Black Light_Roulette Redux

by Livia Grant

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes, dark curls falling across her forehead. “Seriously, Della. Seriously. You’re gonna need a little something to help take the edge off.”

  I took another measured sip of water and eyed her coldly. “I have no edge.”

  Her peals of laughter startled some people sitting nearby. I narrowed my eyes at her and she still didn’t stop.

  “Oh, I hope you do get the badass sadist,” I clipped. “And I hope he spanks you long and hard.”

  She snorted, wiping at her eyes, but her laughter honestly hurt a little. Yes, I was a neat freak. Yes, I liked everything in my life—from my house, to my car, to my job, to my relationships—neat and tidy. It kept me sane to hold onto control, to be prepared and organized. But I’d agreed to go with her tonight. I’d agreed to live a little for fuck’s sake, to explore some of my fantasies.

  “You write the most well-read column in the entire D.C. area and that’s saying something, Della,” Angelina argued. “And you write about sex. Need I remind you that your article on allowing women to explore their sexual fantasies as a necessary step to promote the advancement of feminist ideals won the World Association Free Press award? Girl, that went viral.”

  She had a point.

  It hurt that she had to laugh at who she knew I was.

  Angelina glanced at her phone and pushed to her feet, tossing a few bills on the table before I could stop her. “Let’s go, Della. Thirty minutes to show time.”

  “Aren’t you going to calculate the—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Go.”

  I stood, and my belly felt as if it dropped straight out from under me.

  I couldn’t do this.

  It seemed Angelina had anticipated this, though. “Uh uh. No way, no how. I know that look on your face.”

  “What look?” I snapped, yanking my hand away, but she grabbed it right back.

  “The look that says, ‘This isn’t practical, or safe, or controllable, therefore, I will not partake’,” she said in one breath, ushering me out of the coffee shop and onto the main road that took us to the club. “I knew you’d hit that point eventually, and I took steps to make sure you couldn’t take off.”

  What?

  “What do you mean ‘you took steps’?”

  She had the nerve to respond with a mascara-laden wink.

  “Angelina!”

  “Della,” she mimicked.

  I suddenly noticed the tiny clutch I carried felt far too light. “Angelina,” I said with forced patience. “Where did you put my keys?”

  “Not telling!” she crooned, leading me to the door of a psychic shop. “You won’t be able to go home until the night is over. And when it is, you’ll thank me.” She winked once more before opening the door.

  Brayden

  I eyed everyone in the room as they came in, wondering which ones were participants in tonight’s spin of the wheel. As they stepped up to the bar for drinks, most flashed membership cards under the black light showing membership to pay, and I saw one flash a tattoo. A permanent member.

  Tonight, I’d agreed to be paired with a woman I’d never met.

  I didn’t know what she’d look like or how she’d behave, what her expectations or hard limits would be, but I was ready. I stood beside the bar, feet planted apart, arms crossed as I went over my hard limits.

  Pet play. Medical play. Age play.

  There was a certain pattern.

  Game rules would be on my terms.

  I scanned the room once more. Glasses of pink and green gleamed under the black light above as drinks were poured and couples around me mingled. On the stage, the wheels stood, waiting to determine the fate of every participant.

  I needed a good match. It’d been way too long since I’d scened.

  “You good?” Maxim came up to me and tipped a bottle to his lips. This was his second year playing Roulette, but he’d landed on his feet like a cat the first time.

  I grunted. “Yeah, I’m good.” I looked across the room from where the bar stood, and took in one of the spanking benches. “Looks like some sturdy benches.”

  He snorted. “Ought to be. They hold up to some serious shit. Nothing like what you have at your place, though, man.” Maxim had been to my house. He’d first seen my playroom by accident, but I was glad now he had. He’d given me shit for the tools and toys, but it was because he’d seen my playroom that he’d introduced me to Black Light

  As member after member filtered in through the doors, ordering drinks, mingling with the crowd, Maxim replied, “No shortage of playmates tonight, bro.” He clapped me on the back and took off.

  And that was what tonight was about.

  Play.

  I wasn’t here to find some chick I’d share my future with. I wanted an attachment-free night of kink and fucking and only hoped I’d be paired with someone who’d take what I had to give. I needed a girl with masochism in her blood. My cock tightened at the thought of what the wheel could bring. I swallowed hard and stood tall. My future date could be looking at me right now.

  And then I saw her.

  Della Fucking Peterson.

  She’d cut her hair and dyed it, but still had the same slender, near-perfect form, stiff as a fucking diving board. If there was any doubt as to who she was, I had none now as I recognized her bestie Angelina standing next to her.

  I huffed in derision. Della probably came to get a story for her fucking column, and the chances of her actually playing Roulette were slim to none. I couldn’t imagine a chick who color-coordinated her panties and ironed her jeans would ever be able to give up control enough for a night of chance. No. Fucking. Way.

  I turned to the bar, ordered a whiskey neat, and threw it back in two large gulps. The bartender rose one brow at me, and I handed him the empty glass with a quick shake of my head. Just one of the two I was allowed for now, enough to shove the memories that assaulted me away again.

  Della, standing under the trellis in her parents’ backyard, as I slid the golden band around her finger.

  I closed my eyes, willing the memories to stop.

  We were fucking kids. I’d hardly even known how to balance my checking account, never mind raise a family. We only got engaged because I’d knocked her up in a bonehead move that would haunt me for life. One month later, she’d miscarried. We decided we’d push through. Her parents pushed her to call it off, but she wouldn’t. We went through with the wedding. Six months later, she’d packed her bags and moved back in with her parents.

  Biggest mistake of my fucking life.

  And now, here she was, sauntering back into my life.

  No. Not into my life. It wasn’t life or death. If by some fucked up chance we ended up paired together, I could walk out. I didn’t have to stay.

  There were other clubs.

  A buzz of anticipation rippled through the crowd as the emcees made their way to the stage which held the two large wheels. Maxim raised his hand to catch my attention, and beckoned for me to join him at the left side of the stage.

  It was time.

  The chances of me getting Della, if she was even here to participate instead of gawk, were miniscule, I told myself.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Maxim growled in my ear. “You look like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off.”

  “Ex-fucking-wife walked in,” I growled back at him.

  “Oh, Jesus. The Ice Queen herself?”

  “The very same.”

  “Dude, you don’t have to stay.”

  I shook my head.

  Forget getting laid. Maybe I’d get her, and maybe I’d be lucky enough to get a kink that would give me the chance to torture her bitchy little ass.

  Or maybe karma was a bitch, and she was standing right in front of me.

  Fuck me.

  The first set of pairings finished without drama, and the rest of the Doms were welcomed onto the stage. I took a number in hand and fingered it, looking across the room at Della, waiti
ng for the moment when she’d realize I was one of the dominants up on stage. I watched her. I’d be staring at her when she recognized me, gain the upper hand while I still could.

  She sipped the drink in her hand, standing next to Angelina, who was making eyes at a dominant on the right corner of the stage. She bit her lip as she looked from one man to the next. My gaze followed hers, past the muscled guy on the end, past the older one beside him, halting at a man with sleek black hair in a short queue at the nape of his neck, a thin mustache reminding me of a cartoon-like villain. I’d seen him before. The man favored a cat-o-nine tails and humiliation.

  Sudden, unexpected rage surged through me.

  That son of a bitch won’t touch Della. She’d crumple. She couldn’t take a guy who—

  I blinked and drew in a ragged breath, stopping myself mid-thought.

  Motherfucker.

  Where had that idea come from?

  I could not get all protective over the bitch, like some kinda lovesick teenaged puppy dog. No. Fucking. Way.

  My eyes flew back to hers at the moment hers met mine. Recognition flared in her gaze, then fury. She paled and wavered, gripping Angelina’s arm. The two bent their heads and whispered, and despite the fact that one of the subs slid to the floor in a dead faint, when neither nor Della seemed to even notice, it didn’t take a PhD to understand I was the subject of their conversation.

  As the first ball dropped on the wheel, then clattered and rolled, I became dimly aware of the first couple being paired as I stared the girls down. Della wouldn’t look at me, turning her body away from the stage, but Angelina gripped her arm. They had a hissed conversation. I heard none of it. Angelina’s eyes narrowed on me, and even then, under the full force of her hatred, I admired her loyalty to her friend. In her mind, I’d fucked over her bestie and was, therefore, a son of a bitch worthy of her undying hatred.

  The second pairing followed during our stare-down, then the third and fourth, and still, Della stood with Angelina, but at the fifth roll, an enormous bear of a dom hooked a finger to Angelina.

  “Sex Kitten,” Chase said with a smirk. “Follow your dominant.” Della’s jaw dropped and Angelina looked from me, to the man waiting for her, back to Della. She froze. Her dominant’s jaw clenched.

  “Sex kitten,” he said. “I can make you scream, or I can make you purr. Get your sweet ass over here before I have to fetch you.”

  Della gestured for her to go, and shook her head at Angelina’s protestations, as if to say, “No, go, I’ll be fine. I can handle him.”

  The hell she could.

  Kinks were named, couples paired off, and nervous laughter and talk filled the room.

  After the sixth spin of the wheel, Della still stood.

  “Brayden.”

  I stepped toward the wheel as if on auto-pilot and on cue, tossed the ball I’d been handed. It scattered and rolled, falling onto a name I couldn’t read.

  “Baby07,” Chase read.

  “No.” My head snapped over to where Angelina stood by the big guy. He grabbed her by the arm and smacked her ass hard.

  “Stay out of it,” he growled. My jaw clenched.

  Baby07? She’d fucking called herself baby?

  Letting out a ragged breath, I turned to face my ex-wife.

  Chapter 2

  Della

  Fuck.

  My.

  Life.

  Plied with tequila the night Angelina convinced me to sign up for Black Light Roulette, I’d put in my name, giggling. Baby.

  In a moment of weakness, I’d thought how nice it would be to hear someone call me baby once more. But now… standing in front of the boy I once knew, it seemed a mockery.

  Boy?

  Jesus.

  He wasn’t a boy anymore. Gone was the rounded baby face of his youth, the almost-chubby frame, and in its place stood a man.

  He had the same strong, firm jaw, dark hair almost too long to be proper, the same warm, piercing brown eyes below thick brows that now glared at me. Glared, like I’d run over his puppy or stolen money from his mother.

  Tall. Strong. Muscled.

  Fuck. Me.

  What the hell had he done with himself?

  I felt suddenly small and weak compared to the monster of a man who stood near me. The fact that he looked so angry made me want to punch his likely washboard abs.

  “Baby,” he mocked. “C’mere. Seems we’re partnered up for the night.”

  With the eyes of those around me following me, I would not, could not back down, but when I climbed the steps to the stage and drew close… so close I could smell his familiar musk that still, even now, made me want to drop my panties for the asshole, I almost lost my bravado. He grabbed my clammy hand in his large, warm, calloused one and pulled me to stand next to him. “Hardly any fucking privacy in this place,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “But we get our kinks, and you and I are gonna have a talk. You got me?”

  “Nice to see you, too, Brayden,” I quipped.

  His grip tightened. “In here? You’ll call me Master, sweetheart.”

  What?

  My audible outrage was drowned in the sound of the emcee’s voice rising. My hands shook. This was where we’d get our kinks. But what did it matter? I wasn’t going to stay. I was so fucking out of here as soon as I could take my leave without notice. The woman handed me a white ball, and I automatically tossed it in the kink wheel.

  “Pet play.”

  “Hard limit,” both Brayden and I said in fucking unison.

  Just great. Now we were thinking the same. It had been six years since I’d set my eyes on him. We had no connection. Zero. Zilch!

  The male emcee’s brows rose and he gave a quick nod. “Both hard limits. Seems you two are well matched.”

  Brayden snorted. I felt my cheeks flush as the ball landed on a slot I couldn’t see.

  “Role play.”

  Brayden looked at me. “Not a hard limit?”

  I shook my head.

  “I could have fun with that.”

  “Whatever.”

  He acted immediately, tugging me so close my body brushed up against his. With his mouth up to my ear he hissed, “You’re my submissive tonight, Baby. I suggest you watch your tone of voice. You’ll defer to me with respect, or I’ll make good use of one of those benches in the middle of the room.”

  I pretended to scratch my forehead with my middle finger, effectively flipping him off, but he merely narrowed his eyes with a look of smug satisfaction.

  Shit. Maybe playing with fire was a bad idea. I cleared my throat.

  “Yes, Master. Whatever you say, Master. I hear and obey.”

  Two could play at sarcasm.

  His nostrils flared and his lips thinned as he looked past me to the woman at the wheel. “Emma, give her the ball again, please. We’ll spin three activities while we’re here so we don’t need to come back up to the stage later.”

  Since I’d witnessed another dom requesting the same thing, I wasn’t surprised when Emma held out the ball again. Taking it without a word, I watched as the second ball dropped.

  Even though it had been way too long since I’d been with a guy, this was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, like going into a grocery store with a wad of cash and an empty stomach. I hated him. Hated him. I wanted to hurt him. And yet, being near him again, my body betrayed me. Instead of cold apathy, I felt turned on, which made me so angry I threw the ball into the wheel again, barely hearing the next line.

  “Sybian orgasm torture.”

  “Hard limit,” I said, glad I’d entered that on my application. Chase would know, but I wanted to repeat it for Brayden’s benefit.

  If I was gonna spend the night with him, he would make me come.

  He chuckled low, and for a moment I wondered if he could read my mind.

  Bastard.

  I grew dizzy with fury, my cheeks aflame as for the fourth time, I dropped the ball to pick another kink. “Whipping.”

&nb
sp; Brayden’s lips quirked up ever so slightly at the edges.

  Bastard.

  “You sure about that? You’ve never been on the receiving end of a whipping from me, Baby. Damn, the opportunities lost…”

  The way he said ‘baby’ made me want to throat punch him. Despite the fact that my stupid, stupid body responded, the low husky way he talked about whipping me made my belly dip and my breasts swell. Oh, God.

  “Fine, Brayden,” I hissed, furious at him for making me horny.

  He clucked his tongue and shook his head, mocking in a sing-song voice, “Baby’s cruisin’ for a bruisin’. Gonna get tied up and whipped thoroughly and fucked senseless.” He shook his head and said with a sigh, “Should’ve maybe done this a long time ago.”

  I glared.

  “And the last one?” Brayden asked.

  A third roll, and I held my breath.

  “Bondage.”

  Brayden muttered under his breath with dripping sarcasm, “Great, just what she needs, to be tied up a little tighter.”

  “Fuck you,” I hissed.

  Brayden clucked his tongue. “And that, Baby, just earned you your first punishment.”

  Chapter 3

  Brayden

  I really was riding her pretty fucking hard, but I liked knowing I was making her squirm. She’d been a royal bitch to me when we were first married, and I was pissed my night was ruined because of her. I could’ve left, and I knew that. But I was also too damn proud to be the first one to cave.

  I wouldn’t be too heavy-handed with her. As we walked in silence to the costume shop, I took her in.

  Age became her. The cheeks that were once hollow and thin had filled out a bit, as had her figure. The lighter blonde hair suited her. She was poised, her head erect, her shoulders held straight and narrow. Gone was the girl easily cowed in her teenaged years.

  I wondered if she still did everything her parents expected.

  And as I thought about her parents, I remembered… it had wrecked her losing our baby. I’d held her while she wept, and wiped away her tears, my own hidden in the shower or when I ran alone in the morning. It had been scary, and exciting, then devastating in such a short time, and we were only kids.