Entertaining Distraction: Doms of The Covenant Book Two

by Samantha Cole

  Jenn was finishing up her third year of college, majoring in Social Work. She had the smarts and personality for a career helping others. “Grandpa Chuck and Grandma Marie always made sure their kids knew how to earn a living, and my parents had the same philosophy.” Chuck and Marie Sawyer were Mike’s brother Jake’s future in-laws, as he was engaged to their youngest son, Nick. Jake also worked for Nick’s brothers, Ian and Devon, after serving in the Navy SEALs with them. Chuck was a self-made, real estate billionaire, while his wife was a skilled plastic surgeon who often traveled to foreign countries with the organization Operation Smile. The couple considered Jenn their granddaughter. “Nothing worth having is handed to you on a silver platter, as Grandpa Chuck always says. I have a trust fund with the money from my parents’ life insurance policies and the sale of the house in Virginia, but that’s for my college tuition and maybe a house someday. And it wouldn’t have felt right sponging off Uncle Ian—he’s already done so much for me. Working here also took my mind off my parents’ deaths when I first moved to Tampa. I love everyone that works at Donovan’s, and it’s going to be hard to say goodbye, but I can’t pass up the social work internship. I’ll actually be in Kayla’s office, so it’ll be fun.”

  Kayla London and her wife, Roxy, were friends of the Sawyers and members of The Covenant, a BDSM club the brothers also owned. Jake was a member of the club too, something Mike never quite understood. His younger sibling had gotten into the lifestyle in his teens. At first, Mike had thought it was a gay thing, but now he knew better. However, he still didn’t get it. Gone were his thoughts that it harbored abusive behavior, but he couldn’t figure out why Jake and the others were—wired, he supposed the word was—differently. As long as no one was harmed, he guessed, then to each their own.

  Mike leaned back in the desk chair in his small office at the back of the pub and smiled at Jenn as she stood in the doorway. “Well, we loved having you work here and everyone will miss you too, but you better stop in as often as possible. Are you staying for Charlotte’s birthday party after your shift?”

  Jenn shook her head. “No, I’ve got a term paper due on Wednesday and another on Friday. Thanks again for everything, Mike. I’ll help train whoever you get to replace me.” She had given him three weeks’ notice, so that was plenty of time to hire and train someone new.

  A ding sounded in the kitchen, signaling an order up, and Jenn glanced over her shoulder. “That’s probably mine.”

  “Go—I’ve got someone coming in to interview for Mario’s position. Let me know when he gets here.”

  “Okay.”

  As she hurried toward the kitchen, Mike turned back to the resume in front of him. The night-time sous chef had up and quit without warning, so Mike was scrambling to fill the position before the weekend rolled around again. His daytime sous chef was covering both shifts for the overtime, but he wasn’t going to be able to do that for long. The applicant coming in for the interview had been on a list of ex-felons who’d done their time and were looking for jobs. It was a local program to help them integrate back into society, and Mike had hired two other reformed felons to work in the kitchen in the past. One was still there after three years, while the other hadn’t worked out, but, after batting .500, Mike was willing to give someone else a shot. Jose Perez had apparently been assigned to the prison kitchen and learned a lot about food preparation during his two-year sentence for auto theft. From what the career organizer had told Mike, the guy had a fiancée and kid and had gotten involved with a chop-shop to provide for them. It was an all too common scenario for high school dropouts with no skills for work that was legal—they turned to a life of crime just to have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. It could be a risk hiring an ex-con, but Mike was a firm believer that most people deserved a second chance after they’d screwed up big time. He was a prime example.

  Back when he was attending the local community college, his younger brother Jake had been the big man on campus at their high school. The starting quarterback for the football team and straight-A student, Jake had colleges throwing all sorts of incentives at him to get him to sign with them. Meanwhile, Mike had been a B-student with no outstanding skills, who didn’t excel in any sport, so he ended up being second best in his father’s eyes. His destiny had been to eventually take over Donovan’s Pub, the business his father and grandfather before him had owned. But a huge part of him had been extremely jealous of his younger brother back then. A shelf above the bar had been filled with sport trophies Jake had won throughout his junior and senior high school years, in more than just football, and Mike had hated every single one of them. So when he’d accidentally found out seventeen-year-old Jake was gay, he did the worst thing he’d ever done in his life—he told their bigoted father. At first, Sean Donovan had called his eldest son a liar, but then he’d stormed out of the house and headed for the adult video and toy store where Mike had seen Jake kissing another guy before going inside. What Mike hadn’t known at the time was in the basement of the store was an underground BDSM club. When Jake and his boyfriend, Max, had come back out two hours later, Sean followed Max home where he’d beaten the living shit out of the guy, putting him in the hospital. The elder Donovan then returned home and tried to beat the gay out of his son. That night had altered Jake’s future in a way Mike had never expected, and he’d regretted telling the old man from the moment the words had come out of his mouth. After recovering from the assault, Jake graduated two months later, threw his full-ride to Rutgers University in his father’s face, and joined the Navy, all on the same afternoon. The next day, all those trophies disappeared from the shelf in Donovan’s. Mike had found them in a box in the back of the pub’s overcrowded store room years later, after his father had died and he’d taken over the business.

  Despite not knowing Mike had been responsible for their father finding out Jake was gay, the younger Donovan had distanced himself from his brother. Occasionally, he’d come home for the holidays, but mainly to see their mother. If he’d spoken more than a dozen words to their father for the rest of the old man’s life, that would be a stretch. When Jake moved back to Tampa with his teammates a few years ago, he and Mike began to see each other almost every week, but there was still a huge gap between them. Mike had finally come clean to his brother when he realized what had happened all those years ago was negatively affecting Jake’s relationship with Nick, thinking Jake would never want to speak to him again after his confession. As it turned out, instead of driving them further apart, it had brought them closer together, a fact Mike would always be grateful for. Shortly after, he pulled out the box of trophies and added them to a display case he’d put near the hostess stand, which was filled with the ones the pub’s softball team had won over the past six years since he’d sponsored them.

  A knock on the door had him glancing up to see Jenn standing there again. “Your interview is here. I told him to have a seat in the party room. He seems like a nice guy, just a little nervous.”

  Mike stood and grinned. “Thanks, Ms. Social Worker.”

  She chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”

  2

  “Happy birthday, Mistress China,” the women chorused, while toasting her with their assorted alcoholic beverages.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and lifted her glass of wine. “Thank you, ladies. Now let’s forget it’s my birthday and pretend it’s a girls’ night out.”

  “Nope,” Shelby Christiansen responded. “Not until you open your presents and cut the cake.” She pointed to the erotic confection that Fancy Evans had spent the day making at her bakery. She’d really done an amazing job, and Charlotte wondered if she’d used Brody’s cock, abs, and hips as a model. She knew Fancy’s husband/Dom was well-endowed, having seen him exposed at The Covenant, the elite, BDSM club they both belonged to, on more than one occasion.

  Despite not wanting a cake to begin with, Charlotte couldn’t help but smirk. “It’ll be a pleasure taking a knife to the guy’s manh
ood. After all, I am a sadist.” Well, not really, but she wouldn’t tell any of the submissives that.

  Laughter and hoots filled the private party room at the back of Donovan’s Pub. Mike Donovan’s younger brother, Jake, was a Dominant and Whip Master along with Charlotte at the club, but the two men didn’t share the same need to be in the lifestyle.

  “Open the presents first,” Kristen Sawyer demanded with a giggle. Since having her baby a few months ago, the submissive had only had a few occasions to drink alcohol, so only a couple of sips into her second margarita, she was already giddy. In fact, the only ones not drinking any alcoholic beverages and feeling the effects were Kristen’s sister-in-law, Angie Sawyer, and Fancy, who were both pregnant, but still having a grand time. Thankfully, everyone else had made arrangements for safe transportation when the party was over.

  Kayla London handed Charlotte a flat box that looked like it was from a clothing store, but knowing the exuberant submissive and her wife/Domme Roxanne, it was doubtful it’d come from Macy’s or Nordstrom’s, whatever it was. “Open ours first!”

  Glancing at Roxy, who was smirking, Charlotte shook her head. “This should be good.” Ripping the paper from the box, she opened it and barked out a laugh. “Look out, subbies, Mistress China has a new whip!” She pulled out the hot pink, braided, leather whip and held it up for everyone to see. The women roared and cackled at the sight. “Is this the color I’m supposed to match when I’m whipping someone’s ass?”

  “I bet Matthew will want you to use that on him!” Abigail Turner hooted. “You know pink is his favorite color.” Matthew was a gay submissive who was among the masochists at the club who liked to be serviced by one of the Whip Masters every week or two.

  Charlotte continued to open the rest of the gifts. Some were funny gags, while others had been thoughtful and sentimental. By the time she was done, everyone was laughing and having a great time. It was fun to see them all in a different setting from the club occasionally, all letting their hair down and not having to follow protocol. There were several Dommes at The Covenant, but Charlotte was only close to a few of them. She’d bonded with many of the submissives, however, finding herself being a bit of a mother hen toward them at times. It was part of her natural instincts which made her a dominant in the lifestyle. She’d discovered the wonderful world of BDSM during her senior year in college, ironically through a guy she’d been dating who’d recognized her Domme qualities. They’d only been on their third date when he’d confessed he liked to be dominated by women in the bedroom. At first, Charlotte had been shocked, but having an open mind, she listened to him describe the lifestyle and what he got out of it. Their next date had been to a local munch, where those interested in BDSM could meet with like-minded people and experienced Doms and subs. From the moment she’d walked into the place she’d felt she’d found where she belonged. While things had eventually ended between her and her first submissive, Charlotte had practiced the lifestyle ever since. She’d gone through every class offered in several clubs she’d belonged to, and still took the occasional one to brush up on her skills. The last thing she’d ever want to do was inadvertently hurt a submissive—it would kill her if she did.

  As the evening wore on, Charlotte relaxed more and was finally able to enjoy the fact she’d turned another year older. The conversations in the room were also growing louder and raunchier as the alcohol flowed. The sound of the women roaring with laughter drew the attention of a few people in the main bar. And, of course, a couple of swaggering jackasses had to poke their heads into the party room. Three barely-out-of-college-aged men strolled in after eyeballing the room full of women dressed to the nines. Charlotte rolled her eyes. Here it comes.

  “Hey, sexy ladies, mind if we join you?”

  The laughter died down as Charlotte stood. In stocking feet she was five feet three, but in her four-inch heels, she at least came up to the shoulder of the brown-haired ogler who had spoken. “Actually, we do. This is a private party, so if you don’t mind . . .”

  The kid smirked. “Aw, don’t be that way, sweetheart.”

  His dimples had a small smile starting to spread across her face, but then the jerk had to put his hand on her, running it up her bare arm. And that just pissed her off. One of the reasons she preferred the BDSM lifestyle was no one touched her without her permission.

  She shoved his arm away and gave him her best Domme glare. “I’ll be any way I want, jackass. Now, take your two friends and leave.”

  The kid had balls or a lack of brains. Either way, he reached out to touch her again. Charlotte was fully aware of how quiet the room had gotten, but she wasn’t worried. Even though it was full of women, mostly submissives, none of them were shrinking violets, at least they weren’t in her eyes. She sensed someone else stand behind her and knew instinctively it was the other Domme in the room, Roxanne London—pediatrician and a fellow Whip Master at The Covenant. While gentle with her patients, the tall, auburn-haired doctor was a force to be reckoned with when it came to protecting submissives.

  Before the asshole could touch her again, Charlotte grabbed his wrist and twisted, shoving him against the wall, face first, with a thud. She lifted his hand behind his back until he went up on his toes and cried out in pain. His two buddies must have stepped forward to help him because a sudden crack split the air. Without looking, she knew Mistress Roxy had the new, pink bullwhip in her hand and had snapped a warning over their heads, freezing them in place.

  “Uh-uh-uh, gentlemen. Stay right where you are. I missed on purpose—the next time I won’t.”

  Charlotte almost chuckled because she knew Roxy’s wife, Kayla, loved when her Mistress went into full-protection mode and would be announcing she was horny as hell after this. But Charlotte had to deal with this asshole first. She hiked his arm a little higher, eliciting another yelp. “I tried to be nice, and you ignored my request, which was fine—you were trying to be cute. But then you had to put your paws on me without my permission, and that doesn’t fly with me, little boy.”

  “What the hell?” The roared question had come from Mike Donovan as he strode in with two bouncers on his heels. “Charlotte, are you okay?”

  With a final shove, she released the asshole, who spun around and growled at her. Due to her training, Charlotte immediately took a defensive stance, ready to kick the guy’s ass. But before he could unleash his anger, Mike grabbed him by his arm and the back of his neck. “You’re out of here.” He thrust the drunk toward the bouncers, then pointed at the two other intoxicated men. “You idiots are gone, too. Don’t let me see your faces until you learn to respect women. I don’t tolerate this shit in my bar.”

  While the threesome was escorted out the door and through the main-room crowd, Mike turned to face the group of women. “Everyone, okay?”

  Of course, it was Kayla who spoke first. “Yup! We didn’t even need Ninja-girl to step in to help. Roxy and China took care of everything. Swoon! Damn, I’m horny now!”

  The room filled with riotous laughter as the waitress brought in another pitcher of margaritas. Ninja-girl was the nickname Kristen had earned during her first visit to The Covenant when she’d started dating one of the owners, Devon, who was now her husband. She’d interrupted two submissives bullying a third, Colleen Helm, in the locker room and had kicked their butts. Colleen had been grateful and, now that she was working for Trident Security as the office manager, she knew how to handle herself and was paying it forward whenever she saw someone being bullied.

  Mike grinned at the group of women he’d gotten to know quite well over the past two years, then eyed Charlotte. “Gotta love a woman who kicks ass.”

  Crossing her arms, she stared at him with the commanding look she usually reserved for the submissives at the club, and the men and women on probation with the law who had to check in with her every month. To her surprise, Mike’s smile fell, and so did his gaze—not to her chest, hips, or legs like most men, but to her feet. Well, hell. Who would have g
uessed? Master Jake’s handsome, older brother is a sexual submissive.

  While Mike Donovan didn’t have his brother’s movie-star-worthy looks, he was still handsome in his own right. His hair was a lighter brown than Jake’s, and instead of startling green eyes, his were hazel with a touch of amber. He stood six-foot even, five inches shorter than his younger brother, and although he wasn’t as lean, his physique was toned enough to be admired.

  Charlotte knew Jake and Mike hadn’t been close for years, but that had changed recently. They’d grown even closer over the past few months since Jake had moved back to Tampa. Apparently, Mike had taken his sibling up on an offer to work out at Trident’s gym and training facilities with him. Charlotte hadn’t realized until now that the slight beer belly the older Donovan brother used to sport was almost completely gone and his arms, shoulders, and chest were leaner and more defined. All in all, a very tempting package, especially since he was exuding a submissiveness she hadn’t noticed before now. Was he aware of it? Well, that was the question burning through Charlotte’s mind at the moment, and she was looking forward to discovering the answer.

  * * *

  Sitting at the bar, Mike sifted through the receipts, tallying up the credit charges for the evening. The cash was already in a deposit bag, which he’d drop into the slot of the TD Bank that was in the same shopping center as the pub. All of his employees had finished cleaning their work areas and restocked before leaving, and the only person left was one of the bartenders, Neil Patterson. And he was just about done putting everything away after the last stragglers had paid their tabs and left. The kitchen had been closed for over an hour, and most of the TVs and lights had been turned off.