Page 21 of Steamy Ever After

“Really? Do you know their names?” Clarissa and Luna had memberships in clubs all over the US, including D.C., Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and New York, as well as several international clubs in the U.K. and Europe. They were all private and expensive, and members were completely vetted to ensure the other members’ kinks were kept out of the public eye. The two women knew numerous celebrities, politicians, and wealthy businesspeople who were members of more than one club, so it was possible they were already acquainted with the three new Doms.

“Nope,” Luna said with a pop of the ‘p.’ “I didn’t get all the deets yet. Shelby only said that they were dreamboats.”

Clarissa chuckled. Shelby Christiansen was a sweetheart and a popular member of The Covenant. “Dreamboat” was her usual description of the handsome Doms at the club, but according to Shelby, none were hotter than her husband, Parker, although a few came close.

Giving up on choosing an outfit for the big event, Clarissa sighed before spinning around and stalking out of the closet. “What are you doing right now?”

“Sitting on the couch in my yoga pants, eating yogurt, and reading a script, and I hate it. The script, not the yogurt. Why?”

“Get dressed. I’ll pick you up in a half hour. We’re going shopping and then out to lunch. I need a new outfit for tonight.”

“Yes! Now you’re talking! See you in thirty!”

LANDON

Landon stood under the hot shower of the Clearwater Beach home he’d once shared with Clarissa, letting the familiar surroundings relax him. Thank God he chartered a private jet from New Mexico to Tampa because he’d been running late after a half day of filming. Had he flown commercial, he probably would’ve missed the flight altogether and any chance of making it to The Covenant in time for the Slot Scene Spectacular. He only had forty-eight hours to fix things with Clarissa before he had to be back on the set—if he wasn’t successful, he’d have to wait three weeks for the next break that was long enough for him to commute home again for another attempt. He’d keep trying until she finally listened to him, but hopefully, he only needed a few hours at the club tonight before she understood he never cheated on her and that he now had proof.

Closing his eyes, he rested his weight against his hands splayed flat against the stone tile in front of him. Images of his beautiful wife flittered through his mind. Yes, he still thought of her as his wife despite the divorce papers that said otherwise. While he no longer wore his wedding ring on his finger, it hung from a gold chain around his neck, along with hers, which she’d thrown at him before kicking him out of the home they once shared.

Three years. Four Months. And five days. That’s how long it’d been since she left him over an indiscretion that had never happened. That’s how long he’d been trying to win her back without being given a chance to convince her of his innocence. He’d reluctantly stayed in the shadows of her life, watching from afar as she dated and slept with other men and played with other Doms while he remained faithful to their wedding vows. Of course, he couldn’t fault her for being with other men. She was a vibrant and gorgeous woman who, according to the state of Florida, wasn’t legally married anymore. But in Landon’s heart, he knew she was his soulmate.

When he finally received the proof he needed only a few short weeks ago, he’d contacted Mitch Sawyer, the manager of The Covenant and one of the three owners, to find out if Clarissa had signed up for this year’s Slot Scene Spectacular. She hadn’t since that first event two years ago, which didn’t end as he’d hoped.

They’d both signed up to be participants in the first event. Clarissa probably because she was still hurt and pissed at him, and it was a way to exact some revenge on him, knowing that even if he wasn’t there, he’d hear about it at some point. Landon had registered as soon as he discovered her name was on the event roster. That evening, she’d stared daggers at him as each unattached Dom pulled a piece of paper out of a bucket, which would determine who would be their submissive for the night’s festivities. Landon thought the stars had aligned when she still hadn’t been paired with a Dom when his turn came and he pulled the paper with her name on it from the few remaining ones. But they never got a chance to play that night because her anger had flared, and after a very public argument, she’d stormed out of the club, refusing to play or even speak to him in a civil tone.

Even to this day, he understood her rage—the proverbial wounds he allegedly inflicted had still been fresh at the time. Since then, though, especially in the past few months, he occasionally caught her staring at him when they’d both been at the same club, award ceremony, or other event. He knew he hadn’t mistaken the longing he saw in her eyes sometimes before she realized he was returning her gaze. Then, she would quickly look away and start talking to the nearest person, trying to ignore him.

But ignoring her was something he couldn’t do. No matter where he was, he always knew when she entered a room. A tingle of awareness would run down his spine, and his gaze would instantly dart about, searching for her in the crowd.

When he found out she’d signed up for this year’s Slot Scene Spectacular at The Covenant at her friends’ urging, he’d contacted Mitch and practically begged the man to add him to the list. At first, he was turned down because the roster was full, and Mitch didn’t want any potential drama at the event. But then the owner must’ve taken pity on him because, when another Dom had to back out for some reason, Mitch had filled the empty spot with Landon. He also agreed to keep that information to himself after Landon had fully disclosed the reasons for wanting to be paired with her. Landon had to promise on his grandmother’s grave that there wouldn’t be a repeat of the first Slot Scene Spectacular. Lord help him and her backside if Clarissa made a scene again.

After turning off the shower, he dried himself off with a towel and then took a razor to his face. It was time to get spiffed up and claim his woman.

CHAPTER 3

CLARISSA

Clarissa sat in the passenger seat of her SUV with its tinted windows while her bodyguard, Hank Schaffer, slowed as they approached a manned gatehouse. A chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top surrounded several dozen acres that housed four warehouses: one for The Covenant and two for Trident Security. The fourth one on the far side had been converted into penthouse-sized apartments for the three Sawyer brothers and their families. Also on the property were training areas and a helicopter pad for the security business.

Hank rolled down his window and nodded at the armed guard who scanned a small sticker on the SUV’s windshield before waving them through the open gate. It was about a quarter of a mile drive through a wooded area before they reached the parking lot. Instead of finding a spot, Hank pulled up to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the entrance to the club and stopped, putting the vehicle into Park. He exited and rounded the front of the SUV before opening Clarissa’s door and offering his hand to help her climb out.

The parking lot was almost full, which wasn’t surprising since the Slot Scene Spectacular would start in about forty-five minutes. Usually, Clarissa would run “fashionably late,” but not on a night like this. Showing up late while a club full of Doms and subs were waiting for her so they could start the event wouldn’t go over well. It would result in her being publicly punished in front of all of them by Ian Sawyer, the head Dom, and probably, again, by whichever Dom she ended up with for the night. Not how she would like to start the evening.

“I appreciate you driving me tonight, Hank,” she said while trying to calm her nerves. She had no clue why she was suddenly so anxious about the event—maybe it was just the threat of the unknown. Who would she be paired with, and what types of play would they end up with when the disc dropped into a slot? She was only allowed to select three types on her red limit list—things she refused to participate in—that would result in a do-over. The Dom she was paired with would also be given three red limits. Scat, body fluids, and needles were on her no-fucking-way list, but they were also not allowed at The Covenant. She was also terrified of breath play because it restricted the airflow to her lungs, cage play due to a moderate case of claustrophobia, and fire play—or anything else that had the potential to scar her permanently. There were a few other kinks that she preferred not to do, but three was the limit tonight. Everyone’s kink was different, so some things she didn’t like, others might be into, and vice versa. Landon had been one of the few Doms she’d ever met whose limit list had matched hers to a T.

No. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t think of him tonight, but whenever she was in a club, it was hard not to. Their scenes had always brought them closer together—more than anything else in their lives. They both craved the power play of the lifestyle. His dominance and her submissiveness had been like yin and yang—two halves of a whole. She hated that she still missed him, even though he’d cheated on her.

Despite being an efficient and sometimes strict Dom, Landon had a romantic side to him that pulled at her heartstrings. He was the kind of man who would leave little love notes for her around the house—in her coffee cup, between the pages of a script she was reading, or taped to the steering wheel of her sports car in the garage. At least once a month, when she wouldn’t expect it, he would send her flowers or her favorite candy that she rarely treated herself to. Hell, the man even loved to go clothes shopping with her when she needed a spectacular dress for an event. However, since he would never say something looked awful on her, he hadn’t been much help, at least at the beginning of their relationship. But she’d learned his “tells” over their time together—his eyebrows arching, his head not tilting to the side, and him standing and gesturing for her to spin around again when she put on a dress he loved. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she would love it too and end up buying it.

Ugh. Stop thinking of that two-timing rat bastard!

Hank smiled at her. “No worries, Clarissa. I’ll park on the other side of the lot. Call me when you’re ready to leave. I’ve got a new book to read, and I have to check in with Maura. The girls are at that slumber party tonight, so I don’t need to rush home.”

“Tell Maura I’m sending her and her mom lots of positive vibes,” she replied, turning toward the staircase. She preferred to have her bodyguard drive her to and from BDSM clubs in case the subspace she hoped to achieve sometimes lingered and took her attention off the road. She had thought he wouldn’t be available tonight because his wife was in New York with her mother, who’d broken her arm earlier in the week. When surgery was needed to repair it, her daughter hopped on the next flight out of Tampa. Since the couple had twin twelve-year-old girls, Hank had stayed behind. With his daughters at a sleepover party that night, he’d offered to bring Clarissa to the club while he drove her and Luna around when they’d gone shopping earlier. The man had worked for Clarissa for over seven years, and she loved him like a younger brother. Over time, his family had become her family. She’d even spent the past Thanksgiving with them when her own sister, her husband, and their kids had come down with the flu. Some celebrities might balk at spending time with an employee’s family, but Clarissa happily accepted the invitation and warm welcome.

Wrapping her lightweight coat tighter around her body, she approached and climbed the stairs to the club’s main entrance. Her high heels clicked with each step she took. The well-guarded and secure compound afforded the club members privacy. Security measures had been doubled after Remi’s and Gray’s ex-girlfriend broke a non-disclosure agreement and revealed they were club members, along with Abigail, as revenge for them dumping her. The press and lookie-loos had descended on the compound by the dozens for several weeks but hadn’t gained access due to the existing security at the time. However, the owners decided to make it even more difficult for outsiders to catch a glimpse of anyone entering the club. The fence line had been extended further down the road which led to the two businesses and living quarters, with the gatehouse moved to its current location. More sensors and cameras had been added in the surrounding woods, and several armed guards with trained canines now roamed the compound.

At the top of the stairs, one of the club’s security guards stood sentry and opened the door for her. “Good evening, Ms. James. Welcome.”

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