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What is a girl to do when two specimens of lethally raw sexuality home in on her this way? Well, Briar's not so sure yet.
[Warning: MFM. Also, Briar likes to be held down so she feels helpless]
Chapter One
Reading the text message I’d just received, I felt my back straighten. “Shit.”
On the barstool beside me, Izzy paused in bopping her head along to the song playing loud over the dome’s speakers. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Inaya had to cancel,” I told her, referring to a tight mutual friend we’d first met here at the Vault four years ago, a club that in my opinion was like no other. “Her grams had a fall.”
Izzy’s brow pinched in concern. “Crap. Is Judy okay?”
“She’s fine, she just got a bit of a scare,” I explained as I replied to Inaya’s text, telling her to give her grandmother a hug for me and to call if she needed anything. “So did Inaya, I think. She doesn’t want to leave her grams alone tonight.”
“Poor Judy. I’ll go check on her tomorrow.”
I dropped my cell back in my purse. “I’ll come with you.” We all loved Judy; she was an absolute riot. I grabbed my glass and knocked back the last of my drink. “I’ll stay with you until Cole gets here,” I told my British friend and neighbor, referring to her new boyfriend. “Then I’ll go on home.”
Izzy’s frown deepened. “Why?”
I cast her an incredulous look, fiddling with the V collar of my black sequined dress. “Because my plan for the night is now null and void. Why else?” Inaya and I had intended to havea blast together here in the dome—named for its shape, the bar-slash-club resembled a large ballroom and was more or less the heart of the Vault’s basement.
The dome had a somewhat sensual vibe. Long antique mirrors adorned the black marble walls. The floor was checkered like a gameboard. Red velvet drapes framed the French windows. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Private little alcoves could be found between the fluted columns.
There were people everywhere—the long bar, the crowded dancefloor, the few tables, the arched hollows, the mirrored cubed boxes at the rear of the dome. You couldn’t actually see what was going on inside the boxes as the mirrors were made of one-sided glass.
“That doesn’t mean you have to leave,” said Izzy.
“Well I’m not heading into a private room with you and Cole.”
She sent me an impatient look. “I wasn’t suggesting that, and you know it. I just mean you could sit here for a little while.”
I put my empty glass on the bar. “All on my lonesome? Not an attractive idea.”
“You wouldn’t be alone for long. The bloke in the corner has been staring at you for the past half hour. At least stay long enough to give him a chance to approach you.”
Intrigued, I lifted a brow. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know what his name is, but I’ve seen him here before,” Izzy told me, idly plucking at one of her rich brown curls. “Broad. All corded muscle. Military haircut. He has a scar slicing through his eyebrow that adds to the whole marine look.”
Recognizing that description, I said, “His name is Galen. I heard from another guy here that he used to be in the Navy and now owns a security business. He’s also a Dom, so he’s off my menu. He’d likely be able to give me what I want, but I wouldn’t be able to return the favor. I make aterriblesubmissive.”
I’d never find it in me to call someone Sir, keep my eyes down if told, or do anything but snort if someone tried to put me on speech restrictions. I liked to feel helpless, but full-on submit?ThatI was no good at. I only followed orders on my own terms. Or not at all.
“You can’t bethatbad,” said Izzy. “Dom after Dom comes your way.”
“Oh, I am that bad. I cooperate only as and when I feel like it. Which is not submitting.”
“Then why do so many Tops approach you?”
“Personally, I don’t think their interest is in me specifically. It’s common knowledge in the basement that I never fully yield to anyone and am not interested in doing so. These particular Tops see me as a challenge.”
“Ah,” she drawled, realization dawning. “That’s why you’ve never had an arrangement with any of them.”
I nodded. Many arrangements existed within the basement of the exclusive twenty/four-hour club. Arrangements where members claimed each other, rendering them off the basement’s market. But these not-quite-relationships only applied at the club, meaning said members could keep their private life separate. It suited a lot of people, especially the many high-profile characters who frequented the place.
“And you’re sure that Galen is like them?” Izzy asked me.
