Constant Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Constant

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-638-0

  ©Copyright Megan Slayer 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2015

  Edited by Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  CONSTANT

  Megan Slayer

  He demands his submissive’s body and soul…but can he accept his sub’s heart?

  Roddy Green never planned to fall in love and certainly not with his Dom, but every time he goes into Darkness, a fetish club, he falls for Vegas all over again. Being in love isn’t the same as being loved in return. Vegas is there to do a job—not to build a romance. But what if the main constant in Roddy’s life is also the one person he can’t live without?

  Andrew Vegas knows his job. He’s a Dom. But there is more than one side to him and he’s tired of keeping the other parts of him hidden. One man makes him feel safe and comfortable enough to open up—his pet, Roddy. But will Roddy, the producer of a local news broadcast, want to be with a man with secrets?

  Dedication

  The characters took a while to show up and so this book is for the readers who stuck by and begged for Roddy’s story.

  JPZ, being constant is pretty good.

  SM, thank you.

  Chapter One

  “I’m so ready to be done with this place.” Roderick Green tossed his stylus onto the desktop and groaned. He wasn’t going to be able to leave until at least nine p.m. Damn it. He’d come into the news room at six that morning. Fifteen hours of scheduling, sorting through news stories and dealing with the broadcasters who didn’t want to cooperate. He was damn near pulling his hair out.

  He’d been a producer at Channel 25 for the last eight years. He liked his job. The news of the nation as well as local stories colored the broadcasts. The channel featured plenty of sports stories, courtesy of one of his best reporters, Tory McClellan.

  Most days, he loved his job. Bringing the news and working with the various groups made him happy. Today? Not so much.

  He flipped through the papers on his desk then turned to his tablet. Of all the stories planned for the next week, he had Tory’s schedule, but that was all. He needed more than what Tory had given him. The broadcast couldn’t feature one reporter.

  But hell, he’d lost two of his reporters that year. Filling their spots hadn’t been easy. He gritted his teeth. Speaking of the new reporters, where in the hell was their work?

  He punched the numbers on his desk phone. Someone needed to give him answers and fast. After three rings, Holden, the main news reader, answered. “Yes, sir,” Holden said. “I’m currently working on that piece about the community center. I’m trying to get interviews with the staff. The work they’re doing with the young men and women is really inspirational.”

  “Great, but I need stuff for the end of this week,” Roddy bit out. “Come on.”

  “Ask Susan. She’s got a fluff piece on the animal rescue center. I thought she was finished.”

  “She’s not.” But he’d be sure to contact her next and give the weather girl some explaining to do. He didn’t mind that she wanted to branch out and work on other stories, but she wasn’t keeping up with her own workload.

  “I’ll have mine done this weekend and will have the comeback kid story about the young man who helps the Tigers ready by tomorrow. He was a talker, but I’ve got enough to do the story justice.”

  “Fine.” Actually, really freaking good. “Okay. I can work with that. I’m looking forward to the footage.” Roddy groaned. “Tomorrow.”

  “You bet.”

  Roddy hung up on Holden and stared at the phone. Fresh out of college, Holden had been a long shot. The guy understood what he had to do, but sometimes wasn’t up to the challenge. Maybe he was turning the corner and becoming a stronger reporter. Maybe. Roddy dialed Susan’s number.

  As a weather girl, she brought in male viewers and boosted the overall viewership—but that was all. Bringing in viewers didn’t help her accurately report the weather. She messed up more than she correctly forecast what weather systems were coming in. The week before, she’d mixed up a warm front with a line of storms. Channel 25 was the only station to blow the thunderstorm coverage. After the blunder, she’d explained that she didn’t want to read the weather any longer. She wanted to do some real reporting. Of the three stories he’d given her, she’d only turned in one.

  He massaged his temples then pressed the buttons to call Susan. Before she answered, he placed the call on speaker.

  “Roddy, hi,” Susan said, her tone breezy. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not done.”

  “So when are you going to be done? You have three stories going.” He thanked God she couldn’t see his expression. He’d gritted his teeth so tight, his jaw ached.

  “Well, the pets I had in my story have all been adopted.”

  “That’s great. Are you following up?”

  “No. I have to get new animals,” she snapped.

  “To have a feel-good story, you have to continue on with those animals. People like to know the animals are being adopted out to good homes.” Christ. He was going to have to do her job for her.

  “Oh.”

  He wanted to kick Van, his old boss, for hiring her. Thank God his new boss, Eric, was more reasonable. “You’ve got the weekend to complete it.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “How would you like me to make it easier? Want me to write the story for you?” he growled. “Don’t answer that. I’m not writing it.”

  “Van would’ve.”

  “But he moved to national news, so you’re stuck. You’ve got your orders. Get it done.” He didn’t bother to say goodbye before he hung up. His head pounded. Letting the reporters drive him crazy wasn’t smart, but he wanted a good broadcast. He wanted the work to speak for itself, not for the public to call the channel lazy.

  He’d scored big time when Tory had won the award for excellence in journalism two years ago, but they hadn’t been able to win anything since.

  Roddy drummed his fingers on the table again. Looking at the tablet and the pile of papers wasn’t going to get him home any faster. Then again, with his reporters not cooperating, he wasn’t getting anything accomplished. He spotted the business card for Darkness.

  The club.

  His blood heated. Whenever he needed a break or to relieve his tension, he headed to the fetish club. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited Master Vegas. If he couldn’t recall the event, then he’d been away too long. He cradled his personal cell phone. He could make the call or hang out at his desk.

  Time to head back to Darkness.

  He dialed the number for the main desk and waited for the receptionist to answer.

  “This is Darkness. Enter the code after the tone,” the female voice said.

  He dialed the number to Master Vegas’ line then checked his clock. Fuck. He’d never get through to the Dom. Not this late.

  “This is Vegas.”

  The gravelly tone of the Dom’s voice always sent shivers down Roddy’s spine. “Sir. May I have a play date with you, Sir?”

  “You haven’t come to the club in quite a while. How long has it been?”

  “Too long, Sir.” He held all the control when at Channel 25, but the moment he spent any time around Master Vegas, he reverted into his submissive role.

  “You want to play. There will be punishment. Are you willing to submit?” Master Vegas asked.

  “I am, Sir. I want to redeem myself.” Redeem, relax and center himself.

  “Be here in half an hour. You can do it. You know what I want you to wear. Be prepared.” Just as Roddy had hung up on Susan, Vegas left Roddy with nothing but the click of the disconnected call.

  A shiver of anticipation ran the length o
f Roddy’s spine. Master Vegas hadn’t dismissed him—not completely. No, he was allowing Roddy to come back to Darkness.

  Roddy grinned to himself and leaned back in his chair. He needed some respite from the station and only Master Vegas knew how to make him fly. He switched off his tablet then closed the lid on his laptop. He shoved the tablet, his papers and his phone into his messenger bag. He needed to get the hell away from Channel 25.

  After a stop at the restroom, Roddy headed downstairs to his car. He wouldn’t have time to change before he showed up at Darkness. Damn. He preferred to wear the leather get-up Master Vegas had picked out for him, but maybe he’d be able to change once he arrived at the club. Maybe.

  None of the traffic signals cooperated as he drove the fifteen minutes across town. He pounded the steering wheel. With every mile closer to the club, his anticipation grew. His skin itched and his heart raced.

  “Come on,” he said at the last red light before Darkness. “I’m late.” Well, cutting it close. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late. He had only five minutes to spare and he still had to park, lock the car and go into the club.

  The light finally changed, allowing him to continue on his journey. He pulled into the Darkness lot a minute past the designated meeting time.

  He growled under his breath. Hopefully, Master Vegas would punish him but not completely dismiss him. He grabbed his special duffel bag from the trunk of the car then tossed his wallet and muted cell phone into the bag. He locked the vehicle. Giddiness shot through his veins as he marched to the front of the club. He waved his membership card over the sensor, granting him access to the facility.

  Just inside the building were three dressing rooms for patrons to change from their street clothes into play attire. Of the rooms, two had red lights above the doors, but one glittered green. Open.

  Thank you, God. He blew out a long breath to steady himself then went into the dressing room. The door clicked shut, leaving him to the quiet of his thoughts. He peered at his reflection in the mirror. The lines around his eyes were deeper and the purple stood out below his eyes. Damn, he looked tired.

  Something clicked. Master Vegas appeared in the reflection. His black hair glinted in the harsh overhead lighting. Roddy wasn’t short, but Vegas managed to tower over his five feet, nine inch frame. Vegas’ dark eyebrows were drawn tight and his jaw muscle twitched. The thick ring on his middle finger glittered as he touched Roddy’s shoulder.

  “Don’t move,” Master Vegas said. “You’re late.”

  “Yes, Sir.” He bowed his head.

  Vegas moved so quietly. Embarrassment washed over Roddy. He should’ve heard his Sir approach.

  “This is very last minute.” Master Vegas removed his hand. His breath warmed the back of Roddy’s neck.

  Roddy bowed his head and clasped his hands at the small of his back. “I’m sorry, Sir. Forgive me. I needed this.”

  “Are you looking for relaxation?” Master Vegas almost sounded annoyed.

  “Yes, Sir.” Roddy winced. He didn’t want to upset his Sir.

  “I’m not a therapist.”

  “I know, Sir.”

  “I had another playmate tonight.”

  The information smacked Roddy like a slap to the face. Another playmate? He knew he wasn’t the only sub to use Master Vegas’ talents, but he hadn’t wanted to hear the words out loud.

  “I took someone’s spot,” Roddy blurted. “I didn’t mean to… Crap.” He glanced up at their reflection in the mirror. Any other time, he would’ve marveled at the way they fit together and made a sexy pair. He knew better than to hope they could be more, but in that split second his mind wandered to what they would look like out in public. Handsome, indeed. But that was just a dream. He and Vegas weren’t meant to be lovers outside the club. Hell, they weren’t even lovers in the club. Just playmates. Roddy worked like hell to forget that what he wanted from Vegas wasn’t going to lead to anything long term.

  Master Vegas stared at Roddy’s image in the glass. His blue eyes sparkled. “You’ve come to play. Do you trust me to bring you pleasure and push you in order to find the peace you desire?”

  “I do, Sir.” He’d allowed Master Vegas to shatter most of his inhibitions. Very few means of play were out of the question because he knew Vegas would treat him with the utmost respect.

  “And do you trust me to keep you safe?” Master Vegas turned Roddy around to face him. “While we play, you belong to me. Yes?”

  “I trust you, Sir, and I do belong to you.” Always. He stole a glance at Master Vegas’ face. The man exuded strength and sexiness.

  “Do you trust me to respect you? If you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, you will tell me? You know I will do the same for you?” Master Vegas rested his hands on his hips. “Say it. I want to hear the words.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Roddy exhaled and welcomed Vegas’ domination. “I am in your hands.”

  “Tell me your safe word.”

  “Blue, Sir, but I don’t wish to use it.” Roddy kept his gaze low. “I’m yours.”

  “Very well.” Master Vegas pulled a simple leather collar from his pocket. He snapped the leather about Roddy’s throat and arranged the D-ring just over his Adam’s apple. “For the next hour, you are my pet and I am your Sir. You’re mine.” He eased a blindfold from his pocket. “Understand?”

  Without giving Roddy time to respond, Master Vegas slipped the soft blindfold over his eyes. The light from the room instantly disappeared. Roddy shivered.

  “I understand, Sir.” He stood tall. This was what he lived for. Being bound, deprived of his senses and under Master Vegas’ control made him fly. He hadn’t even had his hands cuffed, but his desire grew. Blood rushed to his cock. He swayed on his feet.

  Something clicked and the collar slid down his neck. The leash. He clasped his hands at the small of his back again. When Master Vegas tugged the chain, Roddy complied. He counted forty-seven steps before Master Vegas allowed him to stop.

  A temporary fear paralyzed him. His bag. Damn it. He’d forgotten his bag. He trusted his Master, but he should’ve been thinking.

  “You’ve stopped,” Master Vegas said.

  “My things,” Roddy blurted. Man, he was blurting a lot today.

  “Are in my possession. Relax. You’re not allowing me to do my job. Let your mind go and enjoy.”

  Roddy nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Since your trust in me wavered, there will be punishment.”

  The scent of Vegas’ cologne, something spicy, wrapped around Roddy. Another scent came to Roddy. Vanilla? He could swear he smelled something burning. Candles? Master Vegas did love the dimmer light of candles.

  “Stop and stand still.” Master Vegas’ breath warmed Roddy’s cheeks. Something else snicked.

  Roddy froze. The click. He knew that sound. A butterfly knife. Holy hell. He and Vegas hadn’t played with knives in a long time. How did Vegas know he needed to be on the rougher edge? Every time he heard the click of a knife blade opening, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock. The anticipation of what would happen with the knife and the play afterward turned him on.

  “You’ve worn the wrong clothing for our session.” Master Vegas tugged on Roddy’s dress shirt. The blade moved over the material, pressing just enough into Roddy’s being to let him know that if he twitched, he’d get hurt. One by one, the buttons popped free and the front of the garment opened. Chilly air wrapped around Roddy’s torso. Master Vegas eased Roddy’s arms loose. The cuffs of the shirt freed from around his wrists.

  “Only good pets dress for their Sirs.” The knife blade moved across his back under Master Vegas’ careful hand.

  Roddy groaned. Master Vegas had never cut him, but they teetered so close to the edge. The danger turned him on and adrenaline rushed through his system. The shirt slid down his arms, but before it landed on the floor, Vegas wound the loose ends of the sleeves around Roddy’s hands.

  “I rather like this shirt for binding. Nice and tight.” His breath tickled over Roddy’s ear. “I might ask you to bring it next time.”

  “I will, Sir.” He wanted to please Master Vegas in any way possible. Hearing there would be a next time eased a bit of his worries. He’d become too connected to Master Vegas and their play, but whatever. Master Vegas suited him.