Wishes

WISHES

ALLYSON YOUNG

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Kennedy Johnson wondered what the hell she was doing here. When she had agreed to a night on the town with Alberta and Madison, she thought they would hit a couple of bars and drink too much, tell lies, and ogle cowboy butts. When they made her change into a little black dress and stilettos, plus fix her hair and makeup, she changed the supposition in her head to some nice restaurant, followed by drinks in the lounge where they would drink too much, tell lies, and ogle cowboy butts. This town was chock-f of cowboys, real and pretend, and many of them were really hot. Kennedy might be new to Texas, a damn Yankee in fact, but she was really enthusiastic about fitting in. She used to like men, she used to like sex, and they both seemed available and possible here. The problem was, no cowboy really seemed to fit the bill for the sex part and her pickiness was leaving her in a veritable dry spell. She was picky for good reason, however. She sighed and looked around the huge room, wondering again what she was doing in a sex club.

Alberta and Madison had giggled and acted so excited about the surprise. The building had looked much like a warehouse from the outside, albeit with good security and an amazing fleet of expensive vehicles in the parking lot. Once they had been passed inside, Kennedy was overwhelmed by the sexuality of the place. There was a bar and dance floor that pulsated with a heavy rock beat. A few dozen people gyrated in sets of twos and threes and even fours. Some seemed to be wearing Halloween costumes made out of PVC or strips of cloth that barely covered their naughty bits. Harnesses abounded in stark contrast to beautifully tailored suits. Kennedy thought it was like kids playing naughty dress up. Her friends dragged her to a room down the hall swathed in red and black velvet hangings and showed her furniture and implements more suited to a medieval torture chamber. Madison whispered that there would be a scene enacted later on and she could hardly wait. Ally’s eyes were bright with anticipation, too. Well, Kennedy could wait forever. She had figured out the sex club part and had moved past the fetish label to BDSM. Good grief, Ally and Madi had turned into perverts in the two years since they had moved here. And to think that she had followed them to the city because of their entreaties that she would love Austin, not to mention the job opportunities for someone with her background. Of course, it was a perfect opportunity for her to have a fresh start, too. Just not at a sex club.

She tagged along behind her friends, taking the guided tour, and learned that there were rooms for various sexual interests and fantasies available for members’ use. Kennedy was in the club on a visitor’s pass and wondered how she could make her escape without totally offending her friends. She idly noted the large numbers of cameras situated in crucial areas throughout the club. She supposed they were for security purposes and hoped no one was watching her halfhearted attempts to look interested and impressed by her surroundings.

* * * *

From his position in the security booth, Graham observed the club scene and noticed the little woman standing slightly apart. He mentioned her to Patrick. At Patrick’s request, the security guard in the booth zoomed the hall camera in on the brunette’s right hand and confirmed the visitor’s wristband.

“She looks bored, wouldn’t you say?” suggested Patrick as he glanced sideways at Graham’s face.

Graham shrugged. “I just noticed her wandering pretty much on her own and wondered if she had slipped in past security,” he answered his friend. “We don’t need another reporter infiltrating the club.”

He watched Patrick’s face harden. “Run the number,” Patrick ordered the guard.

“Kennedy Johnson, sir.” The man provided the information quickly. “Sponsored by Madison Starr.”

Patrick relaxed. “Little Madi,” he nearly purred, to Graham’s surprise. “She mentioned a friend moving here from Connecticut. I’d forgotten I gave her permission to bring her friend.”

“You still fixated on that redhead, buddy?” teased Graham.

Patrick shrugged. “There’s something about her for sure. I’m not going to rush it.”

Graham hid his surprise. His friend hooked up or played with subs. He didn’t pursue one woman. “Well, let me know how things work out. If you need a third…”

Patrick’s face hardened again, “That won’t be necessary.”

Holy shit, not necessary? Patrick never fucked a woman alone or in private. What the hell was that about? Whatever, he hoped Pat knew what he was doing. Women and long-term relationships were a deadly mix. He knew this from personal experience and was himself content to be one of the house Doms. He had his control needs met and the sex was rocking without the personal shit that messed things up. And Patrick, as the owner of Pleasure, had followed the same line of thought, at least until Madison Starr.

Graham turned his attention back to the woman visiting with Madison. Below average height, curvy, which often was an issue for women, being worried about their weight, whereas he loved curves. She had really thick, dark hair piled up on her head, so probably long enough to spill down her back. The camera gave the impression of regular features, not beautiful, but attractive, her mouth sporting a full bottom lip perfect for…crap, what was he doing? Screening for a sub? He didn’t even know the color of her eyes or her skin. Well, she was white, but was she ivory, or porcelain, or maybe peaches and cream? Graham dragged his eyes away from her face. Kennedy Johnson. He didn’t think she would be back to the club, judging by her demeanor. She looked…amused. Now that was annoying. Ms. Johnson could use a lesson in manners. What the hell? He needed to get a grip. She had no idea she was being scrutinized and was probably being polite and appropriate where it counted.

“Mr. Alexander!” The guard’s bark broke his reverie. “There’s a problem in the discipline room.”

Graham stared at the screen. Two Doms were squaring off over what appeared to be an uncollared sub. Christ, where was the decorum? Clearly he needed to exert more control over screening memberships if this sort of thing could happen. He grabbed his single tail and wrapped it around the waist of his leather pants as he made his way out of security and went down to take care of the fracas.

The two Doms broke apart at the sound of the whip cracking over their heads. No actual punches had landed. It had been more of a shoving match, a marking of territory. They stared at Graham, indecision in both of their faces.

“Explain, gentlemen,” he invited silkily.

The older of the two rolled his eyes. “Sorry, my man,” he offered. “George and I planned to share this little one until she changed her mind.”

George added, “She played us, Graham. And we fell for it.”

Graham didn’t question the authenticity of either statement. He knew both of these men. Knew they were auditioning subs and that they had often shared in the past, although Luke was the more dominant and he suspected George could and did switch. He turned his attention to the wide-eyed sub, who instantly knelt and avoided eye contact. It was Alice, up to her old tricks again. He couldn’t believe two old hands like George and Luke had fallen for it.

“Alice,” he said, using his dark Dom voice. “Explain.”

Graham knew what she wanted but was damned if he was going to give it to her. Better to deny her as a more effective form of punishment. He waited. Alice whimpered and crouched lower.

* * * *

Kennedy watched the drama unfold with the same intensity she would have accorded a high school drama. Part of her wanted to applaud their sincere efforts, and another part wanted to throw popcorn. Big boys and their toys. And that great-looking guy in the leather pants just took the cake. He had to know that the twit on the floor was full of shit, with all that fake cowering and submissive action, but he played the authoritarian type just like Kennedy’s old high school principal. Somebody was going to get their comeuppance and probably publicly. Kennedy felt a spurt of condescension. She knew the real thing. Madi and Alberta were both spellbound, all agog, and breathing hard.

Kennedy felt laughter bubbling up and put her hand over her mouth, hoping she looked properly awed instead. The hot guy’s eyes swept the room and naturally locked with hers. Crap, he knew she was hiding mirth and couldn’t know it was nearly hysterical. Kennedy dropped her head and wheeled around, heading out, fast. She made her way down the hall to a restroom and just managed to get inside before the laughter spilled from her lips. She laughed until her stomach hurt, belly laughed for the first time in a very long time. She didn’t need her shrink to explain to her that she was reacting to the play on violence and sexuality, but she also felt like some part of her inside, a frozen part, melted a little, because it was pretend, a game, and no one got hurt. That big man was a walking wet dream and was so in control. Holy shit, she needed to get
herself
under control and the hell out of Dodge. She dampened a paper towel and dabbed at her wet eyes, trying to get rid of the smeared mascara when the door flew open.

Mr. Hottie stood framed in the aperture. Looking really pissed. Kennedy dragged her eyes from his reflection and tried to focus on repairing her makeup.

“Ms. Johnson.”

Kennedy jumped. He knew her name.

“Ms. Johnson,” he repeated.

Kennedy’s tongue came unglued.

“Do I know you?” she asked in her best personal assistant’s voice, the one guaranteed to put lesser beings in their place. She had perfected that voice in defense of her former employer, a man who got bogged down in the details and clamoring of others unless she kept him focused. She had been a terrific PA and would be again.

“I’m Graham Alexander, one of the resident Doms of Pleasure,” he announced.

Kennedy bit back another snort of laughter. Please, this was like a parallel dimension. Still, she was essentially a polite person, and she would do her best to get out of this without giving further offense. Because she somehow knew that she had offended this Graham Alexander, and that was unfortunate. He seemed broader than he was tall, although he still towered over her. His bare chest was muscled to perfection, every abdominal and pectoral muscle defined, his biceps large, his forearms corded, and his large hands looked very capable. Very strong-looking thighs, outlined as they were by the material of his pants, supported narrow hips. She wished she could see his butt, and avoided staring at the bulge in the front of his leathers. Realizing she was checking him out, she looked him straight in the eyes, which, incidentally, were an amazing shade of silvery gray framed by lashes any woman would kill for. His nose was a blade, his mouth sensuous but not overly full. He kept his blond hair tied back in the nape of his neck. He looked like a Viking warrior. He turned her on, and she marveled as yet another part inside of her, a part she thought might have died, that she explained away by calling herself picky, woke up with a start.

He was looking back at her, and the very focus of his gaze, as well as the emotion glittering in those gray eyes, took her breath. He knew she was looking and liked what she saw, that she was aroused. Well, whatever. He had to know he was gorgeous and not for the likes of her. At least she could feel turned on, for surely there were no rules against that and no consequences. She resigned herself to a dressing down. She would apologize for whatever she needed to and ask him to call her a cab. Madi and Alberta were on their own. Kennedy wouldn’t judge her friends, but she was not interested in this kind of entertainment.

Belatedly, she acknowledged his introduction. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry if my reaction was inappropriate. I’m new to this type of thing, so if you’ll excuse me, perhaps I can catch a cab.”

Graham surveyed her from head to toe. Kennedy stood mute under his scrutiny. Tit for tat, as it were. She knew what he was seeing. She was fine with who she was, having long ago accepted the extra fifteen pounds she carried. Positive body image was one thing she hadn’t lost over a year ago for some reason. She dressed to accommodate it, tastefully and expensively, and she also knew that while she wasn’t beautiful, she had good bones and nice eyes. Men liked her hazel eyes, or so they said, because they changed color all the time to reflect her moods. Her hair was a nice shade of dark chestnut brown and one her best features. She left it long in order to style it or simply tie it out of the way without any fuss. Kennedy projected confidence and found it to be the very best form of armor.