Faithfully (Club Decadence) (11 page)

Epilogue

San Antonio,
Texas  2012 

The owner’s private room
at Club Decadence was crowded for the special occasion.  The lights were low and Ronnie, Elena’s lead guitarist was providing soft acoustic background music.  Almost all the owners were present with the exception of Rick and his wife Regan.  Other guests were special friends or high ranking members in the club. 

At the last minute, Rick entered followed by an unusually subdued Regan. 
Joanna, who had informally adopted many of the submissives at the club, had become close to the owner’s submissives.  Regan had spent time with Joanna recently, organizing a fundraiser for military families, but she hadn’t seen her much lately.  She made a mental note to check up on her in the next few days. 

Her eyes travelled around the room and landed on Dex.  There was something up with him, too.  She had met him through Peter
a few years earlier.  He had been dating Elena at the time.  They were a fun, vivacious young couple and had become engaged not long after that.  But something had gone wrong and their long distance relationship had ended abruptly.  It seemed like Dex had changed since then and had become solemn, quiet and withdrawn.    Was it the war that had changed him, the break up, or something else?”

“Quit being such a mother hen, Joanna.  These
people are adults and don’t need you meddling in their private business.” Peter, who had walked up to her while she was in problem-solving mode, recognized the look immediately.

“I was just worried about Regan.  She looks upset.” 

“Nothing her Dom husband can’t straighten out, my slave.  Remember The Club rules, no matchmaking, no gossip, no meddling between committed couples.  Or, do you want a public chastisement for a rule infraction.”

“No, Master.  I was just concerned about a friend.”

“Hmph.  You were eyeing Master Dex like you wanted to take him home, tuck him in and bring him warm milk and cookies.”

She giggled at the image of her tucking the
huge younger man into Jace’s twin bed. “The Spiderman posters on the wall and the superman night light might not be to his taste, Master.”

Ignoring her teasing he looked around at his friends and former soldiers.  He took in the romantic setting and the luxurious décor.  All in all he was pleased.  “Did you think things would turn out so well when we started this venture.
”

“No.  I have to admit I was a little nervous
that I could manage it all.”

“I had faith in you and that business degree.”  A thought occurred to him then, “do you ever regret going back for an MBA instead of applying to law school?”

“No, after finding you it just didn’t seem to fit anymore.  Going back to get my MBA has helped more than anything what with my board memberships on the USO and the Women’s Safe House foundation.”

“...And negotiating contracts for Rossi and The Club.  Going back to school in your forties was challenging, I know.  I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished, Joanna.”

She smiled up at him, “Thanks, but with you roaming all over the
Middle East and the kids away at college… well, let’s just say I had some down time.” 

When she saw his frown, she leaned up to kiss it away knowing he still felt guilty about having been gone so much and leaving her to fend for herself.  “I’m not criticizing, Master,” she
said against his lips.  “Right now, I’m just glad all the hard work is finally all over.  It was a huge undertaking to organize the startup of Rossi and Club Decadence at the same time.  What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know... that I love a challenge?  That’s why I married you isn’t it?”

“Some challenge.  I rolled over for you like a cat in heat.”

“No darlin’, you rolled over for my Journey tickets.”

Maddie Taylor

An author of erotic romance, Maddie is also a voracious reader. A fan of all genre's of romance, some of her favorite authors include Kristen Ashley, Cherise Sinclair and Jennifer Crusie. Maddie likes to write edgy erotic romances with sexy dominant heroes and spirited real women with a twist.

An interview with Maddie Taylor

http://creativelyconstance.blogspot.com/2013/07/maddie-taylor-sent-to-dungeon-for-being.html

Visit her Facebook page here:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Romantic-Erotic-Fiction-by-Maddie-Taylor/406292399483414

Please enjoy these sample chapters from Maddie Taylor’s exciting sequels

in
the Club Decadence series!

Captain My Captain

You Said Forever

Available in September 2013

This Little Light of Mine

Captain, My Captain

By Maddie Taylor

Chapter One

The house shook from the loud bass beat booming from the speakers as Megan Sinclair pushed her way through the press of bodies of party guests crammed into her sister Regan’s new house. Megan wondered, not for the first time, why the police hadn’t broken up this free- for-all as what appeared to be a hundred bodies were squeezed into the great room of her sister’s sprawling, three-bedroom house. Some folks overflowed into the kitchen and dining room. A few trickled out onto the back patio and into the yard but with the temperature dropping into the forties, most guests were not willing to venture outside. The few intrepid partakers were smokers. A quick peek through the window revealed the red glow of cigarettes and the smoky haze that surrounded them. Megan wrinkled her nose in distaste as she thought of an old boyfriend. Kissing him after a cigarette had curtailed her pursuit of any man who smoked. Yuk! She sighed as she tried to see over the crowd. Where the heck was Regan? Looking around, she didn’t even see anyone she knew.

Frustrated and irritated by the elbows jabbing into her face and boobs, Megan also took exception to the occasional hands that seemed to be copping a feel of her belly and butt. She squealed when she felt a sharp pinch on her ass. She whirled but couldn’t identify the culprit. She pushed on through the throng, holding her signature bag purse protectively across her chest and stomach, not willing to take a chance on getting felt up as she ran the gauntlet of humanity. Megan let out a small unladylike snort of laughter, feeling validated that this gargantuan bag came in handy in many ways, no matter what amount of ribbing Regan and everyone else seemed to give her.

At 5’2”, Megan was towered over by almost all of the laughing, shouting partygoers. The noise level in the house was deafening, the voices rising over the booming music. The deep beat was pounding in her ears as she felt the beginnings of a headache start behind her right eye. Her migraines always felt like someone had jammed an ice pick into her eye socket. If anything was going to trigger a migraine, Megan was sure it would be the screaming guitar solo that was blaring from the speakers at the moment.

“Shoot.” Megan’s mild form of cursing couldn’t be heard over the noise level in the house. Annoyed, she mentally cursed herself for the fifth time in as many minutes as she tried to figure out what she had been thinking when she agreed to come Regan’s party. An “intimate gathering of close friends” Regan had promised. Like that had ever been the case at one of Regan’s parties.

Regan was the social butterfly and complete opposite of her twin. Although she possessed Megan’s diminutive height and big blue eyes, the similarities ended there. Regan was an extrovert who loved parties, heavy metal music, and was full of mischief. Megan was quiet, subdued and more conservative. She enjoyed small dinner parties with close friends, intimate clubs with jazz ensembles or soulful singers and was the “good girl” of the pair. While growing up, Megan often was roped into a “Regan scheme” which frequently found her suffering the same consequences as her sister when Regan’s plans blew up in their faces. Their parents loved their twin daughters but after they were born, quickly decided that three was enough, leaving them with the first-born son, Michael, and the twins to complete their family.

Megan found herself straining and standing on tiptoes to see beyond the other guests while still searching for her sister and her cousin Moon who was supposed to give her a ride home. She was determined to make her excuses and get out of this mess as soon as possible.

Megan was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the boisterous crowd as she continued to get bumped and jostled. Even in four-inch heels, she was having a hard time seeing past the guests.

She gave a cry of pain as she felt a heel come down on her toe. Pulling her foot away, she lost her balance and fell into the man responsible for her injury. She looked up into his face as he murmured, “Sorry, Miss.”

He bent down and grabbed her purse off the floor, which was not an easy feat in this crowd. “I think you dropped this.”

Megan noticed that the man was acting strangely. He didn’t meet her gaze when he spoke to her because his eyes were nervously darting around the room. He looked vaguely familiar as she took in his slightly, unkempt appearance. His hair was mussed and sticking out as if he had just run his fingers through it. He was about 5’10” and dressed casually in a plaid cotton shirt with a rumpled collar standing up on one side. She noticed beads of sweat on his upper lip and that his tongue was nervously licking his lips.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

His gaze flicked to hers in alarm and blurted, “Sorry for stepping on your toe.” He pushed her bag into her hands, then without saying another word, turned and pushed his way through the crowd as if he was escaping a fire.

“Oddball,” Megan whispered under her breath. She looked down at her huge red bag. With Mr. Clodhopper practically amputating her toe, she hadn’t even realized she had dropped it. She frowned when she found the zipper had come open. By reflex, she started to check for her wallet when she was shoved from behind and felt a sharp pain in her thigh. Looking down she saw the corner of the sofa table digging into her leg. That is so gonna leave a mark, she thought.

Thinking she caught a glimpse of Regan’s bright, red hair, she turned to her left only to find herself suddenly upended as she was again bumped from behind. Thrust sharply forward,
Megan found herself flying forward and landing on top of the large man seated at the end of Regan’s large sectional sofa. Losing her balance, she found herself face down and ass up over a pair of hard thighs, her face planted solidly in the lap of the woman seated next to him. She felt something hard gouge into her right breast and ribs followed by a cold wet sensation that suddenly seeped through her blouse, soaking into her bra and saturating her chest and abdomen. Megan squealed as the coldness chilled her skin. Good god, what next? Would this nightmare ever end?

She struggled to get away from the freezing liquid and began to push off the man’s lap using her arms and knees. Physically uncomfortable and humiliated by the unfortunate event, she froze as she suddenly felt a large, warm hand glide up her thigh and cup her lower cheek, exposed as her skirt rode up in her struggle to get up. The man’s hand was stabilizing her as she squirmed and wiggled in her attempts to get up as quickly as possible. She pushed up with both hands, desperately trying to get out of this compromising position. Unfortunately, her right hand had landed on the man’s thigh and with the liquid soaking the fabric of his jeans; her hand slipped suddenly and sent most of her weight sliding sideways as she felt the heel of her hand scrape across his zippered fly. She felt the hand grip her bottom harder as he sucked in a deep breath and groaned. His other hand went to her shoulder and she was rolled away from him and off his lap. Megan slipped down his legs as she landed ungracefully in a sprawl at his feet, her skirt riding up further to bunch at her waist, her thighs splayed wide open as one of her stiletto’s got twisted in the afghan that was draped over the arm of the sectional. Her other shoe

flipped up in the air. She watched in horror as it flew up end over end and landed. . . unbelievably. . . spiked heel down directly into the man’s crotch. This elicited another groan and a loud “fuck” was uttered by Megan’s unwitting victim.

Megan stared at the shoe, a red, faux alligator, peep-toed pump. Swallowing with an audible gulp, Megan’s eyes slowly rose to look at her dark-haired victim. Poor injured, cursing man. Her eyes travelled over his saturated jeans, the soaked dark green fabric of the shirt that clung, like a second skin to one of the best sets of abs and
pecs she had ever laid eyes on. His firm jawline was clenched tightly and covered with a dark 5 o’clock shadow. His lips were pressed into a hard line; he was obviously ticked off having been on the receiving end of her unwanted attention. Then a cold realization dawned as she instantly recognized the intimidating scowl of ex-Army Special Forces Captain, Tony “Cap” Rossi.

Cap was a family friend and had been her brother-in-law’s best friend and commanding officer for years. Megan had looked longingly upon his gorgeous face often over the past fifteen years, to no avail. She had learned that he was into BDSM, along with her twin and brother-in-law,
which had only served to pique her interest, but Tony never looked her way twice. Maybe he thought she was too immature, sexually.

None of that mattered now, however. Megan finally accepted that Tony just wasn’t interested and began avoiding him like the plague. Now, having finally convinced herself that there would never be anything between them and she should move on, she found herself inadvertently throwing herself at him. She stared into his beautiful eyes and felt that same old spark and a shiver shoot down her spine. Cap returned her gaze intently. She watched in fascination as a muscle began to twitch in his tightly clenched jaw. Megan tried to tear her eyes away but couldn’t.
So much for moving on.

Tony sat in beer soaked jeans, a spiked heel jammed into his fly, with an ache in his throbbing balls. And it was all due to the tiny tornado of a woman who now lay in a heap across his feet.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he tried to adjust himself in an attempt to gain some relief for his abused crotch. He opened his mouth to lay into the woman for her clumsiness only to be stopped short by the sight of a pair of gorgeous tits, size D at least in his expert opinion - each peaked with big, rosy, nipples which stood out now, pert underneath a silk blouse that had become totally sheer from the cold beer soaking through it. His eyes shifted to creamy thighs spread to reveal a pair of ivory lace boy shorts clearly displayed below the skirt that had risen and twisted around her waist in the fall.

His sore dick started to rise and he let his eyes slowly wander over the bounty laid before him. Through the pain, he took in the curvy angel sprawled at his feet as a gift sent from heaven. Her fleshy thighs were nicely rounded and soft just like he liked them. Her soft stomach and large tits were his preference, too. He grinned now despite his discomfort and he lifted his eyes from the wet dream female on the floor at his feet to a familiar pair of baby blue eyes with the longest spiky black lashes he had ever seen. Then he recognized her.

“Megan,” he growled.
He watched as her pale skin flushed and she gasped.

“
Ohmigod, Tony! I am so sorry...someone pushed me from behind....”
He watched a frown cross her face as she suddenly realized how exposed she was and began struggling to pull her tiny skirt down over her exposed panties. Once her modesty had

been
somewhat restored, she reached out to grab the shoe lying by his thigh. Before she could

grab
it, she lost her balance and missed grabbing her shoe only to once again feel her palm come in direct contact with the Tony’s zipper.

“Enough!” he roared
.
His voice rose to decibels high enough to be heard over the din of the party; he startled

the
woman on the floor before him and several heads turned their way. He pulled her up in one easy motion as he surged to his feet.

“Are you trying to unman me woman?” he thundered in a voice with only an nth degree less volume. Once standing, his hands moved quickly to her waist where they grasped her firmly as she struggled to stand on one high-heeled shoe. He lifted her easily and tucked her under his arm carrying her, ass forward, like a sack of potatoes.

“Move!” he growled to those in his way as he quickly cleared a path through the crowded living room with an obvious mission in mind. Shocked, she started struggling as she fought against the strong arm clamped around her waist.

“Tony! Stop!” she cried as she reach to pull her skirt down in back, certain she was providing excellent entertainment to the masses. She felt a large hand slap sharply across her ass as he issued a firm order.

“Keep still!”
“Oh!” she squealed in surprise. She soon found herself upright and pressed up against a

wall
by a large body, trapped between two thickly muscled forearms bracketed on either side of her head. Megan’s leg was sore from the jab she took to her thigh and the flip she took over the couch. Now her butt tingled where she had been received a stinging swat from this ogre. Wearing only one shoe was not helping the situation so she kicked it off which dropped her down another four inches to an even more vulnerable position. She looked up to find her nose centimeters away from the V of the man’s open collar. She tried to bring her hands up to move him back so she could breathe but he wouldn’t budge.