Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A fter taking his membership card and forcing himself to release Matthew's wrist, Del watched as the beautiful sub gathered a few things. With a last glance at Ian, who shooed him away with an impatient flick of his hand, Matthew hurried toward the wooden double doors leading into the club, giving Del a full view of his body.

He sucked in a breath as his gaze roamed over every visible tanned inch of the twink's smooth skin. The dark red boy shorts he wore molded to his cute tight ass, one Del wanted to take a hand to and spank until it was the same color. The black leather harness highlighted his lean yet toned physique. Del couldn't tear his gaze away until the sub disappeared into the club and the door closed behind him. It'd been a while since someone had piqued his interest to the point that Del already fantasized about what he wanted to do to the younger man without knowing anything about him.

Turning back to the desk, which Ian now stood behind, looking quite bored already, Del said, "Tell me about him."

The other Dom lifted his eyebrows. "Matthew? What do you want to know?"

"The basics." He shrugged, then amended his statement. "Okay, a little more than the basics."

Instead of answering right away, Ian turned around and opened one of the drawers of the horizontal file cabinets lined up against the wall. After a moment of scanning the tabs, he pulled out a folder, flipped it open, and began reading aloud. "Matthew Behan, twenty-six years old. One hundred percent fabulously gay." He smirked as his amused gaze met Del's. "He wrote that verbatim, by the way."

Del chuckled as the other man closed the file but continued talking. "Matthew's a good kid: intelligent, trustworthy, responsible. You already heard he's almost done with the paramedic program at the local community college. He's been an EMT for about six or seven years, I think, with Tampa Fire Rescue and helps out here whenever a medical emergency pops up, which isn't often, thank God.

"He's a masochist and has a few sessions each month with one of our Whip Masters. As far as I know, he hasn't been collared in a long time, but I get the feeling he'd like to be. However, he won't settle just to be in a relationship. He can be a brat when he wants, which is often, and has a very protective streak regarding his fellow submissives. While he needs a good Dom to take care of him when he pushes himself too much, like you just saw, he's also strong enough to stand on his own."

Everything the other man said had Del mentally checking off boxes in his head. He couldn't have selected a more perfect submissive to find attractive, especially now that he had time to relax and explore a new relationship—if he got that far with Matthew.

Ian pulled three stapled sheets of paper from the folder and handed them to Del. "Here's his limit list. Every sub has one on file available for the Doms to look at—just ask whoever's working the desk to pull one for you."

As Del scanned the list, a cute brown-haired woman wearing a schoolgirl's outfit and pigtails rushed up to the desk. "Hi, Master Ian. Matthew said you wanted me to take over for him early so he could get some sleep. No worries. I owe him from a swap we did last month anyway."

"Thank you, Molly. Make sure you note on your timecard that I approved it. I'll see that you get an extra break during the shift too." He gave her the folder he still held and then gestured toward Del. "This is Master Del—he's just looking over Matthew's limit list."

The cheerful sub smiled broadly at Del. "It's nice to meet you, Sir. Take your time. Matthew's a really great guy and isn't collared or seeing anyone."

The little imp clearly attempted to play matchmaker, but he let it slide. Apparently, Ian decided to let it go, too, because he rolled his eyes before addressing Del. "I'll be at the bar having a drink. Come join me when you're done, and I'll introduce you to a few people. My wife, sister-in-law, and goddaughter are in my apartment with the kids, watching some chick flick that's probably going to have them bawling their eyes out—the fuck-twat croaks or something at the end—so I've got about an hour and a half to kill."

A snort escaped Del as the other man walked away, leaving him to read through Matthew's hard and soft limits. He was happy to see they were pretty compatible. Now, he just had to bide his time until the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed submissive was available to play.

Several days later . . .

Del strode across the parking lot of The Covenant, looking forward to relaxing for a few hours and hoping to run into Matthew again. Since meeting him, he hadn't been able to get the pretty younger man out of his mind when he should have been thinking of an idea for a new app.

Three years ago, he created a fitness app that he recently sold for $650 million, a staggering amount that still shocked the shit out of him. One of the first things he'd done after the money transferred into his bank account was pack up and move from Cincinnati to Clearwater, Florida, out of his greedy father's immediate reach. His deadbeat dad was sorely mistaken if he thought he'd ever see a cent of the money Del earned through blood, sweat, and tears. The bastard had somehow tracked Del down and knocked on the door of his rented apartment the day after the sale was reported by the media. Del had taken one look at his sperm donor's face and slammed the door shut. He then had to call the cops because Ron Gibbons continued pounding on the door for twenty minutes, demanding money and refusing to leave. Del filed for a restraining order the next day.

While there was no way he'd ever give his father a dime, Del regretted his mother was no longer alive because he would've loved to spoil her. She'd spent his entire childhood working two jobs while raising him alone.

Kim Sutton had been kicked out by her strict, God-fearing parents when she got pregnant at nineteen. An unwed mother, she'd somehow managed to make a loving home for her only child despite her boyfriend breaking up with her the same night she told him he'd knocked her up. Del's mother could've given him up for adoption, but as she'd always told him, after the first time she felt him kick in her womb, she wanted to keep him. While money was tight as he grew up, Del always knew his mother loved him and wanted to give him the world. Unfortunately, she passed away from cancer a few years ago before he'd gotten the idea for the new app.

At fourteen, Del started taking whatever jobs he could find so his mother wouldn't have to work so hard. His father never gave her child support and occasionally came around, asking her for money instead, which she'd refused to do.

Understanding technology always came easy for Del. At twenty, he'd graduated from his local community college with not one but three associate degrees in information technology, computer programming, and computer science. He spent the next fifteen years working as an IT tech for a small corporation while taking odd side jobs. He created several apps over the years, and while a few had done okay, none of them had really taken off. However, that changed when he got the idea for the specialized fitness app while working out in the gym he belonged to. It took him about six months to design, and then a few bugs needed fixing before it finally launched. It was downloaded over two million times within the first ninety days, and the numbers kept increasing. Its revenue from in-app purchases and advertisers, in addition to his freelance clients, had allowed him to quit his full-time job and start his own LLC—DelTech.

A tech giant approached him about purchasing the app almost a year ago. After four months of negotiations, with one of Del's best friends, a corporate lawyer, reviewing everything with a fine-tooth comb, they agreed on a sale price. It took a few more months for everything to be finalized, but Del was now a multi-millionaire with plenty of free time but no one to spoil. Hopefully, that would soon change.

The big 4-0 was approaching, and being in a committed relationship was now one of the things left on his long-term bucket list. Before she died, he promised his mother that he wouldn't swear off a chance at love just because she'd been unsuccessful. He knew the reason she hadn't dated much was because she'd spent all her time providing for and loving her son. He'd been lucky to have several teachers, coaches, and neighbors who were good male role models over the years. They took him under their wings, ensuring he knew the difference between right and wrong. He'd stayed in contact with a few, exchanging the occasional email or phone call even though they'd retired or moved away. Because of them and his mom, he wasn't adverse or afraid to have a family someday. He wanted to be the loving husband and father Ron Gibbons had never been.

No one at The Covenant knew who Del was or how wealthy he was, except for the owners and the guy who'd done his background check, because all his business was done through the LLC. Since he was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was filthy rich, he didn't want to advertise it. The last thing he wanted was for subs or anyone else to be interested in him for his money.

When Del was in Tampa several weeks ago to find a place to rent, while he searched for something to buy, he also checked out several private BDSM clubs. He'd been in the lifestyle for over a decade. After getting a guest pass and a tour of The Covenant, it'd been a no-brainer for him to request membership. The club's owners were wealthy in their own rights. Two of them—Ian and Devon—were retired Navy SEALs who also owned a private security company. During a conversation with them, he'd learned their father was a well-known, self-made real estate billionaire. Their cousin Mitch, the third owner, also had a nose for business and had apparently invested well. As a result, security and privacy were among their top priorities for The Covenant.

During his few times there, Del recognized several other wealthy members, including Gray and Remi Mann, who owned Black Diamond Records, one of the biggest music production companies in the world. The two brothers were in a ménage marriage with their wife, Abigail. Country singer Summer Hayes, A-list actors Keith Gatlin and Clarissa James, and her ex-husband, movie director Landon Ford, also belonged to the club. With big names like those, Del figured a few other notable people were members, even if he hadn't seen or heard about them yet.

Climbing the stairs to the club's second-floor entrance, Del was still amazed by the stark difference between the interior and exterior of the building. The Covenant was located in one of four warehouses on several dozen fenced-in acres in a secluded area of Tampa. He'd been told that the other three buildings housed the Trident Security headquarters, as well as several luxury apartments where Devon and Ian lived with their families. Training areas and a helicopter pad could also be seen from the parking lot. However, an interior security fence separated the club's building from everything else.

When he stepped into the club lobby, its rich decor completely belied the commercial-looking exterior. A lot of money had gone into the renovations, and it showed. Beautiful mahogany wood, burgundy, emerald, and gold fabrics, plush carpeting, elegant but comfortable furnishings, and expensive art all combined to create an appealing and sensual atmosphere. With the elaborate Christmas and Hanukkah decorations that had gone up within the past few days, it was quite festive too.

Three seven-foot Christmas trees lined the wall between the front desk and the double doors leading into the main club. They were currently aglow with strings of miniature white lights but devoid of ornaments. Behind the desk, Devon's and Ian's wives, Kristen and Angie, respectively, stood with a collared male submissive Del hadn't met yet. They were busy doing something he couldn't see over the elevated countertop. He approached them, but before he could say hello, Kristen looked up and grinned when she noticed him. "Master Del! It's great to see you again."

Angie gave him a smile and a little wave of her hand. "Hi, Sir."

He dipped his chin. "Ladies, nice to see you too."

His gaze flickered to the dark-haired male submissive, who now stared at Del with his jaw practically on the floor. He was attractive but not as appealing as Matthew.

Angie rolled her eyes and smacked the young man's arm when she noticed his expression. "Sterling!"

"Huh?" Sterling kept his gaze on Del—a dreamy look falling across his face.

Del managed to suppress his grin, but just barely. It wasn't the first time he'd garnered that response from both male and female submissives, but he'd gotten used to it over the years. He was graced with good looks through his ancestral genes and wasn't ashamed to admit he knew it.

Angie proceeded with the introductions. "Master Del, this is Sterling, who better put his tongue back in his mouth and his eyes back in their sockets before Master Luis gets here and whoops his ass."

That caught Sterling's attention, and he ripped his gaze from Del to glare at Angie, setting his hands on his hips, which were barely covered by black leather boy shorts. "Oh, come on, girlfriend! How can I not appreciate . . ." He dramatically gestured up and down with his hand toward Del, who couldn't hold back a snicker that time. Sterling was probably a handful for his Master. "You know damn well that Sir lets me look as long as I don't touch. Besides, he's going to beat my ass tonight anyway—I was a bit bratty this morning."

"You're always a brat," Kristen chimed in before winking at Del. "But now you have to tell us what you did."

Sterling's attempt to look innocent failed when he giggled and snorted. "Nothing too bad. I just put glitter in his roll-on deodorant. Now his pits sparkle like diamonds."

Oh, yeah, definitely a handful.

Remembering where he was and his status there, Del crossed his arms and gave the other man a stern scowl. "Hmm. I look forward to meeting your Master, Sterling. As a sadist, I might have to offer my services tonight to ensure you're properly reprimanded." When the sub's eyes widened and he gulped, the corners of Del's mouth twitched upward. He couldn't hide his amusement any longer, and a grin spread across his face. "Glitter? In his deodorant? Seriously?"

The sub's face lit up again. "Yup. I wanted to put it in his favorite body lotion, but he's a judge, and I know better than to do anything that'll embarrass him in court. Sparkling from head to toe on the bench while handing down a prison sentence? That would be a no."

All three subs burst out laughing, and Del shook his head. While his sadistic nature flared within the club, out there in the lobby, he would concede to the lighthearted joking. These weren't his submissives, and unless rudeness or an infraction of the club's rules occurred in his presence, he wouldn't demand high protocols or any punishments for their behavior.

After a moment, his gaze dropped to what they'd been doing when he first arrived. Cutout paper snowflakes were stacked in several piles. "What's all this?"

"Oh, it's for our Secret Santa event," Kristen announced. "This is the first year we're doing it. Each snowflake will have the name of an uncollared sub on it, along with their sexual orientation, so there are no misunderstandings. We'll hang them on the trees over there, and the single Doms get to pick whomever they want. Then, next Saturday night, the subs will be given three clues about their Secret Santa, and they'll have to figure out who it is within thirty minutes. When the time is up, if they guess right, they get to choose what scene they do with the Dom. If they don't, then the Dom chooses the scene."

"Sounds like fun." And the perfect way to get to know a certain twink. "When will you put them on the trees?"

Kristen grinned smugly as if she was privy to what was going on in his head. "Once we're done putting everyone's names on these. Was there someone you had in mind? I can give you their snowflake now."

He arched his brow. "Wouldn't that be against the rules?"

"Well, since this was our idea," she gestured to her sister-in-law, "and we made up the rules, I don't see why we can't adjust them a little as needed, right, Ange?"

"Right! Besides, we're almost done, so you could just wait while we hang them on the tree. Or we could give you the one you want so you don't have to look through them all." Ian's wife leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "So, whose flake do you want?"

Since he didn't want to miss out on being Matthew's Secret Santa, he'd let the two women play matchmakers—there seemed to be quite a few in the club. He eyed the piles in front of them. "Have you written out Matthew's yet?"

"Matthew Behan? Yes! Oh, he's perfect for you!"

All three subs frantically searched through several dozen snowflakes, making a mess of the piles.

"Here it is!" Sterling held up the white filigree paper and waved it high above his head before passing it to Del.

Sure enough, it had Matthew's full name and "100% fabulously gay" written in the center. Del grinned.

"I just need three clues from you by Friday so we can print them out on a card," Kristen said while penciling Del's name next to Matthew's on a checklist.

Angie handed him a small sheet of paper. "Here are some suggestions for the types of clues you can use. You can send them to me or Kristen—our email addresses are at the bottom. We figured that was easier than trying to track us down during the week since we're not always here." Both women had a child under the age of two, so their club time had understandably decreased since giving birth.

After scanning the list, Del folded it and the snowflake twice before sticking them into the back pocket of his black jeans. "I'll make sure you have them before Friday. Thank you very much, subbies."

"You're welcome, Sir," the trio replied in unison.