
always smelled heavenly. Heavy burgundy drapes covered the floor-length bay
windows, drowning out the outside world and affording privacy to those inside. It
was a private oasis.