Page 245 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

Easton

ANISE STORM

One

EASTON

DENVER, COLORADO

Finally back in town after a three day sting operation in Houston, I couldn’t wait to return to Syn to unwind. The narcotic bust in Texas had turned up six kilograms of fentanyl-laced heroin and contributed to the arrest of twenty-seven people. It’d been a mission months in the making, but a successful one which was all that mattered. At least then. This was now, and as I parked my candy apple red, F-Type Jag in the parking garage across from the club, I finally felt like I was home.

Heavy into the BDSM scene even before the construction of Syn, I was thankful I no longer had to travel to Albuquerque for a true club experience. Sure, there’d been parties at secret locations in and around this city, but nothing like the club I frequented way more than I should. And I wasn’t the only one, either. Having known several of the other members for years, or decades in Chase and Cortland Maxwell’s cases, this had become the place to be in Lo-Do.

I’d met others I now considered friends such as Nathaniel Hawkins, Caine Stephens, Lucien Fowler, and Ryder Nelson. Many of us came from different places, but those differences never came between us. Life was good. In a few minutes, it might get even better for me.

It won’t completely feel like home until I have a single tail in my hand.

I chuckled at that thought. A true master with the whip, I’d made many women scream in and out of the spotlight at Syn. Lately, there was only one person I wanted to see, and if I was lucky, she’d make an appearance tonight. Despite the fact I knew almost all of the members, there were a few I hadn’t made acquaintances with, and with this particular submissive, it hadn’t been for lack of trying.

I locked up my car and soon made it across the street and into the club where I made a beeline for the bar. As I took a seat, my eyes moved from one end of it to the other. The bartenders this evening were all new except for one, and as Chad made his way over to me, I nodded in greeting.

“What’s your poison tonight, Easton?” he asked me.

Since I wasn’t sure yet whether I wanted to play or not, I decided to err on the side of caution. Hawke was a stickler for club rules and etiquette, and one of the biggest ones for both Dominants and submissives alike was a one alcoholic drink maximum if there would be any type of scene.

“Club soda with lime,” I answered.

“Here you go,” Chad told me a few seconds later as he set the glass down in front of me.

“Thanks, man,” I replied, then picked up the lime garnish to squeeze into my glass. The bartender moved back down the bar, and I took a sip of my drink.

I set it back down, then tapped my fingers impatiently as I looked around the club. Since it was a weeknight, it was not nearly as crowded as it would be by the time the weekend hit. It was better this way because I could more easily peruse the place. Numerous scenes were taking place in the public displays, and I’d even been there a few dozen times myself over the year and a half this place had been open.

“You’re looking intently around tonight. Easton. In case you’re wondering, she hasn’t arrived yet if she plans to come tonight at all,” Chad told me when he came back to check on me.

I feigned innocence. “Who are you talking about?” I asked him, and he chuckled.

“You know,” was all he said before continuing down the bar.

Chad was right. One woman would damn near paralyze me the moment I’d lay eyes on her. She had hair the color of fire, and eyes as cold as ice. The combination of red hair and blue eyes made me hard, not counting a body even she didn’t attempt to hide in those mini dresses or skin tight outfits she often wore.

The very idea of seeing her splayed across the leather of my spanking table wearing welts from my most trusted single tail had me inwardly groaning. There’d been a club in Houston I should’ve stopped by during the course of my last mission, but I knew the place wouldn’t have had the woman from my wet dreams there. Lately, only my vivid thoughts of her would actually get me off.

She was...

“Fuck,” I said aloud as she stepped out of the shadows and into my peripheral view.

Starting at her feet, my eyes focused in on white heels I was already picturing getting a better view of the night I’d finally get her legs over my shoulders. And speaking of them, my gaze moved higher up those long limbs which were toned and bronzed to absolute perfection. The marks I’d leave would bloom beautifully on her flesh.

Eventually, my gaze reached the bottom of her dress which barely went mid-thigh. She could tempt a fucking saint, especially in that dress which had a large oval-shaped slit revealing her flat belly. I continued with my perusal, stopping to admire her cleavage which was barely contained by the top of the dress. It was also strapless, so I had a stellar view of her collarbone and a throat I wanted to squeeze with my bare hands.

Finally, I looked past those pouty lips of hers which I’d imagined wrapped around my cock way too many times to be healthy, and ones that were also the same shade of red as my car. I’d also pictured doing unholy things to her on top of it. None of these dreams would ever become reality until I broke the ice between us, though.

As she sashayed past me to take a seat a few barstools away, I knew I was about to get my chance. Chad had noticed her arrival and outside of giving me a knowing wink, he moved down to the mystery woman to get her drink order. When he left, I grabbed my drink, cell phone, and keys, then closed the distance between us.

When I sat down beside her, she turned slowly around. Now, I was not only intoxicated by her ethereal beauty but by the scent of her perfume. Or was it shampoo. It smelled of vanilla and blackberries which made me think of fruit cobbler. It’d been my favorite dessert growing up. I knew at that moment that if I ever got a taste of her, she would quickly replace it as my favorite.

“Hey,” I said, not really sure how to greet her.

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