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  I’ve grown bored. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced when it comes to sex. Someone lights my fire for at least a night, but tonight…nothing.

  Being a member of The Club has been a great thing. It has allowed me to make a lot of new friends since moving back to Karim, Texas a few years ago. Lately, though, something has been missing. The typical night of fun spent with a submissive doesn’t seem to give me the same thrill it did before.

  It’s my failure, not theirs.

  The ladies I spend the night with do everything a Dom could ask. They bend to my will, follow commands, and allow me to push their boundaries. But there’s no light. No fire. Nothing to keep my embers simmering, stoking the flames.

  “Ret, I don’t understand. What’s the problem?” Misha asks in a light Russian accent, sliding into the booth across from me with Stella, his submissive, by his side. “I thought you liked Elle.”

  Turning the glass of scotch in my hand, I grit my teeth and exhale. “I tried with Elle. Twice, I tried. We’re not a fit. She’s just not my type.”

  She had everything I wanted on the outside. There was instant attraction, but the more I talked with her, the less appealing she became. Maybe it was her willingness to submit so easily that turned me off.

  “I didn’t know you had one.” Misha smirks before patting his leg for Stella to obey. Without hesitation, she climbs into his lap and melts against his body. I envy their relationship—the trust they have in each other.

  “Would you like something to drink, Sir?” The waitress stands by the edge of the table, staring down at me from under her lashes, holding the tray against her exposed hip.

  “I’m fine.” Annoyed with myself, I wave her away.

  Misha motions toward the waitress as she walks away, swinging her hips wildly before daring to sneak a backward glance over her shoulder. “Is she your type?”

  “No,” I grumble before taking a long, slow slug of my drink, watching Stella and Misha over the rim before movement to my right catches my eye.

  “Get your filthy hands off me!” Alese, a notorious Club switch, yanks free of a man’s hold and spits in his face just outside our private booth.

  He lunges toward her and glares. “Get back here, girl!” He’s about to grab her arm when she cracks him across the face.

  Preston Stevens, head of Club security, comes from out of nowhere and catches the man’s hand before he strikes her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “This bitch,” he snarls, spit flying out of his mouth as he glowers at her. “She wanted to play, and then she runs out of the room, screaming like a crazy person.”

  Preston moves between the two, giving Alese some space. “Are you okay, Alese?”

  “I’m fine, Sir.” Alese wipes away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks and looks at the floor, letting her golden hair hide her face.

  “I’m the one wronged. Why are you asking her if she’s okay?” the man asks and takes another step forward, but Preston stops him.

  “That newbie just lost his membership,” Misha mutters before returning his attention to Stella.

  “They better not let him back.” I glare at the man and memorize his face. Although I don’t mind inflicting pain, I’d never treat a woman like a piece of shit as he just did to Alese.

  “May I go, Sir?” Alese asks Preston, crossing her arms in front of her and rubbing her shoulders.

  Preston nods to Alese before glaring at the man, daring him to say another word. “Yes, Alese. You may leave.”

  “Thank you.” She scurries off into the darkness and out of my view.

  There’s always been something intriguing about Alese. We’ve spoken a few times, but I typically scare her off. It never bothered me. Switches aren’t really my thing, especially one like Alese. She can’t seem to find her footing in either role, Dominant or submissive.

  I’ve watched her enough to know that she is a submissive, but she hasn’t admitted it to herself. Finding the right partner will make her realize her true nature.

  “Let’s have a chat in my office,” Preston says to the newbie and points toward the security office.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you should be escorting that slut out the front door.”

  “Sir.” Preston clears his throat and looks around the room before grabbing the man by the shirt. “Right now, it’s best if you don’t say another word.”

  The asshole mumbles under his breath and knocks Preston’s hand away. “We don’t need to talk. This club is bullshit. I’m done.”

  “We’re sad to see you go.” Preston has a great poker face. When the man stalks off toward the stairwell, Preston walks quickly and motions to another Suit to follow.

  “Maybe you should play with Alese,” Misha says.

  The thought of touching her has made me hard. Maybe it’s the fight she has in her that turns me on suddenly, but it has never happened before. When I’m about to reply to Misha, I glance over and snap my mouth shut.

  He’s whispering in Stella’s ear, stroking her neck, but he’s staring straight at me. Even though I can’t hear what he’s saying, I can’t look away. His hand traces a path down her chest, following the edges of her V-neck dress. “You like that, girl?” he asks loud enough for me to hear.

  Her back arches, and she moves toward his touch. “Yes,” she whispers.

  Misha smirks and cocks an eyebrow in my direction. I nod and give him the go-ahead. If I’m not going to spend the night with someone, I may as well watch someone else enjoy himself.

  “Spread your legs,” he tells her, rubbing her nipple through her dress with his thumb. “Don’t come until I tell you to.” She nods and shimmies down his lap before his other hand disappears below the table. “You’re here to please me, girl. You’re my plaything tonight.”

  She nods again as her chest begins to rise and fall faster. Her lips part, but not a sound comes out of her mouth.

  My cock hardens inside my pants, and my breathing becomes uneven. It’s not Stella that’s turning me on, it’s her response to him and their connection.

  Stella’s a beautiful woman, one of the prettiest in The Club, but completely off-limits to me. The way she responds to Misha—to his touch, to his words—turns me on.

  I touch myself, squeezing my cock and praying that my hard-on will subside, but I fail. Between seeing Alese’s tear-filled eyes and hearing Stella’s tiny moans, I’m so turned on that the strain against my jeans becomes unbearable.

  He toys with her nipple, pulling on it, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “You like that, don’t you, girl?”

  She doesn’t speak, but she moves her chest toward his hand. His lips find her neck, licking a path up to her ear. He moans and cups her breast in his palm, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. “You get me so hard. Do you feel how much I want you?” Misha whispers against her ear.

  She moans, squeezing her eyes tighter and causing little creases around the edges. I fist my dick harder, trying to find some relief, but I only make it worse.

  Misha’s arm starts to shake the table as his pace quickens. I can almost smell her arousal from across the booth, and my mouth waters from the scent.

  “Lucky bastard,” I whisper so quietly that only I can hear over the music in the background.

  Stella’s body starts to tremble, her creamy skin glistening under the lights. Her breathing changes, and she lets out a small moan.

  Misha’s hand stops and he whispers in her ear. She nods before his hands start to move again under the table. “Open your eyes, Stella. I want Master Ret to watch you fall apart in my lap.”

  Her head slowly moves off his should