Flame For You Read online

  Flame For You

  Bandit Brothers, Volume 1

  Raleigh Damson

  Published by Raleigh Damson, 2022.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, companies, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by Raleigh Damson

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this eBook only.

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers.

  This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  The author is not responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.

  [email protected]

  Editing by: Word Whisperer Literary Editing

  https://kayspringsteen.wordpress.com/word-whisperer-literary-editing

  Cover Design by: Whiskers & Whimsy Designs

  Also by Raleigh Damson

  Bandit Brothers

  Flame For You (Coming Soon)

  Flame For Two (Coming Soon)

  Watch for more at Raleigh Damson’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Disclaimer

  Also By Raleigh Damson

  Flame For You (Bandit Brothers, #1)

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CONNECT WITH RALEIGH

  The next book in the Bandit Brothers series is FLAME FOR TWO and you can pre-order, here: https://books2read.com/u/mZZ082 | FLAME FOR TWO BY RALEIGH DAMSON

  Sign up for Raleigh Damson's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Flame For Two

  About the Author

  To my first readers... to readers who became friends... Blogland, this one goes out to you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Quinn Walsh circled the high-back chair, studying the pretty submissive who sat completely bound in rope. Here, backstage at Club Bandit, the private BDSM Club he’d been proud to be a founding member of, was the last place he thought he’d be tonight. Quinn smirked, knowing several members of the eager crowd would gladly trade places with him.

  They were twenty minutes behind schedule. He could hear the eagerness ripple through the crowd. The low base of the techno music pumping out of the speakers fuelled the anticipation, but Quinn would not rush, despite the waiting audience.

  He checked the knots, pulling on sections of the soft red rope. Technically, he couldn’t find fault. Logan Marrock, his friend and experienced rigger, had tied it. He had to give his friends credit; they upped their game. Over the last few months, he’d ignored their calls. But when Logan had texted tonight, asking for help with this extreme rope suspension, he couldn’t say no to a Bandit Brother. Even if the timing sucked.

  “Come on! We’ve practiced this, and the carabiners will take the weight. She’ll fly up nice and easy.”

  “You have no fear of this?” he asked Clara, the submissive in the chair.

  “Quinn, she has the experience. Let’s get on with it.”

  “You called me for an opinion and a second look.” Quinn glared at his friend. “I’m asking Clara. How is your circulation?”

  The petite woman wiggled her fingers, and he checked the slack on the rope. He glanced above him at the metal pulley system. The steel hooks lowered from the thick cable wires hanging from the stage lighting poles above.

  “I trust the physics. We tested it with sandbags, and the spiderweb of ropes on the legs helped to distribute the weight.” Logan tugged on the wire cables hooked to the top of the chair.

  Quinn grunted.

  “I didn’t make her sign an extra waiver,” Zee Ridell, the grey-haired, goateed owner of Club Bandit, came out from the wings, wearing a headset, and clapped Quinn on the back.

  “Untie the chest harness and re-tie it so it’s not wrapped around the chair.” Quinn pointed at the rope crisscrossing over Clara’s chest and then bound to the chair.

  “Yeah, I can see your reasoning.” Logan started untying the length of rope across Clara’s chest and from the chair. If he needed further proof that this wasn’t the place for him, seeing Logan re-tie a chest harness did nothing. He admired his friend’s skill, but he didn’t wish he was the one tying.

  In the end, the effect looked just as badass. With Clara’s breasts standing up for attention, her creamy skin glowed against the red rope. The knots on her legs and wrists secured her, and she looked like the perfect, willing captive. Quinn felt as confident as he could that no harm would come from this stunt.

  His friends trusted his judgment. Assessing risks was what he did—or what he’d used to do. He couldn’t do it anymore, not after the clusterfuck on the last job.

  “You’re not a novice. You’ve belayed for me lots of times. This is no different.” Logan’s gift for reading the room extended to reading his mind.

  Logan’s right, but his analytical mind kept running through the possibilities. The pulley system they made could more than handle this job. He knew Logan and Zee had run through this suspension multiple times, but he didn’t trust his gut. Not anymore, not after that one day in June.

  “You can do this.” Logan crouched down in front of the submissive, kissed her on the forehead. Quinn swallowed a lump in his throat. He found the intimacy displayed in BDSM sexy as hell and maybe he missed it—a smidge.

  “I’m ready!” Clara’s cheeks flushed with excitement.

  “Here, you do the honours.” Logan handed him a cell phone. “Click the icons on the app to change the speed of the vibrator. She’s not coming down until she screams.”

  “This isn’t enough to keep me here, you know.” But he took the phone. Whatever, it would get him out of here faster. His friend knew Quinn loved making subs lose their guarded control. And Logan loved spectacles, taking something intimate and making a performance out of it, and it was interesting to watch, but the type of submission Quinn lived for was the kind wrought by an audience of one.

  “I need you for three minutes or three hours. What do you think, little sub? How long is it going to take you to come in front of all those people, up in the air like that?” the sub closed her eyes under Logan’s touch. Quinn couldn’t help but smile, knowing Clara was wearing the vibrator under her black lacey panties.

  “Not long,” Clara murmured.

  “We’ll find out.” Logan clapped his hands together.

  “Telling them to open curtains,” Zee spoke into the headset.

  “Here we go,” Logan signalled a countdown of five.

  The curtain parted, the gasps and exclamations rolled through the crowd. Quinn’s shoulders tightened, and he ground his molars. But he zeroed in and fell back on his experience, his hands sure on the smooth rope.

  “Now, for my first and only trick of the evening, I will raise this submissive to the rafters!” Logan flashed a grin at the audience “With the help of my gorgeous assistant, Quinn.”

  Quinn gave him the finger. The crowd laughed.

  “Let’s raise this submissive to the rafters!”

  At each pull of the rope, the chair lifted higher. The crowd cheered.

  Quinn trampled down his impatience. Leaving in the middle of a suspension would be bad form, but he considered it for a moment.

  Logan waved at the crowd, encouraging their applause. One last dramatic pull brought the chair inches from the ceiling.

  “How’s the view from there, Clara?”

  “Awesome,” Clara said.

  “Should we leave you hanging out there all night?”

  “I think your arms will be tired before mine,” Logan said.

  Quinn felt his lips twitch, and the audience laughed.

  “Want to try me?” Logan’s voice lowered.

  Quinn snorted.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Only one way I’m going to let you down. Do you remember?”

  Clara smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

  Quinn took that as his cue, taking the rope in one hand and tapping the “pulse” icon on his phone with his other.

  A slight shiver made Clara shift in her seat. “When I have an orgasm, you’ll let me down.”

  “Yes. Do you think you can come with all these pe
ople watching you?” the crowd loved this, and someone sent out a sharp whistle.

  “Yes, Sir,” Clara said with a breathy voice, struggling against the ropes as the vibrator pulsed against her needy, exposed clit.

  Quinn pressed the “vibrate” icon on the app, and Clara closed her eyes as the sensations changed.

  “All these people watching you, hanging here tied up in a chair. How is it making you feel?” Logan’s low voice carried with the resonance of a dominant in total control.

  “Exposed,” Clara whispered as she tried to thrust against the red ropes that bound her in place.

  “Turned on?” Quinn couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to strangle Logan. He hadn’t counted on being in a scene.

  “So turned on!”

  “Good. Let’s see if you’ll scream above all these people. Rack it up, Quinn.”

  “My pleasure.” Quinn pressed the icon for “bounce.” He couldn’t help the thrill that travelled through his body at the sight of Clara, tied on the chair, the charge of being connected to her through the rope in his hand, and the control of the vibrator in the other.

  “That should do it. Let go, Clara.” Damn, he missed being in charge of a woman’s orgasm.

  “I see you, Clara. You’re beautiful, tied up in my ropes, suspended above all these people. Come for us, darling.” Logan pulled on the ropes, causing the chair to sway.

  When Quinn saw her face scrunch up, her hands grip the arms of the chair; he changed the intensity of the vibrations coursing through her again, pressing the icon for “peak.”

  Clara’s mouth opened in a wide O, and for a second, she slumped forward.

  “Looks like you came, my sweet rope bunny. Enough to let you down, do you think? What happened to that scream?”

  Clara shook with laughter, the stage lights picking up the streak of tears rolling down her face.

  “Yes, please,” Clara whispered. “I couldn’t scream.”

  “What do you think, everyone?” Logan turned to the crowd.

  Gentle clapping rolled through the crowd.

  “You gave us a show, Clara,” Logan beamed, his voice thick with praise.

  “We’re going to bring you down, nice and slow now,” Quinn said, sliding the phone in his pocket and taking the ropes in both hands.

  Bringing his left hand under his right, Quinn steadied the rope. On Logan’s signal, he let the rope feed through the belay device, keeping a pace that matched Logan’s on the opposite side, so the chair didn’t tip.

  A slow and steady half-minute later, the chair and Clara landed on the black stage floor, and the crowd applauded.

  “Next time, we should do two chairs,” Logan grinned. He rushed over to Clara, caressed her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “Good girl, I’ll untie these ropes.”

  “Delighted to lend a hand. Going now.” He gave Logan his phone back and took advantage of him being occupied, but Quinn didn’t want another argument about why he should stay in town.

  The red textured walls and shining hardwood floors lent the cavernous space a warm and luxurious air. Soft lighting highlighted various play stations scattered around the perimeter of the room.

  Quinn moved through the crowd, shrugging off attempts at small talk from the other members. Not that long ago, Club Bandit felt like a second home, and even though he thought Club Bandit and Bandit Brothers silly names, he was damn grateful for both.

  The soothing space couldn’t calm Quinn’s angst, and he rushed for the exit.

  Here in this place, with lashes of leather in the background, the cries of passion, it contained too much life. And he couldn’t escape the fact that he felt half-dead inside. The thick air of excitement made his chest tight. Almost like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted an escape.

  His brother Jordan coined the five of them “Bandit Brothers” from their army days, and the name expanded, encompassing their small, tight-knit group of private operatives who worked for Axis Management after they finished with the military. The five of them were members of Team Stealth, security operatives whose primary job consisted of going in and getting out with no one knowing they were ever there.

  Club Bandit took inspiration from the name when Zee converted the old staff quarters of his mansion into a BDSM Club. He joked he couldn’t be in their club, so he had to create one of his own. Six months ago, Quinn would have been whipping his then-sub, Rachel, right next to his buddy and fellow Bandit Brother, Nick Laurent, but things changed.

  Like when Rachel screamed at him to whip her harder and Quinn refused, she said, “You’re not man enough to hit me.” Quinn dismissed her right then and there because he hated manipulation. He should have cut ties earlier for the way Rachel had treated his sister. He should have done it because no matter what he’d given Rachel, it was never enough.

  “Not feeling it?” Gabe Arthur, another Bandit Brother asked him, walking alongside him. His eyes fell on X cross in the corner, and a wave of grief hit Quinn in the centre of his chest. It was his fault he didn’t have anyone.

  “I’m leaving.” His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  “You can be a part of it, Quinn. You don’t have to go,” Gabe said.

  With his heart thundering in his chest, Quinn kept walking.

  He refused to let go of the potent mix of grief and pain. Instead, he cocooned himself in it, cutting himself off from his friends and family. If he let the reins holding his pain go, it would take him under.

  “Quinn.” Logan’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him in his stride. “Call me when you’re home.”

  “I don’t need another mother.” Quinn shook off Logan’s arm.

  His friend put his hands up in a placating gesture.

  Quinn sighed. He’d put Logan through hell these last few months, and his friend didn’t deserve him being an asshole now.

  Quinn extended his fist, and Logan bumped it back.

  Quinn started to turn to the exit but stopped. “What the fuck?” He growled out the words.

  “He’s our brother.” Logan’s hand came around Quinn’s arm.

  Quinn glared at the brick wall of a man standing in front of him. Erik fucking Knight. The bastard he’d never wanted to see again.

  Quinn would always blame himself, but the man in front of him didn’t do his job. In the night’s dark, from the depths of his self-pity, Quinn often turned it over in his head, asking himself whose fault it was that Jordan was dead. His or Erik’s? The answer depended on the night.

  “He’s not my brother.”

  Erik passed Quinn and disappeared into the door on the left, marked ‘Private.’

  Quinn breathed through his nose, barely managing not to slam the club’s door behind him. He marched over to his truck and fought for self-control, this time resisting the urge to pound his fist into metal.

  Getting in his truck, he grabbed his phone from the console, seeing his sister’s number. Listening to the message, Quinn cursed.

  He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The restaurant off the highway didn’t look like it had a paint job in fifty years. Every tile on the black-and-white floor cracked. Ripped faux leather on the booths, and the lighting fixtures belonged in an antique shop, yet the place sparkled.

  Typical for Kayleigh, she hadn’t arrived. Quinn signalled for coffee. A total bastard move, not telling his little sister he was leaving town. Quinn dragged a hand over his scruffy face. His sister’s message said she needed to talk and gave the address of this restaurant to meet. With Kayleigh, “talk” could mean anything from sobbing over a break-up to sharing a new promotion, to being upset that the woman at the nail salon didn’t do a good job.

  “Here’s your coffee.” The server placed the steaming mug in front of him.

  Quinn gave the older woman a nod. “Thanks.”

  The chime above the door sounded, and he glanced up.

  Not his sister. A thin man with long shaggy yellow hair, dressed in an oversized coat and sunglasses, stopped beside his table.

  “You need money?” Quinn asked the guy.

  “You the fire guy?” he asked.

  The man swayed back and forth. A discreet sniff didn’t reveal any alcohol smell. The man kept looking around, hopping on his feet.

  Quinn played along for now. “Sure. I’m the fire guy.”