Top Bottom Switch (The Club) by Chelle Bliss, The Club Book Series

Ret
    I ’ve grown bored . It’s not something I’ve ever experienced when it comes to sex. Someone lights my fire for at least a night, but tonight…nothing.
    Being a member of The Club has been a great thing. It has allowed me to make a lot of new friends since moving back to Karim, Texas a few years ago. Lately, though, something has been missing. The typical night of fun spent with a submissive doesn’t seem to give me the same thrill it did before.
    It’s my failure, not theirs.
    The ladies I spend the night with do everything a Dom could ask. They bend to my will, follow commands, and allow me to push their boundaries. But there’s no light. No fire. Nothing to keep my embers simmering, stoking the flames.
    “Ret, I don’t understand. What’s the problem?” Misha asks in a light Russian accent, sliding into the booth across from me with Stella, his submissive, by his side. “I thought you liked Elle.”
    Turning the glass of scotch in my hand, I grit my teeth and exhale. “I tried with Elle. Twice, I tried. We’re not a fit. She’s just not my type.”
    She had everything I wanted on the outside. There was instant attraction, but the more I talked with her, the less appealing she became. Maybe it was her willingness to submit so easily that turned me off.
    “I didn’t know you had one.” Misha smirks before patting his leg for Stella to obey. Without hesitation, she climbs into his lap and melts against his body. I envy their relationship—the trust they have in each other.
    “Would you like something to drink, Sir?” The waitress stands by the edge of the table, staring down at me from under her lashes, holding the tray against her exposed hip.
    “I’m fine.” Annoyed with myself, I wave her away.
    Misha motions toward the waitress as she walks away, swinging her hips wildly before daring to sneak a backward glance over her shoulder. “Is she your type?”
    “No,” I grumble before taking a long, slow slug of my drink, watching Stella and Misha over the rim before movement to my right catches my eye.
    “Get your filthy hands off me!” Alese, a notorious Club switch, yanks free of a man’s hold and spits in his face just outside our private booth.
    He lunges toward her and glares. “Get back here, girl!” He’s about to grab her arm when she cracks him across the face.
    Preston Stevens, head of Club security, comes from out of nowhere and catches the man’s hand before he strikes her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
    “This bitch,” he snarls, spit flying out of his mouth as he glowers at her. “She wanted to play, and then she runs out of the room, screaming like a crazy person.”
    Preston moves between the two, giving Alese some space. “Are you okay, Alese?”
    “I’m fine, Sir.” Alese wipes away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks and looks at the floor, letting her golden hair hide her face.
    “I’m the one wronged. Why are you asking her if she’s okay?” the man asks and takes another step forward, but Preston stops him.
    “That newbie just lost his membership,” Misha mutters before returning his attention to Stella.
    “They better not let him back.” I glare at the man and memorize his face. Although I don’t mind inflicting pain, I’d never treat a woman like a piece of shit as he just did to Alese.
    “May I go, Sir?” Alese asks Preston, crossing her arms in front of her and rubbing her shoulders.
    Preston nods to Alese before glaring at the man, daring him to say another word. “Yes, Alese. You may leave.”
    “Thank you.” She scurries off into the darkness and out of my view.
    There’s always been something intriguing about Alese. We’ve spoken a few times, but I typically scare her off. It never bothered me. Switches aren’t really my thing, especially one like Alese. She can’t seem to find her footing in either role, Dominant or submissive.
    I’ve watched her enough to know that she is a submissive, but she hasn’t admitted