Page 9 of Dare to Love Again

“A brogue is Scottish, my man, and only your Val would use the word agog.”

“I’ll let you advise her of both when we see you Friday at eight.”

“Slave driver,” Keiran muttered, though good-naturedly.

It had been weeks since he’d been to the club and even though he’d be monitoring, he was already looking forward to the break. And if that creek didn’t rise, he’d squeeze in a scene with a warm and willing sub after midnight, even if he had to drink a pot of coffee and take a quadruple dose of vitamin E.

“Seriously, though, thanks,” Eric replied. “Without enough DMs, I was afraid I’d have to shut down the theme rooms and end up with a riot on my hands.”

“Even more reason to get those requisitions to Louise. The four men I want to hire all asked about membership at the club.”

After he disconnected, he looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk. Contracts in need of review, invoices to be signed, and his calendar was full of appointments with more potential clients. He was a field man, had been ever since he’d enlisted and for the ten years he’d served in the ARW, the special forces division of Ireland’s Army. A desk job wasn’t what he had in mind when he said yes to Cap and took this gig.

He needed to get these new men trained quickly and hire an assistant to help with some of this administrative crap so he could get back out there, close their backlog of cases, and find himself a sweet subbie who made him obnoxiously happy like Val did Eric.

At thirty-five, a revolving door of submissives was getting old. Having one to come home to after a mission and warming his bed at night was becoming more appealing with each passing year. And he wanted kids, several, and would like that seen to before he was too old and busted to enjoy it.

Both dreams were still far off, especially if the only time he could carve out at the club was for DM duty.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, he reached for the tallest stack, the contracts, and got started on the four hours of paperwork ahead of him.

Chapter 4

SEEING BARE SKIN EVERYWHERE, Esme’s fingers tightened their grip on Pax’s muscular forearm as she tried to steady herself.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, “it’s just—”

Stopping short, she almost swallowed her tongue when a woman on a leash wearing a cupless bra and an ass-baring thong walked by with her master. Proving it was an equal opportunity bondage club, a mistress led a man past them sporting nothing other than assless, crotchless chaps.

Esme cleared her throat and finally finished her thought, “A bit of a shock.”

He chuckled. “I felt the same way at first. After a few visits, your eyes will unglaze, and you’ll see more than bare tits and asses every time you walk in.”

“I don’t know. Just walking through the lounge, I felt overdressed. In here, I feel positively Victorian.”

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