N is for... (Checklist Book 14) Read online

  Copyright

  Published by:

  Farm Boy Press,

  Sacramento, California, United States of America.

  First electronic edition: April, 2021

  This edition: April 16, 2021

  Copyright © 2021 by Lila Dubois, all rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lila Dubois

  Copyedits by Fedora Chen

  Book formatted by Farm Boy Press

  ISBN: 978-1-941641-59-0 ebook

  ISBN: 978-1-941641-61-3 paperback

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owners and the above publisher of this book, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s note:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  N is for…

  L. DUBOIS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  A note from Lila…

  About the Author

  The BDSM Checklist Series

  The Orchid Club Series

  Also by Lila Dubois

  N is for…

  L. DUBOIS

  Chapter 1

  Well that was…utterly insane.

  Autumn followed the other subs away from the large barn the overseers of the club ostentatiously called the Conclave. Though the phrasing was far more accurate than referring to the building as an actual barn.

  Before the Las Palmas property—named for the palm trees that lined the driveway—had been secretly converted into LA’s most exclusive BDSM club, and christened Las Palmas Oscuras, it had been an equestrian estate. The barn, covered arena, and various outbuildings were a reminder that it had once been used to stable and train expensive horses, owned and ridden by the uber-wealthy who lived in and around Malibu and the canyons.

  She still didn’t think of herself as one of them.

  Not horse people, nor pretentious Malibu Hills people.

  But she was now one of the uber-wealthy.

  When she was at work she owned it, but times like this the label didn’t sound right, or feel right. Imposter syndrome was real. People who were used to having money acted, and reacted, different. Since her high personal net worth was a relatively recent development, she didn’t always react like a rich person.

  And right now, she was the only one who seemed flabbergasted by what had just happened.

  She was fighting the urge to shout, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

  There weren’t even what-the-fuck expressions on the other subs’ faces. The few low-voiced conversations she could hear lacked the outraged tone she would be using if she opened her mouth.

  Autumn hiked up the top of her corset, though that was more out of habit than because it needed adjusting. Scarlet satin with black lace might be a bit obvious for sexy apparel, but she liked bold colors, and this particular corset had industrial-level boning in the front which kept her boobs in place.

  She shivered. It was just before sunset, and the walk from the Conclave back to the main building complex over the well-landscaped grounds of the estate was a little chilly. It wasn’t cold out, but the location wasn’t tropical either, so wandering around in a corset and a teeny, stretchy skirt left a lot of skin exposed to the cooling air of late afternoon.

  She’d be warm as soon as they were back in the main complex. Most of the club was kept heated, including the outdoor courtyards.

  “Autumn?”

  She stopped in her tracks, shocked to hear her name. The speaker had a smooth, masculine voice.

  Luckily, she was at the back of the crowd, and the woman directly behind her changed course in time to avoid a crash.

  Turning on her heel, Autumn faced the speaker.

  Brown-haired with light colored eyes—in this light they could have been blue or gray—he was good looking in the generic way that made her think of East Coast Ivy League men who came from old money and denied their own privilege. He was taller than her by an inch or two, and wore a well-tailored suit. That was hardly unexpected among the Doms at Las Palmas. With monthly dues in the five figures, only very financially successful or independently wealthy people could afford to be members.

  Plus, you had to be kinky as fuck.

  Autumn gave him a second once over, her blood heating as she contemplated just what sort of kinks the suit and solid veneer of respectability were hiding.

  “That’s me.” She raised both hands in a little “ta da” gesture.

  He smiled, and ohhh baby. That was some smile.

  The man held up a large envelope. “I recognized you from the picture.”

  “Picture? Wait, is that from this bat-shit insane game?” She pointed first at the envelope he held aloft and then back at the Conclave.

  “It is, and we’re partners.” The smile grew. He had two perfect smile lines that bracketed his mouth.

  “I just got a weird flashback to high school and having to talk to someone I didn’t know because we’d been assigned as lab partners.”

  He laughed, a good, genuine sound, and then held out a hand. “I’m Daniel.”

  His hand was warm compared to her cold fingers.

  “I’m Autumn. Though you obviously already know that.”

  “May I walk you back?” Daniel offered his elbow.

  Autumn slipped her fingers around his forearm. “Why, thank you. Very kind.”

  They started walking, with enough space between them that her shoulder only occasionally brushed his arm, but she could just about feel the warmth of his body along her side.

  There was a unique delight in meeting a new BDSM partner. About making small talk with someone who would soon put their hands on her naked body. Pleasure her, hurt her, in all the right ways.

  It was a bit like picking up a guy in a bar for a one-night stand. Looking around in the dim light and seeing someone. Going to talk to them, starting with inane conversation, all the while knowing where it was going.

  But at Las Palmas, meeting someone new was actually less dangerous than picking someone up at a bar. There was less chance of being murdered, since all members were thoroughly vetted. And, most importantly for her, the kink element was guaranteed.

  “Bat shit,” Daniel said, surprising her.

  “Huh?”

  “You called the game ‘bat shit’. I like it. Not a phrase I hear often.”

  Autumn stopped walking, pulling her hand free of his arm. D
aniel turned to her, brows raised.

  “Are you one of those stuffy, high-protocol, formal tops?”

  The hint of a smile touched his mouth and the smile line on the left side of his mouth appeared. “And if I am?”

  Her stomach tightened with anxiety, but she didn’t let any of it show. “Then we’re going to have a rough time.”

  “Because you dislike high-protocol?”

  “And I curse like a sailor. Pleasure, pain… Both best expressed with cursing.”

  Daniel’s smile grew. “I’m not stuffy, or formal.”

  “Really, cufflinks, you’re not formal?”

  He raised his arm, twisting it to look at the silver cufflink which was just peeking out from the bottom of his jacket sleeve.

  He frowned. “Oh dear, these are my gardening cufflinks. How embarrassing. Please ignore these and pretend I’m wearing the solid gold and diamond ones.”

  Autumn let out a peal of laughter so loud that she startled even herself. She slapped a hand over her mouth to dampen the sound as Daniel dropped the faux-chagrin and smiled at her.

  When she’d calmed herself, Autumn dropped her hand. “Okay, fair enough. I shouldn’t judge a book by its very nice cover—”

  “Thank you.” He bowed with a little flourish.

  “—and I’m sorry in advance for my language.”

  Daniel smiled at her, and started to offer his arm, then stopped, and instead removed his suit jacket. She was about to make a joke about getting naked, but he stepped close, draping his coat over her shoulders. It was warm from his body heat and smelled good. Male and expensive. The faintest trace of cologne.

  Her sassy comment died on her tongue. She gently gripped the edges of the coat, pulling it a little tighter against her skin. He was standing close enough that she had to tip her head back just a little to look up at him. “Thank you.”

  Gray. His eyes were the gray of smoke and coastal fog.

  “You’re welcome.” He’d lowered his voice in apparent deference to their proximity, and it added an intimacy that made her very, very aware of exactly how little she was wearing.

  It was thrilling and terrifying to look up into this man’s eyes and know that though they were strangers, they were about to share something very physical.

  She wanted to kiss him.

  That thought had her mentally, if not physically, backpedaling. Autumn slapped on a saucy grin. “Well, partner, what’s our letter?”

  Daniel’s gaze searched her face, and his expression was all too serious. It was a penetrating stare that made her feel like he could see inside her. Not her thoughts, or not just her thoughts, but into her heart, her soul, where she kept her old hurts, and barely healed emotional scars.

  She looked away. Not down, but off to the side.

  He stepped back and then motioned with one hand for her to precede him. His serious, knowing expression was gone, the grin back in place. It was enough to make her wonder if she’d imagined that searching look.

  She hadn’t. The butterflies in her stomach confirmed that. As did the heavy arousal that heated her blood and made her hyper-aware of her half-exposed breasts and rapidly dampening thong.

  She started walking, and he fell in step beside her. There was no one else near them. The last of the subs had disappeared through the opening that would take them through the interconnected buildings back to the gate of the Subs’ Garden. There were several men behind them—other Doms who, like Daniel, already had their assigned letters for the checklist game—but they were far enough back that their presence didn’t break the sense of intimacy between them.

  When they reached the building complex, Daniel paused.

  “Where would you prefer to talk? The library, or perhaps the dining room?”

  “I haven’t eaten dinner yet.” She glanced behind them to the northwest, where the sun would soon sink into the Pacific Ocean, though the ocean itself wasn’t visible from here. “But it’s still early.”

  “I could eat.” Daniel smiled.

  “Says the person not wearing a corset.” She rapped her knuckles against her stomach.

  “Would you like to change first?”

  Yes, because discussing a scene and getting to know a new play partner were things best done when comfortable and able to focus. Wearing a corset was both less than totally comfortable and too much of a reminder that she was the submissive.

  She should say yes and go change into a robe. Or maybe a bralette and booty shorts, if she still wanted to be cute and sexy, but not so tightly confined.

  What came out of her mouth was, “No, I’ll be fine…if you’ll help me loosen it a little?”

  The way he inhaled, the fire that ignited in his eyes, made her shiver with desire.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he murmured.

  This time he put his hand on the small of her back as he guided her towards the club’s dining room.

  As they reached the door Daniel paused again, looking down at her, his smile lines peeking out. “Our letter is N. I hope you don’t have any objections to nipple play.”

  Chapter 2

  The dining room was empty, and the buffet laid out though the dishes were all still covered. She stood beside Daniel and stared at the untouched buffet.

  “We could start with a drink.” Her reluctance to be the first one to dig in was probably stupid. She had just as much right to the fancy buffet food as anyone else—she paid her dues—but the idea of being the first one to eat made her vaguely uncomfortable.

  “Food first, so we both have time to digest,” Daniel countered.

  He picked up a plate and looked back at her. “May I make you a plate?”

  She could do it herself, but that would be hard to do if she also wanted to keep his jacket around her shoulders. She liked the smell of his cologne too much to give it up.

  And this was the place where no one would think less of her for allowing herself to be taken care of.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Daniel smiled, then started reading off the small placards in front of each dish. She went for some roasted veggies and half a piece of pecan encrusted fish as well as a scoop of wilted spinach salad.

  He put far more food on her plate than she would eat, and then carried it not to one of the tables, but to one of the sunken seating areas. He set down her plate and a napkin-wrapped roll of silverware before holding out a hand, offering it to her for support as she descended the steps.

  She reluctantly took off his jacket, laying it out neatly on the padded bench, before taking her seat. Daniel came back several more times, carrying first his own plate, then wine bottles and glasses.

  “Red, white, or bubbles?”

  What she really wanted was a mimosa. She had the palate of a child when it came to booze, preferring sweet and bubbly. Not that she would ever admit to that here, or really anywhere but the privacy of her own home where she would occasionally make herself a pitcher of mimosas with low calorie orange juice and a ten dollar bottle of brut from the grocery store.

  Then she’d drink a cheap, low-calorie mimosa while sitting in her multi-million dollar condo, on a couch that cost as much as normal people’s first cars.

  She leaned forward—as much as the corset would allow—to look at the labels of the bottles. She knew good wine, and when in public was just enough of a wine snob to fit in with her co-workers. “I do love an off-dry Riesling.”

  Daniel opened the wine and poured them each a glass.

  She was glad he didn’t make a production of it, and when he passed her a glass she raised it out of habit. He picked up his own, touching it to hers with a small clink.

  They each took a sip, and the wine was buttery and sweet. It warmed her, but not the same way his gaze did. She felt his attention sliding down her exposed skin, lingering on her plumped breasts above the top of the corset.

  “Can I help you with that?” Daniel set down his glass and gestured to her midsection.

  Autumn worried the inside
of her cheek with her teeth for a moment.

  “If you’d prefer we talk before I touch you in any way, or if you’d like me to find someone else…” He let the words trail off.

  “I’m not nervous,” Autumn insisted. Then she shook her head. “That was a very stupid thing to say. Of course I’m nervous.”

  Daniel nodded, his expression serious. “And I respect that.”

  “But I would like the corset loosened before I try to eat anything.” She pushed to her feet, and scooted around the low table until she was beside Daniel.

  He remained seated, a move she thought was deliberately meant to make her feel more comfortable.

  She turned her back to him, pulling her hair forward over her shoulder, though it wasn’t long enough to really be in the way.

  “The ties are in the middle, tucked in under the edge.” She twisted to look back at him, but it strained her neck so she stopped.

  “A properly laced corset,” he murmured. She felt a small tug as he dug the tails of the laces out. The material of the corset was too thick for her to feel his touch, and she resented the garment because of it.

  There was an audible creaking sound as he undid the knots of the upper lace, which started at the top of the corset and ended half way down, right at her natural waist.

  She took a deep breath, deliberately expanding her chest as the corset loosened. She expected him to add even more slack to the lacing, but instead she felt a tug as he tied the cording once more.

  “That’s it?” She twisted to look back at him again. All she could see was the top of his head.