Page 87 of Serving the CEO

At the door, I saw Anamaria busily working away at her computer.

“I’m done for the day,” I said.

“Have a good night, Mr. Thomas,” she said tightly.

Pissed off that I’d let my temper get the better of me,again, I headed for the stairwell instead of the elevator, not wanting to run into anybody.

I needed a fucking drink.

And a distraction.

* * *

I endedup at the club since it seemed like the best place to get everything I needed, and I didn’t have to worry about accidentally running into Jessica. Our agreed-upon monogamy was no longer an issue, but I didn’t want to just get laid. I could’ve gone to any bar and found a woman to have sex with. Hell, I could’ve picked someone up at a grocery store if sex was all I was looking for.

I needed to dominate someone.

Not because I was so pissed at Jessica that I wanted to inflict – consensual – pain. No, I just needed the control. Everything that had happened since Jessica walked out of our wedding had been out of my control and I needed it back. I could get that here.

I got a drink and settled in a comfortable chair in the back, intending to enjoy the show while I surveyed the selection of subs who’d either come in alone or whose masters wanted to share them. I wasn’t into threesomes with another man, but I didn’t mind being watched. Maybe that was what I needed, to control not only a sub, but to an extent, her Dom as well.

On the main stage, a popular Domme and her partner, a switch she’d been with for a while, were enjoying a sub, the switch guiding the sub’s head between the woman’s thighs before he went back to tying up the fit male, an attractive guy who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

Every time the sub started to slow down, the Domme would smack him on the shoulders with a crop, a playful tap, but one he clearly enjoyed if the massive erection he was sporting was any indication. Then again, that might’ve had something to do with the cock ring he wore at the base of his shaft.

The switch finished with the restraints, then moved to kneel behind the other man. I watched, intrigued in a distant way and mildly aroused by the sensuality, but that was it. I was bored. Dissatisfied. Restless in a way that I rarely ever was here.

Every available sub I saw, I dismissed just as quickly. Too tall. Too short. Too meek. Too jaded. Their hair was too short for me to pull. I didn’t like the style of their clothes.

I didn’t feel a single pull of attraction, making me wonder if I should just finish watching the show and then head home alone.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I was caught off-guard when Starla, a woman I’d played with a couple of times, dropped to her knees in front of me. A curvy brunette, she’d been in the scene for almost as long as I had and enjoyed a heavier hand than I usually applied. I’d once watched her come from half a dozen lashes with a cane directly between her legs. I’d never needed to be careful with her, and right now, that sounded appealing.

“Starla.”

“Hello, Master.” She leaned forward to rub her cheek against my thigh. “You look awfully lonely over here.”

“Do I?” It pissed me off that I felt a pang in my chest because fuck if she wasn’t right. Determined to chase that void away, I trailed a finger down her cheek and smiled. “You want to do something about that?”

“Can I?” Her lips curved and she pushed apart my knees to get closer. “It’s beensucha long time.”

As she nuzzled my stomach through my shirt, I asked, “Would you like to cheer me up, Starla?”

“Oh, Master. I’d love to.” She stroked her hands up my legs, starting at my ankles and slowly gliding higher.

I willed myself to focus on her, staring at the leather and mesh bra that cupped and lifted a magnificent pair of breasts. She rubbed them against my legs, the open cups letting me feel her pierced nipples. I’d once spent an entire hour playing with those piercings and knew intimately how they felt and tasted. I knew the sounds she’d make when I twisted them. Knew just how far I could push her into pain before it was too much.

She should have stirred me.

Instead, I found myself wishing for the spill of strawberry-blonde curls over my thighs. Light gray eyes peering up through thick lashes. Eye contact that subs knew not to give. Pretty pink nipples I could lick and bite until they were swollen and overly sensitized.

Shit.

As Starla pushed and reached for my belt, I caught her hands.

“Stop,” I said, disgusted with myself but fighting not to let it show in my voice. Why the fuck was I still thinking about Jessica? Starla was the sort of woman I needed. Someone I could dominate and fuck and then not have to worry about whether or not I fired her friend…

Dammit.

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