It was too damn hot to be here, but we met at the Gilded Cage on the last Friday of every month, and after Erik's call last night, I knew I couldn't beg off. Now, sitting here at the table, I could see why. All around us, people were laughing and drinking and flirting, but the four of us looked like we were at a funeral.

Well, not all four of us.

The sandy-haired man sitting across from me was listening to a tale of woe, but Erik Sanders couldn't stop himself from smiling. Not because anything Alix Wexler was saying was funny or anything like that, I knew. Erik was thinking about Tanya Lacey, his girlfriend. Which was ironic, considering Alix was currently fucked up over a girl. His assistant, apparently. They'd had a thing, and then she just vanished. Sent him a text yesterday saying they were done. No explanation, nothing.

He should have known better. Erik might be claiming to have found his soulmate or whatever, but the rest of us knew that wasn't how things worked. After all, Reb and I both had personal experience telling us that the best we could hope for was a woman who wouldn't sell out our secrets to the media. While the perception of the BDSM lifestyle may have changed a little over the years, and those of us in any sort of artistic profession usually got a pass when it came to sexual proclivities, none of us wanted our names and faces splashed across the tabloids with stories about whips and leather.

Not that leather was my thing. Whips, on the other hand...

I looked up as a hand brushed my shoulder. A tall red-head gave me a look out of the corner of her eye, and I recognized the gleam. It wasn't like she was being subtle about it. Too many of the women who came here claiming to be subs thought they knew what they wanted because they'd read some book about alpha males and Dominants without really trying to understand the true meaning underneath it all. They thought they'd find some rich playboy who liked kinky sex and just needed the love of a good woman.

"Jace!"

I jerked my head around to find Reb giving me an impatient look that said he'd been trying to get my attention for a while.

"What?" I took a drink of my beer and wondered if I should get something stronger.

His eyebrow shot up, a wicked look on his face. "You up for being my wingman?"

All of us got our fair share of admiration, but rock star Reb Union definitely attracted the most attention. He had that sort of charisma that drew people to him, but he never lorded it over others. It was thanks to him I'd come to be part of this group since I'd been the odd man out. Erik and Alix were cousins. And Erik and Reb had been roommates during the short time Reb was in college. I was the oldest out of the four of us, and I'd already been going to Gilded Cage for a couple years when they started coming, but I'd never made a point to talk to anyone, to make friends. I came for sex, and that had been it.

I'd been sitting by the bar when Reb sat down next to me and started complaining about the song that was playing at the time. The two of us started talking classic rock, and the rest was history.

I looked around the room. It was a Friday night in late June, so the place was packed. The dance floor was full of writhing bodies, some dressed simply like me, in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, some in the more extreme costumes of the S&M crowd. Gilded Cage was a bit more exclusive than other BDSM clubs in that not just anyone could walk in off the street, but it still managed to be full to capacity with some of the most beautiful and sexy people in the city.

"How do you want to play this?" I asked, looking around at our options. "I'm not really in the mood for seduction tonight."

He shook his head, his eyes darkened to almost purple. "Me either. I don't want someone who wants any of that romantic shit. Just sex and for one night only."

"That makes two of us," I muttered as I stood.

I found myself scanning the crowd almost as a second thought, then caught myself. I didn't need to do that anymore. She hadn't been here in a long time. It was just times like tonight, when things got to me and everything else was going to shit, I found myself pulled to the past, even when I didn't want to be.

I needed to get my head out of my life for a while. Stop thinking so much about every damn thing. I knew that was why I hadn't been able to paint anything half decent in my studio in months. I'd start something and lose it halfway through. I had more than a dozen half-finished canvases in my studio, and absolutely no desire to work on any of them.

Reb tapped my arm and jerked his chin toward two blondes a few tables over. They looked enough alike for me to guess they were sisters. Pretty. Both wearing similar slinky dresses that clung to their curves enough for me to see that, even from where I stood, they both had pierced nipples.

The two of us fell into step together, and the crowd parted for us, the subs automatically dipping their heads, the Doms giving us nods of acknowledgement. We weren't the oldest or most prominent members, or even the wealthiest – which was saying something – but we'd made a name for ourselves among the BDSM crowd.

That was something.

And it was enough to get one of the blondes – she gave her name as Lillian – to come back with me to one of the VIP rooms.

Less than fifteen minutes later, she was bent over a padded bench, her arms stretched out on either side, soft leather cuffs around her wrists to hold her in place. Her breasts hung over the front as well, and I'd fastened a pair of weights to both of the silver rings in each nipple, stretching them. She made the most delicious sounds as I followed through on what I promised to do to her.

Her ankles were attached to a spreader bar, forcing her legs far apart enough to let me see how wet her pussy was. Not that I needed to see it when I could feel it with the three fingers I was currently working in and out of her. Her muscles tensed and bunched as she tried to push back against my hand, but I'd secured her tightly enough that she couldn't move.

"Are you close?" I asked as I rubbed my thumb against her clit.

"Yes," she breathed, the word coming out between harsh pants. "I need more."

I waited a few more seconds, then removed my hand. She made a noise of protest but didn't say anything as I stood. We'd taken a couple minutes to set limits before we got started, so I knew I could push her, and that was exactly what I was craving at the moment. The rush that came with the absolute control over a person's pain and pleasure. I didn't need to wait for inspiration to strike, or worry about losing focus half-way through. This was something I could do, and I did it well.

I knew the options the club presented for its members, so I'd already been choosing my preferred...instruments even as we walked back to the room. I crossed to the far wall and picked up a thin riding crop. Lillian had been open about her masochistic tendencies, so I knew this was a better choice than the softer flogger or cat o'nine tails I would have used on a less experienced sub. I could see the appeal of taking a blank slate, but there were definitely benefits of being with someone who knew her desires were in line with mine.

As I moved back to stand behind her again, I had a moment where it hit me with sudden clarity that all of this was utterly pointless. That the search for control, for pain and pleasure, for dominance and submission, all of it, didn't mean a thing without the deep connection Erik had found.

I shook the thought off almost as soon as it came. I wasn't looking for any of that. I'd tried it before and it hadn't worked. It never worked. I really hoped Erik and Tanya beat the odds, but if anything, what happened between Alix and Sine was proof that it didn't matter how intense a connection felt. It never lasted. And if it couldn't last, what was the point of trying to force something deeper than it should go?

I tapped the end of the crop against the base of her spine, then traced a line down one butt cheek, then the other, letting her prepare herself for what was coming. I would leave red stripes on her tanned flesh, enough for her to feel them for the weekend. I'd use the crop on her pussy and her clit, not hard enough to damage her, but she'd be whimpering by the time I finished. I'd take her right to the edge of her pain threshold, and then I would fuck her, let the pain mingle with pleasure until she came and came, until she screamed my name.

And I'd find my own release, not only physically but mentally as well.

I was using her, I knew, but she was using me too, and that was fine. It had to be. Because there wasn't anything else.