1. Chapter One

Staring out the floor to ceiling windows of the top floor hotel room I was in for the night, I let out a heavy sigh. I felt out of sorts, like at my advanced age of fifty I had no idea what the fuck I was doing with my life. For that matter, how the fuck was I even fifty? When had that happened? It seemed like just yesterday I had been globe trotting around the world, trying to be one of the good guys, ridding the world of evil.

Only there was a lot of fucking evil in the world, and sometimes the lines between the good guys and the bad got crossed.

For years I had been one of the government’s top handlers. I’d worked missions, kept my operatives safe, while helping thousands of people. Even if most of them never knew who had a hand in getting them to safety.

When Jamie Sinclair–the man who had been on the other end of my comms more than any other agent–had left the dangerous, fast-paced, thrilling life we’d led with practically no notice, I would be the first to admit that I had floundered. For the first time in my career, I felt dissatisfied with my life.

Jamie and I had been like a well-oiled machine, and I was way too old to have some snot nosed kid questioning every order I gave him. Stepping down from being a supervisory field agent had been an easy decision, even if I hadn’t quite been ready for my own retirement. What I was sure of was that trying to do the job with agents I didn’t know–who hadn’t earned my trust–wasn’t where I wanted to be.

Since the C.I.A. hadn’t wanted to lose me and all my talents, they had generously offered me a position leading one of the best cyber security teams our government had. It had been a good move, for a short period of time. Quickly growing bored, I decided to track down Jamie. I found him in his hometown of Sweet Alps, now the proud owner of a kink club. Nestled in Northern California, Sweet Alps was a world away from the adrenaline-fueled adventures we had both known for most of our adult lives.

The three month leave of absence I had requested had quickly turned into a year. Finally, I had to admit to myself, and my superiors, that I wasn’t ever going back to the life I had known. The truth was I liked Sweet Alps. From the moment I had sat my ass on a bar stool inside Sinful Playgrounds, Jamie’s club, I had felt a kind of peace I hadn’t known in an extremely long time.

Jamie had tried to toss me out on my ass the first time he’d spotted me casually sipping a whiskey at the bar, sure I was there to drag him back into a world he had happily left behind. Once I had convinced him I wasn’t there for anything more than wanting to see an old friend, we had renewed our friendship fairly quickly.

Jamie, and his large extended family, had made me feel like I had finally found where I was meant to be. I felt more at home in Sweet Alps than I had ever felt in New Orleans, my actual hometown. Since my parents had passed, I didn’t have a reason to return, with no family left on either side. I had a few scattered cousins on my alpha dad’s side, but we’d never been close and hadn’t kept in touch once we’d all reached adulthood.

When I had turned in my retirement papers, my bosses had been disappointed and offered me everything under the sun and their first-born child to get me to reconsider. I thanked them but told them it was time for me to go.

If I had thought my retirement was going to be quiet nights, sitting in a rocker, I had been sadly mistaken. The Sinclairs had kept me on my toes. I’d only been in town a few months, not even officially retired, when Jamie had asked me to help his older brother, Brendan, out with a situation. Older brother was a loose interpretation of the word, as Jamie was the baby of a set of identical quadruplets, each born fifteen minutes apart.

Brendan’s mate had been attacked by a stalker, and the overeager sheriff in Sweet Alps had been salivating to pin the attack on Brendan. Stepping into help had given me a thrill, as had giving the sheriff my ‘fuck around and see what happens’ face. I knew I was intimidating as fuck when I wanted to be, and tossing around my glossy government business card–since I technically hadn’t officially resigned at the time–along with my Harvard law degree had flustered the man.

Things had settled down for a few months, until one of Jamie and my old cases had landed in his backyard. Literally. Well, technically it had landed in his mom, Mary’s, backyard. When it was all said and done there had been a casualty, a few dead bodies, and a clean up crew needed.

Thankfully, all the excitement had seemed to die down, and I had finally been able to enjoy being unemployed. Great in theory but boring as fuck in reality.

Which was how I found myself in Texas, staring out at the Dallas skyline lit up against the black night, contemplating my life choices.

My old boss had called me, frantic, begging me to speak at a multi-unit, cyber security conference. One of the keynote speakers had a family emergency, and they needed a fill in. I must have been feeling generous the day he had called–or really fucking bored–because I had somehow found myself agreeing and boarding a plane.

Blowing out a breath, I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the floor to ceiling window. “What the fuck are you doing here, Becks? You need a hobby. Or to get fucking laid.”

It had been a hot minute since I’d had some pretty little omega down on their knees, submitting to me. My best friend might own a kink club, but I didn’t play there. There was no way I would take a chance of hooking up with someone I might run into on the street. I preferred my kink scene partners like I preferred my hookups. One and done, never to be heard from again. My self-imposed dry spell was making me twitchy.

Jamie was in my ear constantly to run for the upcoming sheriff’s vacancy in Sweet Alps. Sheriff Longfellow was finally retiring, and Jamie thought the job would curb some of the restlessness that had plagued me lately. I wasn’t so sure about his plan. Though I’d be the first to admit I was quickly becoming bored with sitting around, doing a whole lot of nothing. Beyond the excitement in the Sinclair family, Sweet Alps was usually a nice quiet town. Mid-sized, it was a cross between a big city and Mayberry.

The sheriff’s job would fill up my time, but I wasn’t sure I was cut out to wear a uniform and a badge. I could blow the dust off my fancy law degree, but the thought of hanging up a shingle and practicing small town law didn’t hold much appeal to me either.

Staring hard at my reflection in the window, I wondered if I was having the mid-life crisis Jamie kept accusing me of.

Running a hand through my thick, expensively styled hair, I squinted my dark, nearly black eyes, at my reflection. Was that even more gray mingling among my dark locks? There sure as shit was more than when I had arrived in Sweet Alps, and I blamed Jamie, for every one of them.

Wanna run!My wolf snarled in my ear, restless beneath my skin. I hadn’t shifted in a few days, and he was missing the vast amounts of woods and mountains that surrounded Sweet Alps where we could shift and run to our hearts’ content.

Not tonight.

Bracing an arm against the cool glass, I continued to stare at my reflection thoughtfully. At least my body was still holding up nicely, even if my hair had decided to act its age. My stomach was as flat and toned as a man half my age, my arms and stomach rippled with hard muscles. Shifters aged at a slower rate, so I had that on my side. But I also worked really fucking hard to keep my body in tip-top shape, and it showed.

My cell phone pinged on the desk where I had tossed it after escaping the hell that was the conference meet and greet. Small, idle chit chat with colleagues was never something I cared for, and when I remembered that I really didn’t need to mingle, I had made my excuses and disappeared back to my room.

Striding across the room, I swiped over the text from Jamie.

Jamie: Did you take a look at that new app I sent you?

Jamie was on a mission to get me laid. He was convinced half the reason I was out of sorts was because I needed to get my rocks off. Since I refused to play in his club, he had been sending me random hookup apps to try out for months.

Me: Yeah.

Jamie: And????

Me: Do we need to have another talk about your overuse of ??? One is sufficient.

Jamie: Don’t change the subject. That app is perfect for you.

Me: How would you even know that?

Jamie: I know things. You need to get laid, and for whatever reason you don’t want to play in my beautiful club. Whatevs. It’s fine. I don’t really want to watch you get your kink on anyway.

Me: I made a profile. Once I determined their cyber security was top-notch and they actually do a decent vetting job of users. But that’s all I’ve done so far.

Jamie: Just do it, for fucks sake! It’s your last night in Dallas, Becks. What’s the harm? Blow your load, spank some submissive omegas ass, tie them up, have them shine your shoes–whatever your kink is–and we’ll all be happier when you get back. You’re a fucking cranky ass lately. And no one wants to vote for a cranky looking sheriff.

Me:Who the fuck said I was taking you up on your crazy idea of running for sheriff? BTW, if I do decide to run, you ARE NOT my campaign manager.

Jamie:You know you’re going to run. We all know you’re going to run. So, get laid, get happy, and come home and do something besides wait for the next Sinclair family drama.

Me:Your family drama is turning me gray.

Jamie:Yeah, we tend to do that. Just look at Brendan, he’s grayer than you are. You know what you need, Becks?

Me:A new best friend?

Jamie:*laughing emoji* Don’t be silly. We all know I’m the bestest friend that ever friended. No, what you need to do is find yourself a mate. Settle down and have a pup or two.

Me: That sounds like nothing I want involved in. Let’s go back to me getting laid. That is a much better plan.

Jamie:That’s what the app is for. You can tell me all about it when you get back into town.

Me:Yeah, not doing that either.

Though my finger did hover over the Taboo icon. Taboo was specifically designed for anonymous kink hookups. You listed your preferences and other specifics, and it matched you with kink minded people located near you. No names were to be exchanged or other personal information given out.

There was heavy vetting that was done before any applications were approved and live on the app. There was always a risk with any web or dating site, but I wasn’t worried. When Jamie had sent me the link, I’d promptly hacked right past their security, doing my own version of vetting. They were pretty thorough, and their security was top notch. It had taken me about twenty minutes to get in, which was twice the normal time it would have taken me on most other apps out there.

Idly, I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. Jamie was right, I got cranky when I needed to get laid. And it had been a long damn time since I had a scene with anyone. I could use some playtime. My wolf could use some playtime too. He was restless lately, unsettled and agitated, even after a shift and a run, or a workout session.

Logging into the app, I sipped my very expensive bourbon while the site ran through possible matches once it pinged my location.

Ten minutes later, I was scrolling through the possibilities, abruptly stopping my inattentive scrolling when one omega caught my eye. My wolf took notice too, whining in my ear.

There was nothing particularly special about the snapshot of the young omega on the profile. I couldn’t even see his face fully, but there was something that caught my attention and drew me to him. His head was down, like he was too shy to show himself on camera, and all I could see was a riot of light caramel-colored waves of hair.

Bed head. Or sex head after hands had fisted and tugged on it. The length of his hair shadowing his face suggested it would probably hit the tops of his shoulders when he looked you in the eye. He was shirtless, showing off inches and inches of pale skin on a rather long torso. He was on the thin side, built like most omegas with lithe muscles, but I could tell he didn’t hang out at any gym or do much manual labor.

My mouth watered, staring at the expanse of his pale creamy skin on display, his pretty pink nipples standing at full attention in the photo. Was it cold in the room where he’d taken the picture? Or was he turned on? Had he played with his nipples to make them stand out to show them off? That mental image alone had my cock swelling at a rapid pace.

He was wearing a silver necklace around his neck, with a small round medallion of some sort. It hung perfectly between those pink buds, dissecting his chest. There was the barest smattering of darker chest hair that trailed down his stomach between his taut abdomen, and disappeared into the charcoal gray slacks he wore. My gut tightened at the sight of him, my dick tenting inside my sleep pants at full attention.

I licked my lips. I wanted him. I didn’t know what it was about him, but I wanted him. I wanted to bury my hands in that mess of hair of his. I wanted to paint his stomach with my cum. I wanted to lick those nipples that were begging for my tongue. I wanted to see him on his knees in front of me, submitting so beautifully it made me ache.

My wolf howled.

I clicked his profile, my hard lips quirking at his screen name. 187. What did it stand for? Was it just a random number? Maybe I’d ask him.

My eyes traced over his profile picture once more. I might not be able to see his face, but his hair was a pretty temptation all on its own. And those nipples were screaming my name.

Quickly, I read the long and myriad list of kinks he had marked, both his hard and soft limits. My dick twitched as I read, my chest heaving in anticipation, lust and need. We would definitely play well together. For the most part, our kinks aligned.

Spanking. Submission. Bondage. Marks. No humiliation play. No water sports or scat.Willing and ready to explore more, just ask me. I want to submit to an experienced Dom.

Oh yes, we would definitely play well together.

His age made me bark out a sharp laugh. Twenty-four. Goddess, he was a fucking child compared to me. I could almost hear Jamie’s voice in my head. Who the fuck cares how old he is, Becks? You’re not marrying him. That’s not what this is. Get your dick wet and move on. He’s a fucking adult, for fucks sake.

I clicked on the appropriate icon to let him know I was interested in hooking up if he was. Then I waited, pacing in front of the window as my wolf did the same beneath my skin. If this hookup didn’t happen, I would need to shift and go for a run despite already telling my wolf no. Something to burn off the sexual tension that innocent picture had stirred inside of me.

Gulping the last swallow in my glass, I contemplated whether I wanted to pay the price of what another little bottle would cost me, when my phone dinged with a message notification from Taboo.

187: *wave* Um…Hello. Thank you for your message.

Grinning at his slightly formal tone for a twenty-four-year-old, I could almost hear the shyness in his hesitant response in my head. Before I could type a message back, the three little dots appeared then disappeared. Then reappeared. Giving him a minute, I waited patiently.

187: So…um…I’m not sure what the protocol is. In theory I understand it. I just have no practical knowledge or experience.

His word choices were interesting, but I didn’t have time to delve deeper into his sentence structure. Though his repeated use of the word ‘um’ spoke of uncertainty and nervousness. It was clearly time for me to take control of this situation.

AlphaDom: The Ritz-Carlton. Room 1452. Thirty minutes. Don’t be late.

187: Um, all right. Should I bring anything?

AlphaDom: Thirty minutes, boy. If you’re a minute late, I will punish you.

187: Um, ok. I mean, yes, Sir.

AlphaDom: Good boy.

Palming the hard length of my dick, I retrieved the condoms from my suitcase. I hadn’t come prepared for a kinky hookup, but my ties had always worked in a pinch plenty of times for some light bondage play.

Placing the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, I checked my watch and waited for the pretty little sub to arrive.