Aspen

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

LUCIAN

H ank Quinn sighed for the fifth time in the space that his daughter stormed in and out of his office.

When I entered, I would have guessed him to be no older than his early sixties. By the time Aspen Quinn finished wreaking her havoc, he looked every day of his seventy-seven years.

While he grew tired, other parts of me just grew. Hell, I couldn’t even pinpoint my favorite part of the experience, but watching her walk out sat near the top of my list. Enjoying the view of her from behind.

She had an ass that begged for a firm hand. Round. Tight. Lush.

Her attitude and tightly wound personality screamed for a firm hand, too. One that would hold her so strongly, she’d have no choice but to relax under the control. I’d bit my lip to refrain from offering my services as I imagined being the one having all that fire bend to my will—being the one to watch that pole slide out of her ass just for me to replace it with another.

“Sorry about that,” Hank said.

“Nothing to apologize for,” I answered like I hadn’t just been imagining fucking his daughter’s ass with my hand around her throat. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Yes.” He shook his head and collected himself. “She’s amazing at what she does, but she’s not quite ready to take it all on.”

I shrugged, doing my best to present a sliver of empathy at the last minute. Most fathers wore rose-colored glasses when it came to their children. I had no idea if he was one of them or not, and honestly, I didn’t care. I purchased my portion of the company, so everything else was irrelevant.

When he’d mentioned his daughter might be upset, I’d dismissed it. I’d focused on the contract, not bothering to look over her files because, like I’d told her, I’d purchased enough companies in my thirty-six years to know that a twenty-something daughter of the owner wasn’t capable of much. I’d experienced enough life to know to be wary of women demanding more than they earned.

“How about we schedule another meeting with her involved?” he suggested jovially. “We’ve covered the main points already today, and it’s getting late. Like I told Aspen, this sale is about an old man attempting to get out of the office while I’ve still got time.”

“I won’t turn down an early evening myself.”

“Good for you, son. Take it while you can. I loved every second of this company and everything it gave me, but a time comes when you just have to…live.”

I nodded like I understood, but really, running my company was living. The thrill of buying something new—the excitement of control. I loved it.

We set up a time for later in the week and said our goodbyes. Once I reached my car, I saw the time and considered the extra hours at the office. As much as I talked about an early day, I hadn’t planned on taking off yet. But maybe something Hank said to me permeated my workaholic mindset, because instead of turning right, back to work, I made a left.

If I was taking an early day, there was only one place I wanted to go.

Just as I parked, my phone vibrated.

Grace: I’m making your favorite pasta, and you know I don’t know how to portion correctly. Want to come over?

My fingers hovered over the screen as I considered my options. I almost always jumped at the chance to enjoy my godmother’s pasta, but the dark door and glowing lights of the club loomed across the parking lot, calling me in. Begging me to come play.

Hank’s words replayed. Live. While building my empire held the top position of excitement and life, basking in the pleasures of The Berkshire came as a close second.

Live, he’d suggested.

I’d already taken an early day. Why not enjoy it to its fullest?

The decision made, I sent my regrets to Grace and headed into the building with visions of finding a dark-haired vixen with an ass I could take my fantasies out on.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Daire,” the hostess greeted, her red lips tipped into a sultry smile.

“Kendra.” I nodded in response as I walked through the small, dark foyer—only big enough to welcome guests before they entered everything beyond.

The hum of conversation and silverware on plates greeted me when I pushed through the double doors. At first glance, standing atop the short set of steps leading to a lower seating area, it appeared to be a high-end restaurant and lounge with dark woods and golden lights. However, when you looked closer, you caught glimpses of the forbidden and taboo.

Initially, you saw men and women occupying booths with drinks, laughing with friends. But as you descended into the elegant debauchery, you saw guests with companions kneeling at their feet. Some wore clothes, while others wore only a collar. Some lay splayed naked across the glossy tabletops, and others did nothing but drink with friends.

The Berkshire provided a conglomeration of desires spread from wall to wall for anyone to enjoy. Right then, I desired enjoying a drink.

With that in hand, I walked through the back hallway until I came upon a room cast in blue lights. The room was smaller, with a variety of seating options. Not wanting to disturb the other guests enraptured with the center of the room, I found a table along the back wall. Relaxing into the deep velvet chair, I sipped at the expensive whiskey and enjoyed the view with everyone else.

A couple performed the intimacies of shibari on a low platform stage surrounded by the audience. Red rope pressed against the woman’s flesh, wrapping around her legs, hips, and chest. The man continued down her arms, wrapping with care, taking time to stroke each inch of flesh he left exposed. It wasn’t until he positioned her on a single leg—precariously balanced on her toes, with her other leg curved behind her to a suspension hook above that went back down to her wrists, that he praised her for her poise and fucked her in front of everyone.

“She’s so beautiful,” a familiar, soft voice said.

“She is,” I confirmed. I took one last glance at the couple before giving my attention to the blonde standing beside my table. “And I’m sure everyone saw your beauty when I bound you on stage last month, Emily.”

She smiled with downcast eyes, her cheeks turning the perfect shade of pink. “It’s been a while since we’ve done a performance for everyone.”

“Hmm,” I murmured noncommittally. I played with Emily often when I came to the club because it was easy—as long as I ignored the overt desires and hopes I knew she had for us. “Come kneel for me.”

She obeyed, joy sparking in her eyes. When she rushed to remove her blouse, I stopped her. Instead, urging her head to my knee so I could run my fingers through her hair and continue watching the couple until they came.

Appreciative of her submission, I suggested, “Maybe we can use the new set of Florentine floggers.”

“On stage?” she asked, her tone more than hopeful—almost desperate.

“Of course,” I agreed anyway.

Emily didn’t hide her desire to be seen—especially with me. She liked being attached, and I’d started at the club as an unattainable island. As much as her eagerness to flaunt our relationship raised warning flags, it was better than a connection she could imagine growing in a private room with just the two of us. A crowd limited any perceived intimacy.

“How’s your godfather doing?”

My hand stalled in her hair.

Her question interrupted my respite from reality and struck a nerve.

Relax. There’s nothing wrong with small talk. Remember your manners, my father’s voice resounded from an old memory.

No. Nothing wrong with small talk. However, the familiarity of the question revealed her desire to know more beyond the club. A minimal connection formed around the required trust when you fucked and played with someone as much as we had. But I couldn’t help but wonder if the connection was becoming too close on her end.

Maybe it was time to find someone else to play with, because I didn’t do connections beyond the necessary. But I could make that decision later. Tonight, I pushed aside my worry and kept my answer simple. “He’s fine. Unchanged.”

“That’s good. I’ve heard how progressive cancer can be.”

Especially pancreatic cancer. Especially when he waited too long to go see a doctor and discovered it at stage four.

“Hmm,” I said, hoping to end the conversation there.

Unfortunately, she didn’t pick up on my cues and crossed a line I didn’t know I had. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep the promise you made to him?”

So subtle. So innocuous.

The soft question came as easily as the others, but this one coiled around my muscles and jerked tight. “Excuse me?”

Despite my even, measured tone, she heard the tension and hesitated. “The, um, one about getting married before he passes.”

Before the last word slipped from her pink lips, I tightened my fist in her hair and jerked her head back off my knee. I stared down into blue eyes so wide they looked like oceans of water swallowing her face. Fear briefly swirled in their depths—barely there—before morphing into pools of desire. Emily liked being handled—she liked toeing the edge of consent and fear. Otherwise, no matter how angry, I’d never control her this way.

“And who told you this?” I asked, dangerously low.

“I, um, I—” her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “I heard Corbin talking about it last week.”

I tsked. “You know I don’t like gossip, Emily.”

“Of course. I just assumed it was true since you’re friends with Corbin,” she explained in a rush, her voice breathy and needy. “I would never spread gossip.”

“So, does that mean you’ve been spreading this information since you assumed it wasn’t gossip?”

“No. Of course not. I would never divulge such personal details.”

I tightened my fist and held her gaze a moment longer. She hissed a breath of pleasure, and I knew I could hold her there for as long as I liked.

But I needed a moment to collect myself. Alone.

“Good girl.” I released my grip and gently scraped my fingers through her strands, soothing her stinging scalp. “Now go get me another drink.”

Her eyes grew heavy under the weight of my praise. “Yes, Sir,” she sighed. She basked in the relieving pleasure for ten more seconds before rising elegantly to her feet.

I watched the sway of her ass for ten steps before looking elsewhere—especially when I started comparing it to another ass that I more than enjoyed watching walk away earlier. A man walked into the room, and I turned to find just the man I was looking for. I gestured Corbin over with a scowl.

“What has you looking so dark and ominous?” The question was ironic, coming from a man who looked just as dark and ominous as I did. Although, he held an air of joviality—probably from being with a woman almost half his age and running an erotic club together. “No one gets to look that pissy here—not with a playground of fantasy spread out around you.”

“I can look as pissy as I want when I find out that you’ve been talking about me.”

His easy smile never wavered. “Oh, yeah? And what have I been saying? Hopefully, no one overheard how in love with you I am.”

“Hah,” I barked. “More like someone overheard you discussing the promise I made when I was young and stupid.”

“Oooooh, that one,” he recalled. “Yeah, that might have come up when I was talking with Rose last week. I assumed no one was around to overhear.”

“Well, someone was,” I muttered.

“Is that someone a blonde you’ve been playing with for a while?” he asked knowingly.

“Yup,” I answered, putting all of my annoyance in the pop of the p.

“And what did she say to increase the dark shadow looming over you more than usual?”

With a curled lip and narrowed eyes, I made sure he saw my irritation over his false concern. “Nothing specific. She merely asked about it, but I can only imagine what thoughts that information has placed in her head.”

Corbin had known me for years. We’d run into each other at business conferences and became closer once he took part in shaping The Berkshire into the adult playground it was today.

“She’s probably just curious more than anything,” he explained away. After years of friendship, he knew all about my darkest corners and jaded beliefs.

He also knew about the promise I made to my godfather when he bailed me out. I’d been young and na?ve and in need of help after a woman took everything from me. He’d offered me the salvation I needed—as long as I promised to marry before he died. At the time, I’d agreed easily because he was barely fifty and healthy. I had years before thinking about marrying someone again.

But now, he had cancer, and he was dying. Now, the deadline on my promise loomed closer than ever, hanging over my head like a noose.

“Or she wants more out of our casual play sessions. I can imagine her thinking it’s a way for her to wedge her way into my life outside of the club.” I shuddered at the vision of Emily wrapping a rope around my neck and pulling me in.

“Maybe,” Corbin said with a shrug. “Or maybe not.”

I offered a noncommittal grunt because when it came down to it, no matter who I found to fill the void to accomplish my promise, I wouldn’t be suckered like last time. “Either way, maybe use a little more discretion.”

Before Corbin could respond, Emily reappeared with a drink carefully balanced in hand and a sultry smile in place.

“Will do,” he assured, nodding to me and Emily before making his exit.

With only the slightest slip in her sexy aura, she laid the glass on the table and knelt back at my feet, waiting to rest her head on my knees like before. “I’m sorry for bringing anything up, Sir,” she said with downcast eyes.

Part of me wanted to turn her away, start over with another woman completely. Another part of me was tired and just wanted to forget the weight on my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I muttered, taking the easier path—at least for tonight. With my decision made, I fisted her hair again and leaned close. “Now, let’s put that mouth to something a bit more useful. Make me come.”

Doubt fled, leaving behind need, want, and the desire to please expanding her pupils until they swallowed the blue. “Yes, Sir.”

I forgot my promise. I forgot my fear of the woman at my knees pushing for more. I forgot everything beyond the pleasure.

Except—maybe—I didn’t quite forget earlier.

Maybe, instead of a blonde head over my lap—there was a dark one.