Below Deck (Anchored 5)

Chapter 1

June

“Rum and coke.”

He smiles at me when he says it, and I don’t miss the way his gaze drifts down my body. His eyes linger on my cleavage on their journey back up to my face, and when his gaze finally meets mine, he doesn’t look ashamed or embarrassed.

He just winks.

“Coming right up,” I say, and I turn to grab the rum.

This guy doesn’t know who I am. A lot of them don’t, and why would they? I have completely streamlined the application process when it comes to visiting Anchored. Potential members have to go through an interview, undergo a psych eval, and even have a medical check-up to ensure they’re STD-free before they’re able to play.

Meeting me, though?

That rarely happens.

I have a couple of trusted Doms I use to interview people. Sometimes Jaxson helps me. Sometimes Anthony does. Every once in awhile, I’ll interview someone myself, but that’s rare. Usually, I like to keep my distance, at least when it comes to interacting with the members.

I finish the man’s drink and hand it over. He hands me a couple of dollars.

“You don’t want to put this on your membership card?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, and I roll my eyes. I’m not sure what I was thinking letting Timothy Markena into my club. He’s a little bit awkward and a little bit weird, and little less like a Dom than I think he should be, but he passed all of the prerequisite interviews and evaluations with flying colors.

Maybe I’m just overreacting.

“Can I get you anything else?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says, turning, obviously dismissing me.

Whatever.

I’m not about to get my heart broken over the fact that some wannabe Dom in my club doesn’t think I’m the shit. I move along the bar, checking on my other patrons, dancing a little to the music pounding through the speakers.

Anchored is where I feel most at home.

It’s a funny thing, really. Here I am, an average businesswoman, and I’m having the best time of my life in this place. I’ve met some incredible friends and witnessed some book-worthy romances. It’s incredible, really. It’s fantastic.

But sometimes I still feel lonely.

Sometimes, even surrounded by all of these people, I still want something more.

I just don’t know what it is.

All eyes in the club are focused on the main stage. Each night the club is open, I try to have something scheduled. Sometimes there will be several small performances and sometimes it’ll be a free-for-all with anyone playing who wants to, but lately, I’ve been scheduling at least one big demo or performance per night.

Tonight’s performance features role playing with two naughty schoolgirls and their very cross professor. Right now, he’s got the girls on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. What’s he going to do next? Anything could happen.

Nope, I shake my head, smiling silently to myself.

It’s blowjob time.

Sure enough, as the crowd watches in almost complete silence, the girls undo Professor Sexy’s pants with their mouths and begin to lick and suck on him. Everyone seems completely entranced by this performance, which is good.

It means I can relax for a couple of minutes, so I grab my stool and move into the corner behind the bar, and I sit.

And I dare to close my eyes.

The last few weeks have been exhausting. Ever since Grammy passed away, I haven’t been myself. I don’t even really have an excuse as to why. I knew she was sick. I knew it was coming. Still, losing one of my favorite people in the entire world was really hard for me.

It was devastating, if I’m being honest.

Even now, weeks after it happened, I’m at a loss for words. I feel sad and alone almost all of the time. I feel scared. I miss her so much more than I thought I would, and it doesn’t make any sense.

This is what people do, after all. Right? They get old and die. It’s just part of life. It’s the natural order of things, but it completely sucks, and even watching the professor and his pets isn’t enough to get me out of my own head.

I need a drink is what I fucking need.

When I open my eyes a few minutes later, Ryder is sitting at the bar, and he’s watching me. I practically jump out of my skin. I didn’t even hear him come over.

“Sorry,” I squeak, hopping to my feet. “I didn’t realize you were here, hon. What can I get for you?”

“Hon?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not calling you ‘sir,’” I wink, smiling at him.

Ryder makes me nervous in many different ways: ways I can’t explain, even if I wanted to. When I first met him, I knew he wasn’t exactly who he seemed. It’s been months, though, and I still can’t pinpoint exactly why he’s here. He plays with people sometimes, but he never takes a sub home and for the most part, he just observes. I’ve had plenty of submissives – men and women alike – who want to know more about Ryder, but he’s a closed book even to me.

There’s something else about Ryder that makes me nervous, though, and it’s not just the fact that he’s got a secret. It’s the fact that anytime he’s around me, I feel anxious and sweaty and fucking wet. That deep baritone voice just fucking sings to my damn soul.

“No?” He smiles, leaning forward. “That’s a damn shame, June.”

“Why’s that?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. All I really want to do is throw myself at Ryder and wrap my legs around his body.

Control is paramount, though.