Page 1 of For the Sub

Chapter One

“Another drink, Sir?”

Startled out of his reverie by the softness of a woman’s voice, Niles Malloy looked over the rim of his empty glass.

Brandy, one of the house’s submissives, stood in front of him, her legs close together, her chest thrust forward in an oh-so sexy way.

Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard her approach?

Or were her movements so graceful and perfect that she’d managed to silently cross the Den’s patio?

Given her seductively high stilettos, he doubted the latter.

Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and tumbled down her back. Her short, slinky black dress covered everything, and she seemed more intriguing because of it. The material clung to her, highlighting her ample breasts, trim waist, and curvy bottom.

This woman—sub—appealed to every one of his masculine sensibilities.

Her legs were alluringly bare, and her black heels emphasized the feminine shape of her ankles.

For a moment, he fantasized about placing her on her back, removing her shoes then stroking his fingers against her instep before applying a cane to the soles of her feet.

He shook his head to banish the image.

It had been years since he’d played with a woman in anything other than a detached way. In fact, it hadn’t happened since the death of his wife and the unraveling of the devastating secrets she’d hidden.

But right now, he was thinking about touching Brandy in a way meant for their mutual satisfaction.

“Sir?” she asked, tipping her head. “Master Niles?”

The motion swept her hair to the side, snaring his interest.

Her locks were long enough to be used as part of a hot bondage scene.

“Would you prefer to be alone, Sir?”

“Actually, no.” His answer surprised him.

A month ago, he’d declined the invitation to tonight’s party.

Every fall, Master Damien hosted a get-together for Doms and Dommes who had been members of the Den for at least seven years.

The group was small, select, and they gathered to play poker, sip the finest single malt on the planet, enjoy conversation and, if they chose, scene with house subs.

Not many people availed themselves of the playrooms, however, as most were in relationships, and this exclusive gathering focused on socializing, which was not his strong suit.

This year, Damien had pestered Niles to the point of annoyance.

Despite his reluctance and tired of too damn much time at home by himself, Niles had agreed.

But after half an hour of mindless white lies, telling his friends and acquaintances that he was well, he’d made his escape to the solitude of the patio.

He’d dragged a chair close to the crackling firepit to enjoy the sunset. Today had been a mild day, and summer was breathing her last gasps before surrendering to the inevitable shorter, colder, bleaker days.

Brandy, a natural submissive, rather than one who’d been trained for it, cast her gaze down at the ground before looking up at him. “I never said thank you for what happened at the last Ladies’ Night.”

“No thanks necessary,” he assured her. “Any Dom would have done the same thing.”

There was an occasional assumption among new Doms that subs wearing the house’s purple wristband welcomed any attention. A first-time visitor had made that error with Brandy.

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