Page 2 of Reveal Me
It’s official—I need a new sub.
Samantha grinds her ass back against me. I should slap it for ruining our arrangement, instead, I simply unshackle her. Her cheeks are flushed, but the brightness in her blue eyes fades as they meet mine.
‘Sir?’ Her tone assures me she’s aware she fucked up. Assures me she’s aware she’s been pushing for something she had no right to push for—more.
‘I’ll walk you to the Sanctuary Suite.’
There’s a bathroom off of every chamber, but theSanctuary Suite is a dedicated room where doms can provide aftercare for their subs. There’s mood lighting, rainfall showers, an expansive lavender scented hot tub large enough to comfortably accommodate an orgy—which happens on occasion. As a rule, I never go into the Sanctuary Suite with a sub. Again, it’s too intimate. But I always walk Samantha there and ensure one of the staff takes care of her.
‘Is this it? Are we over?’ She glances at me in her peripheral vision as she stretches the stiffness from her wrists and her legs. I press a hand to the small of her back and guide her out of the room.
‘It’s for the best.’ Securing a new sub is hard work, not because they’re hard to come by, no——they’re usually clawing over each other at the chance to be mine. What’s hard is finding a good one. One I can communicate with using a single look. One who innately understands my limits as well as her own.
Samantha’s doe eyes and increasing neediness were too much of a test on mine.
‘Can I ask why?’ Her throat bobs, and she blinks hard.
Fuck. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Crying women stir things deep in my sternum. She’s the one who moved the goalposts.
‘You know why,’ I say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
‘I thought we were good together,’ her voice wobbles.
‘That’s the problem.’ We reach the Sanctuary Suite door. Two exceptionally talented masseuses are preparing a bed for Samantha inside, as instructed.
Understanding flashes across her face as she reaches for the collar around her neck and unclips it slowly. The ultimate acceptance it’s over. She places it in my hands and swivels on her heel.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I go in search of LarissaLaurent, the club’s operations manager. Samantha might need another reminder about her non-disclosure agreement, and I need to arrange interviews for a new sub—immediately. I stalk through the dark marble corridor towards the offices at the back of the club. Larissa’s is directly opposite mine. I step inside to find her tucked behind her tinted glass-topped desk, with her long, toned legs crossed beneath it. She looks up as I enter.
‘Monday night fun, huh?’ She squints at me through thick rimmed Marc Jacob glasses the same shade of crimson as her sharply bobbed hair.
I close the heavy wooden door behind me and dump the collar in the trash can. ‘Samantha has to go. She’s started looking at me with fucking hearts in her eyes, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.’ I drop into the huge leather chair in the corner of the room and rest my head back against the wall.
Larissa’s low laughter pierces the air.
‘What’s so funny?’ I rub my temple. A headache’s threatening. I need two paracetamol and a double whiskey. Not necessarily in that order.
‘You sound surprised, Sean.’ Larissa reaches into her top drawer and pulls out a bottle of Beckett’s Gold, my family’s famous whiskey. Maybe there is a God after all. She pours two generous measures into two chunky glass tumblers then crosses the room to hand one to me. Her emerald eyes bore into mine. ‘You’re a Beckett. Even if you hadn’t been blessed with big brown eyes, dimples, and a giant dick, your name is enough alone. Add in the fact your brothers are dropping from the singles market like flies, it’s no wonder you’re now considered Ireland’s most eligible bachelor.’
Larissa has seen my dick many times. One of my favourite pastimes is fucking my subs in the main lounge where thevoyeurs can watch. Not that it does much for Larissa, she prefers pussy.
‘And that’s how I want to stay—bachelor.’ I accept the glass and drink deeply, revelling in the burn as the liquid hits the back of my throat.
‘Why? Wouldn’t you like to meet someone special?’ Larissa backs across the room and perches on her desk.
‘And give up this life?’ I gesture towards the main lounge. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’
‘What makes you think you can’t have both?’ She cocks her head and eyes me thoughtfully over her glass.
‘Experience.’ Girlfriends are only interested in tying me down—figuratively, not literally, unfortunately. The woman who taught me about this life, Hannah Golden, also taught me not to mistake what occurs between a dom and a sub for love. It was a quick lesson–one I learnt the hard way, Back then, it was me who was stupid enough to sport hearts in my eyes. She broke me. Which is why I swore never again. ‘I need you to set up interviews for a new sub, the quicker the better.’
Larissa is the only person I trust to do this. She’s discreet, professional, and a perfectionist, a bit like myself. ‘You know…’ her eyes flash with mischief. ‘It’s been ages since we hosted a theme night. Maybe we could make your interviews into a show?’
I take another sip of my drink, and the tension slowly begins to seep from my shoulders. The members love a theme night. It practically guarantees a full house. We host a weekly masquerade night. Hell, some members prefer the anonymity of dressing up every night. We’ve held auction nights in the past, which proved hugely successful, but this? This has the potential to be massive.
‘What are you thinking?’ I rub my thumb over my lower lip, trying to work out the logistics. The prospect of lining uppotential subs and taking my pick makes my dick hard just thinking about it. But the reality is, we’d need to grant the potential new subs access to the club, which risks exposure. Unless we offer them all one year’s free membership and bind them all with NDAs.
‘We could move the throne to the main stage where the members can watch from the observation areas. I’m thinking maybe three potential subs. We can get the members to vote on how they like to see the newbies demonstrate their devotion to their potential new dom.’ Devilment dances in her pupils.
