1.

ONE

Rafael

What the hell is Dominic Capelli doing in my club? Not even my nightclub. My sex club. My gay sex club.

It disturbs me.

It fascinates me.

I can’t stop staring at him.

I’m not the only one staring at him, because he’s hot as fuck, but I am the only one who knows what a goddamn homophobe he is.

Obviously, I need to keep an eye on him.

Nyx keeps looking at me. She can handle the bar herself and wants to know why I’m here fucking up her vibe. At 5’10”, fit and curvy, she’s spectacular in her classy dominatrix leathers and high pink pigtails.

She prefers to be a solo act, but she can fucking deal with it. It’s my bar. Besides, I make better margaritas than she does.

She once asked me the secret. I told her it was the plug in my ass, that a little pressure on my prostate always gets me thinking creatively.

That was three years ago. We’ve been locked in battle ever since. She’s my favorite.

“You’re obviously watching somebody,” she comments, creeping over to see what I’m putting in the margaritas. Too late. She already missed the secret ingredient.

It’s not even that secret. Doesn’t she have the internet? What a shitty bartender.

“You know I like shibari. Besides,” I add as she scrutinizes how much lime juice I’m adding, “I’m always watching somebody.”

She snorts. “That’s the truth.”

Indeed, and it’s one of the many freedoms that a place like Lush offers. Every kink is accepted, every indulgence encouraged. Voyeurism is half the fun.

In truth though, I’m perfectly capable of multitasking, so I am watching, or at least half watching, the gorgeous demonstration happening on the stage. Kenji is a master of the Japanese style of erotic binding.

Kenji’s partner is suspended in the steel frame. Ropes twine intricately around his limbs and torso. The knotwork itself is art, but it also serves to highlight particular parts of his body. His ass is framed beautifully, and his hard cock juts up from the bindings.

Lush is known for its performances. The nightclub upstairs leans toward sultry and classy. The atmosphere there wears a couture dress over its sexy soul. I love to go back and forth between that and the exquisite, unabashed sexuality on display down here, where the more erotic performances set the tone.

Here, like upstairs, couches, chairs, and tables carve the space around the stage into dozens of nooks that manage to flow into each other. From these, the club patrons enjoy the show or focus on their own pleasures. Though Lush offers several private play rooms, many enjoy this more public space. Several men are fucking. Two women play together with toys. Others touch, kiss, masturbate.

Then there’s Dominic, sitting on a couch by himself in an alcove at the edge of the room. His semi-sheer black button up isn’t the overt advertisement that most of the clothes here are, but it still offers teasing glimpses of his powerful body. His dark crewcut hair is effortless and perfect for his gorgeous face. He would fit right in here—and have plenty of company—if his expression didn’t so clearly say “fuck off.”

He’s barely touched his gin and tonic.

I finish the margaritas and slide them to Nyx, no longer in the mood to play bartender. Dominic isn’t paying attention to me anyway. I suspect he’s deliberately ignoring me. After all, he has no reason to be here but me.

I make my way to where he’s sitting. The lights are low, mostly red and gold. They brighten over the stage and select spots, but Dominic is sitting in one of the darker corners.

I slide onto the red leather couch beside him. His head turns my way. Golden light lays diffusely across one side of his face. It paints the tendons of his neck until they disappear behind his collar.

He looks every bit as beautiful and severe as the night I shot his father.

“Rafael,” he says.

“Dominic.”

He didn’t start out as my enemy. Years ago, when we were both residents of hell, Dominic and I had very little to do with each other. He was mostly kept separate from the rest of us. In the years after, we had nothing at all to do with each other, because even then the bad blood was actually between Dominic’s father and my friend Dante.

At least, I guess Dante’s my friend. That’s a weird, difficult relationship, one hard to put a label on, but Dante and I do help each other with certain things. Like revenge.

Dante more than deserved his revenge, because he was in hell too—and it was Dominic’s father who sent him there.

For years, Dante had been taking a slow revenge against Lorenzo Capelli, cutting into his business, killing his thugs. But everything kicked into high gear when Capelli kidnapped Dante’s … what? Fuck toy? Boyfriend? Who the hell knows. In any case, it was time to take real action. And even though Dante put the final bullet in Lorenzo Capelli’s head, I had already put one in his chest.

So, yeah. I keep a close eye on Dominic’s hands. He wouldn’t have gotten through the door with a gun, but he might have a knife stashed somewhere.

His dark eyes travel from my face down my torso. I’m wearing a red and black corset vest with no shirt. I’ve got it snugged tight, putting a subtle curve in my waist and emphasizing my chest and shoulders. I didn’t work this hard on my body to not show it off, and I know exactly how good it looks. I’m vain as hell.

Dominic’s eyes half close. “You’re so fucking gay.”

“This is a gay sex club. Everyone here is gay.”

I expect him to throw something back at me, to separate himself from that comment, but instead his jaw clenches. His full, pouty lips compress.

Interesting.

Maybe I’m not the only reason he’s here. He wouldn’t be the first man to cover his sexuality with a layer of filth. Besides, up until his father’s death, Dominic had a very good reason for doing just that.

I eye his glass where it sits on the table, his fingers loosely curling around it.

“You’ve barely touched your drink. No good?”

Before he can answer, I pluck his glass from his hand. His eyebrows draw down in a scowl, making his face even more intense, even more beautiful.

I sip the gin and tonic then set it down.

“Tastes fine to me.” I settle my hand on his thigh. “You want something else?”

Dominic sucks in a breath. His muscles turn to steel under my hand, which I start sliding up his thigh.

“Don’t,” he warns, his teeth gritted, his dark eyes boring into mine.

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as I keep going. When my fingers brush his balls, I find them firm. Swollen.

He grabs my wrist. His grip is punishing, hard enough to hurt. A sound of pleasure escapes me.

I use my other hand to brush one of his nipples, which shows vaguely through his semi-sheer shirt. His upper lip curls back from his teeth. God, he’s sexy.

I draw back because I don’t want him to yank away from me and leave. I’m enjoying this too much.

I pick up his drink again and sip. He watches me intently, with hostility.

I want to touch his balls again, and his cock. I want to touch my own. I’ve been hard since he walked in. I’m usually hard, so that only means so much, but still. It’s what I want.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Dominic takes the drink from me, careful not to let his fingers touch mine. His other hand is fisted on his thigh. He sets the drink out of reach as though to say that he won’t deign to drink it but I can’t have it.

My eyes narrow. Nothing gets under my skin quite like denial.

“I’m thinking about killing you,” he tells me.

That’s no surprise. I’ve been expecting him to come after me for the past two months, but I suppose he’s been busy with the transfer of his father’s assets. Interesting, though, that he’s coming after me instead of Dante.

“You’d have a hard time of it in here.”

“I didn’t say I was here to do it. I said I was here to think about it. I’ve been imagining it tonight. How I would do it. What you would look like.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I don’t think so. I need to work out the details first, but it is nice to see that you look good in red.”

I smile. He’s so much more fun than I expected.

“Don’t smile. You’ll be begging by the end.”

“Oh, I hope so. I’m perfectly happy to beg—but only if there’s a suitable reward for it.” He scowls at my turn of the conversation, then I turn it again to point out, “You inherited a lot of money because of me.”

Not just me. It was Dante’s revenge, not mine, but I leave that out. So does he. “I know.”

“And your father was quite an asshole.”

“I know.”

“So what’s the point?”

He shrugs. “I have appearances to keep up.”

“Daddy’s not watching anymore.” My words freeze him, giving me a chance to lean in and slide my hand between his legs again. “Stop worrying about appearances.”

I barely have time to brush the hard ridge of his cock before his hand clamps on my throat. His face contorts with fury as he cuts off my air, nearly crushing my windpipe. It has my eyelashes fluttering. It has my cock throbbing.

As I rub the stiff, fat length of Dominic’s dick through his pants, his expression remains furious. His hand stays clamped on my throat. And yet, as I move to straddle him, he lets his arm bend instead of holding me back. He lets me do it.

My knees press into the leather couch on either side of him. I want to grind my dick against his, but it’s not possible in this position, so I explore him with my fingers. Christ, he’s big. He could destroy me with that thing.

I need to breathe, but he’s not going to let me. If I want to touch him, this is the price.

His stomach is contracting hard. His nostrils are flared. He’s angry that he wants me. He’s even angrier, perhaps, that I know it. He can’t pretend to not be turned on when my hand is gripping his hard cock.

From the corner of my eye, I see Big John, my mountainous bouncer, stir. He’s torn between obeying my rule, which is to never interfere without my signal, and ripping Dominic’s hand away from my throat.

I hate yielding, but I have to. Dominic’s made his point. He wasn’t bluffing about killing me.

I take my hand off his cock. With his hand still on my throat, he pushes me off his lap. He lets go, finally, as I thump onto the couch beside him. I haul in a desperate breath, choking on it, coughing—and still hard as fuck.

Dominic stands from the couch. He picks up the gin and tonic, downs it, and returns the glass to the table. His cock is pressing visibly against the front of his black pants.

I can breathe now, so I let my head rest back against the couch as his dark eyes roam over me with barely contained violence. He definitely wants to hurt me.

I smile.

Scowling, he turns and walks away, giving me a perfect view of his gorgeous ass.