Page 12 of Point of Contention
Only one thing could alleviate this and it was the one thing I couldn’t have.
Rylan on her knees at my feet.
Returning to the kitchen for my phone, it buzzed on the marble island, setting my teeth on edge because it wouldn’t be her. When I picked up the cell and looked at the screen, her message was so brief that I could read the whole thing in the preview without even unlocking my phone. My heart soared at the sight of her name, then crashed down into a million pieces.
It’s over. I’m sorry.
My shoulders bowed and the breath left my lungs in a whoosh.
I’d put the ball in her quart and she’d fucking spiked it right into my soul.
I’d expected her to ask me for time. Space. If I had been lucky, she would have asked me to rush back to her side and bring her home. Instead, she ended things.
It’s over.
I began to type out a reply, then deleted it. I wouldn’t beg.
My hand tightened around the device until the screen cracked from the pressure, then I reared my arm back and whipped the phone across the room. It bounced off the wallpapered wall on the far side of my entertainment area and hit the floor with a loudclang.
“Motherfucker!” I yelled, bending at the waist and bracing my hands on my knees.
After a moment of heavy breathing and a million belligerent thoughts that moved too quickly through my brain to take note of, I stood and rolled my shoulders, breathing deeply to find some composure. It was high time I did just that. She’d walked into my life and obliterated my discipline, destroyed my carefully curated self-control.
Each stride back to my bedroom felt like a step back to who I was before Rylan Blake stumbled into my life. With each step, I hardened.
My shoulders.
My spine.
My goddamn useless heart.
I pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Stepped into my boots.
Twenty minutes later, I guided the Bugatti into the underground parking garage below White Rabbit and adjacent to The Rabbit Hole. Being here without Rylan felt like an infidelity, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.
A month ago, this was my sanctuary, my safe place. If I needed to release pent up energy, anger, or hormones, I slipped into the darkness of the underground and found the answer to my needs. If something troubled me at work, I came here and didn’t leave until I’d worked through the problem and found a solution.
And though she’d infiltrated this space, muddled it with her subservience and her filthy little mind, The Rabbit Hole was mine long before she walked down those stairs by my side and it would be mine long after I forgot about her completely.
Bracing myself for whatever awaited me on the other side of the underground entrance to the club, I pushed the door open and strode through, shoulders straight and chin upturned. I called to the power within me and, like a rush of lava, it ignited my veins and reminded me of who the fuck I am.
Here in the underground, I was Master Creed, head Dominant and club Ombudsman. Ibelongedhere, regardless of what happened above ground.
This was my domain.
Nothing short of a direct order from Mistress Sinclair herself could remove me from the premises and she was across the country in Los Angeles, meeting with her business partner about the shit storm I’d created.
I strode down the long corridor, glancing into the viewing rooms as I passed. Even for a Monday night, this place was quiet, and that didn’t sit well with me. I’d need to work with Mina and come up with a plan to rectify what I’d done. Something would be able to bring the members back to the underground. I just had to figure out what.
As I reached the nucleus of my sanctuary, I scanned the booths surrounding the dance floor for a suitable submissive, but all that remained were collared subs and a few faces I didn’t recognize. Master Gage sat in the furthest booth from where I stood, two blondes on either side of him. Only one I recognized as his usual sub. The other had a ball gag in her mouth, and her eyes were covered with a black blindfold.
Catching my stare, Master Gage jerked his head in my direction, then tilted it toward the empty space in the booth. An invitation.
I approached the table and inclined my head. “Master Gage.”
He stroked his submissive’s long blonde hair and she stretched her neck, leaning into his touch. “Say hello to Master Creed, pet.”
She sat up straighter, lifting her head but keeping her eyes downcast. “Hello, Master Creed.”
