A Night at The Cavern: The Cavern

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Author’s Note

While I was writing Hero Unleashed, Amaryllis’ friend Jorges became a favorite character of mine right from the start. When he went off on his task of cheering up the sad-looking woman at the bar, I couldn’t stop wondering how the rest of their night played out. What did they talk about and to what lengths did Jorges go to cheer her up? Ta-da! A Night at The Cavern was created.

This story takes place during Hero Unleashed, and while the worlds of the Heroes of Saturn cross in The Cavern, this is a stand-alone story, so don’t worry about getting lost.

Read. Enjoy. And may you receive exactly what you need.

Chapter One

Whoever designed this bra needed to be strung up with the straps and stabbed repeatedly in the gonads with sharp sticks.

Miranda snuck a quick glance around the crowded nightclub. As she expected, not a soul was looking her way. She dug the underwire out from under her right breast and readjusted her blouse in a vain attempt to cover the generous amount of cleavage she had on display.

Roxanne owed her. Big-time. Who cared if her best friend won the bet fair and square? Humiliation was not the objective, although Miranda had foreseen exactly how the night was going to go down and took the stupid wager anyway. The least Roxanne could have done was allow her to dress in clothes that were not so…streetwalkerish. She didn’t need to look cheap as well as desperate.

Another cosmopolitan? The bartender gestured to her half-full glass.

She waved her hand over the top and shouted over the pounding music, No thanks. I’m good.

Two cocktails a night was her limit and she was currently nursing her third. Although why, she hadn’t a clue. The alcohol was only prolonging the torture.

Actually, can I have the check, please? As soon as the buzz wore off, she was out of there.

Sure.

God, was she ever the fool. Realistically, how was the night supposed to have played out? She’d walk into The Cavern, the city’s most hedonistic nightclub, and…what? Find the perfect one-night stand? Find the one to live happily ever after with, in kinky bliss? Ha! Now there’s insanity talking because seriously, how many staid and upstanding men hang out in a nightclub where women jiggled like Jell-O shots and freely gave blowjobs in the middle of the dance floor?

Stop, Miranda. Anxiety is making you catty. These people are probably quite lovely if given a chance to know them better.

Yes, The Cavern did have an unseemly reputation as the go-to place for illicit encounters, but the furnishings were lush with dark mahogany and maroon suede fabrics that beckoned one to relax. Soft pools of buttery light illuminated intimate seating areas and made the shadows inviting for a secret rendezvous. As an additional bonus there appeared to be a large number of straight men in attendance, which might sound strange if she spoke the thought out loud. With her job as a coordinator in a party rental store, all the men she came into contact with were either engaged or gay. To be surrounded by this much hetero-ness was a novelty.

If she had not been on her own, the techno music and half-naked people were actually quite welcoming for a den of vice.

Den of vice? A short snort of laughter hurt her sinuses. When Tennessee Williams made an appearance in your thoughts, it was definitely time to go home.

Here you go.

The bartender placed her drink ticket next to her glass. The black ink was bold against the glowing white thermal paper under the black light.

Forty-eight dollars for three drinks? Fuck that, she mentally sputtered and took a swallow of the sweet concoction, letting it linger on her tongue. After the liquid slid down her throat, she licked the sugar from the rim, savoring every drop of the overpriced drink. Even if she had to wait another hour for the alcohol to burn out of her system, no way was she leaving any moisture on the glass.

From out of nowhere a wave of electric heat whipped up her back, making the glass falter in her hand. Her nipples tightened, scraping against the lace of her bra as she became achingly aware of the throbbing emptiness of her suddenly soaking sheath.

Holy hell, what was wrong with her? Who knew that fifty bucks of liquor caused near orgasmic sensations? Had someone slipped something into her drink?

Miranda glanced to her left and right and noticed she wasn’t the only one riding the wave of lust. A couple next to her was engaged in a lip-lock so deep Miranda swore they were sucking the enamel off each other’s teeth. The bartender gripped the edge of the small sink, his breath whooshed in and out in hard bellows. His eyes glittered with confusion and hunger as he stared out toward the dance floor.

She followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath as she spotted a pair of dancers, who appeared to be in their own little world. The man stood head and shoulders above everyone on the floor. The fierce darkness of his features was a stunning contrast to the petite, silver-haired beauty in his arms. Through the sway of bodies Miranda could see him curled possessively around his partner. His tan fingers cupped her curvy backside as they flowed as one to the sensuous rhythm. The look of longing he wore on his handsome face made Miranda’s eyes tear up, for with it there was also a flash of pain so intense, she felt the punch in her chest. It was as if he were dying of thirst and unable to drink from the well in his hands.

Suddenly his lips curled in a snarl and he wrenched the woman out of his arms. Instantly the sensual spell was broken and Miranda was able to draw a ragged, humid breath. Although she couldn’t hear what was being said, the effect his words had on his companion rippled through the crowd as if they all had been slapped in the face.

With a stiff bow, the man walked away, disappearing into the shadows. The remaining dancers surrounded the woman, who must be mortified to have suffered such a humiliating rejection in public. Apparently the club’s motto, All who enter will receive exactly what they need was nothing but words etched into the mosaic tiles. Nobody needed to be treated like that.

Miranda groaned and pressed her face into her hands. With each passing minute she wanted to curl tighter into a ball and wished with all her might that when she opened her eyes, she’d be in the safety of her bed with the sheets drawn up to her chin and this was all one of those horrible dreams, like the ones when you’re out naked in public.

One eye popped open, revealing the cute bartender staring at her with a concerned frown. She offered a faint wave and a weak smile while calling herself an idiot ten times over.

She had to sober up. With her drink almost empty, she really should give her seat up to another paying customer, but the thought of leaving the shelter of her self-made cocoon to traverse across the club nearly made her cry.

With another furtive glance around the room she noticed a group of women dancing together close to one of the cage dancers. Perhaps she could slide up to them, pretend she’s part of their group to help burn the alcohol out of her system then—oh!

Her jaw dropped and she looked away with a cringe. Right. Girl-on-girl-on-girl-on-girl French kissing was not part of that plan. Seriously, how can four women feel anything sensual when their tongues were flicking about as if they were licking the air?

Hysterical laughter bubbled from her lips. Dear God. She covered her face again to hide her burning cheeks. What was she doing here?

Hello. Care to share the joke?

Miranda turned toward the raspy, dulcet voice and promptly choked on an indrawn breath as she gazed up at the Adonis standing by her side.

If sin and impetuousness conceived a child, this man would be their progeny. White-tipped blond hair fell across his forehead and framed the bluest eyes she’d only ever seen in