Page 4 of Alpha Male

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I made my way between dancers, avoiding crouching subs worshiping at their master’s feet. The girl manning the bar on her own—Lux—waved, a bright smile on her face. She gestured me through to the locker room.

My lip sucked between my teeth as I studied the carpet and weaved through the crowd. I dipped my head to avoid making eye contact or seeing the faces I passed. Slipping behind the security guard, I wandered alone down the hall that ended at the locker room Killian directed me toward. I shoved my jacket into the allotted pigeon hole, stashed my purse in my locker, and flicked my hair from my face.

My attire matched the club’s specifications. The harder the play, the softer the costume—on the surface. Slinky, transparent lace slid over my body in a baby-doll-style dress that barely disguised the pink leather harness I wore beneath it. I rubbed the toe of my shoe into the carpet, undecided. The heels gave me extra height on my five-foot-four inches, and who knew? Maybe my playmate might like that.

I checked the roster board, which gave a name and a number, plus an arrow that directed me to a keybox. After selecting the key to my room, I checked the level a few times and held my breath. Most room keys were already taken, so I assumed the night’s other playdates had already started. Witheverything completed online, I had little actual contact with another person until tonight, and even that was limited. My isolation intensified when I gripped my key in my palm and pushed open the door to the main club.

Most of the patrons were ensconced by a show near the stage, and the remainder lounged around the bar area, surrounded by black leather seating. A dark, unmarked set of stairs disappeared into the bowels of the club to my right. I shuffled around a burly security guard, my key at the ready in case he asked for it, but no one questioned me or stopped me.

Until I reached the stairs.

Hands wound around my waist, settling over my stomach and pulling me back into a fully clothed, virile male. His erection pressed between my exposed ass cheeks, my negligee and his suit pants the barrier between us.

That he was dressed and I was … not really, brought heat rushing to my cheeks. My thighs pressed together at the hot flush that also headed south, and the man gave a soft laugh in my ear.

Wait, all that—from a stranger’s touch? What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t here to have fun, or party or …fuck. I shook my head, but my arousal refused to dissipate.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place, little princess? Pleasure stops on this level. The sort I’m sure you’re after. The one down there”—my unknown man ran a fingertip from my collarbone and along my arm, leaving goose-pebbled flesh in his wake—“that’s a very different kind of pleasure. Dark and delicious. But that’s not for you.”

“No?” I spun on my heel, pushing it into the plush carpet that muffled my attempt at a stomp, but I couldn’t bring myself to look my aggressor in the face. I stared at the high shine of his black shoes, my state of undress reflected on its surface. Heat flushed from my breasts to my cheeks. “Well, then. You might besurprised.”

His hand caught the back of my neck, his fingers curving beneath my jawline to force my head up. I stared into black and yellow-shot eyes that could only belong to one man.

Rafe Astor.

“Oh, I do hope so.” He smiled, a terrible and wonderful thing, promising things all sex and sin at once, every dark delight I could desire.

Heat flushed over me in a rush that left me heady. I twisted away from him, my heart racing, and I took the first few steps at a too-quick pace. My hand hit the banister, preventing me from toppling the remainder of the way down the flight.

His mocking laughter followed me to the lower level, but I didn’t look back.

I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

Chapter Three

Rafe

I stood behind my office chair, the leather clenched between my fists. I knew I recognized the fluffy little bunny headed downstairs to the pain levels Fray offered. I knew because I couldn’t stop myself from touching her. From tormenting her.

Willow Bonnier was in my club.

She’d haunted my waking moments from the day I watched that video of her grieving from weeks ago, a phantom who followed me through every round of the club until I gave up trying to find a play partner suited to my needs.

They couldn’t, not one of them, because they weren’ther.

Killian’s warning to not obsess about her sat bitter in my mouth. He was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit that to his face.

What the hell was she doing here? Whoever let her sign up for the lower level was in for a world of hurt when I was done with them. We made the decision early on in Fray’s history not to allow soft players to wander too freely around the club after a horrendous incident with a little gray ’roo shifter. The abject fear the shifter exuded was so powerful it permeated every level and set off every predator in the club. Killian managed to clear the premises before we ended up dealing with an all-out bloodbath, but the damage was done, and we spent a year rectifying that kerfuffle.

I pulled Willow’s file and scanned through it. Her shifter type remained unlisted, but it had to be something akin to a rabbit or a kitten. A teacup puppy? I snorted and flicked through the security feeds linked directly to my office. She’d been allocated to room four … there.

Her position stole every inch of air in my lungs.

Gone were the soft, frilly coverings she’d worn to parade through the ground floor. In its place, a neon pink body harness enclosed her body in strategically placed straps, the sort that fit around the gentle curve of her generous breasts and slid between her thighs to frame her bald pussy.

Strung spread-eagled between two posts in a giantX, tethers held her wrists and ankles wide apart. A blindfold covered her eyes, and dark tendrils curled around the material in sexy waves that reminded me just how soft and sensual her body felt pressed against mine. Her head flicked side to side, searching.

The entire setup highlighted her pristine body, all slim limbs and sweet curves, and not a mark on her. I peered into the darkened corner at the tool bench for her playmate. The man straightened, his face semi-visible between the shadows and the harsh overhead lights, but it was enough to identify him.


Tags: Sam Crescent Paranormal