by Anya Summers
“You sure you don’t want to stay and roast marshmallows with us?” Gina asked, walking him to the front door. Their house was decorated with LSU paraphernalia—LSU was where Gina and her husband, Travis, had met, and where Travis now worked as a professor of engineering.
“Not tonight. Another night, perhaps. Thanks for having them. I’m meeting Michael and Dante this evening,” Ram lied through his teeth. None of his family, other than his cousin Michael and his baby sister Becca, knew about his proclivity for BDSM. Nor did he want them to. Becca had discovered it after an unfortunate event that they tended not to talk about. Even Ram’s ex-wife, Kelly, did not know the full extent of his desires. It was after their marriage fell apart that he’d allowed himself to swim into the deep end with regards to the lifestyle, which was what had brought him back from the edge when he’d returned to the States a broken, changed man. He would have to remind himself to text Michael and let him know that Gina thought he was with him. They tended to cover each other’s asses with the family when it came to the lifestyle.
“It’s not a problem. I’ve been wanting to see them before they leave to go back to Texas and I only have two weeks to go. Is everything all right with Angela? She seems a bit—”
“Bitchy and angsty? Welcome to the life and times of a fifteen-year-old teenage girl, where you’re no longer cool, and she hates you. She won’t talk to me like she used to; perhaps she’ll say something to you and open up.” And wasn’t that just the rub? Ram and his daughter used to talk about everything. But now, all he got was snarky attitude.
“Makes you wonder how Mom didn’t kill us, doesn’t it?” Gina asked with a lopsided grin.
“That it does.”
“Why do you think I sent my husband and son to the grocery store this morning? Because I’m tired of being the only one making sure this household eats. Especially when they are the two eating us out of house and home. You think a teenage girl is bad, give Rocky another year or so when he hits his growth spurt. He’ll eat through your pantry… daily.”
Ram snorted. “Rocky already does that.”
“It gets worse, trust me on this. Give Michael a hug from me. Don’t worry, they will have fun and be safe here,” Gina said, giving him a hug before he walked out.
“I know. And I appreciate the night off.” He released her just as Dillion went screeching past, and Rocky stopped in his pursuit.
“See you, dude, listen to your Aunt Gina and make sure you brush your teeth. Got it?” Ram gave Rocky a hug and then did their dude handshake that had his son cracking up. Rocky was his spitting image, although his personality was so much nicer.
“Yep.” Then a Nerf dart flew between them. “I’m going to get you!” Rocky turned and raced after his cousin Dillion.
Angela and Katie had their heads bent together, whispering to each other, their phones between them. If Ram said anything, he’d get another eye roll. His kids were happy, and would have a blast tonight with their cousins, who were each one year older.
Ram left Gina’s house and drove the short distant to his home to change. He wasn’t meeting his cousin Michael tonight. That had been a lie—unless Michael showed up at the club. What Ram needed was an evening at Club Underworld, where he could find a willing sub, and get rid of the sexual tension brought on by his newest patient.
The fact that he had sat over gelato the other day, sporting wood with his kids nearby, meant he needed to blow his load a few times inside a willing submissive who understood the game and, after a few choice words, would be on her knees, sucking him off. And if he happened to fantasize that it was Sadie doing the honors, that was his problem.
Sadie was off limits. Professionally, personally, or otherwise.
In deference to the summer heat, he put on a pair of black jeans and black tank. He would have heatstroke in leather this time of year. He did put on his shit-kicker boots with the modification in the left boot for his prosthetic foot. Very few people knew about the injury and he never undressed fully at the club, or even at his house with a woman around.
He’d had more than one relationship end because of the deformity. He hated being self-conscious about it, but it was easier to keep that part of himself hidden and one of the reasons why he kept his interactions with women to the club. It kept an emotional barrier in place with no chance of his secret being discovered. As a psychologist, he knew it was wrong. But he had misgivings about opening himself up to a woman ever again.
Ram loved his kids, his sisters, and their families, but when it came to intimate female relationships, he just didn’t venture into that territory any longer. He knew it was because the first and only submissive he had wanted to collar had bolted the moment she discovered the deformity, and she had not looked back. She’d left Club Underworld shortly after that.
He drove his beamer back across the Lake Ponchartrain bridge into the heart of downtown New Orleans. He’d grown up in Houma, Louisiana, where his parents and his baby sister Becca still lived.
Ram parked in the special, gated, enclosed parking garage for the elite members connected to the back of the club. It was something Michael and Dante had built to help keep their anonymity in place, since some of their elite members were movers and shakers. They came to Club Underworld for privacy, and for a chance to satisfy their needs that were not of the vanilla variety.
Even though this town was full of gluttony and vice, here, they catered to much more exotic needs than even the Quarter provided. BDSM was a lifestyle. For Ram, it was an elemental part of himself. He needed to dominate. It was the only way he was ever fully satisfied in the bedroom. That wasn’t to say that, in a pinch, vanilla sex wouldn’t get him off. It would. But there would be enough of an element missing that he would find it lacking and unsatisfactory.
He parked in his designated spot, and headed in. The club was far enough away from the Quarter that a person had to want to attend—there was little chance of somebody stumbling in by accident. Although it was only a ten-minute cab ride to the Quarter, so it wasn’t that far.
The club itself was in an old warehouse building that had originally been built shortly after the Civil War. Parts of the building had been destroyed during Hurricane Katrina back in 2005. Michael, being Michael, had purchased the property to try and help the city rebuild. It was the first of many properties in the area Michael had purchased.
Graham had assisted with the refurbishment and creation of each club level on the building. Quinten had made sure they had the latest in tech and security. Killian made sure everything was up to fire code. Luc ensured that every bit of sex gear, from the saddle horses to the butt plugs, were all medically sound devices that wouldn’t land anyone in the emergency room.
This place was a group project which the eight founding members: Michael, Dante, Graham, Quinten, Killian, Hudson, Luc, and Ram himself had all had a hand in creating. He rode the elevator up past the first floor, which was open to the public twenty-one and over. That level catered to those dipping their toes in the BDSM pool, with heavy, sturdy brick walls, black floors, sleek wood, and a steel wall bar. It was the place for those wanting to dabble in the lifestyle and wear Goth gear. Not that anything was wrong with that.
The elevators were programed with biometric fingerprint entry, courtesy of Quinten, their security expert. Only the elite members were able to ride them up to the second floor and beyond. On the third floor, each of the elite members had their very own private room stocked with whatever they fancied most. It was why Ram didn’t have to bring his goodie bag. He had everything he needed stored here.
The second floor was a club like the one on the first floor, but significantly less crowded. It was an exhibitionist’s paradise, with loads of spandex, leather, and bare tits. More than one sub glanced his way as he entered. Ram needed a good flogging scene, followed by copious amounts of fucking.
He wasn’t in the mood for being an exhibitionist tonight—once the flogging was done, he wanted to indulge in a willing sub’s fle
sh as many times as he could before the night was done. Because, come morning, he had to go back to being just a dad. And he likely would not return until after he’d transported his kids back to Dallas.
The moment the doors slid open, he was surrounded by the familiar sounds that felt like home. It was the place where everyone knew him as Master Ram. There was a bar against the far wall, which he strode toward. It was a good place to survey the room and pick out his intended prey for the night. Graham was already in a scene with Jessica, and had that little sub strapped to the St. Andrew’s Cross. There were a few other scenes taking place. Ram didn’t spy Dante or Michael although, knowing those two, they were up in Michael’s office, still working. That pair worked all the damn time.
Ram grabbed a seat on one of the bar stools. Quinten was taking his turn at the bar this evening in his Dungeon Monitor capacity. They all filled in and rotated shifts, both at the bar and as a DM. They did have Sam and Nick working the bar nightly on the weekends, and rotating shifts during the week as well. When it came to Quinten, he was a hard ass cop who wasn’t above confiscating keys. They did have a three-drink maximum policy for both the Doms and submissives alike. An inebriated Dom could unintentionally cause harm, and they strived to ensure everything was all safe, sane, and consensual.
Quinten strode over wearing a white wife beater and bar towel slung over one shoulder, setting a coaster on the glossy ebony bar. “Thought you weren’t going to be back until your kids went home.”
Ram shrugged. “They’re visiting Gina tonight and giving me a night off.”
Quinten grinned. “Good. Well, Alexa and Lacey have both been asking after you. One of them is tied up with Sam, literally, but I think I spotted Lacey a little while ago, wearing panties small enough to give a guy a heart attack. Your usual?”
“Yes, please. I’ll keep an eye out for her. Thanks. How’s your mom doing?”
Quinten’s mom was battling stage four breast cancer and the prognosis wasn’t great. His friend shook his head, the light glinting off his black buzz cut as he bent and pulled a bottle from the fridge. He opened the top with a bottle opener and set the Guinness on the coaster for Ram. “She’s a fighter. The chemo is tough on her, though.”
And it was equally tough on Quinten, even though the man rarely showed the strain.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do, especially once I take Angela and Rocky back to Dallas.” Because then Ram’s life was empty aside from his patients and the club.
They bumped fists. “Will do. Thanks, dude,” Quinten said and moved down the bar to serve another member.
It was a Saturday night and the place was packed. Ram sat back, drinking his beer, surveying the sub scene and trying to see if Lacey was still available. She would do in a pinch, and go a long way toward alleviating his need for Sadie.
A Tool song was pumping out from the loudspeakers when the elevator doors opened and in walked the woman he was there trying to forget.
“Fuck,” he muttered. What the hell was Sadie doing here? How the hell did she get up to this level?
“Something wrong?” Quinten asked, then glanced toward the elevator and whistled. “Now who is that delectable little treat?”
Because that treat as Quinten had called her was wearing a black spandex dress that ended just below her hips, with a plunging neckline that let Ram know in all of two seconds she wasn’t wearing a bra. Goddammit!
“I will deal with her.” Ram set his beer on the bar and Quinten raised a dark brow.
“It’s like that, huh?” Quinten chuckled.
Ram growled and walked away. In the time it had taken him to set his beer down, Sadie had moved from the elevator and was watching a particularly erotic scene where Quinten’s cousin Killian was whipping Amy. Amy was a generous sub who loved pain and was currently howling up a storm at the pleasure.
Two steps away, the look on Sadie’s face made Ram pause. She was entranced by the scene, and more than a little bit. In fact, she was aroused if he was properly interpreting the reason she was clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides. Her itty-bitty black dress barely covered her ass, and she wore a pair of skyscraper stilettos that made her legs sexy as sin. The long length of her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls to her mid-back.
Ram was fucked, and he knew it.
He took two steps, then slid his arm around her waist so that she couldn’t run. He chewed out, “What are you doing here?”
She startled at his hand on her and his words. She tore her gaze away from the scene just as it crescendoed, galloping toward a loud finish. Ram knew without looking that, from the sound of flesh smacking flesh, it was because Killian was fucking Amy. But then Sadie’s gaze met his and it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Sadie was fully aroused by the scene. Her pupils were dilated. The pulse in her neck thumped wildly. She wasn’t turned off—far from it. It made him wonder whether, if he reached beneath her skirt to the vee between her legs, he would find her wet.
Her gaze widened. A rosy flush colored her cheeks. And she whispered, so low he had to bend slightly to hear her, “You told me to go have fun and I thought…”
“You thought what?” he murmured, turning her body to his, feeling like he had plugged himself in to a lightning rod.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she replied, “That I could find someone here to have fun with.”
Ram was rock hard. Even his normally stalwart control wanted him to toss her over his shoulder caveman style and take her home, where he could fuck her for hours. But that would be crossing so many boundary lines, there would be no going back once he did.
“I’m taking you home,” he muttered darkly. He would see her home and then drive back here to find a willing sub.
Sadie tried to wrench free of his hold. “No. You’re not the boss of me.”
But oh, he wanted to be. Given the chance, Ram would redden her ass for coming in here without permission.
“Only elite members are allowed up here. I’m not even sure how you got up here in the first place,” he snapped, giving her an angry scowl, hoping it would scare her off.
But she didn’t budge.
He pushed. “Well?”
She grimaced, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I sort of told the doorman I was meeting you here and he let me up.”
If only that were true. A part of Ram wanted to toss his responsibilities right out the door. But the saner part of himself held him back. It would be a disaster of his own making should he touch her. He’d have to talk to Chris about letting people up here willy nilly, without checking with members first. “Well, come on then. Some of us had plans for tonight.”
Before she could protest, he steered her back toward the elevators and pressed the call button.
“Please don’t make me leave. I need… I mean, I think this is something I need to help me. I researched this place and what it’s about after I saw the card the other day. And it’s the first time I’ve felt interest in anything since the accident. Please don’t send me away. I… oh, what’s the use.” And she seemed to cave in on herself with such desolate moroseness, Ram shifted his plans once more.
When the elevator arrived, Ram ushered her inside and hit the button for the third floor. Sadie didn’t even notice.
“Sadie, look at me.”
When she didn’t respond, he cupped her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “When I give you an order, you do as you’re told. That’s how dominance and submission works.”
Shock filled her gaze. “But I thought you said you were taking me home?”
“If this is what you really want, to experience BDSM, then I will show you. After tonight, I will no longer be your therapist. There are far too many ethical boundaries I am crossing in doing this. I do think you still should attend the Survivors’ Group every week for the foreseeable future.”
The elevator doors opened, and Sadie had not responded yet. Ram held the elevator at the third floor, piercing her wi
th a glare, searching for any traces of fear or hesitation on her part. All he saw was a growing need. “Sadie, I need an answer from you. If this is what you want, what you believe you need, then for tonight, I will show you what it means. Give you entrance into the lifestyle the way it should be done. What’s it going to be? There’s no shame in backing out. If this isn’t what you want, I will escort you home.”
She stared at him, her breathing heavy, nibbling on her bottom lip. He filed away that it was a nervous trait of hers and held out his hand. “It’s time to decide. If you want this, put your hand in mine and I will take you to my private room.”
She dropped her face down, clenching her hands into fists. He sighed. It was for the best. He would still find her another therapist, though, because he was attracted to her—enough that it could mar his objectivity in providing the proper treatment.
No one was more shocked than Ram when her delicate palm slid into his grasp. Heat lacerated his body and he practically creamed in his jeans. Without another word, he led her out of the elevator and toward his room.
His gut clenched in sweet anticipation of having her splayed out for his pleasure.
Chapter 9
Ram escorted Sadie down a long, wide hall. The walls were a buttery gray, with sconces and wainscoting that made them appear like walls one might find in a castle dungeon. The lighting was soft and muted, creating a hazy, surreal feeling.
Or perhaps it was just her.
Sadie’s heart beat a staccato rhythm and it wasn’t out of fear. She had come this far, drawn up all her courage to stride through the front door of the club and convince the guard at the elevator to let her up, so she might as well go all the way.
The little fact that it was Ram—the man she couldn’t seem to stop fantasizing about—who had her hand gripped in his and was leading her to a private room, made her wonder if she had truly lost her mind and was lost in a fantasy. She’d pinch herself if she didn’t have to hurry her feet to keep up with his long-legged strides. When she’d conceived of her plot to get inside and visit the club, she hadn’t intended to go up to the elite club levels, nor had she imagined she would run into Ram.