Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5) Read online

  “Was he good looking?” Her eyes are gleaming.

  Christ, yes! I shrug, dismissively, “All right if you go for that type, I suppose.”

  Mickey’s looking at me carefully, I’m not sure I’m fooling him.

  Rory’s tapping his fingers against his nose, “Jasim. Sheikh Jasim.” His eyes open wide, “Fuck, no. Sheikh Jasim. Jasim fucking Kassis. Tell me you that wasn’t who you went home with?”

  My own eyes crease, what is he talking about? “He didn’t tell me his surname, so I don’t know.”

  Mickey looks across at Rory, tilts his head to the side, “There can’t be many Sheikh Jasims that would be having a meeting with fucking Bates now, can there?”

  “And that’s what’s worrying me.” Rory nods back at him, before his eyes settle on me, “Please say you’re not going to see him again.” He sounds worried, but I put him at ease.

  “I’m not going to see him again,” I parrot. But have to ask, “Why?”

  Joe lights the joint, sweet smelling smoke wafts my way, making my nose twitch, but I don’t feel it’s the time to remind him I don’t like him smoking inside. He inhales, then lets out more of the disgusting vapour. “Because, sweetheart, he owns the most exclusive fucking BDSM club in the UK.”

  My jaw drops. Jasim? Not only is he into a lifestyle I can’t even begin to imagine, but he owns a club? No wonder he wasn’t interested in me. God. Overcome with embarrassment, I wish the ground would open and swallow me as I remember just how innocent and naïve I must have seemed to him. Dropping my head into my hands, I try to hide my blushing face. And not the least of my thoughts, is just how the other group members are quite so au fait with the type of establishment we’ve been discussing. Deciding it’s probably best I don’t know, I stay quiet on the subject. Peering through my fingers, I see Sunny looking at me. Her brow is creased, and as she opens her mouth I wonder what she’s going to contribute.

  When she speaks, she surprises me. “Hang on, guys, this could be just the opportunity you’re looking for.” It’s the last thing I expected her to say.

  Rory reaches forward and tugs her back onto his lap, “What you talking about, hun? You thinking of getting entrance to his club?” His eyes light up as if he’s considering the idea.

  She punches his arm, “No, I’m not. You know I’m not into that.” She stares at him until he gives a rueful nod. “Let me go a mo, and I’ll show you.” She slides off again, falling to her knees and crawling over to the coffee table, and fumbles about underneath on the low shelf where we toss old mags and newspapers. “It’s here, somewhere,” she mumbles to herself. “Ah, yes. I knew I didn’t throw it out.” She backs out with a bridal magazine in her hands.

  “What you got, woman?” Rory points to his lap, and she returns to him. His eyes narrow as he sees the name of the mag she’s holding, and his eyes flit to his twin’s. Uh oh, trouble in paradise? Is Sunny getting ahead of herself?

  Completely oblivious to her boyfriend’s reaction, Sunny flicks it open to the centre spread, “Look, it’s the venue you were looking for.”

  Rory stares at the open page, his mind obviously working, if the myriad of expressions crossing his face are anything to go by. He taps his fingers to his lips, then indicates the page, which the rest of us have yet to see. “Sunny might have something here, you know?”

  “What you talking about, bro?” Liam gets up and goes to sit next to his twin. Not for the first time, when they’re next to each other, I notice for anyone else it would be hard to see any difference between them. It’s only the years of experience that enables me to easily tell them apart. He takes the magazine out of his brother’s hand.

  Sunny nods at the page, and then explains to the rest of us, “You know what you’ve been discussing? Finding a backdrop for the video for your next album. You know, what we’ve been spending all those hours tossing ideas around? You wanted somewhere unique. Somewhere different.”

  “You can’t get anywhere much different than a real-life harem in an Arabian palace, can you?” Liam’s eyes spark with interest.

  Passing his joint to Ben, Joe sits up straight, “Chuck that over here, Li.” After he’s retrieved the magazine that landed on his head, he studies the page and his eyes light up with interest. “You know, you could be onto something here.”

  “Give us that.” Ben pulls it away, and Mickey looks over his shoulder. “I see what you mean, it’s just the sort of thing we’ve been talking about. But going to, where is it…” he pauses to read the text, “Amahad, wherever the hell that is… First there’s the cost to consider, then we’ve got to persuade the top man to let us film in his fucking palace.”

  I’m thankful that Sunny’s at least removed the heat from me, but for the life of me I can’t see the connection between the man I met last night, and the article in the magazine. Leaning over Joe’s shoulder, I read the headline, Exciting New Hen Party Venue. I continue reading how the ancient harem in an Arabian palace has been converted to cater to such events.

  Either Mickey’s sister’s gone mad, or she’s planning her future.

  But then she enlightens us, “See what it says here?” Sunny’s now perching herself on her brother’s knees and pointing half way down a page, “Jasim Kassis is the middle brother in the Kassis family. And if he’s got up close and personal with Janna, he might just be able to get us permission.”

  I stop being a spectator at that, “There was absolutely no up close and bloody personal involved. And I hardly know the man enough to ask him such a huge favour. I don’t even know how to contact him again.”

  Rory’s eyes are gleaming as he stares across me, “You wouldn’t be asking for much, Janna. Just for him to use his connections to get us access for a couple of days, maybe a week or so. We’ve got the songs down pat, we wouldn’t need long. Come on, babe, use your feminine wiles for once.”

  “Sexist or what? And I thought you wanted me to hide my wiles.” I glare at him. Talk about a double standard.

  “Not asking you to get down and do the dirty with him. Just get us permission to film in the harem.”

  “Hang on a minute, Rory. I’m not sure the budget will stretch to that.” Mickey’s hand’s toying with his long hair, loose at the moment, and reaching way past his shoulders and down to his waist. “We’ve got a film crew to get over to Amahad, as well as us and all the equipment. I thought we’d be filming somewhere in this country.”

  “Tight bugger,” Joe butts in. “We’ve got money allocated for this. Remember, we planned for it to be a professional effort, make a big splash and help us get known? Come on, man. Live a little.”

  “We deserve some success after all these years. Our previous YouTube vids have brought in some new followers, but they were cheaply made amateur crap. Speculate to accumulate, man.” As Liam speaks, Rory slaps him on the back.

  And then all of them turn and look at me. My heart rate increases. I grasp they’re giving me the excuse I need to make contact with him again. A shiver runs through me at just the thought. And then the practicalities hit me, and I remind them, “We didn’t exactly exchange contact details. I don’t have his phone number, or know how to get in touch. I went to his flat, but there’s no way I could find it again.” He’d passed me his business card, but I’d left it in Bate’s office. I remember putting it down after I’d called Mara.

  Joe snatches back the joint and takes a long drag, he stares at the glowing tip for a moment, “Babe, it says here he works at the Amahadian Embassy, and heads up AmaOil. And Bates must have the information about how to get in contact with him at his club. There must be a hundred different ways to reach him. It will be no problem to find out. And,” he points the joint toward me, “You’ve got the perfect excuse. You want to thank him for helping you.”

  Chapter 5

  Jasim

  Entering Club Tiacapan I feel, like always, as if I’ve thrown off the shackles of the daily grind and that, just for a little while, I can leave the real world to go fuc
k itself. My sense of pride in what I, and my partners, have achieved swells through me as I make my way across the main room, hearing sounds of pleasure and pain as the members enjoy their proclivities in a safe and secure environment. Anyone with the money can play here. We have senior politicians and judges, CEOs of major companies of both sexes and with whatever leanings. Who cares if a crown court judge likes to be submissive in his or her free time? To let go of all that pent-up stress if just for a while? No one gives a damn. Not here.

  And it’s not only the rich and famous who come to play. There are little known, but well used, membership options for those who deserve it, and for those who pay it back to the club in other ways. A construction engineer involved with our recent extension, or Diamond, a girl with such deeply ingrained submissive tendencies that it would be nigh on criminal to deny her a safe place to play.

  Then there’s a number of operatives from Grade A. As two of my co-owners are also partners in the security firm, any of their staff can join for a greatly reduced membership fee. It leads to a healthy balance of Dominants and submissives, and others with varying kinks.

  Heading to the bar I find, as it seems nearly always, Master Ralph. He makes his money on the stock exchange, by day staring at screens and calculating odds and having millions pass through his hands. By night he comes here to play, and to tend bar, finding enjoyment in simple interaction with like-minded friends.

  “Master J! Looking like a good night.”

  Turning my back to him, I lean against the bar and survey my kingdom set out before me before saying over my shoulder, “It is that, Master Ralph.”

  “All dungeon monitors are on duty.” In his position at the back of the room, Ralph has a clear view of what’s going on. “And your brother’s here! Was good to catch up with him, and to meet his lovely wife. He’s taken a leaf out of Master K’s book I see.”

  Moving my attention to the suspension rig which takes up most of one wall, I see Nijad binding Cara, preparing to hoist her into the air. In comparison to most, and to my relief, she’s very modestly dressed, with all the important parts covered. As I watch, I see my brother expertly attaching carabiners to the ropes he’s bound her with, getting ready to raise her up. Even from here I can sense his wife’s complete surrender and utmost trust in her Dom as illustrated by her winsome smile, her open mouth, and her closed eyes. Nijad’s standing tall, his back ramrod straight, pride in his sub on plain view. Feeling pleasure on their behalf, that my investment, my club, has given them that, the opportunity to play and experiment with equipment not readily available to them elsewhere. And now Cara’s high into the air, and turning slowly as she hovers above the ground. She’ll be deep in subspace by now, everyday concerns and worries left far behind. And Nijad’s full focus will be solely on her.

  “They’ve got a private room booked.”

  “I know, Ralph. And I think they’ll be needing that soon,” I chuckle, as I turn back to the barman. “Give me an orange juice, will you?”

  “Playing tonight?”

  “I might very well.” My cock’s been half hard since I dropped Janna off, and I need something to clear my head and get her out of my mind. My eyes scan the room, taking in the familiar equipment and then alighting on the available subs, seated off to one side. Just when I’m thinking of who I might approach, a meaty hand slaps me on the back, almost splashing the drink I’ve just picked up out of my hand.

  “Jon, you bugger! Might have guessed it was you.” We exchange man hugs, and then I pull his wife in for a hug. “Mia! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Thought I’d wait until I stopped breastfeeding my daughter. Leaking boobs wouldn’t be a good sight in the club.”

  I can’t stop the grin coming to my face, “This is a kink club, sweetheart. Ouch! Jon, man, can’t you control your wife? Mia, you know what happens when you’re violent.”

  Mia’s eyes have opened wide, “I barely touched you.”

  Jon’s chuckling, “Doesn’t matter, Mia, love. See that spanking bench over there? I reckon that’s got your name on it.”

  As he points to it, I’m amused to see his wife’s eyes lighting up. Yeah, they’ll be having fun and making up for lost time tonight. As Jon lifts his chin, signalling his intention to bag the free bench before anyone else does, I touch him on his arm, “Jon, it looks like I might be going back to Amahad soon.”

  His eyebrows rise, “Another quick in and out?”

  “Not this time. Longer. Perhaps a month, maybe two.”

  “Didn’t expect that.” He knows my aversion to going back home. Tapping his fingers on his chin, he realises why I’ve told him. “You want close protection?”

  “Might need it. I’ll be travelling to the oil fields.” I’ll have Amahadian guards when I go into the desert, but will feel more comfortable with the anti-abduction skills that the experts on Jon’s team can provide. Particularly when at the back of my mind I have the niggling worry my elder brother might employ methods the last emir might have used to force to get me to stay in the country. He’s got many options. He could rescind my diplomatic status, revoke my passport... I suppress a shudder at the thought of what, to me, would be worse than death. Yeah, an independent bodyguard might be needed to protect me from my own family. I trust someone from Grade A to have the resources to get me out of the country whatever happens.

  I watch as he contemplates what I’ve told him, then slowly he nods, “I’ll speak to Ben. Let us know your schedule and I’ll sort something out.”

  “Thanks, mate.” And with that, I let him go, my mouth quirking as he leads a protesting Mia over to the spanking bench. Her complaints on her part all a ruse, her brattish behaviour to wind up her Dom.

  “Master J?” A seasoned submissive comes running up to me. I watch her boobs as they almost bounce out of her corset. Hmm, her approach is a bit hurried, but maybe I could play with her tonight? And punish her for approaching a Dom uninvited.

  I feel myself starting to grin as I consider an appropriate chastisement, and take a second to compute what she says.

  “There’s a telephone call for you.”

  Damn, I’d misread why she’d addressed me, “Thank you, Angel.” Leaving the main room, I go to my office out back. No one, not even me, takes a mobile phone into the club. It’s not unheard of for me to get calls here, but also not common. Usually, my staff would deal with anything that comes through. It must be important. Or strictly personal.

  Sitting down in my comfortable leather chair, intrigued, I pick up the old-fashioned handset that’s connected to the landline. “Kassis.”

  “Er, is this Sheikh Jasim?”

  The uncertain and breathy female voice surprises me, and I’m not immediately able to place it. “Speaking.”

  “Er, it’s Janna. Janna Stevens.”

  And just like that my cock’s fully erect. I lean back to give myself more room to ease it, but I doubt she’s ringing up to give me phone sex. More’s the pity. Unable to see her, to have her relative youth flaunted in my face, or to betray my inappropriate reaction, I allow her voice to excite me.

  “How’s the head? Everything okay?”

  “My head is fine. Thank you for helping me.”

  “My pleasure.” And it certainly was. Thinking back, I’d enjoyed every minute ministering to her, sleeping beside her. Too much. Whatever she’s calling for, I know I mustn’t see her again. There’s only so much temptation a Dom can take when faced with such an obvious sub.

  “What can I do for you?” I prompt her, when there’s silence at her end of the line.

  A sound as if she’s taking a deep breath, “I’m calling to ask a favour. A very big one, I’m afraid. I don’t quite know how to ask you…”

  As her voice tails off, I wonder what request she’s going to make. Is she going to ask for membership to the club? Racking my brain, I try to remember if I mentioned I was an owner? But if I hadn’t, how did she know to contact me here? Bates. She must have got in touch with
Bates and he told her who I was. Would I allow her to join? Could I stand it? Seeing her corrupted by somebody else? Someone in the right age bracket? Mentally I run through possible Doms, but come up with none other than myself. And I’m definitely not suitable. For a start, I’m far too old.

  “I didn’t tell you anything about me.” She’s speaking again, and I realise I’ve been distracted.

  Ah, so now she’s going to tell me she’s into kink. I’d never have guessed it, she seemed far too innocent and unworldly. Perhaps it’s an excuse to see me again?

  “You want a membership to Club Tiacapan,” I sigh, wondering how I can dissuade her. Seeing her lithe body tightly laced into a corset would be far too much temptation for me. Just the thought starts my cock throbbing painfully. Though her hair’s dark, her skin is fair, a lovely contrast. I start to imagine it pinking up under my hand. Shit, I can’t possibly have her playing here and keep my hands off without losing my sanity. I’ll have to discourage her.

  “What? No! That’s not my scene at all.” Her indignation comes down the line, showing me that, while I’ve got the reason for her call all wrong, she’s denying her nature. I sigh with relief, and swallow down my regret.

  “What favour are you asking then?” This call’s dragging on, but I find I don’t mind that. My hand goes to my crotch and I finger my stiff dick.

  “I’m in a band, I don’t know if you’ve heard of us? Anarchy Rules?”

  “You sing?” I hadn’t thought about it, but now she’s said it, I can see her doing that. Something sweet and melodious. Strange band name for that type of music though.

  She gives a gravelly laugh, I squeeze my cock harder, “You really wouldn’t want to hear my singing voice.”

  No, I’d prefer to hear her screaming my name, if I’m totally honest. I murmur something insignificant, it encourages her to go on.

  “I’m a guitarist. We play rock.”