Table of Contents
Masked Indulgence: Extended Epilogue
Copyright and Disclaimer
Free Gift
Masked Indulgence
The Naughty One Preview
The Forbidden Sitter Extra
Dirty Little Virgin Extra
A Billionaire’s Treasure
A Billion Dollar Arrangement
The Dark Season: A Christmas Romance
About the author
Masked Indulgence
A Billionaire Holiday Romance
Michelle Love
Contents
Copyright and Disclaimer
Free Gift
Masked Indulgence
Masked Indulgence: Extended Epilogue
The Naughty One Preview
The Forbidden Sitter Extra
Dirty Little Virgin Extra
A Billionaire’s Treasure
A Billion Dollar Arrangement
The Dark Season: A Christmas Romance
About the author
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright and Disclaimer
©Copyright 2017 by Michelle Love - All rights
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Masked Indulgence
A Billionaire Holiday Romance
Part One
Chapter 1
Nixon
Halloween Night
A slight chill took over the night air as my driver pulled up in front of the club I’d directed him to. This was where I’d always come to find a bit of relief. The darker side of me often came out around the most sinful of holidays. The Dom in me wanted a sub to play with for one night. That’s all I dared to allow myself.
I’d trekked up to Portland, Oregon, to get away from my life in Los Angeles, California, for a speck of time. I didn’t dabble in the BDSM realm at home. I saved that for when I came to the club I’d joined when it first opened a few years back. The Dungeon of Decorum was a place I hadn’t often visited, only coming up once, or sometimes twice, a year.
I only liked to play at being a Dominant; I wasn’t the full-time kind. I had never leased a sub or even paid for more than a night’s pleasure. It was just a way for me to blow off steam once in a while, nothing serious.
When I’d received the invitation to the club’s first annual Halloween Ball, I got the itch to have some BDSM fun and made plans to attend what the invitation assured would be a great time.
A red carpet led me from the car I’d hired to the front door of what looked like a shack. On the outside, that’s all anyone saw. On the inside, the stairs took you underground, to where a massive structure housed a large main room, several smaller more intimate rooms, a host of private rooms, and even private suites for long-term stays.
Walking into the main room, I found a giant banner hanging over the crowd who’d gathered to take part in the eerie festivities. Cloaks covered most of the men’s tuxedos, just as mine did. A plain Lone Ranger-style mask hid my identity. The women were the real stars of the night, decked out in all kinds of sexy, sinister attire.
I must’ve looked a bit overwhelmed by the plethora of willing women, as a man nudged my shoulder. “See any who are to your liking?”
With a nod, I answered his question. “Many are to my liking. This is by far the sexiest Halloween party I’ve ever been invited to.”
“Me too,” the man said then chuckled. “But I’m not here to shop for a new sub; I’ve got me a permanent one now.” He reached out to shake my hand. “Dr. Owen Cantrell.”
As I shook his hand, I recalled hearing that name before—then it struck me. “You’re that plastic surgeon to the stars. Or you were before that reality show ended. I believe it was titled Beverly Hills Reconstruction. I’m based out of Los Angeles too. Nixon Slaughter. I own and operate Champlain Services.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Owen said as he nodded. “It’s an environmental agency.”
To say I was proud of my company was too small a word. That company had taken a lot of time to build and to make a name for itself. After years of hard work, I’d accomplished more than I had ever dreamed. We worked worldwide, and the best part was that we were helping the planet and future generations.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I rocked on my feet, pride overflowing inside of me. “So you’ve heard of my little endeavor?”
“Who hasn’t?” he asked with a grin. “I also read something in the L.A. Times about you and a couple of other guys building some new club downtown. An exclusive one much like the select few nightclubs in Los Vegas. When do you suppose that’ll be opening?”
“We’re hoping to have it open for a New Year’s Eve bash. That’s the target date for the grand opening.” I pulled a business card out of the breast pocket of my jacket and handed it to Owen. “Here’s my number. Give me a call, and I’ll set you and a date up for that, on the house.”
He pocketed the card and clapped me on the back. “Cool. We’ll be there. Thanks, man.” He pulled out a card of his own and gave it to me. “And if you know of anyone who needs my services, you give them my number. And let them know if they say you referred them, they’ll get a ten percent discount.”
I put away his card as I said, “Will do, partner.”
A woman with long, silky black hair, wearing a barely-there teddy and a giant mask with peacock feathers, came to Owen’s side. He put his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Allow me to introduce you to the woman who’ll be my date at your grand opening. This is Petra, my wife.”
She extended a long, slender hand and I took it, delivering a kiss to the top of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Petra. I’m Nixon Slaughter. I look forward to seeing you both at my nightclub on New Year’s Eve. You’ll be my honored guests.”
“Oh,” she looked at her husband. “That club, I read about it.” Her dark eyes turned to mine. “Have you come up with a name for it yet? Last I read, you and your partners hadn’t.”
Shaking my head, I shoved my hands back into my pockets. “No, we’re at an impasse. But we’ll come up with something soon—just as soon as we can figure out how to get Gannon Forester to stop shooting down all of our ideas.”
Petra’s eyes l
it up as she said, “How about Club Exclusive? You know, because it’s catering to an exclusive branch of society, the ultra-wealthy?”
“I’ll run it by my partners.” Our attention was then taken by someone who’d gotten to the mic on the main stage.
“Happy Halloween, everybody!” the Master of Ceremonies called out.
Thunderous applause boomed throughout the large room. Owen gave me a nod, and he and his wife moved forward to get closer to the stage. I stood back, watching the crowd move in. I wasn’t too keen on being in the midst of a crowd. I liked to be near an exit most times—it was an odd little quirk of mine. Getting trampled in a panicked frenzy was a bit of a phobia I had.
Thankfully, staying on the fringes of any crowd kept me sane. A waiter came by with a tray of assorted cocktails. I picked up a clear drink that had some cherries floating in it. When I took a little taste, I found it was minty and fresh.
Looking back at the stage, I found four people lining up on it. One man and three women—all wearing red cloaks—were getting into position. Chains fell from the rafters, and more men came onto the stage to string the women up.
Playing with ropes and chains wasn’t a thing I’d ever done. Not that I wouldn’t like to someday, but I just didn’t have the know-how to put all that stuff up in a space. And I couldn’t have a room at home, the way a lot of Doms did. My parents visited from their home in Texas and stayed with me about three or four times a year. They’d usually stay for a week each time, and Mom was a nosy little woman. I’d never get away with having a red room of pain in my place.
Not to mention, Malibu beach houses weren’t quite the place to practice things that had women screaming. The cops would be called, that was a given.
So I was left with dabbling with my little fetish in another place. A few people knew my sinister secret. My partners, and my best friend, Shanna. My partners thought it was badass. Shanna thought it was freakish and that I’d get over it one day and grow the hell up.
Shanna and I had been friends back in our tiny hometown of Pettus, Texas. When I came out to L.A., she got mad at me for leaving her all alone in the boring town. After I’d established myself, I gave in to her pleas and let her come out and live at my place until she was able to stand on her own two feet. A thing she did pretty rapidly. It was when she was living with me that she found out about my little secret.
I’d brought a woman home with me one night during the first week Shanna was there. I’d forgotten she was there, to be honest. I was spanking the woman, and she was moaning—a lot—and begging me to hit her harder. Shanna knocked on the bedroom door and yelled at me to come out and talk to her. Which I did, reluctantly sending the woman home as Shanna berated me for my unforgivable behavior. She told me Fifty Shades sucked and anyone who followed such a mindless plot was a goddamned fool, a thing she knew I wasn’t.
I was expecting another berating and a long sermon to come from her when I returned home from this trip. I’d managed to duck out of town before she could catch me and try to stop me from going to Portland—knowing what I did whenever I traveled there.
“Excuse me, please,” came a soft voice as a woman touched my arm to get me to take a step to one side, allowing her to move into the crowd.
She only made it a few steps in front of me before the outer wall of people stopped her forward progression. Even from behind she was alluring.
Long legs, covered in torn black fishnet stockings, ended in a pair of red heels. A black bodice clung to her curves; her round ass gave way to a dip in her back, displayed by a panel of see-thru black lace splitting the silky material right down the middle.
She wore her hair in a long dark braid that she had pulled over her left shoulder. When she turned around, clearly annoyed that she couldn’t see anything from where she was, her blue eyes met mine.
Lifting my drink to her, I said, “Hey.”
Hey? Really? How lame am I?
Chapter 2
Katana
Although the night had started out badly, I found myself looking into the most gorgeous set of deep green eyes I’d ever seen. The mask he wore did little to hide the fact that the tall, muscular man was handsome. “Hey,” he said to me as he raised his glass.
I needed a drink desperately. A thing he must’ve noticed as my eyes moved from his gaze to his almost full glass. Just then a waiter walked behind him, and he stopped the guy, grabbing me a drink off the full tray.
Handing me a dark drink with a lime wedge hanging on the rim of the clear highball glass, he smiled at me. “Would you care for a drink?”
“I’m dying for one, actually.” I took the drink from him and struggled to be somewhat classy, taking a dainty sip instead of downing it the way I wanted to.
The last week had been hellish. I hadn’t paid attention to my schedule and had set up not two or three deadlines for myself, but ten of them. As a freelance book cover designer, I was self-employed, and that meant I was my own boss, a thing that was new to me. Not experienced in management, things had gotten out of hand. I’d get it down eventually, I knew I would—but the week had taken its toll on me.
One would think going to a BDSM club for a Halloween party would be the last place an overworked woman would want to go. But being able to give my whole self over to someone else was always a relief. So I took the invite sent to me by my friend Blyss. We’d met long ago, when I was just a kid sent to an orphanage after my mother disappeared. Blyss and I were a lot alike. We were both quiet and kept to ourselves. We’d written to one another when I was sent to live with an elderly couple in foster care, and she stayed at the orphanage. We kept in contact just so we both knew there was at least one person in the world who knew we existed.
Blyss had met the man she’d eventually married at this club, and she had encouraged me to check it out by coming to their first annual Halloween Ball. She knew I had little experience in the BDSM world but assured me that didn’t matter. I could just watch things this first time. If someone did ask me to do anything, she told me to let them know about my inexperience.
I’d hoped she and her husband, Troy, would be at the club for the big bash, but he didn’t want to bring her back to the place for some reason. I thought it was odd that he wouldn’t want to come back to a place that had brought them together.
“Do you come here often?” the hunky man asked me, shaking me from my thoughts.
Only then did I realize I hadn’t even said thank you. “Oh, jeez!” I grimaced and felt the plastic of my mask gouge into my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a week. First, let me say thanks for grabbing me a drink. I need copious amounts of alcohol to rid my mind of all the clutter that’s been burning through it for over a week. And second, let me answer your question. No, I don’t come here often. This is my first time.”
When his lips pulled up into one of the best smiles I’d ever seen, I couldn’t help but notice his perfect teeth. “First time, huh? Any experience with this type of thing?”
My body tensed. I wasn’t used to talking about where I’d gotten my experience, limited as it was. “Well, I had this boyfriend when I was nineteen. He liked to spank me. And that turned into a little more, a little bondage.” I hesitated to tell him the rest, as our little playtime hadn’t ended well. I didn’t want him to think I was scared by what had happened. But Blyss had urged me to be truthful with any man I might consider doing anything with, so I went on, “In the end, the BDSM thing turned into just plain physical abuse, coupled with mental abuse. It ended when he went to jail for beating the hell out of me and leaving me with a broken arm and jaw.”
“Damn.” His one-word answer had me looking down. I knew he felt sorry for me and probably thought of me as damaged goods. His fingers touched my chin, pulling my face up. I saw the concern in his green eyes. “Are you okay now?”
I nodded. “That was a few years ago. I got over it,” I told him.
And I had, for the most part. The only remnant from that horrible time in my
life was a nightmare sneaking up on me every now and then, telling me I still had a little damage leftover from the brute.
“You can call me Mr. S. What should I call you?” He shifted his weight as he looked me over.
“Katana,” I said, as I hadn’t thought of an alternate name for myself. Blyss hadn’t told me about doing that. “Katana Reeves.”
“Nice to meet you, Katana Reeves.” He jerked his head to one side. “I’m not into crowds. You wanna join me in one of the smaller rooms? We can watch a scene together.”
After a nod, he took me by the hand and off we went, leaving the large room behind us. A step behind him, I took the opportunity to chug my drink while he couldn’t see me. I needed to take the edge off, and quickly.
As he pushed open a door, I heard horrible groans and saw a woman all tied up and bent over some kind of a table. Hushed whispers were heard as a handful of people watched what seemed to be a brutal scene.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bar and pulled at my hand to get Mr. S to let me go. He stopped and turned to look at me, seeing the empty glass in my hand. He smiled at me, and we headed to the bar first. “What would you like, Katana?”
“Bourbon and Coke, please.” I already felt like he was taking care of me, and it felt awesome—exactly what I needed after my hectic week.
“A double shot of Michter’s Celebration and Coke for the lady and some of the same for me, straight on the rocks.” He set his half-full glass on the bar, and I placed my empty one next to his. His dark green eyes moved to my lips. “I like that black lipstick you’ve got on. Shame it’s going to get all messed up later.”
Masked Indulgence: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (Nightclub Sins Book 2) Page 1