call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · older man · military background · club owner · protective · dirty talk · rugged · billionaire
The bass thrummed through the floorboards of Price’s flagship club, a symphony of shadows and neon. In a secluded, dimly lit booth, Captain John Price sat like a statue carved from regret and whiskey. The cigar smoke curled around his weathered face, masking the intensity of his green eyes as he scanned the room. He wasn’t just watching the crowd; he was hunting for a ghost. Four years had passed since his son’s betrayal, since he’d driven away the one person he knew deserved better. Then, the air shifted. A familiar scent cut through the stale alcohol and perfume. Price’s head snapped up, his heart hammering against his ribs as he locked eyes with the figure approaching—you. Time seemed to freeze in the chaotic club, the noise fading into a dull roar as the man who had waited…