by Cara Dee
Breathless
The Game Series
Cara Dee
Breathless
Copyright © 2020 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission of the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and all references to historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
Formatted by Eliza Rae Services.
Contents
Welcome to the Games
Prologue
1. Reese Tenley
2. Shay Acton
3. Reese Tenley
4. Shay Acton
5. Reese Tenley
6. Shay Acton
7. Reese Tenley
8. Shay Acton
9. Reese Tenley
10. Shay Acton
11. Reese Tenley
12. Shay Acton
13. Reese Tenley
14. Shay Acton
15. Reese Tenley
16. Shay Acton
More from Cara Dee
About Cara
Welcome to the Games
“The Cages”
The Game Series is a BDSM series where romance meets the reality of kink. Sometimes we fall for someone we don’t match with, sometimes vanilla business gets in the way of kinky pleasure, and sometimes we have to compromise and push ourselves to overcome trauma and insecurities. No matter what, two things are certain. This is not a perfect world, and life never turns out the way you planned.
Breathless is the third book in The Game Series, and it’s been written so it can be enjoyed as a standalone.
The Game Series
Book 1: Top Priority – Lucas/Colt – Are you ready for the Games?
Book 2: Their Boy – Kit/Colt/Lucas – Welcome to the Games: The Hunt
Book 3: Breathless – Shay/Reese/River – The Cages
Prologue
Shay Acton
“You know this guy by now. DC’s own Karate Kid! Our next fighter is five foot nine and weighs in at 167 pounds of sleek muscle, a give-no-fucks attitude, and sexy tattoos. Give it up for Acton!”
I handed over my smoke to Weasel before removing my hoodie and kicking off my sneakers. Then I slipped a hand down my sweatpants and adjusted my jockstrap. Weasel gave me back my smoke as well as my mouthguard, and I entered the cage to the roar of the hundreds of people who’d gathered in this seedy underground club on a Saturday night.
The club catered to anyone who liked quick cash. Businessmen, prostitutes, gang members, gold diggers, hustlers, junkies… They weren’t all here to watch the cage fights, but the steel bars and fence rattled every now and then to make their presence known.
If my family could see me now…
I took a drag from my smoke as the woman on the microphone introduced my opponent.
When I first started fighting at these events a few months ago, everyone called me pretty boy, and there’d been promises of fucking up the artwork that covered my entire torso and my arms. So far, no one had come close, and neither would this bald dude from Jersey with ugly tribal tats along the sides of his head.
He entered the cage with what I assumed was going to be a menacing expression. He held his arms too wide, pretending his muscles were too big, but to me, he just looked like he needed a handful of Tums. And possibly the number to a therapist who could advise him to lay off the steroids.
Was he supposed to scare me?
I exhaled some smoke and leaned back against the fence. Weasel stood on the other side and informed me my ass had been bought for the evening. Figuratively speaking. I nodded along as he explained that I was to win my first two fights, and then I’d drop in the third.
“Direct payout?” I asked with a brow cocked.
“As always,” he assured. “You’ll walk away with almost four grand in cash after I’ve taken my ten percent.”
Good enough for one evening.
It was one of the reasons I was here in the first place, to earn money. The second reason… Well, apparently it wasn’t very popular to ask Sadists to beat the shit out of me without telling them why. Throughout most of spring and summer, I’d tried to become part of three big BDSM communities here in the DC area, but they were all so motherfucking self-righteous.
They could shove their safe, sane, and consensual up their asses.
“Fighters, get ready!” the woman exclaimed.
I took a final drag from my smoke before sticking it through a square in the fence, and Weasel took it.
The bald dude looked angry and pumped.
I rolled my shoulders and inserted my mouthguard, more bored than anything. With nothing to lose, I didn’t get angry—or nervous, for that matter.
“You’re going down, Acton,” Jersey growled.
“All right.” I took my mark near the center of the cage and flexed my taped-up knuckles.
I found it fascinating, though, how no one called me pretty boy anymore. The nickname had disappeared as quickly as it had popped up.
The signal sounded throughout the club, and the fight began.
One
Reese Tenley
I received the text I’d been waiting for from my brother as I pulled into the parking lot behind Macklin’s restaurant, which, these days, was the only reason I ventured into DC. At his place, we could host our munches in private up on the roof, and privacy had become everything to me lately.
Everyone’s here.
Yeah, so was I. I’d just gotten stuck in traffic, because that’s what you did around major cities.
I fuckin’ hated it.
After grabbing the file on the passenger’s seat, I slipped out of my car and into the unforgiving August heat. “What the…” I licked my thumb and rubbed it over a white spot on my car door. Thank fuck, it was just some dirt. I wouldn’t have my perfectly restored ’67 Impala ruined by city traffic.
The spot where Macklin had opened his restaurant sat on the corner of an intersection and used to be a residential building. He’d kept some of that feel, resulting in several dining areas in what’d originally been regular rooms. It went with his personality in the way that he could never make a decision and run with it. Therefore, the three-story establishment consisted of a mismatched combo of themes. One area screamed of the Caribbean. Another was a tribute to the Golden Era of Hollywood. His ex-boyfriend had decided shabby chic for another part, whatever the fuck that meant.
People seemed to love it. This was the third year in a row he’d gotten some award for being a popular brunch place in DC.
I spotted him behind the bar on the first floor, and I walked past the hostess’s desk to get his attention.
Since he was one of the founders of our BDSM community, his attendance was required for today’s get-together.
“Mack,” I called.
He looked up from the wine bottle he was opening and flashed a grin. “Hey, I’ll be right there.”
He looked…happier. Good. His breakup this past spring had been pretty ugly.
When I met him almost nine years ago, I’d thought he would be one of those who dipped their toes into the kinky pond before hightailing it out of there. He’d just turned twenty-one, and he’d “read about BDSM” and proudly declared h
imself a switch. Interestingly enough, that was true to this day, and he was our community’s youngest founder.
He joined me shortly after and set my radar off when he walked close to me on the way up to the third floor and asked if River and I were seeing anyone.
“You know we’re not. Anything you wanna ask of us?”
He chuckled self-consciously, letting me know exactly what mind-set he was in, and diverted his gaze to the floor. Precious. It wasn’t as if Riv and I would turn him down. We’d played with Macklin before.
He failed to look casual. “I only wanna point out that it’s been a long time since we did any group play.”
I smirked and side-eyed him. “Set something up then, slut boy.”
He grinned back, a spark of excitement flashing in his dark eyes that I’d missed. “Okay, I will. I’ll check the schedule online tonight.”
“Sounds good.” I smacked his cheek lightly before I pushed open the door to the rooftop terrace.
The two long picnic tables were packed during munches, even leaving several attendees to utilize the bar tables along the brick wall framing the area. But today, it was only us eight founders, and Macklin already had his staff up here to serve drinks and snack platters.
Fuck, it was hot. The fabric ceiling did fuck-all to shut out the sun, and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze.
“There he is.” Colt nodded at me. Luke, his man, sat beside him, though he was busy on his phone.
I offered a two-finger salute to everyone as I took my seat next to my brother, and he gave my thigh a squeeze. I knew he didn’t like to face our friends without me.
Peering down the table, I did a quick headcount. Colt, Luke, Macklin, Greer, Penelope, Lucian. Everyone who’d been there eight years ago when Riv and I had started talking about forming this community.
“I take it you didn’t gather us here to discuss the next Game?” Luke asked.
No, we had everything planned for the next event already. “It’s one of our members.” I figured it was best to stand up for this, so I took a swig of my water before I left my seat. “As some of you know, we had a minor problem last month, which August reported to us.” I positioned myself at the head of the table and opened the file I’d brought. “A member named Shay Acton approached August with hopes of getting some S/M playtime, but when August tried to vet Shay—who’s fairly new here—the kid scrambled. He didn’t want to explain his masochism or take part in any pre-play discussions—or aftercare, for that matter.”
We were lucky it was August, a well-known friend and Sadist who took safety as seriously as one could.
“Shortly thereafter, Shay approached another Sadist,” I went on. “Same thing. It was reported to us, and there was reason to believe Shay was looking for punishment.” I gestured to Penelope. “Pen talked to him at the last munch.”
She nodded. “I reminded him of the rules—and the consequences if they weren’t followed—and offered counsel in case he wanted to talk or needed help.”
Colt scratched his jaw and squinted at me. “Wasn’t there talk of banning him?”
I inclined my head. “Briefly, but we don’t wanna go there. Especially not now.” I glanced at Riv, silently asking if he wanted to share his findings, but he shook his head minutely. All right. I cleared my throat. “The other week, Riv and I heard from a couple friends in another community. After some back-and-forth about a masochist they’d encountered, we understood it was Shay again. He’s literally turning DC’s kink communities upside down in a quest to find a Sadist who will beat his ass for the wrong reasons.”
“It won’t take him long to find one,” Luke said with a shake of his head.
“No, it won’t,” I replied. “We already know he’s found his way to the wrong crowds.” Thanks to River following Shay two Saturdays in a row. And digging around a bit. It was what my brother had done professionally for over fifteen years. Old habits died hard. “River has found out some things about Shay’s personal life that I won’t share here, but it’s led us to believe that pushing him away might have disastrous effects.” I paused. “As far as we know, he doesn’t have a regular job. Instead, he makes his money as a cage fighter on the weekends.”
Colt turned grim.
Luke’s and Macklin’s eyes flashed with concern.
“Then he’s definitely running in the wrong crowds.” Lucian frowned. “What do you propose, Reese? How can we get him away from that?”
Riv and I exchanged a glance.
“We’re going to set a trap for him,” I answered, sliding my gaze back to the others. “We’ve violated his privacy enough already, so as I said, we’d like to keep what we’ve found out to ourselves. But we kind of need y’all to help and do us a favor.”
“Name it,” Penelope said. “You know we trust you.”
River cleared his throat and sat forward a bit. “We need a masochist or two to recommend Shay to approach us.”
I inclined my head. “It has to be someone who can let Shay know that Riv and I don’t always play by the rules.” Which…wasn’t all that far from the truth. For events and whenever we were around our friends in the community, it went without saying that we followed the terms of use we’d set up together. But behind closed doors…? What we did was our business. “I know Cameron has recommended us to Shay, but for all we know, he’s wary of us because of our position here.”
Colt and Luke glanced at each other, perhaps silently communicating whether they knew someone who might fit the bill.
“My ex-girlfriend,” Penelope said, nodding pensively. “I can give her a call. She’s an adrenaline junkie like you guys.” I remembered her. Isela was fun. “Is Shay active online?”
“Sometimes,” I responded. “I’ve seen him reply in the S/M threads.”
“I have a casual partner in another community I can talk to as well,” Lucian said. “He’s a pain slut.”
“We need more of those with us.” I sat down again, thankful for our friends and the trust we placed in one another.
“How can you be sure this is gonna work?” Greer asked, speaking up for the first time. Like River, he preferred to observe. “I’m not even talking about your little trap. We’ve seen you attract flies with vinegar, so I don’t doubt you there. But if Shay’s already found an outlet in illegal cage fights, what makes you think he’ll go for a Sadist?”
“He renewed his membership the other day,” I replied. “Fifty bucks a month isn’t chump change.”
River sought out my hand under the table, and I knew what he wanted me to add, but I squeezed back, conveying I was handling this. It was enough that he and I knew the other reason Shay probably hadn’t given up on finding a Sadist was…well, if you wanted to be punished, you didn’t want to fight back.
“He hasn’t attended any events at the house in Mclean, has he?” Luke wondered.
I shook my head. “No, I checked all the attendance files since he became a member in March.”
The snack platters looked too good to just waste away in the heat, so I started filling a plate with some nachos, buffalo wings, cheese, and fruit.
“Riv and I will be at the White Rose event on Friday,” I said. It was a biweekly kink party another community hosted at a club here in Logan Circle. “Shay is listed to attend.”
“I’m sure my play partner will be there too,” Lucian said. “He’s part of their inner circle. I’ll give him your number in case you need a second person to talk to Shay.”
Solid plan.
Half an hour outside of DC was my reason for avoiding going into the city. When our closest friends had shown their enthusiasm for starting a new kink community, Riv and I had taken out a mortgage to buy what had become our home and playground.
With River in his truck in my rearview, I sped up along our private road until the trees parted and revealed our three-story Victorian looming on top of a small hill. Painted black and appearing sufficiently old, the sight alone was enough to scare some of the subbies who visited. Jus
t the way we liked it.
I rounded the circular drive in front of the house and drove into the carport to the left. There was space for a dozen cars, which was an average Friday crowd when there was no particular event, just kinksters coming out to have fun. Right now, there was only one other vehicle. A rigger and his rope bunny were preparing for a bondage demo tonight.
River parked next to me and stepped out. “Any other obligations today?”
I shook my head. “I gotta start inventory tomorrow, but today I’m just gonna plant my ass in the pool and throw a couple steaks on the grill.”
“Thank fuck. I’m tired of people.”
I smiled faintly, and we left the carport and trailed up toward the house. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that most of our guest rooms were booked for the rest of August, starting after the weekend. Our members knew the drill and rarely required any attention, but one of us had to be present just in case. This weekend, Penelope and Lucian would be in charge.
Skipping the house altogether, we walked up alongside it instead until we reached the back. Classic rock music was already pouring out from the club area inside, so that was one less thing we had to set up for a day of chilling by the pool. The large wooden deck was abandoned, but I spotted two towels hanging over the sofa in one of the two seating areas. Our members must’ve taken a break to cool off. Couldn’t blame them.
River excused himself to get beers from our place and veered left. Six A-frame cabins sat along the tree line as permanent getaways for those of us who’d started the community. Riv and I were the only ones who’d made our cabin our home, though.