“Of course, Master Hawk. I’ll be at the other end of the bar. Send her back to me whenever you’re ready.”
Jenna slinked up to Sunny and gave her a sultry smile. “Hi, I’m Jenna. I’ll be working the other end of the bar tonight. I have to say, you are absolutely stunning. If you’d like to have a drink afterward with me and my Master, please let me know. We’d love to introduce you to Wicked.”
She gave Sunny a light, lingering kiss on the cheek, then sashayed down to the end of the massive bar where a male submissive poured drinks.
Watching Sunny react to Jenna’s flirting had him fighting a chuckle. Her hand was to her cheek where Jenna had kissed her, and she was frozen. His laughter couldn’t be contained when she slowly turned to him and said, “What the fuck?”
“That’s Jenna. Nice girl, but rather aggressive with beautiful women, and you are totally her type.”
Sunny’s hand dropped from her face and she shook her head. “This place is crazy. I feel like I’ve stepped into another world where the rules are totally different. And there are so many rules! How to talk to a Master, how to talk to a Mistress, how to address a submissive with a gag on. Sheesh. I’ll never remember all of this. Thank God I only work two days a week now. I’ll have to spend the rest of my time reading up on the Marquis de Sade.”
Laughing again, he said, “I’ll help you.”
She waved her hand limply in his direction. “And you? How the hell am I supposed to have a rational conversation with you when you look like that?”
Glancing down, he took in his brown leather pants, matching leather vest, and the thick brown leather band embedded with turquoise on his left wrist. “What?”
“I can see your tattoos. It’s very distracting.”
Her lovely gaze wasn’t focused on his tattoos, he realized. Her eyes were glued to his chest. Although she tried to hide it, she was attracted to him. Her nipples, hard and pointy, were clearly visible through her thin dress. His world shook a little as he realized that Sunny didn’t seem him as the big brother he’d as assumed she considered him. She saw him as a man.
This complicates things.
“Trust me, for this place, I’m practically overdressed.”
Her gaze flitted behind him and she muttered, “This is true.”
“And this is the ‘safe’ part of Club Wicked. No sex or nudity allowed here.”
“But in other bars,” Sunny continued in almost a whisper, “I heard people have, like, full-on kinky sex out in the open.”
Full on public sex wasn’t his thing, but he did like to watch, and he’d done more than a few scenes at the bars. He was what some considered a service Top—someone who enjoyed getting a submissive off and giving her what she needed. Be it pain or pleasure, ropes or a water cage, he thrived on giving a submissive the best experience of their life.
Regardless of his preference to please, he didn’t have sex with most of his subs, saving that intimacy for his relationships.
Despite the public orgy rooms and all the other erotic excess available at Wicked, not everyone was into casual sex. Many members were monogamous and chose their partners very carefully. Sure, some enjoyed the freedom of fucking anyone who caught their eye, but he’d been there done that as far as casual sex was concerned. It had lost its tawdry luster for him a long time ago.
When he was just twenty, thanks to hard work and a lot of luck, he’d made his first big blockbuster movie then suddenly found himself drowning in pussy. For years, sex had been his drug of choice. At first, the endless supply of gorgeous women seemed like a blessing, but as time ground on, he became dissatisfied by the nameless stream of partners. He’d learned the hard way that meaningless sex was just that…meaningless. Even within the context of BDSM, he’d started to crave a deeper connection with his partner. Something more than just fucking.
Not to say he’d become a monk. He’d had a few steady relationships over the years, but none of them had worked out. It was hard to find a woman who not only fulfilled him emotionally but also sexually. BDSM wasn’t for everyone, but being a Dominant was simply part of who he was—like his brown eyes and slightly crooked front tooth. He wanted a strong woman who still needed him. A lady in public and his dirty little girl in private. Someone smart, and funny. Someone he could laugh with about the absurdity of life. Someone he could come home to at night.
So far, not one of the dozens of submissives at Club Wicked who’d begged for his collar met his needs.
None of them felt right.