“God, I need a good fuck.” Demetrius Ford looked over the spreadsheets then pushed the tablet aside. He didn’t give a shit about numbers or tag lines. He had people to keep tabs on his various accounts and didn’t need to dip in to ensure things were flowing correctly. He could sit back and enjoy the spoils of his work and it was high time he got what he wanted instead of worrying about making everyone else happy.

Demetrius wanted affection. Hell, he could buy someone for that, but he’d rather be loved for himself, not his bank account.

Finley Rooker, his friend and drinking buddy, strode into his office. “You look like shit. What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.” Demetrius remained behind his desk. “Is it Wednesday already?” He checked his phone. He had fifteen missed calls, a dozen or so emails and more texts than he cared to handle. “I have people to answer this phone and reply to emails, but they seem to be dropping the ball. Why am I paying them? I just added a dozen people to the payroll.”

“Because they aren’t working fast enough for you and they love to annoy you.” Finley poured himself three fingers of scotch. “At least you’ve got the cabinet stocked.”

“I knew you’d be by.” Eventually. Finley loved scotch as much as he loved sex. Finley was fine-looking, but not Demetrius’ type. He was a former football player, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He spent too much time in the gym and always worried about how he looked. “How would you like to be my second-in-command?” He trusted his friend and he needed help he could rely on. “The Cleveland office is fine, Detroit is, too, but Pitt needs someone with a firm hand and Cincy just expanded. We’re getting into St. Louis, Indy and Chicago, too. You love to travel. Want the job?”

“I do and you can afford me.” Finley shrugged. “All I’ve gotta do is report to you every so often? I can do that. I’ve been out of the game for too long and I want back in. Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” That settled that. Demetrius needed to order some more wine and have his penthouse redecorated, but he’d worry about that later. “Have you been to the clubs lately?”

“Too much. Why?” Finley sat across from him. “Do you want to club?”

“I’ve thought about it.” Fuck. Demetrius was forty-five, single, out and needed sex. Where else should he go? It wasn’t like he was meeting guys at work.

“What do you want to do?” Finley sipped the scotch. “Fuck, be fucked, suck, play or watch?”

“You’re blunt.” Which was why they were friends.

“You expect less?”

“No.” What did he want? “I want a boy.” 

“Twink?”

“Yes. Someone who understands commands. Someone who wants to be controlled. You know, can take commands and follow directions. Someone who looks hot and would be good for a night out, but will also cooperate and not see me as just a blank check.”

Finley snorted. “You don’t want much.”

“Is that bad?” Demetrius preferred being up front with his needs.

“No.” Finley chuckled. He swirled the amber liquid around his glass. “It means you’ve been around and aren’t falling for bullshit.”

“That’s true.” He’d bought boyfriends, sold them, traded and no one seemed to fit. He’d even tried to get a guy to fake date him, but no dice.

Jesus. He’d made ten million dollars last year and couldn’t get a date. Wouldn’t the press love to know that?

“What if I told you I know a place where you can find the kind of guy you want? It’ll cost you, but it’s worth every dollar.”

“Oh?” He folded his hands on his desk. “I’m listening.” He couldn’t wait to hear what Finley had to say.

“It’s called Boys Club—I didn’t name it so don’t bust my ass. Anyway, you go there, feel it out and see what they have to offer. When you see what you want, you place an ad. Whoever responds, that’s who you pick from. You weed out the ones you don’t like and take the ones you do.”

Finley finished his scotch, then poured another three fingers. “I’ve met a few guys there. If you’re interested, I’ll be your sponsor and get you in. You pay the cover charge and joining fee.”

“Which is?” Demetrius was certainly intrigued.

“Cover charge is a grand because they don’t mess around,” Finley said. “The joining fee is five grand because the idea is that you’re paying to find what you want one time and then you’ll move on.”

“Except that you’re still visiting. You’re still going. Haven’t you found what you want?”

“I can’t decide between a few,” Finley said with a sheepish grin. “I like too many.”

“You do.” He’d never heard of this club, but the fees didn’t scare him. Hell, he made both fees in ten minutes at one of his offices. And if he could find the right guy…then the money would be well spent. “You say you’ll get me in? My name isn’t enough to do that?” He hated using his name for attention. It was too pushy for his tastes.

“You can use your name, but they don’t care. This isn’t about fame or notoriety.” Finley wriggled his brows. “It’s about finding what you need. Besides, you have to know someone to get in. They don’t want just anyone joining.”

“Not at five grand they don’t.”

“True. They cater to men of means.”

“Ah. When can we go?” Demetrius wanted to get his search going as soon as he could. He had a dinner date in a week and didn’t want to attend alone. He hated having to keep showing up at things single.

“How about tonight? I’ve been meaning to go and couldn’t find the time, but I’d go with you.” Finley sipped his replenished scotch. “I could use a good time for the evening. Maybe even a sub.”

“A sub?” He’d known Finley for over twenty years and never pegged him as a Dom. “You play?”

“Have for years—just like you.”

Demetrius didn’t advertise his kinks. “How did you guess?”

“It’s in the way you carry yourself. You’re so polished and pressed. Every detail is correct and you never have a hair out of place. Everything is perfect. You’ve got stick-straight posture and I’ve never seen you with your tie loosened. If there isn’t precision, you’re not happy.” Finley shrugged. “I admire your ability to be rigid. If you’d get rid of those pesky grays at your temples, you’d look twenty years younger. Or is that the deal? You want to be a daddy?”

“Christ, no.” He’d have to take care of the grays. He needed to look just so for his image and business. When he found the right sub, he’d loosen up a bit…but just for him. “I need my regimentation. People expect it from me.”

“And you need it from your sub, too. But since you don’t have one…you’re unhappy.” Finley nodded and left his chair. He held up the glass. “I’ll be by at eight sharp. Join me for the adventure and you won’t regret it. It’ll be a great time.”

“I know it will be.”

“Good. I’ll be around with the car at eight.” Finley finished his drink. “You do have the best booze. Now you just need a boy to serve it.”

“I do.” A twink would be perfect. “See you.”

“Later.”

He waited for the door to shut before he picked up his tablet and researched the club. He found nothing. Not a site, not a mention, nothing.

What was this place? He’d never run into something he couldn’t research, buy and control. If he wanted something, he should be able to take it.

And another thing…why did Finley have to be so observant? Demetrius didn’t wear his desires on his sleeve. He didn’t tell everyone he loved control. No, he needed control. But he hadn’t mentioned to anyone he wanted a sub or a twink. He wanted to look and feel young, sure, and being with the right twink would do that for him, but the person would be the best partner for him, too. That’s what he needed–someone who suited him. He needed the image of youth and vitality, but also to not be alone.

God. He spent too much time left to his own devices. He needed balance in his life. Sure, he had the cash, the status and the lifestyle, but he required the right guy, too.

He shoved the tablet away and leaned back in his seat. He’d find out about the club tonight. Maybe he would find a boy. It couldn’t hurt to look.

Not a bit.

* * * *

At five minutes to eight, Demetrius ventured down to the parking garage. A limo rolled up and the rear window slid down. Finley waved. “You’re so controlled, old-timer.”

“I like to be on time.” Demetrius didn’t climb into the car. “And I’m a year younger than you.” He expected respect, even if it was from his friend.

“You are.”

Demetrius didn’t open the door. He’d earned the right to be treated with dignity and respect because he’d made his money on his own. He demanded the right to have nice shit and be respected, not chided.

“Get in. I was joking.” Finley opened the door. “You need to get fucked and calm down. You’re too tense. Jesus.”

Finley might be right, but he’d never tell him so. He settled on the seat. The limo wasn’t anything special. It looked like every other luxury car—same recessed lighting, leather all over, chrome accents and standard liquor cabinet filled with booze. They didn’t even have high-end champagne—not that he wanted to drink.

“Where are we going? Where is this club?” Demetrius asked. “You never said.”

“I didn’t,” Finley replied. “We’re going to the suburbs. It’s a huge but nondescript house. Looks like the huge house next door.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t enough information.

“It’s called Boys Club because the young men—all legal—come to the house because they know it’s a place of refuge. It’s safe. They’re not on the streets and they’re good at pleasing. They’re cleaned up, taken care of and taught to do what you want.”

“So it’s a brothel.”

“Not exactly. Some are good at sex, but they’re also good at obeying or mouthing off or being what the client wants. Essentially, they are there to be safe, but also to please us. To be what we want.”

“To get a rich daddy?” He should’ve guessed. “I don’t want to go.”

“Slow down. It’s not as seedy as you’re thinking. It’s all legit, I promise.” Finley poured himself a glass of vodka and offered the bottle to Demetrius. “Be cool.”

“No, thank you.” He wasn’t in the mood to drink. He needed to be clear-headed for this. “I don’t want a guy trying to get me for my money.”

“No one will be doing that. These guys know how to make you happy,” Finley said. He downed some of the vodka and replaced the bottle in the cabinet. “Plus, they’re handsome. I think you need to meet them.”

He wasn’t thrilled. “Fine.” He was already in the car and had nowhere to run. “Let’s go.”

“We are.”

He stared out the window. “Do I need to wear a mask or anything? Have a code name? Or is this the blindfold shit? If so, I refuse.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s lowkey until you get inside. Even then, it’s still lowkey, but nothing that secretive.”

“Uh-huh.” He had more questions but kept them to himself. Instead of talking, he looked in on his investments. He made a few trades and closed a deal worth five million. Good. He needed a win tonight.

“You’re quiet,” Finley said.

“I’m working.” He closed the second deal, this one worth a cool million, then checked his accounts. Maybe he should just buy a man. He already had more money than he knew what to do with and didn’t need every cent.

“Stop.” Finley touched Demetrius’ arm. “We’re here.”

He peered out the window at the property. The house didn’t look exciting. Just a large house—two stories with a bland front. When the driver rounded the building to the rear, Demetrius gasped. “There’s a whole lot more house back here. What is this?” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “This place is unreal.”

“I told you, it’s Boys Club.” Finley opened the door. “Welcome to the club. Pay the fee and you’re welcome to visit the various rooms and young men. Everyone is legal and many may cater to your particular personal needs.”

“Oh?” He followed Finley into the home. Where the outside was rather boring, the inside screamed luxury. Thick red carpets, wall-to-wall oak detailing, plush couches and tapestries. He stopped with Finley at the host’s stand and gasped. Who keeps tapestries these days?

“Mr. Rooker, welcome back. You’ve brought a guest,” the blond man said. “Good to see you, Mr…?”

“Demetrius Ford.” He pulled out his phone. “I’d like to pay the cover.”

“Already done. Mr. Rooker did, but I encourage you to become a member.” The young man, clad in a suit and navy tie, rounded the stand. He offered a card to Demetrius. “This gives you the run of the building. If you meet someone you’d like to be with, consider playing, but also filling out an ad for them.”

Ad? He’d have to ask Finley more about that. “Thank you.” He accepted the card. “Thanks.”

“Enjoy.” The young man resumed his position at the stand and toyed with a tablet.

“You paid?” Demetrius nudged Finley. “Why? You told me to.”

“I wanted you to visit and I knew you’d leave if I didn’t. I forced your hand.” Finley grinned. “You’d decide to go home and miss out, but this is something worth experiencing. You can’t not do this.”

“No, I can’t.” He eyed the various men around the room. He didn’t see anyone who caught his attention right away. He knew what he wanted, though—a man who could do what he needed and enjoyed kink.

Another man strode up to them. He wore a suit as well, but also a name tag. “I’m Andre. Welcome to Boys Club. We cater to the needs of discerning gentlemen. We can provide you with a companion for the evening, hour or lifetime. We have young men who know what you need and will provide.”

“I see.” Holy fuck. “And what do you provide?”

“You’ve paid the entry fee and are entitled to explore the grounds. Each room contains a different kink and every player you see is available for your use.” Andre folded his hands. “What is your desire?”

“How do you know I’m a man of discerning tastes?”

Andre didn’t balk. “First, you’re questioning everything. Second, you can afford to be here. Third, I know you, Demetrius Ford. You’re famous for being ruthless in business and coarse in your personal life. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to come to us.”

“Oh are you?” Coarse? He’d call it controlled, but whatever. 

“May I suggest you try our BDSM wing? You’ll find what you’re looking for,” Andre said. “As for Finley, he’ll be in the drag area for the duration. He’s a hit at the dances and looks great in mascara.”

Oh he was, was he? “I’ve never seen him dolled up.” But he wanted to know.

“The rooms are this way,” Andre said. “I must confess, Mr. Rooker did mention you’d be interested in a playmate. What kind of person are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll know when I find him.” It was the best answer for now. 

“Very good.” Andre directed him to one of the velvet-covered doors. “In here. No one will approach you without your approval. You’re in control.”

It wasn’t much in the way of direction, but he didn’t mind. “Thank you.” He ventured into the room. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He strode over to the splash of orange. Two young men, both dark-haired, swatted each other with pillows. They giggled as feathers sailed through the air. Against one wall, a man with a hood spanked another man, bound to a cross.

Hot. He loved watching a Dom spank a sub—even more if he were the one doing the spanking.

When he rounded the couch, he noticed a blond man watching the spanking session. Longing filled the man’s eyes. Demetrius sat beside him.

“Hello.” Demetrius studied him. “Enjoying the scene?”

“Yes.” The man smiled. “I wish I were them.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Cedric. He loves a good spanking.” The young man shivered. “He’s so lucky.”

“He is.” He slid his gaze over the man. Young, blond, blue-eyed and clean-shaven…sweet, so he seemed. “What’s your name?”

“Todd.” Todd faced him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I haven’t told you my name yet.”

“No, but you’re polite. That’s how I know it’s my pleasure to meet you,” Todd said. “If you weren’t being nice, you’d have grabbed me by now.”

“Have you been grabbed often?” He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

“Often enough.”

“I see,” Demetrius said. “I’m Demetrius. What are your kinks—besides being spanked?”

“Mine?” Todd seemed to pale. “Wow.”

“What? You’ve never been asked?” That seemed strange. A good Dom should make sure he knew what the sub wanted and that they’d discussed each other’s needs before starting anything.

“No.”

“Then tell me. I want to know.”

“Will you play with me?”

“You don’t know me.” Hell yes, he wanted to play—once they got a few things sorted out. “Can you trust me?”

“Compared to most guys who visit, yes, I believe I can.” Todd held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to my room where we can talk.”

“How old are you?” He needed to know.

“Twenty.”

“No lies?”

“None.”

He accepted Todd’s hand. He could use some play and a good sucking. If Todd was willing, then he’d go along. If their kinks meshed, then he might have found a potential partner.

But he wanted to take things slow for now.

Before they played, he wanted to get to know Todd.

He had to.