Page 6 of Daddy Marc's Gem (Club Sensation #2)

The moment Foster reached Club Sensation, his ever-present doubts and fears enveloped him. He stood outside on the sidewalk, staring at the steps leading to the front doors, trying to decide whether he dared to go inside. His desire to take a peek inside the club had seemed like a solid plan in his living room. On the streets of downtown Boston, not so much.

Prior to finding a parking space in a nearby garage, he’d noticed the restaurant attached to the club. Maybe if he went there instead, his nerves would be better equipped to handle a genuine club visit in the future. The major problem with that plan was he hated eating in restaurants by himself. Marc had no idea how exciting going to a nice place to eat on their date had been for him.

He smoothed down his red silk shirt that his ex had given him last Christmas in an effort to turn him into dance club guy. Edward’s effort had been a big fail. Foster had tried to become nightlife guy for Edward, but as usual, his boyfriend had become frustrated with him. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the greatest dancer in the world, but mocking his ability had been completely unnecessary.

His black dress slacks and patent leather Oxfords he’d worn to a friend’s wedding back in California completed his ensemble. When he’d checked the dress code on Sensation’s website, his outfit was permissable. The red bracelet available at the door was what had finally given him the confidence to go inside. Supposedly, no one could bother him if he wore one.

Foster gently patted his slicked-back hair, cleared his throat, and on shaky legs, made his way up the steps. The doorman, a mountain of a man with tattoos snaking up his forearms, gave Foster a once-over.

“Are you a member?”

“Uh…” Foster’s voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat again. “N-no. I saw on the website that I could get a pass for the night?”

The man nodded. “Sure. Check in at the desk.”

Foster sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. Maybe . “Thanks.”

The man nodded him through. Foster’s throat constricted as he stepped inside, the heavy bass of dance music pulsing through his body. The entrance was dimly lit, the threshold marking a boundary between the ordinary world and something unknown. Foster’s heartbeat echoed in his ears as he approached the reception desk, where a thin man with several industrial piercings and sharp eyeliner studied him.

“What can I help you with?”

Foster wiped the back of his hand across his upper lip. Never had he felt so out of his element. “I’d like to get a guest pass for the night, please.”

The corner of the man’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “I need an ID, first.” After Foster showed him his license, the men continued. “You aren’t allowed to play as a visitor, but you can choose between two bracelets. Red means do not approach at all. Yellow is observing only, but open to discussion once a membership is purchased. Understand?”

“Red,” Foster blurted.

“Right. That means you understand, then?”

Foster let out a shaky chuckle. “Right. Sorry. Yes, I understand.”

After signing a form outlining the rules and agreeing to behave himself, he was handed two rubber bracelets. The requested red one as well as a white one.

“Excuse me. What’s the white one for.”

“Let’s everyone know you’re here on a pass.”

“Oh, I see. Thanks.”

He slipped on the bracelets, then eyed the threshold of the enormous club. He’d had no idea the place would be so big and intimidating. The main room of Club Sensation stretched before him like an alien landscape. Dark corners housed couples and groups engaged in conversation or enjoying the atmosphere.

The center of the room showcased a sea of moving bodies, couples, throuples and more gyrating together. Unlike regular nightclubs, the dancing seemed more purposeful—some participants wearing elaborate leather ensembles, others in dress clothes similar to his own, and yet others naked or nearly naked.

Foster hugged the wall, hoping his red bracelet was a beacon to any potential interested Doms. He’d expected whips and chains everywhere, screams echoing through dungeon halls. Instead, he found something that resembled an upscale lounge with subtle differences—padded benches along one side of an enclave where people knelt beside seated partners and a raised platform where a man in elaborate rope work posed like living art.

At the far end of the club, beyond the dance floor, an elaborate bar lit up in pink and purple LED lights was crowded with patrons at least two deep. Two hallways on either side of the bar led to mysterious locations that Foster doubted he’d want to explore. The more he thought about it, the more he figured he should remain where he was. Nothing good could come from him attracting attention to himself.

Foster startled at the sound of a booming voice next to him.

“Hi. You new? I saw you trying to hide over here and figured this was your first time. I’m here on a trial basis myself.” The beefy man who appeared as though he moved boulders singlehandedly towered over him. “I see you’re not playing…” He nodded toward Foster’s wrist. “But if you have questions about the lifestyle, perhaps we could find a table and chat about your interests. You know, help you out.”

Foster stared up at the man, his jaw slack, unable to draw in any air to respond. His mind scrambled to catch up to what was happening. Hadn’t the goth guy at the front told him that the white bracelet meant no one could talk to him? Or was it the red? Foster glanced down at his wrist to discover the other bracelet was covered by his cuff. He fumbled with his sleeve, digging beneath it to yank the bracelet into view.

The bruiser chuckled. “Hey, you don’t need to be afraid of me.” The man leaned down, his hot breath wafting against Foster’s ear. “I’ve got a nice, big cock. You won’t be disappointed. I’ll take real good care of you. I have a ring for my dick, so I can go all night long.” He glanced over his shoulder as if to check whether they were being watched. “But we can’t do it here. We’ll have to go to your place or mine, up to you. I can’t get caught doing anything with you in the club because of that red bracelet.”

Foster’s heart hammered against his ribs as he struggled to retrieve the other bracelet. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. The red bracelet was supposed to protect him, not make him the target of a proposition. He pressed himself further against the wall, wishing he could melt into it.

“I—I’m not... I mean, thank you, but I’m not looking for that,” he stammered, barely able to speak loud enough to be heard over the background music.

The man’s smile tightened. “Come on, pretty boy. You didn’t come here just to watch.” He placed a meaty hand on the wall beside Foster’s head, effectively boxing him in. “I’m being nice. Another guy might not be.”

Panic bloomed as Foster tried to figure a way out of the situation. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d pushed away the idea of allowing Marc to take him to the club—a man who would’ve protected him—and now he was in a huge mess. He darted his eyes around, searching for an escape when a familiar deep voice cut through his fear.

“Is there a problem here?”

Marc’s deep, steady tone washed over Foster like a balm. Marc stood behind the larger man, his expression one of fury. Foster’s relief was so overwhelming he almost slid to the floor.

The larger man turned, his stance shifting from predatory to uncertainty as he took in Marc’s commanding presence. Though not as physically imposing as the bruiser, Marc radiated an authority that seemed to fill the space between them.

“No problem,” the man said, taking a small step back. “Just having a friendly chat with the new kid.”

Marc's eyes never left the man’s face, though Foster could tell he was acutely aware of his presence.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Marc growled. “And I believe the bracelets on his wrist makes it clear he's not interested in conversation.”

The guy flicked his eye down to Foster’s wrist and frowned. Foster had finally managed to set the other rubbery item free. The bruiser scratched his bald head.

“What’s the white one supposed to mean again?” He grunted. “This place has too many rules to keep track of.”

A tall, model-worthy man in a designer suit appeared beside them as if summoned by the tension in the air. He could almost be Marc’s brother. They were about the same age, and both had dark beards and hair with a sprinkling of silver.

“Everything okay here?” His question was directed at Marc, and Foster sensed they knew each other.

“No,” Marc replied with a bite in his tone. “This gentleman seems to be having trouble understanding the club’s bracelet system.”

The guy held up his palms as if in surrender. “Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but I didn’t see that other bracelet before. It’s wicked dark in here and I’m new to the club myself.”

Marc’s friend spoke up. “I’m the owner, Master Zane. And seeing as you’re new and the rules are a bit fuzzy to you, maybe take the night off and reacquaint yourself with them.” Zane turned to Marc. “I’ll be escorting this gentleman out. You’ve got this under control?”

Marc moved closer to Foster, and he resisted the urge to jump into his arms. When Marc draped an arm around his shoulders, Foster wanted to melt into his side.

“Absolutely.”

Marc and Zane exchanged nods right as a man who was about the same size as the bruiser approached. “Need some help, boss?”

The bruiser grumbled something under his breath. “Come on, guys. I’m not gonna make trouble. No need to call the Staties or nothing. I’ll go.”

Master Zane crossed his arms. “Perhaps there’s no reason to call the police as of now, but let’s keep it that way.”

As Master Zane and his security staff escorted the bruiser out of the club, Marc turned to Foster, his expression questioning. The concern etched in Marc’s features made Foster’s heart rate increase.

“Are you okay?” Marc’s voice was gentle but tense, his arm still resting protectively on Foster’s shoulders.

Foster nodded, though his hands trembled slightly. “I'm fine. Just... taken aback, I guess.” He attempted a weak smile. “I didn’t think this all the way through. Plus, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Marc’s expression shifted to something more complex—surprise, confusion, and something that looked like hurt. “I could say the same thing. What are you doing here, Foster? And why didn't you tell me you were coming?”

Before Foster could formulate an answer, Marc glanced around at the crowded club, his jaw clenching. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.” He hesitated before speaking again. “Let me take you somewhere quieter.” Marc guided him with a firm but gentle hand at the small of his back. “Zane has an office we can use.”

Foster’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed since his encounter with the aggressive stranger. Now, with Marc’s steady presence beside him, his anxiety transformed into a different kind of nervousness. He’d come here hoping to better understand Marc’s world, and instead, he’d managed to create a scene and possibly embarrass him.

“I'm sorry,” Foster said as they navigated through the club. “I didn't mean to cause trouble.”

Marc’s expression softened. “Don't apologize for what that ape did. But I need to know what you’re doing here alone.”

They made their way down one of the hallways next to the bar, then once they reached the end, passed through a door marked ‘Private’. He was momentarily distracted by how traditional and welcoming the large space was. Yes, leather furniture was an integral part of the decor, but so were rich woods, nautical artifacts, and an impressive antique book collection.

Foster sank into a plush armchair, his knees wobbling like jelly. Marc remained standing, concern etched across his handsome features.

“I should’ve been honest with you,” Foster blurted, unable to bear the silence. “About wanting to come here, I mean.”

Marc ran a hand through his dark hair, disturbing its usual perfect arrangement. “Why didn’t you simply ask me to bring you? I would’ve introduced you properly, kept you safe.” The hurt in Marc’s voice made Foster's stomach tighten as he continued, “I didn’t want to pressure you after our date. I was giving you space to think things over.” Marc sighed. “But now I’m thinking I didn’t read you right. That’s on me.”

“Oh.” Foster folded his hands in his lap to keep his fingers still. “I don’t think you were wrong. I did tell you I didn’t want to talk about anything like that on Saturday. So when you didn’t call, I thought maybe you’d lost interest because I was confused about your lifestyle. That’s when I…” He rubbed his forehead. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Marc lowered to his haunches in front of Marc’s chair. “What did?”

Foster gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I thought if I could see with my own eyes what your world is like, I could make a more informed decision. I almost called you. But then I didn’t because I was worried you were done with me.”

Marc’s expression softened as he reached for Foster’s hands, gently taking them in his own. The warmth of his touch grounded Foster. He was getting a sense of what having a man like Marc as his Daddy might be. He scraped his teeth along his bottom lip. Not like Marc. Just Marc. The only man he’d be willing to take such a frightening step with was the one staring into his eyes with such open affection.

“I wasn't done with you,” Marc gave him a soft smile. “Not even close. I was trying to respect your boundaries. This lifestyle isn’t something to rush into—there’s a lot to consider. I wanted to give you time to process everything we discussed.”

Foster gazed down at their joined hands. “So, let’s say I didn’t scare you off with my hesitation.” He lifted his head. ”What might be the next step?”

Marc’s eyebrows shot up. He paused, his thumb tracing small circles on Foster’s wrist right above the red bracelet. “To begin with, you must promise me not to come to the club alone. At least not until you know your way around.”

Foster snorted. “That’s easy enough. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Foster let out a small, surprised gasp. A zing had shot up his spine, a jolt of elation at Marc’s words. “Is… Is that something that will be a part of you being my Daddy?”

“How does it make you feel when I say you’re my good boy?”

Foster’s cheeks heated. Whether he enjoyed it or not, it was going to take him a while to feel comfortable admitting such things.

“Wanted. Seen.”

Marc sandwiched Foster’s hands between his own. “That’s been missing from your life, hasn’t it?”

Foster’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “Yeah. Maybe having a Daddy will change that?”

He’d formed it as a question because he craved Marc’s reassurance.

Marc’s features relaxed as he squeezed Foster’s hands. “That’s exactly what a Daddy does, sweetheart. He sees you—all of you—and cherishes what he finds.”

The tenderness in Marc’s voice made Foster’s gut clench. He’d never felt so transparent, so vulnerable before another person. Even with Edward, he’d always kept parts of himself hidden, afraid they’d be mocked or dismissed. But Marc seemed to want those hidden pieces, as if to collect and protect them.

Foster swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I want that. With you.” He hesitated, then added in a whisper, “I just don't know if I'll be any good at it. You’ve been doing this for a while, and I know nothing. I don’t want you to be disappointed by me.”

Marc rose from his crouched position and moved to sit on the arm of Foster’s chair, maintaining their connection. His large hand rested on the nape of Foster’s neck and he brushed his thumb gently against the sensitive skin there.

“There’s no right or wrong way to be a boy,” Marc said, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s about what works for us, what feels right. And we’ll figure that out together.”

Foster sucked in a deep breath, then licked his lips. Moment of truth . “And helping with decisions, that’s the guidance part, right?”

“Of course. We’ll ease into everything step by step, but we can start with a basic contract that outlines what you’d like to get out of being my boy right away.”

“Wow.” Foster’s heart ticked up a beat as excitement settled in. Already the wheels in his head turned, all the possibilities of having Marc by his side to keep him from falling impossible to resist.

“Yes. Let’s do this.”

He locked eyes with Marc, who lifted his hand to cup Foster’s cheek. “I’d like to seal that with a kiss.”

Foster tilted his chin up, silently inviting Marc to close the distance between them. When Marc’s lips met his, the kiss was gentle yet possessive, a perfect balance that felt like coming home to a place he’d never been before.

When they parted, Foster kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, savoring the sensation. Marc traced his thumb across Foster’s lower lip, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with Marc’s intense gaze.

“I want to reiterate something I told you at the park.” Marc’s voice held a serious tone. “Being your Daddy isn’t only about making your decisions or telling you what to do. It’s about creating a space where you feel safe enough to grow, to become the person you want to be.”

Foster nodded. “That’s what spoke to me when you first described what you would do for me as my Daddy. I think I’ve been looking for that my whole life without knowing what it was called.”

Marc smiled, his eyes glimmering. “Then we should leave the club and go somewhere we can talk properly. My place, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Marc stood and offered his hand, and Foster accepted, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“I'd like that.”

“Good. Then my first question as your Daddy is this: have you eaten dinner yet?”

He wasn’t sure how dinner was relevant, but he was committed to accepting Marc’s guidance. “I was too nervous. I figured I could always get something later. But no worries. I’m not that hungry.” As if bent on making him a liar, his stomach growled. He winced. “Perhaps a little hungry.”

Marc pressed his lips together. “This will be our first discussion after I get you fed. Being honest about how you feel and what you want.”

“It’s only dinner. I don’t want to be any trouble if you’ve already eaten.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed, and Foster knew he’d already failed his first day of Boy Class.

“Foster. What does Daddy know?”

Foster blinked several times. What’s he talking about?

Marc arched his eyebrows. “Finish the sentence. Daddy knows…”

Foster smacked his forehead. “ Best . Daddy knows best.”

Marc grinned and stole a quick kiss. “Excellent. Now let’s get my beautiful boy fed.”

Beautiful ? Oh yeah. This Daddy stuff was sounding better and better all the time.