Free Cooper by Liliana Hart

 
     
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    Club Dominique was for members only—one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs in the state that catered to an elite clientele who preferred a little something extra with their sex.
    So Cooper MacKenzie was thoroughly confused when he came through the private entrance of his club and saw Claire Drexel looking like she belonged there. His gaze had been drawn to her instantly. Like always. Dammit .
    He stood in the doorway of the long hallway that all the VIP members used to enter or exit the club, just observing. The dance floor was dark and strobes of light were the only way to see the writhing bodies moving to the beat of the thrumming bass coming from the speakers. Drinks were passed around freely and leather and chains decorated almost every body, including his. Including Claire’s.
    When had she gotten curves like that? Her breasts spilled out the top of the bustier-style leather top she wore, and the skirt that matched stopped just short of indecent. She wore leather boots that laced to her thighs and were spiked with five inch heels. He felt his lungs seize and remembered he needed to breathe.
    Maybe he’d been mistaken. Maybe that wasn’t Claire after all. She shook his head as if to clear his vision, but she was still there. Considering he saw Claire at least a couple of times a week—working at the library, grocery shopping or jogging around the park— he had a pretty good idea what she looked like. And he was pretty damned sure that was her.
    She was young, too young for the thoughts that popped into his mind whenever he felt himself looking in her direction. He’d been looking in her direction—though not doing anything about it—since she was eighteen years old. Tonight was no different. She was still as stunning and exotic as she always was. And his body still thrummed with heated excitement whenever he saw her.
    Her black hair was cut pixie short so it sleeked against her head like a silky cap. Her curves were lush and had caused him break out in cold sweats in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. Razor sharp cheekbones hinted at the Native American blood that ran through her veins, and her skin looked as if it had been sprinkled with gold dust. Her lips were slicked with red and her eyes were like black onyx and made up exotically.
    With her stunning looks, it was no surprise she wasn’t alone. She sat on the lap of Rafael Morda, her arm draped around his neck and her legs crossed, giving a minute amount of decency to the leather table napkin she wore. Rafael’s section was roped off and elevated on a dais so he could lord over the rest of the club. Special lighting illuminated the VIP’s so those on the bottom level could see everything they were missing out on.
    Morda touched her exposed thigh in slow circles where her skirt ended and the leather boots began, and Cooper saw red.
    What the hell did she think she was doing? She was a librarian for God’s sake. He started towards her with every intention of making a scene and hauling her ass back to Surrender. He could probably think of a reason to throw her into the jail for the night and keep her out of trouble. No one would question his decision. He was the sheriff.
    “How’s it hangin’, Coop?” Renegade, the owner of the club asked, interrupting his well laid plans. “We’ve got a nice selection of subs for you to choose from. Fresh meat. And they’re all lookin’ for someone to master them. There’s an energy in the air tonight, man. I don’t know how to explain it.”
    Renegade’s eerily colored yellow eyes were enhanced by some kind of chemical substance. Cooper knew exactly what was in the air. All hell was about to break loose. And Claire had planted herself right in the middle of it.
    He looked over Renegade’s shoulder and picked out an undercover female DEA agent making her sub lick her boots, and he found a state police officer making out in the corner of the dance floor. Ahh, what