Garrick Jefferson Custis is the respected leader of Tempest, a BDSM club, and a man looking to make a change. He has his contractor business, willing submissives, and good friends. But he wants a relationship outside of the lifestyle. Quin Landry fled the BDSM scene after a messy divorce. Now, she is ready to try again, to fill in a missing piece. She just wants to have a little fun, find a Dom to be part of her life. Change may not be what Garrick needs to make his life whole. With a little help from his friends, and the right submissive, he may just realize what he has been chasing is actually already in his grasp. Meet Garrick and Quintana, meet their friends and become immersed in the lives of Club Tempest members. Once you get to know them, you’ll want to know more…
"Oh, for God’s sake. How’d you get tangled in there?”
The cat arched and spit, fluffing her already impressive size, and tugged on the vine entrapping her front leg.
Skirting past Bastet, she said, “Let me get dressed, and then I’ll get you out of there.” Another angry wail stopped her in her tracks. A repeat glance around reassured Quin the cat racket had not brought forth any curious neighbors. Good, considering her current state of but Quin hoped she never had to raise a real alarm midday. “Okay, baby. I’ll get you free.”
She crouched and stroked Bastet, calming her, crooning reassurance as her fingers worked to release the vine’s grip.
"Whoa! What?” A man’s voice stilled her from pulling the cat loose. She rose and whirled, keys flying loose, clutching Bastet across her torso like a fluffy towel. Never had she been so grateful for the Maine Coon’s size.
“Miss Landry. Pleasure to…see you again,” a second voice spoke.
Bastet made mewling protests as Quin squeezed the wriggling fur mass and slewed her gaze between the two men standing on her walkway. Oh, so not good.
In the midst of her panic, she entertained a fleeting regret the midday sun did not flatter a body past its twenty-something prime.
The contractor Nicole had introduced her to—Garrick somebody—filled the path, so his companion had to stand a half pace behind. A few inches over six feet, he had dark hair shot with gray that waved from his face and flowed over his collar. Powerful forearms showed below his rolled sleeves. Thigh muscles outlined by….
He removed his sunglasses and smiled at her, the lazy grin revealing a dimple and reminding her she wore nothing but a cat. Bastet’s tail swished along her thigh, letting Quin know she wouldn’t be wearing this cat for much longer.
“I think you dropped your keys,” the man who had first spoken said. A sun-streaked blond shorter than Garrick, his T-shirt pulled across his pectorals and jeans rode low on his hips. He gestured toward the plant bed.
“Oh.” Her gaze darted from the plants to Garrick and his companion. Bastet growled and began to struggle.
“Quin.” Garrick’s tone calmed her, and she loosened her grip on the cat. “Stand there for a moment, and Tyler will retrieve your keys and unlock your door. Then you can put down…whatever that is…and go into the house. We’ll return in thirty minutes.”
“She’s a Maine Coon,” Quin said. Heat spread from her chest to her face. She assumed an unbecoming redness accompanied the flushed feeling. “I mean, thank you. Your plan will work.”