What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6)

by Maddie Taylor

Despite her arousal, her brows furrowed. He knew exactly what part of his speech bothered her. He dropped his head and caught her mouth in a slow, gentle exploratory kiss. By the time he lifted his head, she was breathless. “Yes, Angie. That was a taste of fair game. Now, answer me. Are we agreed?”

  Her lips were parted and her skin was flushed, but her hazel eyes flashed as the brave woman inside her rose to the challenge. With a nod, she echoed his words huskily, “Yes, we’re agreed.”

  T released her and stepped back. Next, he clapped his hands, rubbing them together eagerly. She jumped the tiniest bit at the unexpected noise. Grinning, he widened his stance and held his arms out in invitation.

  “Okay, little trainee, show me whatcha got.”

  Her mouth fell open, her eyes darting to the door and the empty observation bay before cutting back to him. “Here? Now?”

  “Yeah, come for me.”

  Her brows shot up toward her hair in shock, her hand coming up to rub her left earlobe. A sign of uncertainty, he’d picked up on already. “Wait, what?”

  He rose to his full height, his head tilting slightly. Then he laughed, going beyond a mere chuckle as it burst free of his lungs, involving his whole body and rocking him back on his heels

  “What’s funny?” she demanded.

  T didn’t answer, he couldn’t, bending forward with his hands on his knees and convulsing in a fit of hilarity. Left out of the joke, she crossed her arms and arched an irritated brow.

  “Care to clue me in?”

  “Sorry, but the look on your face—” He stood again, beginning to wind down, although chuckles continued to roll out. After staring at her for a moment with a wide, goofy grin, he bent and swept up the headgear from the mat where he’d dropped it. Settling it on her head, he winked. “I meant come for me as in come at me, in a takedown, darlin’, not strip and spread eagle.”

  “Oh.” She uttered softly, glancing away, her mouth curving into a cute little moue.

  His grin softened. “Ready now? We’ve got two hours to train before our meeting.”

  *****

  Full of pent up frustration, and let’s face it, awe—he was a gorgeous man, but when he laughed, he was stunning—she closed those feelings away and lunged forward. With her foot between his, she bent into a crouch while shoving her shoulder against his hip and wrapping him up with both arms. Her double take down maneuver had never failed against a larger opponent, until now. Hard muscled arms snaked around her as she left her feet. A second later, she felt the mat at her back in the most gentle body slam she’d ever experienced in her years of police work.

  T’s grinning face appeared above her. “Nice try, though a double won’t help when the brute is twice your size, little bit.” He hopped up and with both hands hauled her to her feet.

  He took the same wide stance, his fingers curling in a come and get me motion. “Try again.”

  She didn’t wait, throwing a right. As he blocked it, she swept his opposite leg with her own. Or at least she tried to. He went down with her on top, quickly rolling and pinning her once again to the mat. This time, his legs straddled her hips and his hands caught her wrists immobilizing them beside her head. Another of her best moves had failed miserably.

  Her breath caught as his face loomed above her, caging her body with his own.

  “Leg sweep. Effective, if I didn’t outweigh you by what,” he paused for a slow up and down perusal of her frame, “a buck twenty-five?”

  “Let me up.”

  He moved in closer, his nose almost touching hers. His breath, fresh and sweet like the mint from his toothpaste, brushed her face. Damn, the man was killing her.

  “Fight dirty, Angie. Go for the throat, the eyes, the balls. Don’t worry about hurting me, baby. This is your chance. I’ll get mine tonight.”

  As his meaning hit home, she arched, trying to knock him off balance so she could flip him over, but that too was a waste of energy. “Get off,” she protested with a grunt.

  He rolled away. As he did, she hopped on his back. Her arm wrapped around his throat, her free hand curling, ready to go for an eye. That’s when she made a costly error by not going in for the kill. He was right; she didn’t want to hurt him or truly gouge out his eyes, so she clamped her hand around his jaw trying for a head twist instead. Yet again, he got the upper hand by rolling quickly. As his weight pinned her to the mat and knocked the breath from her lungs, he broke free. Angie found herself for the third time supine, on the padded floor, with him straddling her.

  “Better,” he praised, but still wasn’t satisfied. “Again. Don’t wimp out this time. Go for it.”

  They spent the next hour engaged in hand-to-hand combat, or H2H as he called it, which mostly consisted of Angie horizontal and winded. Despite her total humiliation by the six foot six, two hundred fifty pound mountain that kept pancaking her onto the vinyl, she enjoyed the exertion, his body against hers, his muscles flexing beneath her hands, his face a breath away and his mocha brown eyes gleaming with as much exhilaration as she knew glimmered in her own.

  During their sparring, she also discovered a sexy dimple appeared in his cheek when he smiled from time to time. It was that look which really made her want to jump his bones the most. She didn’t pin him once, but at the end of their time, he still told her good job.

  He stood over her, unaffected, not so much as breathing hard while she was left gasping and weak, her body a limp mass of useless, aching muscles.

  “You’ve got thirty minutes to shower,” he advised, his hand extended downward to help her up.

  She studied it for a moment and heaved an exhausted sigh. “I’m too tired to move. Have someone come back in an hour or so and scrape me off the floor.”

  The elusive dimple appeared. “Want me to help you wash up?”

  “Hm, maybe not so wiped as that, but thanks anyway.”

  He laughed, bending over, offering both hands now. More whipped from being a complete loser than anything else, she dug deep for the last of her reserves. Once on her feet, she stomped on his toe and grabbed his balls in a vise-like grip at the same time she curled her leg around the back of his knee. He went down with a thud and an oomph, complete surprise written on his face. She didn’t have time to gloat, before she landed on top of him, brought down once again by a long and lightning fast arm.

  “Nice maneuver, babe,” he rasped, recovering with remarkable speed. “But you’ve got to keep going. Once you have him by the balls, give ‘em a good twist and follow it up with a knee to incapacitate, otherwise, he might confuse it for a proposition.”

  Spurred on by his teasing, she moved her knee right where he recommended, and pressed down. When he sucked in a breath, Angie gazed down at him with a grin. “So noted, Sir Trainer.”

  Using his inner thigh like a springboard, she pushed off and hopped to her feet, savoring what satisfaction she could get from his second “oomph” of the day. This time she remembered his quickness and jumped back, as his long arm swept toward her feet.

  It was her time to give him a wee bit of wisdom. “You know, my daddy was a boxer. He didn’t care about scorecards or punch counts, he always said the only thing that really mattered was who was still standing when the bell rang.”

  Without another word or mimicking the ringing of a bell—although both were on the tip of her tongue and it killed her not to, refraining because she knew he could have crushed her if he really wanted to—she flicked her hand out, two fingers extended in dismissal, as she’d seen him do many times in the past. Despite her screaming muscles, her step was light as she left the gym. His laughter, low and beautiful, followed in her wake.

  Angie’s heart twisted painfully. She was in so much trouble.

  *****

  “Three women, each approximately thirty years of age, tall, ranging between five feet ten and six feet tall, all fit, attractive, with long hair. They had something else in common. All were experienced submissives, unattached and actively pursuing a Dom.” When Eric Du
pree, the managing partner at Decadence LA finished his run down, the screen switched from the pictures of the three missing women back to his handsome face.

  What Angie had noticed when he’d first signed on—an extraordinarily attractive man with startling blue eyes, dark blond hair, and a closely trimmed pencil beard, which, if not for its presence, would have made his classical features too pretty—now didn’t register as she stared at the screen. One word kept repeating in her head, unattached.

  “This changes everything,” T murmured from his seat beside her.

  “Is there a problem?” Eric asked.

  “Yeah, we’d planned to go in as a couple.”

  “That won’t do. These women were very public about their pursuit of a new dominant. They also weren’t shy about their play, exhibitionists each one.” Eric’s astute gaze locked on her face for a moment, switching to T briefly and finally moving on to Cap. “There’s one other thing they had in common.”

  T shifted beside her—impatient. “Spill it, Dupree!”

  “They all rode the carousel within a few days of their disappearance.”

  “Shit!” Cap’s curse echoed in the large conference room.

  “Fuck me!” added T, in more of a growl than a shout.

  “What’s the carousel?”

  There was a long silence as the men looked at each other.

  “It’s a piece of equipment unique to Decadence LA.” Eric’s tone and his reluctance to give other than that vague explanation was disturbing.

  “You don’t have to do it, Angie,” Cap affirmed.

  “But if the others did it…” She glanced at T, whose face was tight, a muscle jumping steadily in his jaw. “T?” When he didn’t answer, she scanned through Cap who was just as tense and back to Eric. Getting a really bad feeling, she asked him, “How bad can it be?”

  “This is fucked!” T barked unexpectedly. “We need to come up with a different plan. I’m not thrilled about a newbie going in and posing as bait for this whack job anyway, but this is asking too much.”

  She gazed at him, warmed by the concern in his face, although still in the dark as to what the three men were so upset over. “If this is the best way to catch him and put him away, T, I’ve got to do it. I couldn’t live with myself if another woman is taken, or something happens to one of those subs because I was a little skittish over a spanking or some nudity.”

  “You have no idea what you’re agreeing to.”

  “Then tell me.

  His eyes locked with Eric’s on screen. She watched the emotions shift across his face. Everyone seemed to be waiting for his decision, as if he was really her Dom and had that right. She was about to speak up and insist when his hands found hers on the table and squeezed.

  “You’re very courageous, Angie. Most women, bad ass ex-cops no exception, would be bailing on this assignment. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “No. Although in three days’ time with your help, I will be.”

  “Correction, two days.” They both sent Cap an inquiring look. He nodded, confirming they’d heard correctly.

  Eric hurriedly cut in. “I’ve got another meeting. I’ll expect you on Friday. Trust that we’ll take whatever measures are necessary to keep you safe, Angie.” The screen went blank the next second.

  “Wait,” she cried too late. She whirled on T. “He didn’t tell me about the carousel.”

  “That’s something you’ll have to see to believe.” He stood. Letting go of only one hand, he pulled her from her seat with the other. “Come on, trainee, let’s hit the simulator. We’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to make you into an obedient, sharp shooting, badass exhibitionist by Friday.”

  She blanched, scurrying along behind him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cap staring after her, his handsome face drawn with unease. When she got to the door and snuck a glance back, he’d turned back to the computer. Maybe she’d imagined it, Tony Rossi wasn’t a worrier, though she was nearly positive her new boss’s disquiet had been all too real, which didn’t bode well for either Angie or her first Rossi mission.

  Chapter Six

  The parking lot was jam-packed as was expected for a Wednesday night. Elena was booked in the lounge and they enjoyed near perfect attendance when she and her band performed. As T swung into one of the reserved owner’s spaces, he eyed the cars alongside his and smiled. Cap’s ‘68 mint condition Bullitt Mustang, Rick’s Hennessey Venom GT, and Jonas’ Mercedes CLA45 were lined up in the row beside his Camaro Z28. One thing about owning a sex club, it kept them in sweet rides.

  T glanced at Angie. Visibly nervous when he picked her up, she was practically in meltdown mode now that they’d arrived.

  “Darlin’,” T began softly, “if you’re not up to this mission, we’ll understand.”

  Her head whipped around. “No.” Her denial was shaky, yet filled with conviction. “I’m doing this. After seeing pictures of the missing women, and putting faces with names, it made it all too real. I just need a minute.”

  He waited patiently as she peered anxiously out the passenger window. The club was a sight to behold in the light of day, more so at twilight with soft light shining from within. It was stunning with its three stories of stuccoed walls, arched windows, balconies and porticos. It looked more like a sprawling southwestern hacienda than a sex club. It impressed, but didn’t usually intimidate. He’d expect this reaction at the doors leading into the dungeon, something else was up.

  “Talk to me, Angie.”

  Her head came around, though she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared over his shoulder. Following her gaze, he watched as Sean and Mara pulled into the last remaining spot. It struck him then.

  “Everyone is here tonight,” she whispered.

  He shifted toward her.

  “What do I tell my cousins? Meg and Regan know I was here with Dan last night.”

  “You’ll be able to tell them the truth when it’s over.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “Their Doms will keep them occupied. Cap clued all the club owners in this afternoon. We need all hands on deck with a third sub missing.”

  She nodded, although still unconvinced. “The twins are going to freak out. Can’t I tell them and swear them to secrecy?”

  He stared at her for a moment, then laid it out bluntly. “No offense, little bit, but your cousins are the least discreet subs of the lot. Elena is a close third. It’s a well-known fact, and they have no qualms admitting it, that when Sean wanted to spread the word of Mara’s secret a few months back, Cap and Dex deliberately shared it with the twins. It spread faster than hell and high lightning.”

  “They’re not so bad, back in high school though...” She shook her head. “Their daddy used to say that a secret to the twins is like a wildfire burning bright inside them, the more they try to contain it, the more fiery it gets until the only way to quash the blaze is to tell someone else, thereby disbursing the heat.”

  Knowing the twins well, he didn’t find the story at all surprising. He grinned. “Major Sinclair sounds like a wise man.”

  “Yeah, too bad they didn’t listen. It would have spared them many a meal standing up. At least in Regan’s case, I know.”

  He caught her chin gently with his fingers and tilted it upward. “They’ll forgive you this deception considering the purpose.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Tell you what. They’ll be dressed up, front and center, guzzling margaritas by now as they do for all Elena’s shows. We’ll go straight to the dungeon. That way you don’t have to make any excuses.”

  “Now why does that sound like I’m going from the frying pan straight into the fire?”

  “More like being up the proverbial creek without a paddle, but don’t fret about that. I’ve got several in my bag.”

  “T!” She choked, as he winked at her. Strangely amused by the whole bizarre situation, she stifled a giggle. “If you’re trying to be reassuring, you’re failing
miserably.”

  “I was trying to bring a sparkle to those pretty hazel eyes and the bloom back into your cheeks. And it worked.” He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. In a blink, he was out of the car and circling the hood. When he grinned at her through the windshield, he was rewarded yet again with a small smile.

  *****

  As expected, entering the club with Master T drew curious looks, especially when he didn’t stop to talk with the many members who waved him over, instead, whisking her right through the bar and through the medieval dungeon doors. He moved fast, with a heavy arm clamped securely around her waist. It hadn’t prevented Angie from seeing the gape mouthed stares angled her way from the front table. Both Megan and Regan had waved at her frantically, attempting to signal her over, but she had shrugged, walking faster in her spiked heels, to keep up with T. Not an easy task.

  Like Master Dan, he’d picked out black ankle strap stilettos with a five inch heel. Something she wouldn’t have chosen for herself because they placed her over six feet, taller than most of her dates in the past. With T that wasn’t a problem. She was surprised at first by his choice, thinking they were fairly conservative. That was until she turned them over and saw the scarlet red on the soles and the laces that adorned the back of each heel.

  “Dungeon pumps,” she’d commented when he’d handed her the open box.

  “Sorry, darlin’. These beauties won’t see any action in the playroom, club rules.”

  She knew that, having been barefoot for two days with Dan. As she scurried along beside him, she wondered aloud why they bothered with shoes at all.

  “Seems a shame,” he replied, “but stilettoes pointed up in the air can blind a Dom if he’s not careful.” They’d arrived at the doors, pausing as T pressed his thumb to the scanner. “Barefoot seems to set the submissive mood, as well.”

  Once through the doors, he crouched and unbuckled her straps, steadying her at the hips as she stepped out of the killer heels. She sighed as he handed them over to an attendant. She could get used to the shoes and the dresses. T had picked out her little black dress for the night. She could go to dinner at any five-star restaurant in this dress and no one would bat an eye. Made of form fitting poly/spandex, the front had a laser cut faux leather overlay in an hourglass shape that accentuated her curves further. In back, the high-banded neck opened in a small keyhole. That was about it, except for the fact that the stretchy material hugged and flattered her curves. Tasteful and classy, compared to what she’d worn the two nights with Dan, it was almost prim.