The Billionaire's Sub Read online

  Finally, I couldn’t keep my question inside any longer. I leaned over to Juliette and pitched my voice as low as I could. “Doesn’t that cause damage?”

  “It can,” Juliette admitted. “A bad Dom or a Sub who doesn’t use a safe word when things get to be too much can cause damage to anyone’s body.” She lifted her chin toward the stage. “But Miranda is excellent at what she does. Plus, she and Jason have been together for a while, so they know each other’s limits.”

  So not every Dom / Sub relationship was like how my sister did it, I thought as I leaned back in my seat. That was good to know. Juliette had told me that this was how she relieved stress, but that it never followed her into her real life. Well, except when connections she’d made here wanted to hire her for catering jobs. She’d admitted that this club was how she’d come to know some of her wealthier clients.

  Apparently, my sister wasn’t just a Dom in the sense of how she preferred her sexual experiences. She was a much-sought-after dominatrix who occasionally helped others work off some of their stress. This, she’d admitted, had led to her getting hired for bigger and better events for richer clients.

  I’d just been relieved to find out that she could afford her apartment legitimately, and that she hadn’t resorted to something illegal to do it. After her admission last night, I’d had all sorts of crazy things going on in my head.

  A new sound drew my attention back to the stage. The woman, Miranda, had put down the flogger and was now running her hands all over the man’s body. Her fingers traced each stripe, causing her partner, Jason, to gasp and twitch at every touch. When she wrapped her fingers around his cock, a shudder ran through him, and I couldn’t tell if it came from pleasure or pain. Or both.

  When his hips began to move, pushing his dick against her hand, she let go. She didn’t step back though. Instead, she reached up and unfastened the straps around his wrists, then took a step back. Without needing instructions, Jason bent over to release his ankles. As soon as he could stand, he took a step forward, and then went to his knees.

  Miranda walked over to him, stopping just before her body touched his. She looked down and put her hand on his head. Even from where I sat, I could see him relax into her touch. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, then tightened them, using his hair to tilt his head back. She moved closer, straddling his legs, her knees against his shoulders.

  I caught my breath and something deep inside me tightened as understanding hit me like a wave. I knew what was going to happen next. And I couldn’t tear my eyes away or stop desire from pooling between my thighs.

  Miranda kept one hand in Jason’s hair and used the other to inch the hem of her dress up enough that she could spread her legs a little wider. The bottom of her ass peeked out, showing that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the dress. Then she was shifting her stance until Jason’s face was pressed between her legs.

  Fuck.

  A shiver went through me even as Miranda made a soft sound of pleasure. She held Jason’s head in place, grinding down on him even as I imagined his tongue and lips working on her. Her other hand went up to her breast and she pinched the nipple through the fabric.

  Either Jason was really good or Miranda had been right on the edge – or both – but only a few minutes passed before she was tensing against him, clearly coming. Then she stepped back, revealing a panting Jason, his face glistening. Their eyes met, and they shared another of those silent communications.

  A stab of jealousy went through me, surprising me. I didn’t need to analyze it though. I knew immediately what it was about. I wanted that sort of connection with someone. I just hadn’t realized I’d been missing it until now.

  Chapter Six

  The background music increased in volume as Miranda led Jason off the stage, his still-hard cock jutting out in front of him. I turned to Juliette.

  “So he doesn’t get to...finish?”

  “Not until his Mistress gives him permission.”

  A male voice answered my question, and Juliette’s stony expression told me who it belonged to before I even turned.

  Cross was dressed in a charcoal gray suit that somehow made him look even better than his tux had. He held out his hand to my sister first.

  Of course.

  “You must be Juliette Breckenridge,” he said, speaking just loud enough to be heard without shouting.

  She took his hand and nodded, then gave me a sharp look as Cross turned to me.

  “I must apologize,” he said, stepping closer to me than he had to Juliette. “I made an honest mistake last night. I asked someone to direct me to Miss Breckenridge, not realizing that there were two of you. Allow me to properly introduce myself. Cross Phillips.” He held out his hand.

  “Hanna,” I said as I took his hand.

  Instead of shaking it, he raised it and brushed his lips across the back of my knuckles.

  Heat rushed across my skin. I hadn’t realized men actually still did that.

  “I’m sorry if you considered my...proposal disrespectful,” he continued without releasing my hand. “That wasn’t my intent.”

  I shook my head, knowing I should pull my hand away, but unable to do it. “No offense taken.” I caught a glimpse of Juliette out of the corner of my eye and remembered what actually happened last night. I slid my hand from his. “Besides, you thought you were talking to my sister.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up, giving me a hint of that dimple. “That’s true. It was your sister’s reputation that had first intrigued me.” His eyes flicked toward her, then came back to me. “But I’d been watching you the whole night.”

  My stomach flipped. Damn, he was charming. But that didn’t stop Juliette’s warning from ringing in my ears. Cross wasn’t searching for a girlfriend. He wanted to dominate someone, and I had a feeling that didn’t come with a boyfriend package. At least not with him. I could see it in the way he moved, the way he smiled.

  Just because he got off on different things didn’t mean he was really any different from every other guy trying to get into my pants. There hadn’t been a lot of them, but enough for me to recognize a player when I saw one. He might not see himself that way, but he wasn’t in it for the long haul. That much was clear.

  Plus, I didn’t believe him for one moment that he didn’t still want Juliette. She’d said he wanted a challenge. For all I knew, he was using me to get to her. Or at least he was trying to. I wasn’t going to let him. I might not be into this lifestyle like Juliette, or have the right sort of personality to be a dominatrix like her, but I wasn’t a pushover.

  “Thank you for the apology,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my sister and I came here to have a little fun.”

  The slight widening of his eyes told me that he definitely hadn’t been expecting that response. Good. Maybe he’d think twice before screwing with someone’s head.

  “If you’re here for some fun, why don’t you dance with me?”

  The way he said it made it clear it wasn’t really a question. The part of me that was attracted to him loved the idea of him wanting me enough to dance with me. The logical part of me said differently though. If I danced with him, he’d think it was because he’d told me to, which was a dangerous path to go down with someone who got off on being in control.

  Besides, he could just as easily be saying it because he wanted to put on a show for Juliette.

  “Thanks, but I think Juliette and I are going to dance together for a bit.” I grabbed my sister’s hand, and the two of us headed for the dance floor.

  I didn’t look at her as we made our way to the middle, turning to face each other as the song changed. I knew she’d be happy I didn’t go off with Cross, but I didn’t want to talk about it right now. I didn’t want to hear that I’d done the right thing. All I wanted was to dance and forget all about it. Forget about everything.

  And for a while, I did. I lost myself in the music, in the rhythm. I might not have been sexually experienced, but I
did know how to move. So did Juliette, and in the flashing lights, dancing across from her was like dancing in front of some strange mirror. I could feel the attention we were attracting, and I knew that Cross was one of those watching me. Despite everything, I still felt a small stab of pride and pleasure that he hadn’t completely blown me off, that he watched me.

  Until I realized that he was probably just watching Juliette and I together like everyone else. He wasn’t looking at only me.

  I turned away from Juliette, and toward one of the men who’d been hovering behind me for the past two songs. He was tall, buff...and wearing a tight leather shirt. That was fine. I didn’t want anything other than a dance. I wasn’t planning on taking anyone home with me, even if Juliette had already said she didn’t mind. I just wanted a hard body pressed against mine, moving in time to the beat.

  Fortunately, he seemed to be on a similar page, because he didn’t bother asking my name or talking at all. He just put his hands on my hips and danced. We moved close enough that I could feel him hard against my thigh, but he never tried groping my ass and when I caught him looking at my breasts, he just grinned and shrugged.

  This was what I needed. A place to let loose and have a little fun. I could see why Juliette loved this city and this place. Everyone could be who they were and not have to worry about how other people looked at them. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t here to hook up or get kinky. Just like it didn’t matter that there were two men in leather and chains grinding on each other next to me. To each their own.

  At some point during the night, my partner left and another man took his place. No one tried to push me into anything, so I didn’t mind. If anything, it made it easier to keep them from getting expectations. I caught occasional glimpses of Juliette as she danced, and it was clear that she was pickier about her partners than I was. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was refusing anyone who wasn’t a Submissive. Not that there were many Doms who were attempting to cut in. It seemed that Cross had been right when he said my sister had a reputation.

  Almost as if thinking his name had drawn me, I found myself looking straight at him. He wasn’t dancing. He’d moved to the second floor and was standing on the balcony.

  Watching.

  Me.

  I turned my back on him and scanned the crowd for my sister. The pleasant haze that had come over me for the past few hours was gone and I was suddenly aware that my feet hurt, and I was thirsty. I couldn’t see Juliette, but I needed to get something to drink, so I excused myself and headed for the bar.

  I ordered some decent tequila and a water. I really wasn’t interested in a nasty hangover in the morning, but I needed something to finish taking the edge off. It’d been a weird night. I turned and leaned against the bar, watching the crowd as I waited for my drinks. When they came, I downed the shot first, letting it burn all the way down before drinking half a bottle of water. I set it back on the bar behind me and pushed myself up onto a barstool. My body needed a rest.

  For the next half hour, I fended off passes and offers while sipping my water. I had to admit, the people here were actually a lot more polite about rejection than some of the guys at clubs back home. Here, they just smiled and went to find someone else. I was sure every lifestyle had their assholes, but this place was either really lucky or they did a great job of crowd control, because everyone seemed to be having a good time and respecting everyone else.

  “There you are!” Juliette exclaimed breathlessly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I needed a drink.” I gestured behind me.

  I started to ask her how much longer we planned to stay when I realized that she wasn’t alone. Behind her was a gorgeous specimen of a man with dark eyes and milk chocolate skin. He wasn’t outrageously dressed, and didn’t have a collar or anything like that, but it was clear he was submissive. Everything about him said that he wanted Juliette to be in charge of him, even if only for one night.

  “This is Sam,” she said. She grinned at me. “It’s been a hell of a week, and I’d love to blow off some steam.”

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I can just grab a room here and make it quick.”

  I knew she’d do that for me, but I could also tell that she needed the outlet. What happened last night with her car had been stressful enough. Add in bringing me here...I knew it’d been as stressful for her as it had been for me. I’d said I was okay with her lifestyle, but saying it in the comfort of an apartment, with just the two of us and the theory of things, was one thing. Being face-to-face with it was something else.

  “I’m sure.” I smiled to let her know I was okay. “Should I wait to go home?”

  She shook her head. “I never bring men back to the apartment. That’s a boyfriend step.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, then looked back at me. “There’s a hotel nearby that works with the club for people who want a little more than one of the play rooms.”

  “So I shouldn’t wait up then?” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you okay getting a cab home?”

  I nodded. “It’s not a problem. I’ll probably hang out a bit longer and then head back.”

  She gave me a quick hug. “If you decide to go with someone, make sure you let him know you’re not into all this, and text me with his picture.”

  “Yes, Mom.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Go get your freak on.”

  She laughed as she turned back to Sam, and I ordered a second drink as I watched them walk away. Two was my limit before I’d actually get drunk, and that was as far as I was going tonight. I wasn’t about to do anything stupid.

  Chapter Seven

  I realized that I was a bit tipsier than I should’ve been from drinking just two shots, especially since I’d made a point of eating before I’d come, and I’d been drinking plenty of water. Still, the ground spun under my feet and my stomach was queasy. I had a bad feeling I’d be spending the rest of the night, and some of tomorrow, huddled over the toilet. I was just glad there were two bathrooms in Juliette’s apartment. I was trying very hard to be a good houseguest, and I didn’t think hogging the only bathroom so I could vomit would be on that list.

  I desperately needed to go home and lay down. I started for the door, keeping one hand on the wall to keep me steady. A security guard asked if I was okay, which I appreciated, but I politely refused his help. I’d be fine once I got outside. The fresh air would help clear my head.

  I wasn’t sure how many times I’d repeated that mantra by the time I reached the front door, but it’d started to lose meaning and was quickly becoming a series of words that didn’t make sense. I stepped outside, and then to the right so I could lean against the wall for a moment.

  I closed my eyes as I leaned against the coolness of the brick. Taking a deep breath, I tipped my head back. Much better. Granted, the aroma of Los Angeles wasn’t as nice as back home – too many cars and people here, not enough trees – but it was still better than it was inside.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I suddenly realized that my face was damp, and it wasn’t from sweat. This was a cool mist.

  I opened my eyes to see rain. I frowned, not so much at the rain itself as at the promised Hollywood weather. I was from Ohio. We had rain alternatives for every holiday. Fourth of July. Halloween. Christmas. We weren’t Seattle, but we did have our fair share of wet days. Then again, we also had sunny, cloudy, hot, and cold, sometimes all in the same day. Here, however, I thought the rainy days and nights would be few and far between.

  It was just my luck that one of the few rainy nights the area got had to be a night I was standing outside a club, looking for a cab.

  It was fairly warm, but I knew it wouldn’t be if I got wet. At the moment, I was only feeling a light mist because I was leaning against the wall and the overhang offered a bit of protection. I could see a drizzle coming down just a foot or so in front of me, and the only way I’d be able to get
a cab’s attention would be to step right out into it.

  I straightened, took a moment to ensure that I was steady, and then walked to the edge of the sidewalk. I shivered as the cold drops hit my bare skin. It might’ve been June, but that didn’t mean the rain would be warm yet.

  I stuck out my hand, intending to wave down the first taxi I saw. Except there weren’t any. I wasn’t sure if I’d just caught a lull in traffic or if some higher power was determined to punish me for drinking. Or watching a couple have sex. Or maybe it was for leaving home.

  The sudden burn of tears in my eyes surprised me, as did the accompanying wave of homesickness. I hadn’t felt it at all this week, and I’d never really felt homesick at college either. Then again, that might’ve been more because I hadn’t really felt like I was away from home at that point. I hadn’t felt that until I’d stepped off the plane here.

  I brushed my hands across my eyes, hoping anyone passing by would assume I was wiping away rain. I’d worn waterproof make-up because I’d known I’d be sweating, but now I was doubly glad of it. I wouldn’t have wanted to be standing here, looking even more like a drown rodent than I already did.

  The rain was coming down harder now and my dress was soaked clean through. I made a mental note to take a ton of vitamins when I got back to the apartment. The last thing I needed right now was to get sick because my resistance was down. I pushed my hair back from my face as I looked from one end of the street to the other. There were other people on the sidewalk, some with umbrellas, some walking toward cars they’d clearly valeted. I saw a few getting into limos.

  “But not a single fucking taxi,” I muttered.

  I had options that even my muddled brain could think of. I could go back inside, and ask the bartender to call me a taxi. I could call information on my phone, and get connected to a taxi company, hoping it was the one with the best rates. I could try to figure out one of those car service apps. Or I could completely humiliate myself by trying to get ahold of my sister, either by calling or actually walking down to the hotel and wait for her.