Hard to Serve: A Hard Ink Novella Read Free Page B

themselves. Privacy and information security were key concerns of their clientele, and Blasphemy guarded their members’ identities fiercely. Only Isaac, who’d designed their security systems, and Master Hale, a billionaire businessman who owned a majority interest in the club but rarely played anymore, had access to everyone’s complete profiles. The rest of them were on a need-to-know.
    On the screen, Mia rose from her chair and shook Griffin’s hand.
    As if her movement beckoned his, Kyler rose, too, his body making demands his mind hadn’t yet settled on. But then his mind fucking caught up.
    Mia. Beautiful name, that was for sure, and it certainly fit the woman with all her pretty curves.
    Curves his hands itched to caress, hold, grasp.
    It’d been months for him, and he was ready. If she wanted to play, he’d play. He adjusted the black leather cuff around his left wrist. The cuff and its hand-stitched silver “M” marked him as one of the club’s twelve Masters. Kyler was otherwise one of the more laid-back of the club’s Doms, preferring a pair of well-worn black jeans and a partially open black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
    “I’m gonna head out,” he said.
    Isaac smirked over his shoulder. “About damn time. Have fun.”
    “We’ll see,” he said, keeping his voice even. Because whether he and this newbie were red hot together or completely ill-suited, he’d still be going home alone.
     
    * * * *
     
    Inside the main part of Blasphemy, Mia immediately felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the beauty, elegance, and decadence of the rehabilitated church, with its massive stained-glass windows, thick marble columns holding up the vaulted ceiling, and soaring frescos on the walls. In the center of the nave sat a large circular bar made out of marble and iron, surrounded by groupings of leather couches and chairs. This was nothing like the club she’d been to before. Everything here screamed money, order, and attention to detail.
    Mia was overwhelmed by the very atmosphere of the place, with its low, pulsing, chanting music. Overwhelmed by the moans and cries of ecstasy coming from nearby and further inside, and the idea that she could be the one making those sounds. Soon, if she was lucky. Overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place—not just the central space, all around which pieces of equipment sat with public scenes underway—but also by the rooms and halls that jutted off all along one side of the long space.
    Even with all that, the place had a seriously cool vibe that the artist in her already loved.
    Despite the fact that a few people had directed interested smiles her way, she wasn’t ready to jump right in. She needed a moment to gather her wits about her and get the lay of the land. Ducking her chin, she made for the bar and slipped onto a stool.
    “What can I get you?” a deep voice said.
    Mia looked up to find a big man with light brown hair and eyes smiling at her. And it was a stunningly sexy smile, one that appeared to be on the cusp of breaking into laughter. It drew her right in. “A glass of champagne, please,” she said, the bubbly stuff one of her biggest weaknesses.
    He slid a napkin in front of her and nodded. “What’s your name?”
    “Mia. It’s my first time,” she added, nerves getting the best of her.
    “Yup,” he said, putting the flute in front of her. “I never forget a face. It’s my superpower.” He winked.
    Mia laughed. “Is that the only one?”
    His expression turned absolutely wicked as he leaned toward her. “Try me sometime and find out.” He extended a hand. “I’m Master Quinton, Mia. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Blasphemy.”
    “Thank you,” she said with a grin as they shook. She looked around as she savored her first sips of the bubbly. Sweet and crisp. “This building is absolutely amazing.”
    Master Quinton braced his hands on the bar top, drawing Mia’s gaze to the leather cuff he wore on his left hand.