The Virgin Madam (Dark Star Doms Book 5)

by Ivy Barrett

  Dark Star Doms 5: The Virgin Madam

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  The Virgin Madam © 2017 Ivy Barrett

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  Electronic book Publication, April 2017

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Ivy Barrett.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Author’s Note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Dark Star Doms 5: The Virgin Madam

  Ivy Barrett

  After inheriting a wildly popular sex club from her estranged mother, Tamara is forced to reexamine her priorities. She must now manage a vast fortune, her newly awakened hunger for uninhibited pleasure, and her mother’s deadly enemies. Seeing no other option, and running for her life, she seeks refuge with Jericho James, a man nearly as notorious as her mother.

  Jericho is fascinated by the passionate promise smoldering beneath Tamara’s stubborn reserve. He longs to strip away her defenses and help the spirited virgin explore each new longing, but first they must discover who is trying to kill her and determine if her mystic abilities have anything to do with the villain’s plot. Danger heightens desire. If they can stay alive long enough to enjoy the ride.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter One

  Halley Prime

  Thankful for the relative protection of his desk, Jericho James watched the erotic contortionists move into their next enticing position. All three were naked, their young bodies toned to perfection. The woman arched into a dramatic backbend, offering her mouth and up-thrust breasts to one of the men and her shaved pussy to the other. After only a moment in this position, the man in her pussy pulled out. She pushed off as her other partner lifted then gracefully did the splits. The men supported her upside down, allowing her to move freely from one cock to the other. Meanwhile one man licked her pussy while the other tongued her ass.

  “As you can see, they are quite inventive.”

  Jericho reluctantly dragged his gaze away from the performers and looked at their manager. With its simulators and themed playgrounds the Fantasy Forum provided a place where people escaped reality. He’d always avoided live sex acts, feeling they deterred from the surreal atmosphere he tried so hard to create.

  Signaling the team to continue, the manager explained, “They can keep things simple or perform one of their more exotic routines.”

  Before Jericho could state his preference, they set the woman down and both men made a show of lubing their cocks. The woman bent over, grasping her ankles as she centered her head between her legs, literally bending her body in half. Then the taller of the two men positioned his cock against her anus and slowly drove in as he lowered his hands to the floor. As soon as his body enveloped hers, the smaller man climbed on top. With the same dramatic movements, he positioned his cock against the larger man’s anus and gradually entered him. Once he was solidly anchored, the smaller man spread his arms and raised his chin, completing the pose with a dramatic flourish.

  “This is called the anal tower,” the manager said with a coaxing smile. “Would you like to see—”

  “Enough.” Jericho waved them away. “I need to think about it.”

  The performers disentangled, leaving both men with painful-looking hard-ons. Jericho shifted his legs beneath the desk, trying to make more room for his own massive erection. No one could deny their act was stimulating.

  “Is there anything else we can do to persuade you?” The female performer threw him her best come-hither smile as she skimmed her hand over one perky breast then downward, guiding his attention to her bare cleft. “Performing at the Forum would be a dream come true.”

  His gaze snapped back to her flushed face. “They might utilize a casting couch at the Dark Star. I deal in credits, not sexual favors.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” One of her partners helped her into a silk robe as she rushed on. “We really need this job.”

  Jericho ignored her pleading eyes and turned back to the manager. “I can see the appeal, and the act is unique. I’m just not sure it’s right for the Forum.” A repetitive beeping preempted the manager’s reply. Jericho pivoted toward the companel with an annoyed glower and responded to the audio page. “I told you not to interrupt.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. James.” Ranyn sounded appropriately contrite and his decision to activate audio only indicated his attempt to protect Jericho’s privacy. Still, no interruptions meant no interruptions. “The lady is quite insistent. I told her she’d have to wait, but she’s growing more belligerent by the minute.”

  All three performers now wore matching robes, and the manager watched him silently. “Does ‘the lady’ have a name?”

  “She claims to be Professor Tamara Owens, recently arrived from d’Arrest.”

  Confused yet curious, Jericho pushed back from his desk and stood, adjusting the fall of his pants. “I have your contact information,” he assured the manager. “I’ll be in touch.” Tamara was part of the privileged élite, the pampered citizens who never admitted to associations with people like him. So why was she here? The troop filed out of his office as he said, “Send her in.”

  Tamara rushed past the last performer, forcing the man to turn sideways to avoid a collision. Light brown hair had been pulled away from her face and secured with an oversized barrette. Her smooth skin appeared pale while bright-red patches stained the crests of her hollow cheeks. Though her chocolate-brown pantsuit was well tailored, it was also wrinkled, as if she’d just tumbled out of bed.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, Mr. James. I honestly didn’t know where else to turn.”

  He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk as he returned to his seat. “What can I do for you?”

  After a brief pause, she accepted his offer and sat. She placed her purse on the floor near her feet and folded her hands in her lap. “I think someone is trying to kill me.”

  Despite the absurdity of her claim, he managed not to smile. “What brought you to that conclusion?” Last time he’d seen Tamara, she’d been perfectly pressed and presentable, despite the conflict surrounding her. Not a speck of lint on her clothes, not a hair out of place. And her prim and proper image had fueled his school teacher fantasies for months after she’d returned to d’Arrest. It was almost refreshing to see her rattled, to know genuine emotions existed beneath that reserve.

  Long lashes shadowed her gaze for a moment then she looked into his eyes. Her irises were a rich, true violet. Not the garish lavender so popular with the cosmetically enhanced, but a rich combination of purple and blue.

  “Yesterday I was summoned to the dean’s office and informed that I had a choice. I could sell the Dark Star and publically renounce any association with Petra or I could resign.”

  Tamara was a history professor at the most
prestigious university in the Comet Coalition. Reputation was everything to people like her. This couldn’t have come as much of a surprise, or at least it shouldn’t have. “You never really knew your mother, and I presume you have no interest in managing a sex club, so why would you refuse?” He folded his hands on the desktop, watching the flush across her cheeks darken. She was beautiful, like a museum piece was beautiful, cold, refined, meant to be admired but never touched.

  “I don’t like ultimatums.” Spirit flashed in her gaze, hinting at a stubbornness he’d yet to witness firsthand. It would be so much fun to cultivate that spark, to watch it smolder and burn. “I was told my mother died when I was five, but I never believed the story. I knew in my heart of hearts that she was out there, watching over me.”

  He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Only someone who had never known Petra could describe her in those terms. “You make her sound angelic. Trust me. She was a ruthless businesswoman who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.”

  “That’s not the point. One of the files I received upon my mother’s passing was a database of her regular customers. Dean Wilson and several of the board members were listed in the file.”

  Now that was interesting. Was Tamara more like her mother than she realized? Petra wouldn’t have hesitated to use such information to her advantage. “Did you mention this fact to Dean Wilson?”

  “No. I was too angry to say much of anything. I was told to give up my birthright and publically brand my mother a whore or lose my job.”

  Petra had never been bothered by labels such as madam or whore. She hadn’t given a damn what anyone thought about her. And she’d died violently, friendless and bitter. “Do you want to follow in your mother’s footsteps? She ran the most lurid sex club on Halley Prime. That’s not a respectable occupation by anyone’s definition.”

  Scooting to the edge of her chair, she pulled her purse into her lap and reached inside. “The ultimatum is only where the fun began. I listened to the dean without losing my temper or saying something I couldn’t take back. I was proud of myself and was even considering the option when the next sucker punch flew.”

  She placed a full-color print on his desk, offering no explanation.

  Jericho picked it up and studied the image. A woman with light brown hair straddled the lap of one man while another pressed in close behind her. Her head was turned sharply to the right as she sucked a third man’s cock. He looked at Tamara then back at the picture. The woman’s features were identical. But images were simple to manipulate. Across the back of the picture a message had been scrawled—Are you ready to play?

  He hadn’t known Tamara long, but she certainly didn’t seem like the type of woman to indulge in something so hedonistic. “I take it the picture is a fake.”

  “Of course it’s a fake.” She sounded angry not embarrassed, which intrigued Jericho all the more. He’d never seen her like this, all fight and fire, ready to take on the world. “But it’s damn convincing. They even included a mole and my birthmark,” she pointed out the discolorations, “which means at some point this cretin has seen me naked. And there’s a website, of course. There’s always a website.”

  She looked into his eyes and awareness pulsed between them, warm and electric, needing only the slightest encouragement to ignite. He was a jaded bastard to even entertain a sexual thought while she was this upset, but the image formed nonetheless. He saw her on her knees before him, naked and bound, thighs open, lips softly parted. Fuck! What was wrong with him? She needed a protector, a friend, not a sexual mentor! He shook away the tantalizing image and frantically searched for a piece of his soul that wasn’t hopelessly corrupted.

  “Where did you find the print?” He handed the picture back to her, mentally beginning a list of suspects. Jealous coworker, jilted lover? This wasn’t a random act. Everything about it was personal, focused.

  “Sitting on my desk for anyone to see. I don’t lock my office. Anything of value is locked in my desk and I’ve never been vandalized before. VinDerley University takes security very seriously.”

  Not as seriously as she claimed or this never would have happened. He still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, but he was moved by her dilemma. Things like this happened all the time among his cohorts and competitors. People made threats and used motivations that were creative and hurtful. But Tamara wasn’t part of his world. She was untainted by the pleasure industry. She was honest and open, trusting even in the face of crisis. The contrast was so refreshing that he was suddenly filled with determination to make sure she stayed that way.

  “What do you think they meant by ‘Are you ready to play?’” he asked.

  “I had no idea until I returned to my house and found the place trashed. They’d smashed furniture and broken windows and spray painted the walls with all sorts of delightful threats. I’ve never felt so violated in my life. The picture was bad enough, but they were in my house, touching my things, lashing out at me for… I don’t know why they’re doing this!” Her voice broke and her lips trembled, but she stubbornly blinked back the tears.

  “Did you call the authorities?”

  “Of course.” She shoved the picture back into her purse and returned it to the floor at her feet. The mundane activity seemed to calm her. When she spoke again, her voice was steady, but an emotional tempest still raged in her expressive eyes. “They went through the motions, but I could tell they didn’t give a damn. As soon as I explained that I was Petra’s daughter and inheriting the Dark Star had been the catalyst for these crimes, they just shut down. Petra was a worthless whore, so her daughter deserved anything that happened to her.”

  “I’m not a big fan of coalition security forces either, but Petra didn’t play well with others. She made a wide range of enemies.”

  “That doesn’t excuse their apathy. I’m a professor, for God’s sake. I did nothing wrong. Don’t I deserve to be taken seriously?”

  Fear flashed through her anger, giving him a glimpse beneath her façade. Despite her composure, she was terrified. She might have inherited Petra’s strength, but she lacked her mother’s street-smart instincts and kill-or-be-killed attitude. The fact that she was here proved how desperate she was. Had she honestly nowhere else to turn? Not one friend or lover who would help in her hour of need?

  He stood and came around the desk. She immediately picked up her purse and stood as well. Okay. Slow down. She was skittish and still on the verge of tears.

  “You can stay here as long as you like. My security is infinitely better than anything found on d’Arrest. You’re safe, Tamara. No one will hurt you here.”

  Her lips trembled and she inched away, positioning her chair between them. “Who hated Petra enough to do this to me? Shouldn’t all scores have been settled when she died?”

  It depended on the score. Some vendettas passed on from generation to generation, but he wasn’t about to point that out to her. “Where are Matt and Serena? Why didn’t you—”

  “I didn’t mean to bother you with my troubles.” She spun toward the door and took one angry step before he caught her arm.

  “It was just a question.” She remained tense and agitated, but she didn’t try to pull away. “Matt was your mother’s best friend. He was the obvious choice to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” Her laugh sounded sharp, almost shrill. “No one has ever been there to protect me! I had the monetary support of a phantom benefactor, but everything I am, everything I have, I’ve scratched and clawed to achieve. No one is going to destroy what I’ve built because of something a stranger did. I never knew Petra! Didn’t even know…”

  Her words trailed away as hard sobs shook her slender body. Jericho drew her toward him slowly, not sure if she would accept his embrace. She hesitated for a moment then melted against him, wrapping her arms around his back as she sobbed against his chest. Her purse dropped to the floor, forgotten as she lost her battle with her raging emotions.

  He stroked her hair and
let her cry. It was obvious she needed the release. She was warm and soft, and her hair smelled of honeysuckle, the light, fresh scent perfect for such a delicate woman. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman who didn’t smell of decadence and sin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered a long time later. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. She snuggled against him—trustingly—her fingers absently stroking his back. And her soft, floral scent tantalized his nose, making him want to bury his face in her hair and breathe in her…innocence? She was no trembling virgin. At least he didn’t think a woman this lovely could make it to adulthood untouched. Or could she? Reading people was part of his job and Tamara seemed genuinely innocent.

  Refusing to be distracted by the tantalizing possibility, he focused on the current situation. She made him feel protective and predatory at the same time. Heat flowed through him, stirring his senses and hardening his cock. Not wanting her to realize he was aroused by her nearness, he eased her back and smiled. “I think you’ve earned a few tears.”

  After wiping her cheeks with the backs of her fingers, she crossed her arms over her chest. Were her nipples hard? Had touching him ignited her imagination and made her want— He stopped himself before he put illicit thoughts in her mind. She’d come to him for protection, not to expand her sexual horizons.

  “Did I interrupt something important? I can come back at a more convenient time.”

  “I was previewing an act I’m thinking of booking for one of my lounges. They were just finishing up when you arrived.” He motioned toward the couch across the room. “Why don’t we sit? I think we’d both be more comfortable.”

  She picked up her purse and crossed to the couch, looking less comfortable with each step she took. “I appreciate the room, but this really isn’t your concern. I shouldn’t have come here. You don’t even know me.”