Page 4 of Captivating Nash

Nash picked up the envelope, the weight of it insignificant but the promise behind it unmistakable. He didn’t open it yet, though. “And if I say no?”

Fitzwallace’s eyes gleamed with something akin to amusement. “If you say no, you walk out of here and go back to your sailboat in Crete and whatever it is you’ve been doing. But let’s be honest, Maddox—you’re not the type to sit on the sidelines. You’ve tasted action. You thrive on it.”

Nash stared at the envelope in his hands, his fingers itching to tear it open. He could feel the pull, that familiar call to dive headfirst into the unknown. He’d sworn he was done, that he’d had his fill of danger, of putting his life on the line for causes he didn’t always understand. But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“And if I say yes?” Nash asked, his voice steady.

Fitzwallace leaned back, his smile widening just a fraction. “Then we head to Baker Street. There’s someone you need to meet.”

Nash’s brow furrowed. Baker Street? The legendary London address held weight, not just in its famous history, but the whispered stories of secret operations, covert dealings. This wasn’t just about a job. This was something else. Something deeper.

He glanced at the door, considering his options. The normal life he had tried to craft outside of the military seemed miles away now, distant and unreachable. He’d always known he was cut from a different cloth, and maybe—just maybe—this was where he truly belonged.

Nash drained the rest of his whiskey and set the empty glass on the table with a finality that echoed his decision.

Making his decision, he tucked the envelope in his pocket without ever opening it. He didn’t need to. “When do we leave?” he asked.

Fitzwallace’s eyes gleamed, his smile sharp. “Now.”

Without another word, the head of Cerberus stood, buttoning his tailored jacket with one swift motion. Nash followed, his muscles coiling with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever waited for him at Baker Street, whatever Fitzwallace had planned—Nash was ready.

The two men stepped out of the pub into the cool London night, the damp streets glistening under the soft glow of the streetlamps. Nash could feel the weight of what was to come, the unknown hanging heavy in the air around them.

And for the first time in a long while, Nash Maddox felt alive.

Chapter Two

Nash

Baker Street, London

Present Day

On one of Baker Street’s famed stages in the main dungeon, Nash had just finished an intense scene with a submissive partner. His muscular body glistened with sweat, and his dominant presence filled the room. Nash was a master of his craft, pushing boundaries and exploring the depths of pleasure with every stroke of his whip.

The submissive, now lying at his feet breathless and satisfied, looked up at him with adoration. Nash's reputation as a sexually dominant alpha male preceded him, and he lived up to every fantasy. His strong, tanned hands gently caressed the sub's body, a gesture that belied his rough and intense nature.

As the submissive began to recover, Nash's piercing eyes scanned the room for his next conquest. That's when he spotted her heading into the lounge—a tall, curvy, curly brown-haired beauty with a look of reverence and keen interest in her eyes. Her eyes locked on him and reflected a mixture of curiosity and desire. He felt an instant connection, a primal urge to possess and dominate her.

He watched as she made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink—perhaps to calm her nerves? There was something new and unsure about her as she looked around the club and observed its elegant Victorian decor with slight steampunk influences. The atmosphere in the club was always electric and seductive. As she sipped her drink, he could almost see her inhibitions melting away.

Nash, having made prior arrangements for aftercare with the submissive at his feet’s regular partner, excused himself and made his way upstairs, his eyes never leaving the other woman. He approached her with a confident stride, his muscular frame commanding attention.

Fitzwallace chuckled as Nash entered the lounge, wiping the sweat from his body. "Nash Maddox… Deanna Fowler." he said in a deep, commanding voice. "I wanted you two to meet. Dr. Fowler is a celebrated marine biologist with an appetite for adventure. She’s played at Southside in Chicago."

Nash almost forgot how to breathe as she turned to face him. Her presence was overwhelming, and he felt a tingle running down his spine.

“Nash Maddox, the legend himself," she replied, her voice slightly shaky. "The submissives from London speak highly of you. I must admit, I've been eager to meet you."

Nash's eyes narrowed as he took in her curvy figure, his gaze lingering on her full breasts and narrow waist. "Eager? Well, what can I do for you?”

“Nash…” started Fitz.

“No, if Dr. Fowler and I are going to work together, she needs to be able to show me she can ask for what she wants and needs, as well as follow orders. If not…” He let the sentence dangle.

Deanna straightened her back. “All right then, let's not waste any time." Standing, she grabbed his hand with a firm grip and led him toward the stairs that led to the private playrooms.

As they entered the room, Deanna released his hand and sank to her knees, legs spread and hands resting lightly on the top of her thighs. “Right now, Sir, I’m in need of some release. I have something big I’m working on and am finding it hard to focus.”

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