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This evening, he’d walked through the Quarter’s nondescript green front door as late as possible. He’d intended to pay his respects—such as they were—to Aviana and then go the hell home.
But then the sight of the lovely Abigail stopped him in his tracks.
His visits to the club were rare, and he’d seen her a handful of times. As far as he recalled, she’d been with friends but not a Dominant.
Hayes had taken a moment to glance at her ring finger, her wrist, and neck for some sort of collar or other indication that she belonged to someone. If so, he’d have respected the boundaries.
Or so he told himself.
Her long, dark, luxurious hair invited his fantasies, but even from a distance, her luminous blue eyes held a wariness that sparked his protective instincts.
As he drew closer, he noted that her sassy steampunk style was a playful contradiction to her expression. The corset cinched her waist to a whisp. And while the back of her skirt trailed behind her on the floor, the front of it barely covered her feminine secrets. Factor in her sexy Victorian boots, and he couldn’t believe every man in the club wasn’t lined up to buy from her.
As they talked and interacted, he realized his earlier thought process had been utter bullshit. There might be a code of honor and respect among Dominants, but even if she had been spoken for, it wouldn’t have stopped his interest.
Hayes wanted Abigail and was determined to have her.
He moved deeper into the dungeon and paused for a moment to watch a submissive being flogged on a Saint Andrew’s cross.
When he arrived at the club, his bitterness had left him with no appetite for playing with anyone. Now he was obsessed with having Abigail on her knees, sweetly surrendering to him.
Dungeon monitors walked through the club to let people know that their scenes had to end so walkways would be clear for the upcoming festivities.
He caught sight of his friend Zander, a man who despised the holiday season as much as Hayes did. Last year, they’d commiserated together over some fine Bonds whiskey.
No doubt, Aviana had leaned on the other man to show up tonight, much as she had with Hayes.
He joined his friend, and they shook hands before moving to a place near the wall to get out of the way.
“You planning to watch the parade?” Zander asked.
“Hell, no.” Despite his sudden improved mood, Aviana’s theatrics didn’t appeal. “Heading to the bar. Don’t have a lot of tolerance for all this Christmas crap. Ho, ho, fucking ho.” Not only had Susanna destroyed their family and stolen away his son, but she’d managed to get fifty percent of his bank account on the way out the door. “Open your wallet a little wider and smile while you do it.” His unwanted divorce had broken his heart and left him jaded.
“Got a business meeting in town Thursday,” Zander said. “Thinking of grabbing a drink at the Maison Sterling before heading back.”
“The ex gets Trenton this year, and she’s taking him to Aspen.” He scowled. No doubt his alimony money was funding her little getaway and all her shopping excursions. “Shoot me a text with the time; I’ll be there.”
After they parted ways, Hayes headed to the bar—not that it would be the usual experience. When he checked in, he’d been informed that no alcohol would be served this evening. Generally drinks were allowed if the member wasn’t scening, or after they’d finished. Good rule, one he supported. But tonight, he wanted to enjoy a fine distillate.
He entered the crowded area. Aviana had decorated in a way that celebrated New Orleans, rife with Mardi Gras beads, artwork of historical landmarks and street scenes, LSU pendants, autographed football jerseys, and hurricane glasses. In a nod to the season, she’d added unnecessary lights and garland. Oversize ornaments dangled from shelves and hung from the ceiling. He was tall enough that he was forced to pay attention so their ridiculousness didn’t smack him in the head.
Then he saw Abigail at a round, bar-high table, facing a window where she could watch comings and goings in the dungeon.
His mood suddenly improved.
Without stopping to think, he made his way through the patrons to reach her side. Before sliding onto the chair next to her, he paused. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Eyes wide, her breath catching, she turned to him.
In that instant he knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. And she didn’t seem pleased about it.
Still, after a brief hesitation, she offered a half smile. “Does that line actually work for you?”
Hayes shrugged. “Never tried it before.”
In skepticism, she raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“I promise.” After meeting Susanna, he hadn’t needed to approach a woman. And since she exited his life, he’d had no interest in the fairer sex. “Pickup lines aren’t my thing.” He grinned. “Until I couldn’t think of what else to say.”
