Captivating Nash (Club Tales #3)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Nash

B aker Street, London

Present Day

On one of Baker Street’s famed stages in the main dungeon, Nash had just finished an intense scene with a submissive partner. His muscular body glistened with sweat, and his dominant presence filled the room. Nash was a master of his craft, pushing boundaries and exploring the depths of pleasure with every stroke of his whip.

The submissive, now lying at his feet breathless and satisfied, looked up at him with adoration. Nash's reputation as a sexually dominant alpha male preceded him, and he lived up to every fantasy. His strong, tanned hands gently caressed the sub's body, a gesture that belied his rough and intense nature.

As the submissive began to recover, Nash's piercing eyes scanned the room for his next conquest. That's when he spotted her heading into the lounge—a tall, curvy, curly brown-haired beauty with a look of reverence and keen interest in her eyes. Her eyes locked on him and reflected a mixture of curiosity and desire. He felt an instant connection, a primal urge to possess and dominate her.

He watched as she made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink—perhaps to calm her nerves? There was something new and unsure about her as she looked around the club and observed its elegant Victorian decor with slight steampunk influences. The atmosphere in the club was always electric and seductive. As she sipped her drink, he could almost see her inhibitions melting away.

Nash, having made prior arrangements for aftercare with the submissive at his feet’s regular partner, excused himself and made his way upstairs, his eyes never leaving the other woman. He approached her with a confident stride, his muscular frame commanding attention.

Fitzwallace chuckled as Nash entered the lounge, wiping the sweat from his body. "Nash Maddox… Deanna Fowler." he said in a deep, commanding voice. "I wanted you two to meet. Dr. Fowler is a celebrated marine biologist with an appetite for adventure. She’s played at Southside in Chicago."

Nash almost forgot how to breathe as she turned to face him. Her presence was overwhelming, and he felt a tingle running down his spine.

“Nash Maddox, the legend himself," she replied, her voice slightly shaky. "The submissives from London speak highly of you. I must admit, I've been eager to meet you."

Nash's eyes narrowed as he took in her curvy figure, his gaze lingering on her full breasts and narrow waist. "Eager? Well, what can I do for you?”

“Nash…” started Fitz.

“No, if Dr. Fowler and I are going to work together, she needs to be able to show me she can ask for what she wants and needs, as well as follow orders. If not…” He let the sentence dangle.

Deanna straightened her back. “All right then, let's not waste any time." Standing, she grabbed his hand with a firm grip and led him toward the stairs that led to the private playrooms.

As they entered the room, Deanna released his hand and sank to her knees, legs spread and hands resting lightly on the top of her thighs. “Right now, Sir, I’m in need of some release. I have something big I’m working on and am finding it hard to focus.”

Direct, but polite. His heart raced a bit faster. The space was dimly lit, with various BDSM equipment adorning the walls. Nash closed the door, sealing their world away from prying eyes.

"What is it you think I can do for you tonight?"

Deanna looked up at him and licked her lips. He wasn’t unaware of the effect his chiseled torso had on women. "I... I want to be taken," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "I want to experience something... intense."

Nash's eyes lit up with a devilish gleam. "Oh, I can give you intense, baby. But first, I want to see how far you're willing to go." He moved closer, his scent filling her senses. "Are you ready to submit to me, Deanna? To let go of control and let me take the reins?"

Deanna's breath quickened, and he could feel her resistance melting. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes locking with his. "I want… need to submit. I need to be dominated."

The alpha male in Nash took over as he gently but firmly helped Deanna to her feet and then pushed her against the wall. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, enjoying the way she shivered in response. "Good girl," he whispered, his hot breath sending tingles through her body. "Fitz says you’re clean and on birth control. I am clean, as well. Let’s dispense with any barriers between us.” She nodded. “Even better; now, let's see how well you can take it."

With swift movements, Nash turned her around, quickly unlacing her corset and stripping it and her boy shorts from her body before turning her back around to reveal her full, creamy breasts. He cupped them in his hands, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. Deanna arched her back, moaning softly as pleasure seemed to course through her.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" Nash chuckled, his voice deep and commanding as he pulled her away from the wall—far enough to give him some working room and close enough to be able to reach anything he wanted. He lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently and causing Deanna to gasp and squirm.

"Please..." she begged, her hands gripping his shoulders.

Nash obliged, his mouth trailing kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands moved down past her waist, deftly slipping between her thighs and finding her wetness. "So wet already," he murmured, his fingers stroking her folds and teasing her clit. "You're a naughty girl, aren't you?"

Her legs trembled as Nash's skilled fingers brought her closer to the edge. "Not yet, baby,” he said, giving her clit a sharp pinch. “Not until I say. I want to hear you beg for it." He slid a finger inside her, pumping slowly at first, then increasing the pace as her moans grew louder.

"Please..." Deanna panted, her body flushed and writhing. Nash added another finger, stretching and filling her.

"That's it, take it all," he growled, his free hand reaching for a paddle hanging on the wall.

Without warning, Nash delivered a sharp smack to her ass, causing Deanna to cry out in surprise and pleasure. "Oh, you like that, don't you? A little pain to heighten the pleasure?" He smacked her again, knowing the stinging sensation would blend with the throbbing between her legs.

"Yes... please, more," Deanna begged, her voice hoarse. Nash obliged, delivering a series of sharp spanks, each one making her cry out and arch her back, offering herself to him.

As Deanna's body trembled on the brink of orgasm, Nash pulled her close, his lips finding hers in a passionate kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, mirroring the penetration of his fingers. Deanna's body shook as waves of pleasure crashed over her, and she came with a loud cry, her juices flowing freely.

Nash held her tightly, his fingers still buried deep within her as her orgasm rippled through her body. "That's my good girl," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "You took everything I gave you and wanted more."

Deanna, her body spent but satisfied, leaned into Nash, her hands exploring his muscular back. "That was... incredible," she managed to say between gasps. "Thank you, Sir."

Nash smiled, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Nothing compared to the subs that trained and played at Baker Street and Club Southside. "We're not done yet. I’m going to push your limits." He withdrew his fingers, and his eyes gleamed with approval. "Let's continue this journey." He led her to a nearby fainting couch, positioning her on her back, and parted her thighs, revealing her glistening pussy.

Nash kneeled between her spread legs and lowered his head, his tongue flicking her clit and sending sparks of pleasure through Deanna's sensitive body. He lapped at her folds, savoring her taste and driving her wild with desire. Deanna's hands gripped the couch cushions as Nash's skilled tongue brought her to the brink of another orgasm.

"Oh God..." Deanna's words were cut off as her body convulsed in ecstasy, her juices flowing freely onto Nash's eager tongue. He continued to lap at her, drawing out her pleasure until she was reduced to a trembling mess of satisfied flesh.

As Deanna lay panting, her body satiated but craving more, Nash rose to his feet, his erection straining against his pants. "Now, my sweet submissive, it's my turn." He unfastened the fly of his leather pants, revealing his thick, hard cock, standing proudly erect.

Deanna's eyes widened at the sight of his impressive manhood. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his length, stroking him slowly, feeling his veins throbbing under her touch. Nash groaned, his eyes closing momentarily as her touch sent waves of pleasure through him. "Use your mouth, Deanna. Show me how much you want this."

Without hesitation, Deanna leaned forward, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock, taking him deep into her mouth. She sucked and swirled her tongue, her hand pumping the base, igniting a wildfire of desire inside him.

"Fuck, yes!" Nash hissed, his hands gripping her hair gently and holding her steady as he began to fuck her mouth. "That's it, take all of me." He thrust his hips forward, driving to the back of her throat, his cock sliding in and out, her lips sliding up and down his shaft.

Deanna's eyes sparkled with determination as she took him deeper, her throat constricting around his girth. Nash's breath quickened, and he held back his orgasm, wanting to prolong this moment of bliss.

"Enough,” he growled as he pulled her up, positioning her on her feet with a leg on either side of his hips. “I want to feel you around me, riding me." He guided her to straddle him, positioning his throbbing cock at her entrance.

Deanna, her pussy dripping with anticipation, lowered herself onto his length, taking him inch by inch until he was buried deep inside her. She moaned, a primal sound of pleasure, as she began to ride him, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm.

Nash's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his cock throbbing within her. "That's it, Deanna. Ride me hard. Show me how much you want this cock."

Deanna's eyes closed as she surrendered to the sensations, her body moving faster, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Nash's hands moved to her breasts, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs brushing her nipples, sending electric shocks through her. Her body trembled as she came, her pussy clenching around Nash's cock, milking him with each spasm. Nash groaned, his own orgasm building, his control slipping as he thrust up into her, filling her with his hot cum.

She collapsed on top of him, their bodies entwined, breathless and satisfied.

Later that night, Nash sat back in the leather armchair, listening to the rain beating against the windows on the third floor—Cerberus’ headquarters. The thick curtains did little to muffle the sound of the downpour outside, the steady rhythm filling the silence that had settled between him and Fitzwallace. The storm reflected the gray mood of the city itself—a place full of shadows and secrets. It wasn’t for him.

Fitz sat across from him, a glass of scotch in hand, studying Nash with those same calculating eyes that had first lured him to London. The man was a master of persuasion, Nash would give him that. But he wasn’t so easily swayed.

“So, what do you think?” Fitz asked, breaking the silence. His voice was smooth, controlled, the kind of tone that had convinced countless men before Nash to sign on the dotted line.

Nash didn’t answer immediately. He was never one to make hasty decisions, especially not when it involved stepping back into the world he had just left behind. The world of missions, of bullets flying past his head and the constant weight of danger pressing down on him. He could feel Fitz’s gaze on him, waiting, watching for a sign.

“You’d be a valuable asset to Cerberus,” Fitz continued, leaning forward slightly, his glass now forgotten on the desk. “You know it; I know it. The world out there… it’s not like what you’ve left behind in the Navy, Nash. It’s dirtier, more complicated. And without men like you, it’ll only get worse.”

Nash ran a hand through his hair, glancing out the rain-streaked window. Fitz’s words rang true, but they also felt heavy, like chains meant to drag him back into a life he was trying to escape. He had spent years living in the dirt, in the shadows, running missions that blurred the lines between right and wrong. He had bled for his country, for causes that weren’t always clear, and now, all he wanted was to find peace.

“Not interested,” Nash said finally, his voice steady, but with an edge of finality.

Fitz raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise impassive face. “You’re sure about that? I don’t make this kind of offer to just anyone.”

“I didn’t ask for the offer.” Nash stood, pacing slowly to the window, his eyes following the streaks of rain running down the glass. “You can keep London, Fitz. I’m not built for cold nights and endless rain. I want sunshine. Warm water. Not this.”

Fitz sighed, standing and placing his glass on the mahogany desk. “The world isn’t sunshine and warm waters, Maddox. You know that better than anyone.”

Nash didn’t answer, just kept staring at the city beyond the window. Fitz was right, of course. The world was a brutal place, filled with violence and uncertainty. But Nash was tired of living in that world. He wanted something more—something quieter. He turned back toward Fitz, his expression hard.

“I’m done with all of it,” Nash said firmly. “I’m done with the missions, the secrecy, the killing. I’ve given enough.”

Fitz crossed his arms, clearly frustrated. “You really think you can walk away? Just like that? You think you’ll be happy with a quiet life?”

Nash’s lips curved into a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. “I’ve already made my choice.”

Mediterranean Sea

Off the Coast of Crete

Two months later, Nash stood on the deck of The Reverie , his charter sailboat, the gentle Mediterranean breeze brushing against his skin. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden light across the crystal-clear waters, with the only sound the soft lapping of the waves against the hull. This was where he belonged.

After leaving London and turning down Fitz’s offer, Nash had returned to his business. Wealthy tourists paid top dollar to be ferried to remote islands, to dive in hidden coves, and to soak in the beauty of the Mediterranean. It wasn’t glamorous by any stretch, but it was peaceful. No gunfire. No secrets. Just sun, sea, and the occasional thrill-seeking tourist.

Nash leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the horizon where the deep blue sea stretched endlessly in every direction. It was a far cry from the rainy, cold nights in London. Here, he felt free.

But as much as he tried to leave that life behind, it had a way of creeping back in. Every so often, Fitz’s number would pop up on his phone, like an unwanted reminder of the life he thought he had escaped. Nash didn’t answer the first few times. But eventually, the curiosity got the better of him. Fitz never asked for much—just the odd favor here and there. A job that needed a specific set of skills. Skills that Nash couldn’t deny he still possessed.

The first time Nash took a job for Cerberus, he told himself it was just to help an old acquaintance. A quick extraction on the coast of Croatia, something simple, in and out. But it wasn’t simple. It never was. The adrenaline kicked in, the rush of danger, the focus that came with knowing every move could be your last.

After that, the jobs came more frequently. Small, one-off missions that didn’t require much commitment. A shipment that needed guarding. A person who needed protection. Fitz knew Nash wasn’t back in full, but he also knew how to dangle the right incentives to get him involved.

Now, standing on his boat, Nash’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

He sighed, pulling it out and seeing Fitz’s name flash on the screen.

“Not today,” Nash muttered under his breath, ignoring the call and slipping the phone back into his pocket.

The phone went silent and then trilled again. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore it by listening to the sound of the waves. As much as he loved the sun and the sea, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the quiet life he’d been chasing wasn’t quite as fulfilling as he’d imagined. A part of him—the part that thrived on the edge, that lived for the adrenaline—was always restless.

On the third attempt, Nash shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Fitz?”