What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (3 page)

“Who did you piss off to get surveillance midweek?”

Rick laughed. “No one. I’m putting in my time now before the baby is born. Once he’s here, I’ll be scarce for a while.”

“It’s that time, huh?”

“Yep, and not a minute too soon for Regan. She’s miserable.”

“As little as she is, I imagine she looks like a beach ball with legs about now.”

Rick made a face, clearly a touchy subject. “Don’t let her hear you say that. Not if you want to live to see daylight.”

“So, it’s a boy.”

“Yep, got documented evidence of the little guy’s ‘little guy’ a few weeks back. It looked like a finger on that ultrasound photo, but I took their word for it.”

“Happy for you and Regan, man. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, bud. After all we’ve been through, we feel blessed.”

T was still grinning at the notion that Rick’s full-term pregnant wife posed any kind of threat when movement on the firing range caught his eye. Reaching out to the touch screen, he zoomed in on the shooter. “Is that Angie Hixson?”

Rick’s affirmative grunt was his answer as he time stamped action on another feed.

T watched for a few minutes as she fired a rifle, short range. “She’s good,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Rick huffed, glancing briefly at the feed. “As long as the bad guys stand still while she shoots. Otherwise, she couldn’t hit a slow moving train with a grenade launcher.”

“Since when do we offer private lessons to the SAPD?”

Shifting his concentration briefly, Rick looked at T for an instant, before refocusing on the monitors and resuming his constant scanning. “You haven’t heard? She quit the force and works for Rossi now.” 

“Doing what?” T frowned, not liking some of the scenarios—extremely dangerous ones—that immediately came to mind. 

“Investigations mostly, that’s her strong suit, but with her experience and some additional training, well, who knows what else. You know we’ve needed a female operative every so often.”

“I suppose,” he grumbled, watching as she spoke with Dan Ogilvie, who had joined her on the range. “Dano’s her handler?”

“Yeah, Cap wanted you to train her and work on the problem with her aim, but with you wandering the southwest these past few months, Dano was tagged for the job.”

The munitions expert on their A-team for years with expertise in all manner of ordnance, including guns and explosives, training the FNG’s at Rossi had fallen to T. Training Angie was a whole other animal. Immediately, thoughts of her in his arms, popped into his head, his hard front pressed to her soft, rounded backside while teaching her to line up her sights. It morphed into an image of them in the gym, with her grappling with him on the mats as he taught her hand-to-hand maneuvers. In an easy take-down, he’d straddle her hips and leaned over her, enjoying the press of her full tits against his chest as he pinned her to the floor. He could almost feel her warm body against him as he held her immobilized, his much larger frame caging her as she wiggled and squirmed to get free. The brief fantasy was enough to make his dick hard and his balls tingle and ache. 

Shifting in his seat, he acknowledged that he’d dodged a bullet by being unavailable. Glancing at the monitor, he saw her smiling up at Dan, then breaking into laughter, her hand coming out to squeeze the older man’s forearm as she bent forward, clearly amused by something her trainer had said.

She was beautiful, more so when she smiled. And her body... He panned down from her face, lingering over the tight t-shirt that conformed to every curve and the even tighter, body-hugging workout pants that molded to her shapely legs. Spandex, he’d bet money on it. Damn. His own pants had become excruciatingly tight. He stood abruptly, ready to get home and grab a cold shower. 

“Heading to the club tonight?” Rick asked as T headed toward the door. 

“Damn straight. Finding a sub on the road is a real bitch.” 

Unconsciously, he adjusted his cock to a less strained position not registering his hand’s location until Rick’s amused snicker followed him out the door. He didn’t give a shit, an alternate plan formulating in his mind: head home, jerk off in the shower—as he had for the past three months, except for the one time about six weeks in when he’d hooked up with a vanilla chick outside Lubbock, which was less than inspiring or satisfying, still he’d gotten his rocks off—after that he’d catch a few z’s and head to the club. Once there he’d find a willing subbie in need of a good long fucking and flogging, in that specific order. Usually he liked to build it, starting slow with at least an hour of torturous play until she was begging. His control was bound to be limited tonight, however, so his needs might have to come first, and maybe even twice, before his sub got hers.

His lust starved mind conjured up an image of a blue-eyed blonde, her long, glossy hair coiled like a rope around his wrist as he plunged relentlessly between her creamy thighs while she bent over in front of him. When she turned her head to look back over her shoulder, her imaginary blue eyes turned to a haunting hazel brown. In his fantasy, they glimmered with desire as her plump pink lips parted and the tip of her tongue slipped out, slicking along the lower curve.

Dream Angie whispered, “Fuck me harder, T,” as she spread wider for him, angling her hips so he could sink deeper into her warm, wet, welcoming pussy.

He reached down, squeezing his cock to keep from shooting off in his pants like a fourteen-year-old boy. T groaned, not caring in the least that their receptionist was in earshot, or that she had an up close and personal view of the bulge in his jeans as he rushed by and through the double doors where she crouched, cleaning the glass. The only thing he cared about was getting some relief. He determined his sub for the night would be blonde, not tall, and with small tits. The complete opposite of Angie’s dark coloring and killer curves. He also resolved that when he was deep inside another woman and closed his eyes, he wouldn’t see her beautiful face, the one that had invaded his dreams and occupied every waking fantasy for the past three hellacious months.

Chapter Two

As Angie followed Dan down the dimly lit corridor, she tried to keep up with his long legged stride while waging war with the tiny scrap of material that was supposed to pass as a skirt. With each step, she felt the slick stretchy material creep higher on her thighs. Every few feet, she would pause and give it a firm tug to keep it from bunching up and exposing what was in her opinion a less than svelte behind.

Dressed in club wear for the first time ever, she tried to wrap her head around what she was about to do. Sure, she’d been to Club Decadence, many times in fact, but she’d always come in through the front door wearing real clothes—a little black dress to be specific—that covered all of her important girl parts and didn’t leave her coming across like a working girl cruising for a date on the corner of South Sabinas and Guadalupe on a Saturday night.

She glared daggers at the back of the man responsible for her wardrobe tonight. A form of punishment for her abysmal performance on the firing range, no doubt, or as retribution in general for being a tremendous pain in his ass these past several weeks. Lord knows she’d heard him mutter those very words often enough.

As she yanked down the migrating hem yet again, she imagined he’d taken considerable glee in picking out the electric blue PVC skirt. He’d chosen a petite size, she’d noticed, which on her above average frame rode below her navel and barely covered the curves of her ass. The black and blue trimmed crop top wasn’t much better, adhering to her like a second skin. She supposed she should be grateful that she was covered at all, considering she’d seen subs in the lounge and bar areas wearing substantially less, though she couldn’t muster much gratitude at the moment.

The hem of the skimpy crop top sat several inches below her breasts and would still have been deemed conservative club wear with its pointed collar and little cap sleeves, if not for the huge, circular cutout in front. It showed the entire inner curves of her nearly-D breasts and was keeping her other hand busy trying to corral the twins that jiggled obscenely as she hurried along. Angie was convinced if she took the shallowest of breaths, she’d treat everyone to a nip slip. She didn’t want to think about the results if she had to raise her hands higher than her waist. Talk about wardrobe malfunction.

“Come along, sub,” Dan called from where he waited by the door, a highly entertained look on his handsome face.

Angie bit her tongue to keep “kiss my ass” or other choice retorts from flying out of her mouth. Although she wasn’t submissive, Dan was definitely dominant and she wouldn’t put him past getting himself a little vindication for such a disrespectful remark once he had her “in training” inside.

Instead, she grumbled, “I’m going as fast as I can, sir,” the last word said a hint short of a sneer. “I’d like to see you try walking in these damnable De Sade inspired stilts.”

The stilts she referred to were actually the bright blue five-inch platform heels he’d insisted she strap on her feet.

“Now, now, remember what I taught you. Subs at Club Decadence don’t scowl at their Doms, nor do they grumble every breath or curse. Unless they’re angling for a spanking that is.”

“You are pure evil.”

“I’m a sadist, Angie. That comes with the territory.”

“What?” She skidded to a halt, reaching out for the nearest stationary object as she flailed her arms for balance. The object being Dan’s rock solid forearm, notwithstanding. “A sadist! Does that mean you’re into whips, needles, hot wax and that kind of shit?”

“If I choose, yes. I’ve been known to use all of that shit, as you so charmingly put it.”

“Needles!” she squeaked in protest. “I pulled that one out of the air. You mean you’d actually—”

“I’ve used piercing needles on places intended to be pierced. Jewelry on nipples and a pretty pink clit are lovely additions sometimes. With proper antiseptic measures followed, of course, but beyond that, no. And, as always, it was with consent. You won’t find me with knives, blood play or anything that could cause permanent harm,” he shook his head adamantly at that, “although I’ll admit to liking edgier, more intense play than some, which includes bringing erotic pain, but only when my submissive craves it as much as I crave giving it to her. Sadly, those special subs are hard to find. That doesn’t mean I can’t find pleasure with others who aren’t into the extreme like me.”

“And like me! Cap’s instructions were for you to—”

“Train you beyond newbie status,” he finished for her.

“Yes, that, but I meant the part where he told you to go easy on me. I don’t think he meant whips and hot wax, surely. Or needles!”

His deep chuckle made her hair stand on end.

“I think there’s a little sadist in every Dom. Cap’s on the intense end of the spectrum himself. And to each of us, easy is a subjective term, little trainee. Don’t you worry, though. I know how to dial it back. Biting is only fun for me if my sub likes to be bitten.”

Having regained her balance, she released his arm and looked up at him, way up, having to crane her neck sharply back. In the ridiculously high heels, her five-eight frame had grown to over six feet, yet Dan still towered over her. All the Rossi men were freakin’ huge and intimidating as hell, not to mention handsome, and she was talking drool worthy good looking. Though in his mid-forties, Dan was cut from the same mold. However, this sadistic talk was freaking her out.

“You’re so nice. I wouldn’t have imagined you being into whips and chains.”

“Nice,” he grumbled with a curled lip. “Don’t let that get around or the masochists will desert me.” He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

As they wound their way down a long corridor with dark offices on either side, she muttered over each torturous step. “I should have known you were a sadist by these shoes.”

“Is that grumbling I hear?”

She snapped her mouth shut, but only for a moment. The ‘submit in silence’ bit being hard for her to grasp. “I thought subs went barefoot, anyway.” Out of her comfort zone, in more ways than one, she realized she sounded petulant rather than the confident professional she wanted to portray. Not for the first time, she was getting the feeling that this was not a good idea.

“They do in the dungeon,” Dan informed. “We’re stopping by administration to see Master Dex first.”

“We are?” If Cap was the boss at Rossi, Dex was his counterpart at the club. “May I ask why?”

“You may, although as your Dom, I’m not obligated to answer.”

She glared at him. He was enjoying this too much. “How about as my co-worker?”

He shook his finger and made a tsking noise with his tongue. “There’s that scowl again.”

She tried hard to straighten her features, which wasn’t easy. It seemed none of this submissive stuff was. When she had arranged her face in a placid mien, she tried not to lose it when he laughed once again.

“Good girl, practice that serene expression, it will go far to appease an irritated Dom, which I anticipate you’ll see a lot of in the near future.”

He was only half teasing, she expected, still she was relieved when he answered the question she’d almost forgotten she’d asked. “Master Dex has final approval of all new members. Since your application process was unorthodox, he has a particular interest in speaking to you prior to entering his dungeon. He also wants you to fill out a training contract and there is the matter of medical clearance.”

“Why, if we’re not actually going to be doing, um… stuff?”

Dan paused abruptly, swinging her around to face him. He angled her chin up with a little huff of impatience. “I have eleven-year-old twins that don’t exasperate me as much as you do and the two of them combined ask half as many questions.” He took a deep breath. “Cap explained, twice I might add, that in order for the members in LA to believe you are who you say you are, you’re going to have to actually do some “stuff” as you put it.”

She swallowed, her voice still crackling, coming out at least a half octave higher when she clarified, “He said no sex.”