Shane Wise is a Dom and part owner of a popular BDSM club in Rittenhouse Square, Club Rebellion. A tumultuous past has led him to an almost perfect present, except Shane has a secret. A secret that could destroy his reputation in the world in which he loves to live-BDSM.
Deacon Archer is also a Dom and part owner of Club Rebellion and he is in love with Shane Wise. Together Shane and Deacon must decide if the love they feel can withstand the scrutiny they fear if their relationship is revealed.
Can two dominants truly forge a relationship? Will secret desires open up a new world and allow Shane to be the man he was intended to be or will veiled dominance get in the way?
"This was one hell of a night," Shane stated. His thoughts were jumbled.
His lover nodded and stared at Shane while slowly revealing inch after inch of flesh. Shane's partner took his time when it came to disrobing.
Shane hadn't moved because he was too busy being tortured by his lover's sensualness and seductiveness. The man before him was sexy as fuck. Tall, slender build, and a killer smile. Damn, Shane loved him.
"You going to ogle me all night or get undressed? We have unattended business," the sexy-as-fuck guy indicated.
"Someone's in a dominating mood, I see," Shane responded as he began to undress.
"Oh, hell yeah. Seeing the mighty Dalton fall got me all revved up. I needed to get out of there fast so I could come home and fuck you."
"You sure are a sweet talker." Shane let his vest hit the floor, followed by his pants. He'd gone commando, so there'd be less to pick up when they were done. He slowly sashayed toward the very large sleigh bed that dominated his lover's bedroom.
The piece of furniture sat in the middle of the black leather-covered wall and was framed by floggers and whips. Very sleek and kinky.
Shane smiled as the warmth from his partner seared into his back and comforted him. He slowed his movements and wiggled his derriere because he knew full well that his actions would excite his companion more.
Shane knew he was a good-looking guy. He was six-foot-three-inches of muscle. He'd been told that he was built like a brick shit house because of his large chest, lean and trim waist, and large thighs. He had a nice body that was sporadically covered in freckles. He was ginger with streaks of honey throughout his curly hair, and peridot-colored eyes framed by ginger-honeyed lashes. Even his cock was surrounded by the reddish-blond hue.
While glancing over his shoulder, Shane whispered, "See something ya like?" He clenched his ass. Once atop the bed, he turned, opened his legs wide, and began to stroke himself from base to tip. Precome leaked from his seven-inch cut cock and helped ease the slow, languid strokes. After watching his lover's eyes go dark with lust, Shane chuckled as he continued to stroke his cock. "I'm waiting," he drawled.
Shane didn't have to wait long as the sexy fucker divested himself of all the yards of leather he was wearing and slinked up the bed toward him like a large cat stalking its prey. Shane was his next meal, and lover man was ready to eat. His chocolate brown eyes stared at Shane and penetrated his soul.
God, how Shane loved him. Had for many years now. But for some reason, something always got in the way of a true relationship. Work, friends, whatever. Hell, maybe even themselves. They'd never gotten the synchronicity right to make the relationship permanent. But how could they really? Would people understand? They lived in a complicated world, and mixing pleasure with business didn't always work out for even the strongest couples. It would've been especially difficult with everything the two of them brought to the table.
For now, their evening was just beginning, and Shane had planned to enjoy himself. Pitching, receiving, who gave a fuck as long as he got his man any way he could get him.
Shane reached up, gently pulled his lover toward him, and planted a soft kiss to his lips. He licked his lover's bottom lip while nibbling and probing. His partner opened his mouth and allowed Shane's tongue to perform a sensual dance that entwined with its mate. Soon though, Shane felt his lover's dominance overtake him and control the kisses. He was demanding, forceful, and controlling; just the way Shane liked it. No, treasured it.
Shane's cock was hard as granite. It was trapped between their bodies and in need of fast relief. Shane broke the kiss. "I need you now in any way I can have you. I don't give a fuck."
His lover nodded and retrieved the lube that was always hidden under the pillow. "No playing. I think we both need to take the edge off after tonight. Then we can play all we want later," the man whispered huskily.
"Yes. Oh, God. Yes. Please."
All other thoughts left Shane's head as his man prepared his ass for the taking. This was for them and them alone. Shane could deal with everything else later. He knew the moment of truth was approaching and that he'd be forced to come clean and face the others. He only hoped that when the time came, their business partners wouldn't only accept his choices, but understand why they'd been made. But Shane didn't give a fuck at the moment. The only thing on his mind was the man above him and what was soon to come.
"When did you say Dalton and Eldridge were getting back from their honeymoon?" Shane asked his business partners with a slight edge to his voice. Shane, Dalton Peters, Johnson Petri, and Deacon Archer were best friends and business partners in Club Rebellion, a swanky, high-end BDSM club located in Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. The club was in high demand, but that didn't stop Dalton from whisking the love of his life and newly collared submissive, Eldridge, off to the islands of Turks and Caicos.
"What crawled up your ass today?" Johnson scoffed as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
The men were at the club for their weekly pow-wow to discuss business; minus Dalton. The topic at hand was demos. Demonstration classes for Master/sub pairing had become very popular, and the men wanted to capitalize on that development. The few times that Dalton had demonstrated and trained others on wax play had been a big hit, and the businessmen wanted to corner the market with more clinics.
Shane threaded his fingers through his hair. "Nothing. I'm just tired. It's been a crazy few weeks with the ceremony. You know, helping El and Issy get their business up and running. I'm good, bro, really. Sorry."
Shane and the others had practically worked around the clock to help Dalton's partner, Eldridge, and Johnson's partner, Isabella Catana, launch their own business. Eldridge and Issy, friends since second grade, had finally made their dream come true when the fruits of their labor came to fruition in Beautiful Counsel. Between Eldridge's acquisition skills and Issy's design talent, the two merged wonderfully. They'd buy properties, refurbish them, and resell them for a profit. Or they'd hire other people to do those services for clients.
They'd all worked together to create offices in Issy and Dalton's homes and convert Eldridge's loft apartment into a design showroom. Shane and Deacon never wavered in their desire to assist Dalton and Johnson's subs with getting Beautiful Counsel off the ground. Eldridge and Issy would have an abundance of work once the honeymooners returned because the calls were already coming in. The profits for all the silent partners would be plentiful.
Johnson eyed his friend speculatively and shook his head. "Maybe you need to do a scene. You know, to take the edge off?"
Panic built in Shane's stomach at his friend's suggestion. The last thing he needed was more questions. He forced a smile while struggling for composure. "Nah, I'm good. I'll probably hang around and watch James do his demo. He's loving all the wax-play tricks Dalton taught him. I hear Josiah loves it as well," Shane chuckled.
"What about you, Deacon?" asked Johnson.
"I'll hang for a while, but I'm calling it an early night as well. I have some business calls to make, and the time difference means I can't make them until late tonight. Sam and Tony are on tonight, so the club will run well even if we're not here."
Sam the bouncer and Tony the bartender had been working at Club Rebellion practically from its inception, and all the partners trusted them to handle things if they weren't around. The owners understood discretion when it came to the guests, as did all the employees.
Johnson began again, "The business at hand -- demos? Deacon, you up for a flogging clinic? It can be a private clinic instead of on the floor."
Shane listened as Deacon and Johnson discussed the details of the clinic. A flogging clinic. Deacon was a master at bringing a sub to the brink -- to subspace -- and then leaving them hanging there in the twilight zone while their body soared before tipping over the edge; the edge of pure bliss and shattering orgasm. He'd watched Deacon do that a hundred times and never got tired of seeing the look of power on Deacon's face or the erotic serenity on the sub's. Deacon didn't need to fuck submissives to put that look on their faces. He simply needed to wield his leather straps. Shane knew.
"Let me think about it, floor or private. Also, I need a sub." Deacon scratched the side of his head pensively. "James is doing the wax demo tonight, so I should catch him beforehand to talk to him about Josiah. Maybe he'll let me use Josiah for the flogging demo."
The men continued to discuss business for the better part of the afternoon until Johnson finally broke up their meeting. "Hey, how about dinner? Issy is up to her pretty little collar in paperwork, phone calls, and sorting through potential clients for Beautiful Counsel. I'll sure as hell be glad when Eldridge gets back because I seem to be seeing less and less of my gorgeous wife."
Deacon followed Johnson and Shane out of the office and said, "Can you two grab our table? I'll be there in a few?"
Shane strode past Johnson and made his way to the table. There was a slight tightening in his chest. Fuck. What if James allowed Deacon to use his sub? It's not like Deacon would fuck the guy, but still.
The thought of Deacon bringing Josiah to subspace unnerved Shane to his very core. After he took his seat at the table, Shane initiated a new topic of conversation with Johnson. "What's it gonna be? Steak and lobster tonight or --"
Johnson jumped ahead of him. "Do you think James will let Deacon use Josiah for his demo? Or should he find someone with more experience? It's not like Deacon's gonna fuck him, just use his body as a canvas."
"Deacon can use whoever he wants. He's the Master." Shane unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. What did he care who Deacon used as a sub for a demo? Who was he kidding? Shane guided the subject away from the demo discussion for the time being and toward the safe topic of food ordering. "What do you want to eat? Here comes Sandy to get the order."
Sitting in the owner's booth provided any of the men and their partners with instant service, thus a cute twink made his way to Shane and Johnson. Sandy didn't deserve the brunt of his foul attitude. Shane couldn't pinpoint the cause exactly, but he was tired of all the shit. He just wanted things to be easier but didn't see that happening in the foreseeable future.
"How's it going tonight, Sandy?" Shane asked the man with purple-tipped blond hair as he set down glasses of water and coffee cups.
The servers knew the Masters didn't indulge in alcohol before a potential scene, so coffee and water were always served unless otherwise directed.
"Good, Master Shane. Thank you for asking." Sandy kept his eyes down.
The twinks had permission to look directly at Doms if they were being spoken to for food and drink orders. But Sandy was painfully shy, so his eyes remained downcast. Shane didn't know much about the young man, but he'd surmised that Sandy hadn't had an easy life. He was twitchy, and the only person he'd ever seen Sandy converse with was Tony the bartender.
Tony was training to be a Dom, and Shane had worked with him numerous times. He wondered if Sandy hoped to catch Tony's eye as his submissive once Tony was ready to take on his own sub. Sandy deserved someone that would treasure him, and Shane could easily picture Tony and Sandy together.
"Can I take your and Master Johnson's orders?"
"Actually, Master Deacon is joining us as well, so one more service set, please. We'll all have medium-rare steaks and lobster platters. Thank you." Shane smiled at the boy as he spoke.
He watched Sandy nod his head, smile reservedly, then walk away to fill their orders.
"About the clinic, Shane?"
Fuck. Johnson could beat a horse to death when he got stuck on a topic. Shane's need for Johnson to let the subject drop crawled up his spine, but it appeared that Johnson wouldn't relent.
"Maybe Deacon could use Sandy?" Johnson interjected as he brought his coffee cup to his lips and eyed Shane over the rim.
Shane pursed his mouth and started to speak but told himself that it was for the best to say nothing. His mood hadn't improved since the daily meeting.
"Hold down the fort. I need to hit the head." Shane excused himself from the booth and treaded to the bathroom. He needed a minute or two to compose himself before Deacon returned to the table. Especially if he couldn't steer the conversation away from Deacon's use of another sub. It was getting more difficult to see Deacon work with others when he wanted to be the canvas.
By the time Shane returned to the table, the food had arrived and so had Deacon. Shane made eye contact with his friend, but the frown on Deacon's face told Shane that the man wasn't happy. They sat in silence and watched the crowd.
Business was good. The club was busy every night whether for play, demos, or dining. BDSM drew the crowd. Especially at Club Rebellion.
Sandy brought their dinners, and they ate quickly, efficiently, and in silence. The men declined dessert when Sandy returned to clear their serving sets. Shane left a hefty tip on the table for the lovely waiter, and the three men left the club.