Page 3 of Tempting Alec

“Fitzwallace has never worked against the interests of the United States or the United Kingdom; nor would he.”

“I know. I know. Hell, Fitz is a friend, and if I’m being honest, I don’t blame him. He’s put together one of the best black ops and security firms in the world. So, you’ll be relocating to London?”

“He’s given me my choice of locations. I’ve decided to relocate to Chicago.”

“Brrr,” said the admiral with a smile. “Damn cold in Chicago, but I hear his Club Southside is the hottest spot in town.”

Alec grinned. He was well aware of Fitzwallace’s growing number of clubs: Baker Street in London, Club Southside in Chicago, and Carriage House in Charleston. Alec had played at Baker Street more than once, and one of Fitzwallace’s enticements was a compensation package which made his Naval salary look like chump change and included playing privileges at all three clubs.

As he signed the final paperwork that would separate him from the Navy, he leaned back before standing and snapping the admiral a final salute. “It’s been an honor, sir.”

“The honor has been mine, Alec,” said the admiral returning the salute and then extending his hand.

As Alec left Naval Base Coronado, a bald eagle cried out overhead. Alec looked up and smiled. He had no idea where the eagle was going. Alec might know where he was going, but he hadn’t a clue what his future held. Best he get on to finding that out.

Chapter 2

Grier

CIA Safe House

Moscow, Russia

Present Day

Grier hunched over her laptop, the glow from the screen casting shadows across her face in the dimly lit Moscow safe house. The walls, bare and cold, seemed to close in on her as she fought against the boredom that had settled over her like a heavy blanket. The hum of the computer was the only sound, punctuating the silence of the small, nondescript room. They’d told her going ‘into the field’ would be exciting, dangerous; they’d lied.

At least back home in her little cottage outside of Langley, Virginia, her life had a certain predictability. She could go to work in her little cubicle. At the end of the day, she could come home, pull off her clothes, including her bra, and indulge in the wonderfully sexy romance novels set in lifestyle clubs. There, the men were incredibly dominant and the women found peace in their submission to caring Doms who saw to all their needs—physical, emotional, mental, not to mention sexual. Somehow her vibrator no longer seemed enough.

Her fingers idly tapped against the keys as she scrolled through encrypted files, her mind far away from the task at hand. She couldn't shake the memory of that night in Chicago, when she’d felt safe and cut off from the rest of her life. She’d dared to venture out to Club Southside, the city’s most well-known and exclusive lifestyle club. The pulse of the music, the dim lights, and the smell of expensive liquor had exceeded all of her wildest fantasies.

And then when her nerve had started to fail her, he was there—tall, dark, magnetic. He’d stolen not only her breath away, but her ability to speak. He’d looked like every fantasy she’d ever had dressed in his leathers—muscular with a sculpted chest and chiseled abs showing through this leather vest with a prominent bulge in the front of his leather pants. His piercing blue eyes had locked onto hers the moment he entered the room, and it had been impossible to look away. The way he moved, with a quiet confidence that sent a shiver down her spine, still lingered in her thoughts.

He’d been about her age, but he exuded confidence and experience. His hair had been thick and unruly and made him sexier than anyone had a right to be. If looks could be believed, he was exactly what she’d come looking for—a Dom, with a capital D, not a daddy Dom or a soft Dom… but a truly dominant Dom. One who would take her to her breaking point and bring her back down, giving her the aftercare she so desperately needed. This would be her first time, and it both excited and scared her.

“You’re G?” he asked in a deep, low voice.

Grier could do nothing but nod.

He smiled. “First time?”

Another nod. God, he was going to think he’d gotten stuck with a submissive who couldn’t speak. He stretched out his hand, helping her to her feet. Grier had purchased a black brocade corset which seemed to make the most of her figure—chubby or curvy, depending on how charitable one wanted to be—as well as a matching pair of boy shorts. The woman at the corset shop had tried to talk her into a skimpy thong, but Grier had declined. She’d also purchased a pair of stiletto heels, which now caused her to wobble when she walked.

The Dom who would only be known as ‘Sir’ stopped and kneeled down, running his hand firmly down the back of her calf. “Let’s get these off. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Inflicting pain is my job.”

Grier’s entire body shivered. She might be limited to calling him Sir, but she would forever in her mind think of him as Master McSexy.

As they walked into the dimly lit dungeon, Grier’s heart was pounding in her chest, echoing in her ears with every step she took at his side. She couldn’t help but wonder if every lithe blonde in the place was wondering what he was doing with her. Truth to tell, she was wondering the same thing, but she decided she was just going to go with the flow and enjoy herself. After all, it was just a one-night stand, right?

Her tongue was glued to the top of her mouth, her eyes locked onto his. She saw a gleam reflected back at her, a gleam of power, of delight, and she hoped this long-held dream wasn’t about to turn into a nightmare.

As he led her to the frame, she tried to keep her breathing steady, her hands trembling only slightly. The air in the club was thick with anticipation, the pulse of the music like a heartbeat, amplifying the tension. She could feel eyes on her from all around the room, from the observant couples sharing a private booth in the corner to the lone wolf at the bar, nursing a drink. She’d been ambivalent about having an audience and so had let him choose. She wondered now if that had been a mistake, but she refused to back down.

He ran his fingers up her arms, his eyes on hers, staring into her soul, until her lips parted. Master McSexy escorted her up onto the stage and turned her to face the audience. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up a wicked looking blade and felt the spine of the knife on her back as it slipped beneath the lacings.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he whispered in her ear.

The corset fell away as did the boy shorts when he cut them away, smiling as she was bared to anyone and everyone who’d come to watch the show on the main stage. Master McSexy was said to be a whipmaster, one of Club Southside’s best Doms with a flogger. If everyone hadn’t been watching her, judging her, Grier might have tried to cover herself with her hands. But that gaze of his demanded she be brave, that she prove him, and everyone else, wrong for thinking she would bail. Instead, she lifted her chin and stared back at him, defiant, for now.

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