by Piper Scott
Decorator didn’t seem as likely when Sterling dressed himself like that.
Despite himself, a thrill rushed Adrian’s core. Sterling was an asshole, but damned if he wasn’t attractive.
“Adrian?” Sterling glanced over his shoulder, a brow arched.
Adrian shook his head. Thoughts like those needed to be shelved and never revisited. “I’m coming.”
The mischievous twinkle in Sterling’s eyes and the upward curve of his lip laughed even when his mouth didn’t. Adrian scowled, but followed him into the penthouse regardless. When the door closed behind him, it dampened the sound of the club. Only the ringing in Adrian’s ears remained.
Silence on a Friday night was a bizarre occurrence, and Adrian wasn’t sure he liked it.
“The living room is beyond this wall.” Sterling was on the move again, no longer looking at Adrian. The penthouse was a work of art, but the way Sterling moved through it with grace and dominion made it pale in comparison to his splendor. He owned the space—its grandeur would never outshine him. “You’ll get settled there, and I’ll be with you in a second.”
Sterling disappeared around the corner in the direction of the living room, leaving Adrian on his own. Without Sterling’s watchful eye to guide him, Adrian took his time and let himself focus on the small details. According to Adrian’s father, the state of a man’s house spoke to his character. If that was to be believed, Adrian didn’t know what to think about Sterling.
Was he well put together? Definitely. Was he a man of expensive, exquisite taste? Without a doubt. But there was a rigid formality to the penthouse that struck a sore spot inside of Adrian and woke troublesome, nostalgic feelings that had long been dormant.
The penthouse was beautiful and impeccably designed, but Adrian knew that order only masked chaos. The more a man struggled to pull his life together, the more meticulous his living space became. To Adrian, each careful, but ultimately meaningless choice Sterling had made while decorating his private quarters didn’t reflect on his style so much as it reflected on a lack of control elsewhere in his life. The location of the penthouse only reinforced that belief. It was hard to forget that just a few feet beneath them, strangers were meeting, connecting, and pleasuring each other—that for every moan of pleasure the soundproofed floors blocked out was a cry of agony quick to peak with lust.
Sterling’s paradise was built over a kingdom he’d created, an antithesis to the serenity the penthouse offered. It led Adrian to believe that somewhere deep inside, Sterling was hurting, too.
But no matter how badly Sterling was hurting, it didn’t excuse his behavior. Adrian wouldn’t forget the way Sterling had pinned him to the wall and taken his phone like he was a playground bully. Adrian’s attitude left much to be desired, but he never got physically aggressive with anyone—he never forced anyone to submit. By pinning him, Sterling had taken away his agency.
That wasn’t right, and Adrian wasn’t going to let it go.
He turned the corner to find that beyond the wall, the penthouse opened up. A spacious living room with leather furniture and low tables waited for him. Two doors lined the far wall and marked the start of a hallway, blocked off by the back wall of the kitchen. The kitchen and the dining room attached to it were open concept, divided from the living room by glass paneling and two hinged glass doors left open. Sterling busied himself there, doing what, Adrian didn’t care to see.
Adrian took a seat on one of Sterling’s couches and looped an arm over the back cushion. The leather was cool against his bare skin, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and savor the sensation. There was no sense in being overly worked up. The more he let Sterling under his skin, the more irrationally he’d behave, and the harder it would be to win the argument they were undoubtedly about to have.
In the kitchen, Sterling added ice to a drinking glass. A cork popped open. Liquid spilled from a long-necked bottle, the brief splash as it hit the bottom of the glass interrupted by the rattle of ice. A carbonated hiss followed, then footsteps. Adrian opened his eyes to find Sterling on his way in through the open kitchen doors. He held two colorless drinks, each decorated with a wedge of lime.
Adrian glanced from the drinks to Sterling. His short, blond hair framed his rugged face, accented by darker stubble that spread across his jaw. It was the first time Adrian had seen Sterling in the light without having to squint, and he took a moment to notice all the things about Sterling he’d never noticed before.
Age creased the skin around the corners of Sterling’s eyes, and although his skin was clear, his hands were calloused. When Sterling held one of the drinks toward Adrian, the thickness of his nails and the prevalence of his knuckles caught Adrian’s eye. It wasn’t that Sterling was old or undesirable—as far as Adrian was concerned, he wore his age as well as he wore his suit—but there was a somber maturity to him that Adrian hadn’t expected to find in a man who’d opened a kink club in the heart of downtown Aurora.
Adrian pushed the thoughts from his mind and drew himself back into the moment. He was here for a reason, and he had to remember that.
Sterling wasn’t his friend.
“What is it?” Adrian made no move to take the drink.
“A gin and tonic. A bad habit of mine.”
“I don’t take drinks unless the bartender hands them to me directly.” Adrian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back.
With a huffed laugh, Sterling set the drink on a coaster on the coffee table in front of Adrian, then sat across from him in a leather armchair and rested his elbows on his thighs. He dangled his drink between his knees. “How cautious of you.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?”
Sterling shrugged. “I guess you won’t know unless you drink it.”
Silence fell between them. Adrian stared at Sterling, allowing his eyes to narrow as he pulled himself back into the right head space. Sterling wasn’t charming—he was the enemy. If it hadn’t been for him, Adrian would still be enjoying his Friday night.
Well, enjoying it as much as he could with Marcus on a revenge rampage. There was no doubt that Marcus and Lucian were doing what they were doing because Adrian had taken incriminating pictures of them groping each other in the back alley behind The Shepherd when Lucian was still employed.
They had wanted to hurt Adrian in the boldest way they could, and they’d succeeded.
“I’d like to have my phone back, please.” Adrian broke the silence. “You took it when you left. It doesn’t belong to you.”
“Why don’t we discuss why it was in my club before I do that?” Sterling lifted his glass, arched a brow, and drank. When he lowered the glass and let it dangle between his knees, he continued. “You’ve been a member long enough to know the rules, so why would you defy them?”
Adrian capped his knees with his palms and squeezed, trying to work off some of the agitation heating his blood. If Sterling had asked him that downstairs, there’d be no need for their private one-on-one. “Because Marcus and Lucian have been breaking the rules for months now, and I am so goddamn tired of it.”
“So you thought that breaking the rules would be the best way to go about informing me that someone else was doing the same thing?”
“Having a phone on your person and sleeping with the fucking bartender aren’t the same thing!” Adrian’s shoulders tensed, and he sat up straight and stared Sterling down. “You can’t tell me they’re the same!”
“No.” Sterling met Adrian’s gaze and returned it with cool fire. “I think having a phone is worse. Do you know how many people’s professional lives you could have ruined with a single picture? How many people could have suffered from a single press of your finger to the screen?”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. Sterling did not look away.
“What Marcus did was selfish, but ultimately, it was a harmless crime.” Sterling set his drink on a vacant coaster. The clink as the glass bottom met narrow wooden disk punctuated his statement. “A
nd if you were on your phone getting ready to inform me that Marcus was committing a crime, it leads me to believe you have photographic evidence of his affair. You know that Marcus is an attorney, don’t you?” Sterling crossed an ankle over his knee and sat back in his chair, arms spread. “Blackmail is a felony, Adrian. Marcus could have your ass in jail faster than he could have his little bar boy strung up from a suspension rack.”
The impact of Sterling’s words rattled Adrian’s ribs and left him feeling hollow, but he did not allow his weakness to show on his face. He stared Sterling down, steadfast. “It wasn’t blackmail.”
“Well, whatever it was, it was in direct violation of The Shepherd’s rules.” Sterling shrugged a single shoulder. “I should revoke your membership.”
“No.” Adrian spoke firmly and without hesitation. On the inside his panic was growing, but on the outside he strove to remain stony-faced and impartial. He would not lose The Shepherd. It was the one place where he could feel good about himself. “You won’t.”
“Unfortunately, if I will or if I won’t isn’t up to you to decide.” Sterling looked upward, then drew in a deep breath. “The rules are clear. I should expel you immediately.”
“Then why do you have me sitting in your living room?” Adrian wound down from his fear. There was a ‘but.’ There had to be. “If you really wanted to throw me out, you could have done it downstairs.”
Sterling nodded, almost thoughtfully. He exhaled heavily and dragged a hand along his stubble. “You’re right. I could have. Just as I could be inclined to bend the rules if given reason to believe you’re genuinely apologetic for what you did, and that it won’t happen again.”
The hairs on the back of Adrian’s neck stood on end, and he shifted one thigh, then the other as he resettled his weight. “Go on.”
“I want to make a deal with you, Adrian.” Sterling’s expression was unreadable, and Adrian braced himself for the worst. “You threatened the rights of every person in this club tonight, and now I want to limit your rights as atonement for what you’ve done. The terms are simple: thirty days here in this penthouse, stripped of your freedom and bound to my word. A month of total power exchange—four weeks of absolute indulgence. I want your body and your mind. Show me that you’re willing to listen, and I’ll show you that I’m willing to forgive.”
The reply sprang from Adrian’s lips before he had time to think about it, shaping the course of his future with a single syllable. He didn’t regret it in the least.
“No.”
3
Sterling
“No?” Sterling set his foot back on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. A grin longed to break his imperturbability, but he held it back. Adrian was a wild thing—a man with a backbone stronger than many Doms Sterling knew. He didn’t expect to win so easily. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t do the submissive thing.” Adrian stood abruptly. While his words and tone said one thing, his body language spoke of something entirely different. He was strung out and jittery, moving in disjointed, sudden bursts like a marionette jerked around by its strings. “I’m a Dom, Sterling. Just because I want a dick in my ass doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”
“Being a submissive isn’t about being a pushover—it’s about having tremendous strength. If you were a Dom, you’d know that.” The comment was meant to be inflammatory, and Sterling was delighted to see Adrian’s brows knit together and his eyes narrow in anger.
The downpour was about to begin, and Sterling was ready for it.
“Are you really going to tell me what I can and cannot be?” Adrian demanded. He crossed the space between them, hitting the coffee table with his leg on his way past. The drinks on its surface rattled. “Do you really think you’re the authority on our lifestyle just because you own this club? You’re so goddamn full of yourself.”
“And you’re getting awfully worked up for someone who’s supposed to be in total control of himself.” Sterling remained seated even as Adrian closed in on him. “I’ve already explained my reasoning to you. I won’t repeat it again. Either you will submit and prove that you have repented for what you’ve done, or we’ll have to discuss your removal from The Shepherd. Either way, you’ll be losing your rights. It’s up to you to choose which rights will be limited, and for how long.”
They stood knee to knee now, Adrian’s shoulders broad and his chest pushed forward, as though making his lithe body bigger might change Sterling’s mind. It didn’t, and it wouldn’t. Sterling liked to think that his conditions had been made clear.
“Two weeks.” Like icicles snapping from a roof to violently pierce the snowbanks below, Adrian’s words penetrated Sterling and were meant to harm. “I’ll give you two weeks of TPE, and in exchange, I’m allowed back in The Shepherd as usual and you’ll leave me the hell alone.”
“One month.”
“Three weeks.”
“Twenty-five days.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched and his fingers curled into fists. “I won’t do household chores for you. No cooking, no cleaning, no folding your laundry or running errands.”
“If I agree to terms like those, our arrangement isn’t really a TPE anymore, is it?”
“Take it or leave it.” Adrian’s face was unyielding. “If you’re really a Dom, shouldn’t you understand that submissives have limits? You have no idea who I am. You need to respect what I say I can and cannot do.”
The mouth on him.
This time, Sterling allowed himself to grin. “In my eyes, it’s odd that you’d rather bargain your way out of housework than out of any of the things I might be inclined to do to your body. I could keep you in a cage like a crated dog if I wanted to. I could blindfold you and invite anyone to use you as they wish. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with that than with whether or not you have to do the dishes?”
The fury in Adrian’s expression flickered out of existence for a brief, stunning moment. The storm clouds behind his eyes parted, and for a second, Sterling was able to see the core of who Adrian was. The grief in his expression was vulnerable, and it tore away at Sterling’s resolve.
Suddenly, a full total power exchange didn’t sound as satisfying anymore.
“I don’t care what happens to my body,” Adrian muttered. Then, as quickly as the storm had broken, it was back in full force. The anger returned, unchecked and raw. “If you want to keep me in a cage, fine. If you want to keep me bound while you’re out of the house, whatever. If you want people to use me like a cum dumpster, I’ll deal. But you’re not going to degrade me by treating me like your live-in maid. Either you use me for sex, or you use me for housecleaning. I’m not going to be bound to you for both.”
There were problems in that statement—deeply packed issues that Sterling wanted to de-construct and remedy. The Shepherd was a beacon for the lost and served as a home for the broken, but this? This wasn’t broken. Adrian was mangled, and Sterling didn’t know where to begin to fix the damage done.
Maybe total submission was what Adrian needed. If nothing else, it would be a chance for him to let go of his hurt. But no matter how he turned the thought around in his head, Sterling couldn’t feel good about it. Not like this.
“Are you trying to get me to back down?” Sterling asked, biding his time before he made a choice.
Adrian’s eyes said yes. His lips said, “No.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Well, you’re going to have to be.” Adrian folded his arms over his chest and took a step back. The sound of the coffee table sliding across the floor disrupted their conversation—Adrian had bumped against it with the back of his calves. He was still too wired to be conscientious of his surroundings. “I only tell my Master the truth, don’t I?”
The corner of Sterling’s lips quirked upward. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a wicked mouth?”
Adrian scowled. “Most humans have mouths, Sterling. Do you want a medal?”
“If you consider you
rself a trophy, I won’t refuse.”
Adrian hid his eyes behind his palm and sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his hand. “Twenty-five days, no household chores, total submission in sex only, and then you’ll let me back into The Shepherd like nothing ever happened.”
“Correct.”
Adrian glanced away. Their broken eye contact allowed Sterling to take a moment to himself. When he wasn’t spitting fire, Adrian had all the delicate trademarks of an omega. A slender, refined body marked by tight, but understated muscle. Narrow hips. A pretty face. On a surface level, he was a trophy. But his lashing tongue would never let Sterling forget who Adrian really was.
The moment passed. Adrian’s eyes met Sterling’s again, and when they did, they burned with a fire Sterling wasn’t prepared to weather. Adrian stepped forward again, closing the distance between his legs and Sterling’s knees, and bent at the hip until he braced his hands on Sterling’s thighs so they were nose to nose. The contact was electric, and the same thrill that had roused Sterling downstairs swept through him again. The crisp scent of Adrian’s cologne flooded Sterling’s nostrils once more, filling his lungs and flowing through his veins until Adrian was all he could think of. The sudden spark of attraction between them was surprising, but Sterling didn’t regret it. When Adrian looked at him like that, he couldn’t.
“Then I guess we have a deal.” Adrian brought the tips of their noses together, the gesture so small and intimate that Sterling’s rapidly beating heart leapt into his throat. It wasn’t like him to get worked up over a partner, but Adrian had already proved himself a notch above the others in the club. As long as this connection lasted, Sterling would take from it whatever he could.