The Dark Side of Kingsley: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  The Dark Side of Kingsley

  Skylar West

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  ©2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Skylar West

  The Dark Side of Kingsley

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-122-4

  v1

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Skylar West

  Blushing Books

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  Chapter 1

  Kingsley

  For the hundredth time, I questioned my choice. With all of the businesses I had created, why purchase a nightclub? The answer came unbidden as it always did. A tendril of thought entering my consciousness, the club helps to fulfill the dark side of your nature.

  Inwardly, I sighed at the truth of that thought. Outwardly, I took in the scene around me. It was a packed night, filled with every type of evening fun seeker. The millennials seemed to be making an 80s comeback with the different hairstyles and anything goes outfits. I liked observing them as they appeared to have the world at their feet.

  Unlike my other patrons, the millennials didn't suffer from the same fashion constraints as my generation. I was born in 1982, and my childhood was filled with those ground-breaking images like Boy George, David Bowie, and A Flock of Seagulls. They were outrageous at the time and yet wholly embraced by those seeking something different.

  I love the individuality that was expressed at that time in history, the willingness to be different and not give a crap about others' opinions. I learned to adopt that individuality and daring into my thoughts and deeds. Not so much in the area of fashion. I'm a classic black dresser.

  I chose to look unapproachable from a young age as growing up with the name Kingsley, even in the higher social circles of London, had not been easy. I hit the gym at fifteen years old, started Muay Tai boxing at sixteen and boxing at eighteen. My parents were horrified, but I gave them little choice, always throwing back in their faces my birth name.

  I grew from a skinny, pasty kid, to a built, six foot one, fighting machine. With dark hair and eyes that looked almost black, I took summer labor jobs that allowed me to work outside and change my pasty English skin to a light bronze that now stayed with me all year. That helped get rid of everything I didn't like about myself except one thing.

  My dark side. It followed me all through my developing adolescence, making a mockery of me for the briefest of moments when I went to college. That was when I decided to make friends with my dark side and embrace that dominant aspect of my personality. Which now, is what women fall at my feet for.

  I am a highly sought-out dominant alpha male, and I have played with hundreds of women—women who thought they were submissive or desired to be. But I have yet to find a true submissive for a mate. They are a rare commodity.

  It is not something you become because it's all the rage, everyone wanting to explore the racier side of sex and the pain/pleasure threshold. A pure submissive melts in your arms when she surrenders. She lets go of control and follows the direction and desire of the dominant alpha male because she wants to and needs to do so. In the bedroom, a true submissive is the most exciting thing I've ever encountered.

  Outside of the bedroom, she is a bit tricky. Life can beat her down pretty quickly. When I am approached by a true submissive, I almost feel sorry for her. She will either have a tough veneer, one she thinks will fool everyone else so she can protect her soft inside, or she can be far too eager and open, both of which a dominant personality can detect immediately. If one wants to play, the dominant alpha knows what to do and say to get that submissive in the sack.

  The problem is those dominants usually use them and dump them, and after this happens several times, the submissive female knows she is in danger. So, she becomes reckless or wound up. Then someone, like myself, sees if he can weave his way through, work with them for a bit, try to help them stabilize.

  Now, at thirty-six years old, I'm bored and tired of trying to save the damaged ones. Instead, I amuse myself by watching the games in my club and wondering if a true submissive will walk through my doors, one who is perfect for me, one who not only will I train, but keep for myself.

  "Kingsley, trouble outside."

  "Thanks, John." I was lucky in my staff, having very good doormen in my employ.

  The scene outside was not what I expected. A gorgeous, five-foot five-inch blonde who looked familiar despite knowing I'd never met her and two guys, one with a split lip being held back by two of my doormen, and the other holding his foot in his hand looking like he'd like to murder the petite blonde with the smug look on her face.

  "Would someone like to explain to me what in the world is going on?"

  "I will," the little blonde piped up.

  "These two assholes thought it was okay to corner me in the line-up and start feeling me up. So, I punched that one in the mouth and slammed my high heel down on that one's foot. If I'd known the crowd here were douche bags, I would have made different arrangements to see my friend. I was about to leave, but these two Neanderthals told me to wait. So now you know, goodbye."

  She turned to leave. I had a feeling about her. "Stop."

  I didn't say it loud, just with a certain amount of command. The blonde immediately stopped her retreat and spun around to face me. She sized me up from head to toe.

  "Why should I?"

  The net was cast, now all I had to do was pull in my catch.

  "I would like to buy you a drink in apology for what you went through. It is unacceptable."

  I turned to John. "Get rid of these two; they are not welcome." I held out my arm to the young woman, and she took it.

  "I'm Kingsley, welcome to my club, King's Castle."

  "I'm Kate."

  "Kate?"

  "Yes, well, Katarina, but Kate for short," she answered reluctantly.

  Then I knew why I recognized her; she was rich, probably as wealthy as my family. But while our wealth came from several hundred years of being part of the English aristocracy and sound investments, her family was new money. Her father, a Silicon Valley mastermind, was always in the headlines.

  The social media posts portrayed them as quite a mess, with the mother jet setting all over the world partying and carrying on like a twenty-year-old, while her father was usually spotted with women barely out of their teens and in some controversial clubs. I found myself curious to know Ka
te's story, and who was this friend she was meeting?

  "You said you were here to meet a friend?" I kept my tone light and friendly, so as not to alert her to my knowing her identity.

  "Yes, and there she is."

  Suddenly becoming animated, Kate jumped up, letting go of my arm and pushing her way to the stage. The weekend band was about to start their second set of the night. The lead singer, Danica Dawn, was who Kate was pushing through the crowd to see.

  The ladies embraced; Danica glanced up at me as I'd followed Kate. "Hello, Mr. Deveraux; we're ready to start," she said, acknowledging my presence.

  I gave her a predatory grin and said, "Excellent, on your break, you'll find Kate over by the bar with me." I pointed out where to find us. Kate was about to speak, but before she could, I drew her away from her friend and toward the bar. She looked put out, but I silenced her with a look.

  Katarina was definitely a submissive, although I doubted she knew. I ordered her a drink and sat her down at my little table beside the bar. It was a perfect vantage point to survey the entire club, and she would have a good view of the band.

  "Here you go, Kate, now, why don't you tell me what Katarina Wallington is doing in my club?"

  She choked on her drink, then she pushed it away, sitting back in her chair, no doubt feeling like she needed to create space between us. She crossed her arms and went on the defensive. I tried not to show my outward amusement. Everything she did, showed who she was.

  "Why do you care, Kingsley Deveraux of the London Deveraux's, if I like slumming in bad boy clubs?"

  Why the little minx, she challenged and insulted me at the same time, touché. I liked her. She was quick to respond, and she would not be cornered quickly by a random alpha; she was too smart for that.

  I openly grinned at her, not something I usually did, preferring the stand-offish resting face to match the rest of my look. "I like you, Ms. Kate. You are a fierce creature."

  She smiled, and when she did, her eyes lit up and seemed to dance with merriment. She was truly enchanting.

  "May I ask you a question?" she asked. By using the word 'may', it was another sign of her true nature. My God, the woman was a gold mine of submissiveness and didn't even know it. My cock grew hard at the thought of having her, controlling her responses, watching her pant with need, need for me.

  I inclined my head in response. "Why does such a wealthy, eligible bachelor wish to own a bar?" In response, I decided to test her. The band had started, and it had gotten loud, too loud for a conversation.

  I energized my alpha male, allowing my power to emanate through every fiber of my being. My eyes blackened, and I grew rigid and self-contained. I reached out and held my open palm to her in an invitation. As she gazed into my face, I saw the telltale sign in her eyes—dilated pupils.

  She hesitantly reached out her hand and placed it in my much larger one. I closed my fingers around hers, engulfing her hand, and although I did not squeeze, I made sure she felt the power in my grip. Her eyes widened as she gazed into my face again. I watched her body respond to the energy moving through her and me.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath became short and quick. She licked her lips, and my gaze darkened as I gazed piercingly into her wide eyes. As I ran my thumb over her soft palm, I felt, rather than heard, a moan escape her. She leaned back in her chair and completely relaxed, her eyes narrowed and glazed.

  She was in euphoria, just like that. I'd never seen anyone move into that place with so little effort on my part. She truly was exceptional, almost too much so. I wanted her desperately, but I didn't wish her to know that yet. I released her hand and rapped my knuckles on the table in front of her. She startled and immediately sat up. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed her, and when she seemed satisfied that no had seen her drop to euphoria, she turned her gaze back to me.

  This time, her eyes held none of the wide-eyed innocence from a few moments earlier. Her eyes sent me a direct challenge. Then she got up and thanked me for the drink.

  "Where do you think you're going, Ms. Kate?"

  "I think we're done here, King." She pushed her way through the crowd to the front of the stage. I lost sight of her, but I knew she was there, because Danica gave me a look from the stage that spoke volumes. I chuckled outwardly. That had been the most exciting first meet I'd ever had.

  Chapter 2

  Kate

  I retreated into the noisy crowd and wondered what had happened? The moment that muscular brooding man took my hand; I went into a dream state. Everything faded into the background, and the only real thing was his hand wrapped around mine.

  He set my insides on fire, an ember, making its way down to my core. I felt weak, and the insides of my thighs were slick as my lady parts continued to clench in response to Kingsley. I wobbled up to the stage doing my best to look like I was into the music, but Danica knew better. I saw her look from me and across the bar to what I assumed was Kingsley.

  Who was Kingsley Deveraux, really? I felt a power surge from him, an electrical surge that woke me up inside and scared the crap out of me. I wanted him, badly, to just take me right there on the table. I'd never felt so compelled to have sex.

  I forced my body to dance, trying to get into the music, but my mind was eons away, scanning my memory, looking at news clippings and headlines about Kingsley Deveraux. The man belonged to one of the twenty wealthiest families in England. His lineage dated back to the times of Henry the Seventh, his older sister was married to an earl and cousin to the Queen of England.

  Kingsley had been photographed with many women clinging to his arm, none of whom would be considered marriage material. He was thirty-six years old and recognized by the press to be a bachelor for life.

  Kingsley Deveraux had never dated, never been engaged. He was dangerous and would need avoiding. I had no interest in being another trophy on that rich and powerful man's wall.

  Danica and her band were getting ready to end their second set. I had a drink waiting for her and stood when she made her way over. Danica was a vibrant, steaming hot brunette, encased in a long-limbed, five-foot-six frame.

  She engulfed me in an embrace. "Yo, girl, what happened earlier? You looked like you'd seen a ghost when you came wobbling up to the stage."

  I laughed. "Nothing, just had enough of your boss. He's kind of—"

  "Over the top?" Danica cut in.

  I laughed at her assessment of her boss. "That's a good way of putting it. Yeah, over the top. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about Mr. Deveraux; I'm here to be with you. Anyone new?"

  Danica rolled her eyes. "As if. In my line of business, I get primarily drunken frat boys, like, no thank you." We both laughed. "How about you, Kat, it's been a long time since that last asshole?" I sighed. "No, and not really looking, either. Guys are more work than they're worth."

  Danica nodded in agreement, taking a sip of her drink. Maybe most guys were not worth my time, but a man like Kingsley, he was in a league of his own; he was not a guy, he was all man.

  "Don't look now, Katie, but it appears a worthless guy is on his way over."

  "What? Who?"

  "Nine o'clock," she smirked.

  Damn, it was Kingsley, I watched him walk across the dance floor toward us. Customers instinctively gave him a wider berth. I rolled my eyes and wondered what masculine nonsense he would be spouting.

  "Katarina, my favorite song has come on, would you indulge me in a dance?"

  That was not what I'd been expecting. I looked at Danica, who looked back at me with amusement. She wasn't going to be any help at all. I was about to decline when I heard what was playing, Fallin' All in You, by Shawn Mendes.

  Damn, he chose a great song. I was curious, and my lady parts were clenching at the thought of having his rock-hard body pressed against me. I took his hand, and he escorted me to the dance floor. "Just follow."

  Suddenly, I was twirling and grinding as he led me through some seriously dirty dancing.

/>   He should be a professional, I thought. I did my best to follow and avoid his toes. The others on the floor parted, encircling us. I felt like I was at a nineteen sixties dance-off. I was starting to catch on and enjoy our dance, especially when he pulled me in tightly to his body and literally was moving me.

  Oh, yeah, baby, let me be your ragdoll, I mused. The song ended, and I was congratulating myself on not falling and only stepping on him twice when Despacito came on, and he swung me back out, and we danced a little salsa.

  Well, hell, I let go of my inhibitions; this hottie wanted to dance with me, I would give him something to remember. I had taken salsa professionally and had even entered some competitions. Now I owned the floor, he whistled appreciatively then pulled me in and we went through an entire routine, side by side, spinning in and out, while he pulled me in for dips, slides, and kicks.

  On the last note, I slid down his leg with my back leg extended, my hands at the top of his thighs, and the crowd, which had grown, was whistling and clapping. I smiled up at him as he pulled me up to my feet. "You are one fine dancer, Ms. Kate. Thank you for indulging me."

  "You are welcome, Kingsley." I winked. He was shaking his head in amusement as he wandered back to the bar, and I, to my table with Danica.

  "Wow, Kat, that was hot."

  "You're telling me," I said, waving my drink coaster to cool down. "I think that was the hottest partner I've ever had." We broke out in peals of laughter.

  "Listen, time for my last set. are you going to stay till the end?"