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- Herausgeber: December Drake
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Aspiring parents. Couples. An exclusive fertility club connects them with willing donors and surrogates, who are eager to serve. Enjoy quick stories where every woman leaves satisfied, and often claimed. Volume 2 returns with three more spicy tales.
Volume 2 Includes:
- A lawyer finds his enemy in the club, and can't resist claiming her.
- A bitter, divorced man claims the surrogate his ex-wife chose.
- An undercover agent investigating the club loses to his feelings, and claims his partner.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Copyright © 2024 December Drake
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Club Breed: Volume Two
December Drake
Contents
Breeding His Enemy
Russell winked at the receptionist when he passed her desk. He ignored the security guard’s shout and made a sharp left down the nearest hall, into the first office.
“Hey, Vee.”
Violet looked up from her paperwork, and groaned. “Shit. It was shaping up to be such a nice evening, too.”
The security guard burst into the office seconds later, his face stormy.
“It’s okay, Luke,” she sighed. “It’s only my brother.”
Luke hesitated in the doorway, glowering, before he backed from the room once more.
Russell flopped into the nearest chair and lifted a brow as he watched the brooding giant retreat. “Fuck, what a bruiser. Since when do you need a bodyguard?”
“It’s a sex club, Russell. And he’s club security, not my bodyguard.”
“You sure about that? I saw the way he looked at you. I think he wants to do a lot more than guard your body.”
Violet laughed, then cleared her throat. She shifted in her chair as she snuck a glance toward the door, where Luke had stood.
Interesting.
Perhaps it wasn’t one-sided, then. Russell tucked that clue away for later. “So, how’s the breeding farm?”
Violet took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “This is why Mom thinks I’m running a brothel. Because you keep saying shit like that.”
“No, I’m why she doesn’t think this is a brothel. Although, let’s be real, Vee. We’re both lawyers. This little business niche you’ve carved out?” He glanced around the room with a twirl of his finger. “Very legally ambiguous. Gray as fuck.”
“You’re an intellectual property lawyer, Russell. I’m not interested in your professional opinion. You also can’t just show up here whenever you’re bored. It’s a private club.”
Russell straightened, and adjusted his tie. “I have every right. I’m a registered sperm donor, remember?”
“You only registered to spy on me.”
He snorted as he stood. “Someone has to convince Mom that you’re not a Madame.”
“Go home, Russell.”
“Fertility sex club,” he said with air quotes, as he backed toward the door. “Let’s call it what it is: A breeding kink sex playground for the rich. Turning desperate, middle class women into playthings, on the promise of getting knocked up with some high society spunk.”
“Russell Corbin, complaining about the rich? I must be dreaming,” an all too familiar voice replied behind him. “That takes a breathtaking lack of self-awareness, Corbin. Even for you.”
He turned in disbelief to find Alyssa Hart marching furiously down the hall toward him. “Are you following me now, Hart? You must have tailed me straight from the courthouse.”
“I wouldn’t follow you across the street, let alone to Club Breed. There’s no need to. The stench of corporate money clings to you like dog shit.”
Russell whistled and chuckled as he stepped closer to her. “So fiery. Losing that case today really riled you up, didn’t it? Maybe if you stopped representing losers, you wouldn’t be so bitter.”
Her mouth tightened as she obviously held back whatever she really wanted to say, though he was dying to hear it. “I always wondered if you were just as big of an asshole outside the courtroom. Thanks for confirming.”
“There’s only room for assholes in our field, Hart. Once you understand that, you’ll level up and finally start making some money.”
He frowned, finally noting her casual lounge pants, sneakers, and the large tote bag on her shoulder. “Why are you here, if you didn’t follow me?”
The fury returned to Alyssa’s eyes. “I guess I’m just another desperate, middle class woman.” She shoved past him and continued down the hall.
Russell stared after her, his mind blank with shock. The sudden rush of blood in his ears drowned out the club’s heavy bass music.
Violet jumped when he burst through the door again, her pen trailing off in a jagged line of ink. “Christ, Russell. What now?”
He slammed the office door shut on Luke’s scowling face. “A woman just arrived at the club. Hart. Alyssa Hart. She’s an IP lawyer.”
“You really do know every lawyer in the industry, don’t you?”
“It’s IP law, Vee. It’s a small fucking circle. Let me see her file.”
“You know that’s not happening.” Violet studied his face and pushed her paperwork aside. “What’s gotten into you?”
He cleared his throat and yanked at his tie, loosening his collar as sweat prickled his skin. “Call it professional curiosity. That angry terrier of a woman has been a pain in my ass for two years straight.”
“Then shouldn’t you be running the other way?”
Russell hesitated, searching for words. Violet lifted her chin and met his eyes with an amused, speculative look that he didn’t care for.
He slammed his hand on her desk. “Give me Hart’s file,” he snarled. “Or I’ll show up Saturday night with Mom and her entire book club for a guided tour.”
Violet huffed incredulously with a small shake of her head. “You’re such an asshole, Russell.”
“You’re the second person to call me that tonight. If the shoe fits. File. Now.”
She spun her chair around, hissing a curse as she dug a folder out of her file cabinet. Dropping it onto her desk, she moved aside for him to read it.
He found himself flipping through a dozen or so dense, fine-print legal contracts. But he supposed it was necessary for the type of business his sister conducted.
Russell finally located Alyssa’s donor preferences, blinking at the sparse, nearly empty page. He barked a laugh that ended in an angry, shuddering breath.
“Just any ol’ dick will do, is that it?” he muttered. “Good to know.”
Violet slapped at his hand when he yanked open her drawer and plucked out one of the colorful wristbands. “What the fuck, Russell.”
“Put me on your breeding stud roster for the night.” He shoved the band on his wrist as he strode to the door.
She jumped to her feet. “That’s not how it works. Club entrance is reserved ahead of time. You can’t just drop in.”
“Watch me.” He wrenched the door open.
There was no way to get to the breeding rooms without surrendering his street clothes in the men’s locker room, and showering. Russell scrubbed up impatiently, threw on his assigned sweatpants, and skipped the white undershirt.
The connected waiting room was already full of the night’s donors. Bottled water and stimulant energy drinks were lined up neatly on a table. He picked up an energy drink and raised his brow at the warnings on the label.
Ah, right. Club Breed expected its donors to fuck a woman not once, but twice in a row. Russell snorted, shaking his head as he opened the bottle and downed a few healthy swallows.
A few were gathered around the big screens, their dicks already at full attention as they watched the live club feeds of other donors happily breeding eager women in large, open rooms.
The arena seating stretching around each room writhed with shadowy, filthy activity, as the spectators got their own rocks off. All except those spectators who had paid even more, granting them the ability to walk the breeding floor. And at the highest paid tier, even touch.
On the biggest screen, a spectator wandered over to one of the round beds. Some hapless woman was on her knees, getting more than she’d probably bargained for while a muscular donor fucked her within an inch of her life.
The spectator reached out, toying with her swinging tits. The bastard watched her gasping face as he pinched and tugged on her nipples.
The bottle crackled in Russell’s hand. Anger rushed through him, leaving his ears ringing. He tossed the drink into the trash, crossed the room, and stepped out into the dark hall.
A security guard stood a few feet away, checking his phone. Russell ducked easily behind him into the connected hallway. At the other end, a group of lingerie-clad women were already heading out of the women’s area.
Alyssa gasped when he caught her arm and pulled her back into the women’s locker room. “What the hell, Corbin!”
“Russell,” he replied distractedly, as he checked the locker room for stragglers. “I think we’re beyond the formalities, at this point.”
“What the—” She dropped her voice. “What are you doing?”
“We aren’t done with our conversation.”
She lifted her arms in a halfhearted attempt to cover her cleavage, which unfortunately pulled his eyes right down to it. She had a little freckle less than an inch from her barely concealed nipple. His mouth watered, even as his jaw clenched.
There were a dozen or so women all over the club wearing similar sheer white nighties, so he couldn’t figure out why his mind went blank as his gaze swept her body.
She scoffed, drawing his attention once more. “What were we talking about before? That’s right: you were suggesting I abandon my principles and become an asshole in order to line my pockets with money, like you have.”
“Apparently, you don’t mind spreading your legs for rich assholes when it’s time for a baby,” he sneered.
Alyssa took a step back, alarmed. “How are you even here? Are you pretending to be a donor? Maybe it’s you who’s been following me.”
“Oh, I’m very much a donor, Alyssa.”
He smirked as she seemed to note his bare chest for the first time, her eyes widening before she quickly looked away again.
