by Livia Grant
And, boom, career dead. Money train over. Back to waiting tables.
Rubbing at her forehead, McKenna knew that was what she actually should have told Adam, but there was no guarantee he’d even listen to her. If anything, he was more likely to accuse her of threatening his job and then he’d try to shift the target from his back to hers — and fuck that all the way through.
Another buzz and she glanced down at the latest text: Maybe I’ll talk to one of the LGBT orgs about representation in media. Try to get an interview or something. You think that would help?
“Why me?” she whispered to herself, hating that for some unknown reason Adam had latched onto her as his new faux BFF on set. Everyone knew how mercurial he was, and there was every chance he could hate her next week, but she had to figure out how to keep the peace tonight. Especially since her Uber was moving steadily forward in the long drive of cars leading up to Runway and she’d be without her phone in a matter of minutes.
Thank God.
McKenna chewed at her bottom lip before stopping herself with a groan, rolling her eyes up toward the roof of the car. Now she probably had lipstick on her damn teeth, which was not the kind of first impression she wanted to make for this Roulette thing. It was supposed to be the hottest event at Black Light all year, and although she’d only joined a few months back, she’d jumped at the opportunity to participate in something that guaranteed her a night of play.
Roulette was what she needed to be thinking about right now, not Adam’s insecurity issues.
Giving him a new target was pretty much the only solution for the evening, and she just had to hope that Lauren would forgive her as she tapped out the text as quickly as possible: That could be good for your image, you should ask your agent about it, or talk to Lauren about how she came out. She’d have some good tips.
“Enjoy your night,” the driver said, breaking her concentration just as a valet opened her door.
“Oh, thanks. You too,” she replied, flashing a smile as she fumbled with her purse and phone on the way out the door. Graceful as ever, she clipped her phone shutting the damn door and heard the stomach-sinking smack of a thousand dollars’ worth of plastic and glass hitting the concrete. “Fuck!”
“I got it, miss.” The valet stepped forward to scoop it up, and all McKenna could do was sigh when she saw the crack starbursting out from the corner of her phone.
“God dammit,” she groaned, offering a forced smile to the valet as she accepted it. “Thanks.”
“Sorry about your phone,” he said with an empathetic wince, before rushing over to the next car in line.
There was another text from Adam waiting, but it was just more questions she didn’t have time to answer. Tapping out a reply on the broken screen was frustrating, but she managed to get the gist of it across: At a club, just dropped my phone and broke it. FML ttyl.
Ending the text with a pissed off emoji that didn’t begin to capture how McKenna was feeling, she wrapped her coat tight and walked up the steps to the Runway entrance. There was a huge line, but with both the main club and the secret one downstairs having big events for Valentine’s, she wasn’t surprised.
Checking the time at the top of the screen, she was glad she’d at least have time to grab a drink and chill out before the Roulette event started. Of course, getting her ass spanked was what she really needed after the week she’d had, and for once she wouldn’t have to flirt with a bunch of random guys before she found one willing to give her what she needed.
Nope, for once tonight was a guarantee, and she’d been looking forward to it since the day she got the Roulette confirmation email. A warm ass, maybe an orgasm, and she’d be ready to face the set of the show again when Wednesday came around.
Fuck, Lauren!
Swiping back into her text messages, she was halfway through warning Lauren about Adam’s current freak out when her phone closed the message on its own. She tapped the icon again to reopen it… but nothing happened. McKenna’s stomach sank as she frantically tapped random apps, waiting for something to open, only to have the screen suddenly turn black.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she whined, ignoring the look from the bitch in front of her as she held down the power button and silently prayed that the damn thing would magically turn back on.
It didn’t.
Not even after she tried holding down all of the buttons in random combinations trying to force a restart.
“No, no, no, come on…” she mumbled, pleading with the device, but it didn’t show any mercy.
This was a nightmare. Her connection to the world, with all of her pictures from home, and everything else that made living in L.A. tolerable, was now nothing more than a skinny brick of too expensive, and completely dead, technology.
“Fuck. My. Life.” Her headache was even worse now, and when the girl turned around again, she just stared her down, waiting to see if she’d pull something, but the bleached blonde cunt didn’t dare.
When it was finally her turn to pass through security, she didn’t even care when the man reminded her of the phone rule, but she did pluck out her lipstick, her credit card case, and the bottle of Advil she’d tossed in her purse before handing it over to him. When she tucked the items into her pockets, the security guy eyed her coat and she sighed. “You saw me put my phone in my purse.”
“Gotta do my job. You wanna check the coat with us?” he asked. Rolling her eyes, McKenna opened it for him, revealing the low-cut corset and black pleated skirt that barely covered her ass.
“Think I’m hiding anything?” she snarked, and he chuckled.
“Not in that outfit, but I’m going to have to check your coat pockets. You okay with that or want me to get one of the female staff?”
“It’s fine.” Closing it, she stepped to the side of the security desk to let him rummage around in the pockets, and a moment later he waved her through.
“Have a good night,” he said as a couple stepped up to take her place.
“You too,” she called over her shoulder. Ignoring the bumping music from Runway’s dance floor, McKenna looped back to the main foyer and headed for the stairs down to Black Light’s secret entrance.
Dimitri was on door duty again and as usual he was hot, tall, and broad-chested. Definitely her type, but she’d never seen him playing inside. Still, the way he smiled at her when she showed her membership card was just the kind of ego-boost she needed with how fucked-up her evening had been so far.
“You participating tonight or here to watch?” he asked, shrugging a shoulder as he returned her card and clicked off the blacklight in his hand. “Just curious.”
“I’m a participant.”
“Damn…” His smile turned into a grin as he opened the door for her. “Lucky guy. You have fun, okay?”
“Thanks, I will,” McKenna replied, a blush burning her cheeks as she stepped inside, soaking in the atmosphere of the hidden club while the door whispered shut behind her.
Nothing compares to this.
Coming to Black Light always gave her a thrill. It was like there was electricity in the air and it made her skin hum with a heady mix of anticipation and excitement. For the first time since she’d woken up that day, she felt like she could breathe easier because her stress relief was only an hour or so away. The outside world couldn’t touch her here. Not Adam’s bullshit, or the stress of set, or her agent’s pushy calls, or the negotiations for season three.
Here she was just a submissive and everything was… simple.
Heading straight to the women’s locker room, she stopped at a sink to toss back three ibuprofen for her headache. Checking her makeup, she looked herself over and quickly fixed her lipstick. Luckily, everything else looked exactly like it had when she’d left her house.
She’d done her best to accentuate her eyes with a navy eyeliner to make the blue pop, but there was a reason she was always cast as the friend and not the lead. There was nothing special about her features, she wasn’t A-lis
ter beautiful, and even using all the make-up techniques she’d learned on set couldn’t change that.
No, the only thing that made her special was her hair.
It was red. Actually red.
Not from a bottle or a stylist and — as her agent liked to remind her — her hair was her money maker. Being a natural redhead had landed her most of her parts, and it was the thing she liked most about herself… especially since it was often the only thing anyone complimented. She just wished her nose was a little smaller, or her lips a little fuller. Something to make her really stand out from a crowd.
Stop it, McKenna. Stop second-guessing yourself. You look good.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her coat and draped her hair over her shoulders, turning from side to side in front of the mirror to double-check it. She’d put a light curl into it, leaving it loose and wavy over her shoulders, and the crimson accents in her corset only made her hair more vibrant.
Sure, she could be in better shape, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying, and on some level, she knew she looked good. It would just be nice if her brain agreed with her for once.
“I look beautiful. I’m meant to be here. This is my chance to shine,” she whispered under her breath, repeating what her mom always made her say before an audition. Not that her mom had ever imagined she’d be using that little mantra at a place like Black Light — but why change what works?
The door to the locker room opened and McKenna quickly turned away from the mirror, repeating the words in her mind as she picked a locker and hung up her coat. Grabbing her card case from the pocket, she ducked her head to avoid the pair of women chatting by the sinks and headed to the bar where a steady crowd was forming, all buzzing with energy.
Heads turned as she walked toward one of the bartenders, and she forced a slow, even breath. The outfit was sexy, and the corset was custom, hugging every curve she had while giving her smaller chest a nice boost. So, even if the guy she ended up with tonight was a dud, she’d definitely attract the attention of some potential doms in the crowd, so participating would pay off one way or another.
“Vodka cranberry, please.” McKenna offered her membership card when the main bartender, Susie, paused in front of her and flashed a knowing smile.
“Yeah, yeah,” Susie called over the noise. “You only get two tonight, though!”
“I know.” Sighing, she turned to look over the crowd, curiosity tugging at her with every man she saw that didn’t have a woman on his arm. Who will I get paired with? It was tempting to guess, or imagine what kink they might spin, but Tyler had been brutally honest with her when he’d suggested she sign up.
There was no cheating the system for Valentine Roulette.
She could get paired with any of the doms and they could spin any activity not on her very short limits list… and the only way out of it was to call the club safe word and lose the free month. It was risky, but Black Light wasn’t cheap, and a free month was too good to pass up even with the scary list of possible activities.
When McKenna was filling out the application, some of the items on that list had her tingling with interest, while others had her crossing her legs with concern — and it was the items she hadn’t put on her limits list that made her even more anxious than who would be doing those things to her.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” Susie chimed, sliding her drink onto the bar alongside her card. “You ready for tonight?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of nice to have some guaranteed fun on Valentine’s, right?” she joked, but Susie’s barked laugh quickly took the humor out of it.
“You weren’t here for the event last year, were you?”
“No… why?” McKenna asked, feeling that nervous energy tickle up her spine again.
“Roulette is intense as fuck, honey. Way wilder than any night you’ve ever played here, and you’re not going to get a Daddy who wants to just put you over his knee and spank you tonight. Those aren’t the kind of doms that sign up for Roulette. This is for the… more adventurous ones.” Susie shook her head, still chuckling under her breath as she nudged the drink forward with a wink. “I think you should go ahead and drink this. Get some color back in those cheeks before you head to the stage.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, and it was an entirely mechanical action to bring the glass to her lips and take the first swallow. Susie disappeared, going to help someone else, and McKenna was barely aware of the ice-cold vodka until it exploded in her stomach — but she wasn’t thinking about the drink right now.
Nope.
She was squarely back in her apartment the night she’d signed up, remembering every strange thing on the list of kinks that had made her nervous. Hell, she couldn’t even remember which ones she’d finally settled on. When she was filling it out, some part of her had naively believed that if she really didn’t want to do something during Roulette that the dom would swing it so she could be comfortable.
But with Tyler’s warnings ringing in her head, along with the way Susie laughed… fuck.
Downing the rest of her drink, McKenna raised her hand to get Susie’s attention again. The grinning bartender with the pixie cut nodded at her, coming over a few seconds later to lean on the bar top in front of her. “You planning to bolt?”
“No way. Backing down from a challenge means you never grow,” she answered, once again quoting her mom in a context that she surely never meant for it to apply. “I will take that second drink though.”
“Already? You sure?” Susie asked, picking up the glass, her brows pulling together in sincere concern. “You’re pretty tiny.”
“Yeah, I drink a lot more than that at cast parties. I’ll be fine, I promise.” McKenna took a steadying breath and straightened her back. “I just need a little liquid courage to remind me that whatever I spin tonight, or whoever I get paired with, I can handle it.”
“That’s the spirit, sweetheart. I’ll get you another, but then I’m flagging your card as cut off for the night, so don’t try and get some more courage later.” The smile on Susie’s face softened the comment, but there was a serious edge to it, and part of McKenna was tempted to cancel the order just so she had the option for another courage boost later in the night… but she definitely needed it now.
Before she went into the theater to find out exactly how much trouble she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter 3
Landon
The theater was too hot, but he didn’t expect any different with how many people were packed into the seats. Unfortunately, the lights on the stage were only making it worse, and all he wanted to do was take his suit jacket off while Madison was talking, but it wouldn’t be much longer until he could get comfortable again.
This whole Roulette thing had looked a lot different from his seat in the audience last year, but Landon didn’t give a shit about the people staring. They’d see a whole lot more of him before the night was over, and at least then he wouldn’t be bathed in stage lights.
Not that he had anything to be worried about, he was one of the more muscular guys who’d signed up and he knew he looked good naked. He just didn’t want to sweat through his shirt, and have it stained when he took it off.
“Now, it’s time to find out which of our doms for the evening will meet their submissive first!” Madison called out, and he looked over at her again.
Game on.
When the perky little blonde moved toward the row of dominants, he pushed all discomfort to the back of his mind and focused on the popsicle sticks in her hand. Someone nearby seemed irritated by what number they’d drawn, but when Landon pulled lucky number seven, he couldn’t suppress the grin. His jersey was forty-seven, and he took it as a sign that the universe was planning to give him a good night.
Now, I just need to know which sub is mine.
Madison called the first dom over to the roulette wheels a moment later, and Landon felt a little jealous that he was in jeans. While they’d been waiting, he’d sized a few of the ot
her guys up, and while another of the dominants was in a suit — and his suit was definitely a lot more expensive — this wasn’t a competition on clothes. They’d all get a submissive to play with tonight, and suits weren’t exactly his thing anyway.
Hell, if he hadn’t just had his suit dry cleaned after the team banquet, he probably would have shown up in jeans and a button-down like the dom at the wheel, and he still would have looked damn good.
Ignoring the girl that climbed the stage to get paired off, Landon let his gaze drift over all the women waiting at the bottom of the steps. Some were dressed like they were going to a party, but a few looked like they actually meant to show up at a BDSM club tonight. Those were the ones that he zeroed in on. He wasn’t interested in some timid sub that would safe word the first time he pushed her, he wanted someone ready to play hard.
Well… hello, Red.
He wasn’t sure if it was the corset that gave her some very nice cleavage, or the vibrant shock of red hair that drew his eye, but once he saw the little submissive, he had trouble convincing his eyes to check out the other ones. Her attention was focused squarely on the spins happening center stage, but Landon didn’t give a fuck what any of the other pairs spun. All that would matter is what name he got, and what kink that submissive picked for them.
Well, she wouldn’t actually pick it. The whole attraction of the event was the sheer chance of it, but it would still be her hand that selected how they’d spend the first thirty minutes.
Running his fingers over the well-worn belt around his waist, he wondered if the redhead would be the kind of sub that cried and squirmed from the first swat… or if she’d be the kind that whined while begging for more.
Not that fantasizing about her bent over or on her knees was helping.
Landon yanked his eyes from the redheaded sub and tried to focus on the spins happening center stage. Just thinking about her bent over in that little pleated skirt was waking his dick up, and the last thing he needed was a hard-on in front of the entire audience.