Salvage Him

Highland Park Chronicles Book #1

Copyrighted Material Sydney Aaliyah Michelle 2017 – All Rights Reserved by SAM & Associates, LLC

CHAPTER ONE

Harrison

The thumping bass hit me in the chest as soon as I entered. The metal sliding doors closed behind me with a whoosh. It reminded me of being hermetically sealed into our underground world. Like we were so dirty, the doors of Crush kept our world from contaminating that world.

“Good evening, Mr. Crawford,” Nina said as she grabbed the collar of my leather jacket and pushed it off my shoulders.

“Good evening, Nina,” I leaned in and whispered in her ear. She shivered, smiled, and stepped to the side.

I did a scene with Nina once. She was beautiful and up for anything, but she tended to forget her place. I preferred to punish first and pleasure second. I didn’t have time to train her; it wasn’t my responsibility. She desperately wanted her own Dom.

I rode up in the elevator and stepped into the club. I scanned the crowd and spotted Davis Stewart. We referred to him as the Professor. He stood near the bar that lined the entire left wall of the club. An actual professor, he taught at SMU law school. He was my mentor in the lifestyle and one of my best friends.

I headed in his direction. The place was crowded and loud tonight, but I recognized most of the men. The club offered a safe and confidential place for Doms and subs to play. The thumping sound was courtesy of a Dom and two subs performing on the stage in the back.

“Hello, Harrison,” Davis greeted me in his formal Southern drawl with a handshake and a hug. One of his regular subs knelt at his feet. In here, she was another sub, but in real life, her name was Cassandra Blake, and she was an attorney who handled high profile divorce cases in Texas.

I nodded at the bartender who brought me a Bud Light. I leaned my back against the bar to check out the crowd. I had finished a project today, and I wanted to celebrate. Two years ago, I worked in my father’s office and hated everything about my life. A year later, I celebrated every victory of living my own.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Davis said.

“Life is good.” I took a sip and nodded.

“Today,” he said and tipped his signature fedora.

I grinned and took a long drag off my beer.

Angelina approached. She was a regular at the club, but she preferred to watch. She smiled before lowering her eyes and continuing in my direction. It was unconventional for a sub to approach a Dom, but at Crush, and here in Dallas, we had our own rules in the BDSM community.

She stopped in front of me, her eyes downcast, and waited.

“It seems you have an admirer,” Davis said.

“I don’t know. She is a pretty little thing, but I’m looking to try something different tonight,” I said.

“Permission to speak, Sir?” Angelina asked.

“Please,” I mused, admiring her boldness and her perfect tits.

“I like different.” She spoke in a tone that connected straight to a nerve in my cock, and I was hard.

I grinned, downed the rest of beer, and set it on the bar. I brushed her blond hair off her shoulder and leaned in. “You think you can handle my kind of different?”

She exhaled and nodded.

“Look at me and answer.” I lifted her chin. Her dark brown eyes scanned my face. The corners of her mouth turned up, and she licked her lips.

Another move that always made my cock heavy.

Where did girls learn to do that anyway?

“I can handle it, Sir,” she said and continued to stare me down.

I stepped into her space, and she gasped as my sudden move caused her to teeter on her sky-high heels. I reached behind her and placed my hands on her ass. I lifted her in her arms.

She wrapped her legs around my waist.

With the club crowding the stage, I had a clear path to the private rooms.

I drifted down the hall.

“You are a beautiful woman, Angelina. I want you to be my Angel tonight,” I whispered as I tasted her neck.

“Yes, Sir.”

I nibbled on her ear.

She moaned.

My hand covered her mouth.

“My silent Angel. Once we enter this room, not a word and not a sound.” I leaned back.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“What’s your safe word?” I squeezed her ass.

“Ah, Red?” she asked with a cute accent.

“You sure?” Her innocence excited me. I ran my hand down her body.

She blinked and nodded.

“Say it again.” I slapped her ass.

She jumped in my arms.

“Red”

“Good, Angel. Good girl.”

The club offered eight private rooms for play.

The attendant nodded to signal my favorite room was available.

I continued toward the door but didn’t enter. I pressed Angel against it and sat her on my thigh.

Her eyes, full of lust, searched mine with concern and a little fear.

I didn’t like the fear, but it was expected. What else would you feel? It was in her nature to submit, but you always had that hint of fear when you scened with a new person.

I had it, too.

I also believed you couldn’t feel that certain connection to someone in a true Dom/sub relationship until the fear was gone. The trust replaced the fear.

“I promise. I’ll take care of you.” I grinned at her and caressed her face.

She nodded and smiled back.

I leaned in and gently kissed her.

My tongue swept over her lips and darted into her mouth.

She moaned under her breath.

My finger found her pussy, slick and bare. I ran my fingers through her folds, imagining her coating my cock in the same manner.

I brought my hand up and smelled it. It smelled sweet. I licked my fingers.

She groaned.

“You want a taste?” I asked.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Yes, Sir,” she panted.

“Open.” I placed my fingers flat on her tongue. “Suck.”

She obeyed without hesitation.

I kept my fingers in her mouth as I reached behind her and opened the door. Before stepping across the threshold, I stopped.

“Remember, not a sound unless you have to use your safe word. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, and we stepped into the room.

I teased her, tasted her, and spanked her all in relative silence. Every time she came, a stifled moan escaped from her lips. I punished her for it.

She didn’t mind the punishment.

“Angel, you did well.” I released the restraints on her wrists and ankles.

She squirmed on the bed and gave me a hopeful smile as she waited for my next command.

“Thank you for being such a good Angel.” I went to the bathroom connected to the room and brought back a washcloth. I pulled her up into a seated position to clean her up and dress her.

She blinked and narrowed her brow. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Not a sound.” I placed a finger on her lips.

I knew she was confused. We hadn’t fucked, and she wanted it.

She blinked again and lowered her head with a frown.

“I told you this was going to be different.”

I walked Angelina back to the main room, kissed her on the cheek, patted her on the ass, and nudged her on her way.

My cock protested as we watched her walk. I rarely fucked when I did a scene, especially at the club. Dominating a woman and watching her come undone in front of me was what turned me on. I could fuck any sub in here, but I didn’t. It was a weird rule I had. I wasn’t a virgin and did fuck, but not as a Dom. Not yet, anyway.

I was saving myself for the right sub, for my sub.

Angelina stood near the front of Crush but took one more look back at me.

I winked and turned my attention to the VIP area. The stage performance had stopped, and the DJ played music. Two guys were in an animated debate. I headed over to the corner to see if I could referee another fight between my best friends Justin and Seth.

“Gentlemen, please. What has your panties in a bunch this time?” I asked.

Justin and Seth stopped arguing long enough to greet me with a hug. We had been friends since we were kids. We grew up together in Highland Park.

If these guys were like brothers to me, they were like twins to each other.

“I finished the piece for the lobby. I’ll deliver it tomorrow.” I showed him a photo on my phone.

The maple wood cabinet with its intricate design on the front panels made me proud. It symbolized a year of living my life on my terms.

“Dude. Nice.” Justin grinned and took the phone. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do after the business you guys have given me over this last year.”

“That’s right. It’s been a year since Mommy and Daddy cut you off,” Seth said.

Justin handed Seth and me a shot and held one up himself.

“And I’m still alive,” I said.

We laughed.

My parents didn’t cut me off. The guys knew that, too. It was a joke we shared.

My grandfather founded a real estate development company, and I was expected to follow in his footsteps and take over someday. I knew from a young age that it wasn’t the life for me, but I gave it a try. I suppressed every dominant, creative, non-conforming bone in my body and did it. I went to SMU and graduated with an MBA in business in four years. I interned in every department at Crawford Realty. I was a real estate broker and closed deals right along with my father. Made the kind of salary where I didn’t need to dip into my trust fund.

Then a year ago, I walked into his office and gave it all up.

Last week was the first Sunday dinner when he didn’t beg me to come back.

I settled back into the couch and smiled.

Life didn’t suck.