AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jameson
Fuck me. What had I done?
I’d lost control. There was no other way to describe the idiocy of my actions. I never lost control. I was the man my best friends called the most demanding and unforgiving of all of us. The three amigos. The three musketeers. Three crazy guys who’d had a desire to develop and build an exclusive BDSM club that would rival every other successful kink club in the country. Soon, we’d be expanding overseas. The franchise in France was already underway and the one in Milan was taking shape.
The creation might have been thought up by three college kids getting ready to graduate, but the design was all my baby. Hell, I’d been the one to think of the name. Carnal Sins. It had a nice ring to it if I said so myself. After college I’d dug in deep with my dad’s commercial construction firm, never realizing how valuable the work would be when finalizing the architectural designs for the first club. It had literally taken an act of Congress to make the purchase, tearing down an old factory. The legal aspects had been one nightmare after another, but we’d persevered.
I’d never forget the day we broke ground. We’d felt like kings of the world. Smirking, I headed toward the photograph of the three of us at the illustrious groundbreaking ceremony. It had just been the three of us and a dude we barely knew taking pictures. For that, we’d had to buy him dinner. We’d had big plans and even bigger dreams. Most had come true.
Lachlan McKenzie ran the club in DC, Grant Wilde the one in LA. And I held down the fort in Miami. With the franchise opportunities, Carnal Sins Inc. would soon be considered a multibillion-dollar company.
The club catered to the wealthiest and most powerful men and some women. The promised anonymity and exclusivity including a private entrance with a gated garage where license plates were blacked out kept all three clubs with an extensive waiting list. With a hundred-thousand-dollar application fee and yearly dues of five hundred thousand to one million depending on the level of membership, only the most influential power mongers were listed on the rosters. Our security system was top notch, our computers networked together.
Members were allowed to visit any of the clubs in the corporation, which had proven to be popular.
We kept a pro dom and pro domme on staff, other masters of various kinks, bouncers and spotters trained to ensure that every fantasy was fulfilled, no matter how dark the kink. Impact play, Shibari, wax play, cupping, needle play, praise play, and bondage were some of the more popular kinks we catered to.
There were strict rules, guests allowed but only with a background check. In addition, every club had a separate party zone where anyone off the street could gain entrance. The Blackout Club had proven to be well worth cost of the addition on all three clubs, lines of people waiting for hours to get in almost every night.
Blacklights and a neon lit dance floor were only part of the festive decor. Every bartender and member of the waitstaff had special uniforms that glowed in the dark. Even special software had been developed for use with 3D-style glasses. When a guest arrived, they were required to fill out a short but very useful form highlighting likes and dislikes in various areas of their life, which would help when searching for a compatible partner. Once a guest was within two feet of someone else, they could read details about the other person near the frame of the lenses.
It had proven to be another hit. We’d also added merchandise available for purchase and the proceeds were unimaginable. We were freaking rolling in dough.
The fact was the three of us were filthy rich and considered some of the most powerful men in our respective cities. It didn’t hurt that our members walked various upper echelon floors of the world. Politicians, corporate moguls, judges, artists, actors. All walks of life were represented, but the owners of Carnal Sins held their privacy and proclivities in the palms of our hands.
All of it was exciting and good news, our profits for the year soaring, yet I was an unhappy man and had been for some time. I faked it well, schmoozing with guests as necessary, but when I went home at night, I took off the invisible mask of pretense and bullshit.
I was a country boy at heart, preferring my Harley and cowboy boots to tuxedos and fancy parties. I’d long since lost my Southern accent and almost never revisited the days of being a star football player. They were long gone. Just like the fresh-faced kid lucky enough to get a full ride to the University of PA. If I hadn’t, I’d likely still be lugging at my father’s construction firm.
I thought about my father for a few seconds and sighed. He’d hoped I’d be married giving him grandkids before he’d died. I’d been the playboy for the first few years, falling victim to believing my own hype. Then I’d fallen hard for one girl. That hadn’t worked out, and I’d failed him once again. Going down memory lane wasn’t in my best interest.
That’s why what had just occurred with Alexandra was so completely out of character for me. I moved through the club toward my office, ignoring basically everyone who acknowledged my presence.
I was in a grumpy mood and there was no reason for it. When I passed by one of my bouncers, a man I considered a friend, I sensed he was following me. He always knew when something was wrong.
After throwing open my office door and storming inside, I headed straight for the bar, yanking a glass off the shelf. I heard the door close behind me with a soft click. There was no sense in turning around. He wasn’t going to be here very long. I’d see to that.
“You want to tell me about it?” Jagger asked. Jagger Sanchez had been many things over the years. Star linebacker in high school and college, a formidable and decorated Marine. Now he served as head of my security team, muscle when necessary.
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not worth talking about.”
“Uh-huh,” he chastised. “That’s why you’re hiding behind closed doors prepared to drink yourself to sleep.”
I finished filling the glass with scotch before turning around, glaring at him. “First, I’m not hiding. This is my office in my club that I own. Second, I never drink myself to sleep.” Hissing, I took a massive gulp, polishing off almost half.
He lifted a single eyebrow as he folded his arms, his look of amusement pissing me off.
“What?” I barked.
“That’s what I’m waiting to hear. I’m not leaving until you spill it.”
“Get out.”
“No.”
