The Dungeon Fantasy Club

by Anya Summers

  "McGinnis residence." Her mother's voice lilted through the phone, saving Veronica from a dangerous train of thought that was more like being on an endless merry-go-round.

  "Hi, Ma. Is Colin still up?" She prayed she hadn't missed him before he went to bed.

  "Yes, he's been asking about you. Missing you something fierce this trip."

  Guilt swamped her for even thinking about herself and her problems. As much as he was her world, she sometimes forgot she was his, too. They were a unit; the two of them against the world. While she may not have had anyone there to share the burdens, she'd also had all the joys.

  "Mama." Colin's wee voice quavered a bit, as though he'd been crying, and her heart just about stopped.

  "What's wrong, baby?" If there was anything amiss, she'd leave the manor as though banshees were chasing after her, and have Declan charter one of his jets for her.

  "Nothing. I just miss you and our bedtime story. It's not the same when Oma does it. She doesn't do all the funny voices."

  "I know it's not, but it's just for a few days. I will be home before you know it, and we'll both have some stories to tell when I get back."

  She breathed a deep sigh of relief that it was nothing major. Lately he'd been really peculiar about her leaving him. Maybe it was because she played both roles in his life. Colin hadn't asked about his father in a while, but she knew he was curious. She'd always deflected the question with a 'when you're older, we'll talk about it' response. Her time was running out, on both ends. She wouldn't be able to keep it a secret for much longer.

  "Wait until I tell you what old man Cameron did at the pub," Colin said.

  "I can't wait to hear that one. Now, mind your Oma. Brush your teeth and go to bed. I will try to call you at some point tomorrow, likely in the morning, so be sure to take your phone with you into the pub."

  "Okay, Mama. I will. I love you."

  "I love you too, to the moon and back. Now get some sleep, and help your Oma out at the pub tomorrow, okay?"

  Veronica ended the call holding her phone to her chest, wishing she could have reached through the phone and hugged him. Her little man was growing up so fast. Lately he'd begun calling himself the man of the house, which at eight, about to turn nine, was precocious. He would be fine at her parents tonight. She'd call in the morning, and if he was still upset, then she would cut the trip short.

  Talking a deep breath, she raided her belongings until she'd located the outfit she wanted to wear at the club that night. As she dressed, she kept glancing at her phone, wondering if there was something more she should do for her son. There was never an easy answer. Sometimes a little separation was good for both of them. Colin would be fine with his grandparents, and she repeated the litany in her brain. This wasn't the first time she'd left him with them for a few days. She was entitled to a day off here and there.

  But as she contemplated whether or not to tell Hunter about Colin, his little voice had reminded her that he was still just a boy. In her heart, she didn't believe he was capable of handling all the celebrity that went with being Hunter's son. There would be reporters and photographers hounding him day in and out to snap his image, just because of his parentage. How could she subject him to that type of madness? He was just a boy, who deserved to have as normal a childhood as any.

  Growing up was tough enough as it was, without having the press hound your every move. She watched other Hollywood celebrities, and saw what they had to do to provide their children with some sort of a semblance of a normal life. It was no life for a child. That she was certain of—hell, some of the adults didn't handle it well.

  There was no way she'd put her child through that. As much as she should tell Hunter about their son, she just couldn't do that to Colin, not yet. Maybe when he was older and more capable of handling the pressure and responsibility that came with it, she would. Was it unfair of her to have kept Hunter in the dark all these years, sure.

  But Veronica's only allegiance was to the safety and wellbeing of her child. In her view, the limelight was no place for her child. And she understood that she risked Colin hating her later on down the road, when he did learn the truth. But if it meant he had a normal, happy childhood, it was a risk she had to take.

  So she'd continue the charade. Hunter would be gone and back to his life in a few days, anyhow. She just had to make it through the wedding and then she'd be home free.

  For a time, anyway. Her little man, already a heartbreaker in primary school, would have someone near him connect the dots. Memories were long in her little town. Someone would end up remembering Hunter's visit and putting two and two together. While Colin may have inherited her red hair and fighting spirit, his eyes and face were all Hunter. But she still had time before that awful occurrence arrived—or so she hoped.

  There was no easy solution to her problem other than avoiding Hunter altogether. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one that seemed feasible.

  That meant not caring that Hunter's touch had all but incinerated her bones. She couldn't allow him back in to her life. For Colin's sake, and for her own, she had to be strong. She slipped into some killer black stilettos and left her room. Veronica had one destination and purpose tonight. Find a Dom who could take her out of her problem-filled world for a time, and maybe give her an orgasm or two.

  She took the back elevator on the fourth floor to gain access to the club. Her cousin had sent out an email with rather detailed instructions for the next few days. The entrance to the back elevator looked, for all intents and purposes, like a maid's closet with a key code entry. The door opened to a service elevator entrance that took one directly to the club, and let you out near the outer entrance, which was currently closed to outsiders.

  Veronica still didn't know how Declan managed to keep the club secret after all these years. However, she was supremely thankful for its existence. She found Sherry at the bar, serving drinks to a group of Doms wearing leather pants, their badass muscles on display. They looked worthy of a closer inspection, and confidence was apparent in their relaxed countenances as she climbed onto one of the empty stools.

  Sherry flashed a friendly grin as she set a trio of lagers in front of the beefcake. "Don't tell me! Let me see if I can remember. Manhattan, dirty?"

  "Yep, and don't forget the olives."

  The music pumped some Flogging Molly tune from the hidden speakers. It been far too long since Veronica had had a night with no responsibilities other than enjoying herself. She really needed to take time off more.

  "Here you go. You're looking a little rough around the edges. Bad day?" That was not the look Veronica was going for with her get up. It was not a good sign if she looked so rattled that Sherry noticed. It meant Hunter surely had thought the same thing during dinner. She wanted to thunk her head against the bar but restrained herself, barely.

  Veronica wanted to feel like an attractive, sexy woman tonight. Not a mommy with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  "You have no idea." She took that first sip, more like gulp, and sighed. Somehow she kept herself from downing it in one fell swoop. Veronica rarely drank, and there were rules against getting inebriated at the club. And she wanted to find a Dom to play with tonight, not end it praying to the porcelain commode. Besides, if she were intent on getting hammered, she'd break out the whisky.

  Taking another sip, Veronica glanced at the club offerings. Fewer people than she'd prefer, but she couldn't complain once she took a long glance down the bar and realized that the Doms sitting on the stools, all badass in their alpha confidence, were members of the Harbingers. Her internal submissive wanted to break into cheers at the delectable offerings. There were unattached Doms here for the weekend, and they were hopefully not looking to get attached. Veronica relaxed her shoulders, flashed her unadorned cuffs in their direction, and hoped one of them would take the bait.

  In fact, as she glanced down the bar as Jared placed a beer on the counter, she spied Collum assessing her with
an interested glint in his dark eyes as he zeroed in on her cuffs and saw that she was available. He was a handsome one, with a rakish smile, close-cropped, dirty blond hair, and a face that made her want to sigh. He toasted her with his beer and a half-smile played on his full lips.

  Oh, thank the heavens, her prayers had been answered. She'd play with a Dom tonight. Then she could head home tomorrow if she needed to. Veronica had her hand ready to hoist her drink, give Collum the all ahead go signal, when Sherry interrupted her.

  "Don't look now, but Mister Hollywood himself just entered the club," Sherry said, exuberant as a teenage girl about to see her high school crush. Sherry was all but jumping up and down in her palpable excitement.

  Shite!

  Veronica's hope for a pleasurable night deflated faster than a hot air balloon with no heat. Her hand shook as she set her Manhattan back on the bar. What the hell was he doing here? He wasn't a member, was he? How did she not know this?

  "I didn't know that Hunter was a club member. He's not mentioned in the directory." It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to sound bothered by this fact.

  Sherry cast a bemused glance her way. "He's one of the original members and founders, hon. Declan, Jared, and Tyler started it, but then brought Hunter in, and then Tobias, and so on."

  "But how did I not know he was a member?"

  "It's kept real quiet. Something about Hunter not wanting it to go near the press. Even with this being a private club, there was a stipulation that his name not be on anything, just in case."

  Veronica felt ill. The mild interest stirred by Collum was dashed, along with her hopes of having one night to herself where she could forget about all her problems. Instead of much-needed release, in walked her biggest problem of them all.

  She chided herself as she swiveled on her bar stool. She needed to see his presence in her world with her own eyes, and spied him standing cockily in the arena, talking to Tobias. Hunter was a Dom. Decked out in leather, his alpha male presence, the inherent dominance that was an integral part of his personality, rippled off him.

  How had she never known back then? There had been signs, sure, the way he'd always been in command of their lovemaking, but knowing he was a Dom in the surest sense of the word did funny things to Veronica's belly. Was it any wonder he had always been the one man who made her insides quiver into putty?

  He spied her at the bar a millisecond later. That emerald gazed honed in on her appearance and all but stripped her naked on the spot. Veronica's leopard print halter, which was really nothing more than an embellished bra and left her midriff bare, suddenly didn't seem nearly as good an idea as it had in her room. She had added a matching, barely there skirt, and thigh-high black stockings with her black stilettos.

  The smile that spread across his lips when he spied the unadorned black cuffs about her wrists caused her heart to flutter and drop into her belly. As part of club rules, any unattached sub was fair game for the Doms. He would have to get her consent, of course, but he could also make it so that none of the others even looked her way.

  If her legs would have worked, she would have slid off the bar stool and escaped back up to her room. As it was, seeing him here in her space, his marvelous chest bare, and knowing how he'd been able to render her senseless at twenty-five when he was now thirty-five, with the easy gait of a Master skilled in the lifestyle, she was frozen to the spot. He was simply irresistible, and had kissed her brainless mere hours ago. Hunter said something to Tobias and then prowled over to her. Self-assurance powered his strides, his long legs eating up the distance between them. She couldn't have moved if she had tried. He was easily the most handsome man in the room as he stalked toward her, his gaze caressing the length of her form. He knew what lay beneath. Hell, he'd been her first everything when it came to men. Why did this one man above all others have the ability to melt her insides like butter in a microwave?

  "This certainly is a surprise, kitten. How long have you been part of the lifestyle?"

  The endearment stirred her at her very core as he crowded her body with his on the bar stool. His essence overwhelmed her, with his bare chest on display and within touching distance. She'd been pressed up against that impressive, rock solid mass already once today. The urge to stroke her hands over his chest battled with her self-preservation instincts. He'd grown even more handsome in the past ten years, damn him, with a maturity that hadn't been present a decade ago.

  Veronica stared, perplexed. Combatting her need to rein in her hormones, she tried to quash what she yearned for with such startling intensity—which entailed caressing and licking every square inch of his bare chest, discovering if he still felt like heaven. She knew without a doubt that Hunter could gratify her craving for physical contact and sexual satisfaction with a single interlude. Clenching her fists to keep herself from giving into to her desires, she tried to steady her raging need before she answered.

  "I asked you a question, kitten." He ran a finger agonizingly slowly along the upper edge of her bra, scarcely grazing the swell of her breast.

  Veronica shivered; his touch scorched her all the way to her soul. A string of fervent moans from one of the scene areas rattled her, brought her back into awareness of her surroundings. He'd always had that type of power with her, the ability to render the rest of the world nonexistent for a time.

  "A few years. You?" Veronica wanted to cheer that her voice hadn't trembled. She deserved one of the gold stars she doled out to Colin when he completed his chores.

  "Same." He considered her, as though she was his very own personal playground. Why wouldn't he leave her alone?

  Maybe because there had always been this connective chemistry that defied all reason between them. Their relationship, at least on her end, had been soul deep. It still was, if she was forthright. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that, with a single simmering glance, he could render her near speechless and cause her internal engines to combust.

  Then he grew even bolder and nudged himself between her thighs on the bar stool. At the suggestive contact, her pussy fluttered as his crotch pressed against her center. Hunter leaned in close, almost enveloping her on the chair with his big body. Her hands lifted in a reflexive, defensive action to put some separation between them, and landed on his naked chest. Heat scorched her palms from the contact, and she fought the very real, very dangerous urge to caress those magnificent pecs covered with a slight dusting of dark golden chest hair.

  "Do a scene with me, Roni."

  Holy hell!

  Lust unlike anything she'd felt for far too long, crashed over her body at his suggestion. She clamped her lips together to hide her groan. That electric, chemical bond of theirs swirled in the very air as need spiked her veins and made her light-headed. Veronica felt her nipples pebble, and her pussy throb and vibrate. Her body was totally on board with what he wanted to do, both to her and with her, as wetness seeped from her sex in her panties. Her body whined, as if it were saying, 'oh, please, what could it hurt? We need this, let him give it to us.'

  However, her brain and heart didn't get the memo and prepared to stage a coup. As the three sides warred, Hunter took her non-reply as a signal to advance. When his teeth grazed her neck and bit down, Veronica's common sense kicked into gear even as her eyes closed at the delicious sensation of his mouth as it sent rivulets of pleasure all along her spine.

  "No," she said, feeling her bones turn softer than McGinnis' twice-baked potatoes under his drugging touch.

  He chuckled darkly. "You sure about that, kitten? Your body says otherwise. See how it arches to my touch."

  And, damn it all, the bloody man was correct. He cupped her breasts through her bra and her back instinctually bowed up, pushing her flesh more firmly into his hands.

  Forgetting where she was and why she was there, his arrogance suddenly infuriated her. How dare he? Just because they had a history did not mean she was open for business. Digging her nails into his chest, she said,
"Back the fuck off me, you daft prick, or would you like me to rip your balls off?"

  Hunter's body went rigid as he reared back, his emerald gaze narrowed. "What did you say to me?"

  "Which part would you like me to repeat for you? The one where I told you to get your damn hands off me, or where I called you a daft prick?"

  "I don't like disrespect, Roni. Ask me again, nicely."

  "Do us both a favor, Hunter, and fuck off. I don't want you. I want you to get your hands off me and leave me alone."

  "That does it. You've earned this discipline, Roni; don't say I didn't warn you."

  "But I…" she sputtered as the full implication of what she'd just done sank in. This was not how a submissive was supposed to act in the DFC.

  "Just back-talked to a Dom. And I'm not the only Dom who heard you." He pulled back and gestured. Sure enough, every Master at the bar, including Jared and the guys from the Harbingers, minus Bastian, all wore stern expressions on their faces at her mistake.

  Shite!

  This was all Hunter's fault. Why the hell couldn't he leave her be? If he'd stayed away, none of this would have happened.

  "Leave me alone, Hunter. I don't give a damn that you're a Dom, or where we are, for that matter. This is all your damn fault. I'll not apologize for that. Why couldn't you just let me be?"

  "That's it."

  Hunter upended her until she was lying face down over the bar stool, with a whompf to her midsection that briefly stole her breath. His big hands secured her wrist cuffs to the stool's legs before she had a chance to recover. And then the prick secured her ankles, as well. Veronica rattled against her restraints with a gurgled screech. Her face flamed as he shoved her skirt up above her hips and pulled her panties down, exposing her ass to everyone at the bar.