The Negotiation: A BDSM Romance

by Christina Thacher

  Mac? “Oh, you mean Mackenzie Lyon. He knows who’s married and who’s not?”

  “Of course. He’s The Lawyer to the Doms. He knows everything.” Katie caught Isabelle’s frown. “It actually makes sense. There are so many politicians at The Club, not to mention lobbyists, civil servants, business types, you name it. Someone has to police all that and keep everyone from thinking they ‘have something’ on another member. Mac does that. He knows everything about everyone, so all the secrets are safe with him.”

  Isabelle rubbed her upper lip for a moment. “I think I see how that works. Jones won’t expose Smith as a kinkster because Mac Lyon can expose Jones as a kinkster. But what stops people from exposing Mac as a kinkster?”

  “Everyone knows Mac’s a kinkster. He doesn’t advertise the fact, but it’s not a secret. I’m sure the straitlaced justices on the Supreme Court think about it during Mac’s oral arguments.” Katie grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure The Club would close on the spot if anyone tried blabbing about Mac. And no one wants that.”

  They looked at each other for a moment, imagining life without The Club. Even as a new member, Isabelle could see how sad that would be. She lifted her coffee cup. “Here’s to Mackenzie Lyon. Long may he be The Lawyer to the Doms.”

  They clinked the china rims and laughed.

  * * *

  With no set hours and no clients, Sebastian could do his work whenever he wanted. True, spending the whole weekend with the delectable Isabelle had caused a major backlog of news items and analyses to process, but luckily it had been a slow news cycle. Sebastian rose early on Monday morning. He cranked out his private newsletter for the day by noon.

  When Mac Lyon called at three to suggest they dine together before heading over to The Club, Sebastian didn’t have work as an excuse. He could have lied, but he didn’t like to do that, and especially not to Mac. “Sure. Shall I meet you at the restaurant?”

  “Why not come to the office around six. We can have a drink, then walk over to Dmitri’s.”

  Sebastian agreed, they ended the call and he went back to work. He had a fair idea what Mac wanted to talk to him about—Isabelle—and an even better idea why they needed to talk away from The Club. Mac would want to know how the weekend had gone, particularly as this was the first time Sebastian played with a sub at home. Sebastian just needed to figure out what to tell him.

  At six sharp, Sebastian arrived at the law firm. Mac answered the door himself. “I sent the staff home early. There are a couple of associates upstairs but they won’t disturb us.” He ushered Sebastian into his office.

  Mac’s office was perfect for him—comfortable furniture, antique English prints on the walls, just enough files and papers to reassure a nervous client. Plus, the scotch was particularly good. Sebastian accepted a glass and when Mac sat down, took an appreciative sip.

  “I swear you know some Highlands distillery the rest of us have never heard of, and they send the good stuff to you personally.”

  Mac shrugged. “I made some friends in Scotland years back.” His tone made it sound like nothing, but Sebastian had no doubt Mac had gotten someone out of a huge legal bind.

  No reason not to get to the point. Sebastian checked the door was closed. “You want to know how the weekend went.”

  Mac pursed his lips. “It may be presumptuous of me, but as I had a hand in getting you two together, and as you had been very angry at Isabelle, then, yes, I wanted to check in.”

  On the walk over to the office, Sebastian had tried out several versions of the truth to see which would be the smartest answer to give. He couldn’t remember any of them, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “I totally lost control.”

  Mac’s face froze. “You mean…?” He drew in a breath, lowered his voice, and said, “Perhaps you’d better tell me what you mean.”

  Sebastian raked his hair away from his face. “I mean I lost it. I had a whole elaborate series of scenes worked out in my head, but the moment I marked her—”

  “Marked her?”

  Sebastian explained about the wax play leaving Mine on her chest. “It had faded by Sunday, but I still knew it had been there.”

  “You wrote it so she could read it in the mirror?”

  “My thought was she’d see it and know who controlled her orgasms.”

  “Clever,” Mac said drily.

  Sebastian couldn’t tell if he was kidding. “I hadn’t considered what it would feel like to see my mark on her. ‘Mine.’ As though I’d branded her.” He took another sip of the scotch. “I’ve never collared a woman, owned a slave—hell, I’ve barely had a steady arrangement with a specific sub. I usually play at The Club, rarely with the same sub twice in a month. So when I saw the word ‘Mine’ in the mirror, I knew what Doms meant when they talked about ownership. Isabelle’s trust was such a gift—an honor—that I was humbled.”

  Mac nodded once as he swirled the scotch, appearing fascinated as the amber sheen slid down the inside of his glass. “Do you have plans to play with her again?”

  Every one of Sebastian’s memories from the weekend was a perfect jewel, glistening and deep…except that last moment before Isabelle left. She was far too good a sub to ask for anything, but he’d seen it in her eyes…a hope, a desire even, that they might be a couple. He’d seen it, which didn’t mean he knew what to tell her.

  He shook his head at Mac’s question. He hoped Mac interpreted the gesture as a “How the hell should I know what I want?” rather than a “No.”

  Mac appeared to get the point. “Well, you’d better figure something out. She’ll be there tonight.”

  The thought of facing Isabelle again so soon confused Sebastian. His cock stirred—that was no surprise—but his mind rebelled against the pull he felt toward her. Like he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her again.

  That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. He was the Asshole Dom. He wasn’t the nice guy.

  Sebastian drained his scotch. His longing to see her took him by surprise. They hadn’t talked about what would happen next. “Here’s the thing. She was different over the weekend. Softer. Less feisty.”

  “Was that a pleasant change? Or had you wanted a battle of wills?”

  “Will you please stop asking me questions I don’t know the answer to?”

  Mac laughed. “Occupational hazard.”

  “I knew there was a reason I hated lawyers.”

  They grinned at each other.

  * * *

  After a relaxed steak dinner, Mac and Sebastian walked to The Club. On a Monday night, the action was lighter and started earlier, often with members dropping by immediately after leaving their offices. The atmosphere was curiously businesslike, the intensity of a weekend evening muted by the demands of a new workweek. Sebastian happened to know several members who only came on Monday nights, everyone using the same cover story—a committee meeting they all had to attend. They trusted one assistant, who was also a member of The Club, to stay late and answer the phone in case anyone’s spouse called. Once they got to The Club, the group dispersed into their own scenes. At the end of the night, someone called the assistant and told him to go home. Sebastian glanced over at Mac. “The mood’s always different on Mondays.”

  They were walking past the committee chair, who was groveling at a Domme’s feet. Sebastian did a double-take. It was Mistress Kathryn, tapping a vinyl-booted thigh with a quirt. He looked around for Isabelle.

  Mac must have noticed the same thing. “People who come on Mondays don’t stay long. I find they’re very efficient about getting what they need.” He lifted his chin to indicate Isabelle, leaning against a spanking bench, her arms crossed and her expression somber. “No nonsense. Like that.”

  Sebastian swallowed a second’s panic. She looked spectacular in a lacy white corset trimmed with black ribbons. White panties tied at her hips with black bows. Her black stockings were held up with garters attached to the bottom of the corset. He laughed when his g
aze reached her feet. She was wearing black-and-white spectator pumps—only these had four-inch stiletto heels.

  She glanced down and smiled. “Like them?”

  “You’ve corrupted the Washington matron’s dress code. Those are easily the most obscene shoes I’ve seen.”

  She smirked at Sebastian, then turned to look at Mac. “Mr. Lyon, Sir.”

  Mac nodded. Sebastian looked back and forth, studying the interaction between them. It made him antsy, anxious. Which was crazy because Mac and Isabelle would be well-suited. A claw closed around his throat. He identified it—fear that Isabelle and Mac would want to play together. Then Sebastian realized—he was jealous. He whipped his gaze back to Isabelle, who regarded him coolly.

  “Sir?” Her tone was formal but distant. As though they hadn’t been fucking each other in his shower twenty-four hours earlier.

  “Isabelle.” He tried to visualize Isabelle bending over the spanking bench—or using any of the equipment, for that matter—for any Dom but him. The talons around his windpipe tightened.

  Jesus, he had it bad. He turned to Mac, who was waiting patiently. Fucking Lawyer to the Doms—Mac had probably figured it all out ages ago. “Mac, may we use the Founders’ Lounge again?”

  “Of course.” He handed Sebastian the key.

  “Isabelle, I need to speak to you privately.” With his jaw clenched, it sounded menacing, but Sebastian couldn’t make himself relax. Not when he looked at her chest and couldn’t see even the shadow of the pink letters.

  Mine.

  Isabelle was his.

  Sebastian closed his eyes for a second. He really needed to get a grip on his emotions before he could sort this situation out.

  When he looked at her, her eyes were smiling slightly. “Of course, Sir.” There was nothing respectful or submissive in her voice.

  Sebastian turned on his heel and stalked to the Founders’ Lounge. He didn’t even check to see if she was behind him.

  * * *

  Isabelle still hadn’t decided if she wanted to laugh or bash him over the head with one of the lead crystal decanters in the Founders’ Lounge. Arrogant asshole. Then she flashed on how he’d looked on Sunday morning when she woke before him. Long, tousled black hair, lean torso and killer ass, and the softest mouth, just barely open and begging to be kissed. So she’d kissed him. And kissed him, and kissed him some more. A minute later, he had her pinned on her back, but she hadn’t stopped grinning all morning.

  What she hadn’t liked was his “See you around, I guess” attitude when she’d left after dinner. They were good together—better even than she’d imagined—and as a general rule, when you found a play partner that totally worked, you didn’t throw that gift away. Interesting to see if he’d figured that out yet.

  “Please, have a seat.” He waved his hand vaguely at the sofa.

  Isabelle sat in one of the wing chairs.

  He gave her a sour look but didn’t say anything about her choice of furniture. Instead, he crossed his legs and folded his hands neatly in his lap. “I realize now that you and I should have talked more about how we wanted things to go between us after the weekend ended.”

  Isabelle crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She smiled politely, waiting for him to continue.

  Sebastian’s mouth compressed at the corners. “I don’t usually play with just one sub,” he began.

  “The gossip is that no one’s ever been good enough for you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Really? Because what I’ve heard is that you make the subs cry.”

  He looked like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Is it my fault if one or two of the younger subs get the wrong idea?”

  “Actually, I don’t think it is your fault. Just bad synergy.”

  “Synergy? Interesting.” He frowned. He could probably tell Isabelle hadn’t intended it as a compliment. “I’ll have to think about that.”

  Isabelle had been honest, though. Sebastian had a knack for stripping away a sub’s defenses. A lot of women might find that too unnerving, whereas it had made Isabelle crave him even more.

  After a moment, he continued. “I discover I don’t want our relationship to end just yet.” His voice suggested that was all he felt he needed to say.

  “Relationship?”

  “You know, here at The Club. I find I want… I don’t want you to… What I want is to have you to myself.” There was that sour lemon look again.

  “You want exclusivity?”

  “Yes.”

  “On both sides? You don’t get to play with any of the weepy subs?” She smiled at him.

  He tugged his hair back. “Yes, of course it’s mutual exclusivity.” He narrowed his gaze. “How the hell could I even look at another sub when you show up dressed like a high-priced bride?”

  Isabelle laughed. “I love that expression. You got it immediately—I dress for the club in high-priced call girl gear. It makes me feel sexy and powerful, so when I submit, the Dom knows he’s getting my power as a gift.”

  He got up, crossed to the door and locked it. Then he walked back to stand in front of her chair. “On your knees.”

  Isabelle slid to the floor, her posture perfect. She did think of submission as a present, but up until now, it was her gift to herself, a way of proving that she submitted by choice and not out of compulsion. With Sebastian, though, she wanted him to have her power. She trusted him to be fair and respect her. When their relationship ended, he would be decent about it.

  Plus, he was the hottest Dom she’d ever known.

  “Lift up your tits. I want to see those luscious pink nipples.”

  She didn’t rush. Instead, she used both hands to tenderly scoop her left breast out of the white eyelet corset. When she had it balanced perfectly on the hard edge of the corset top, she repeated the process with her right breast.

  “God, Isabelle, you are so lovely.” He shifted his legs to widen his stance. “I want you to suck me off.”

  Goody. Her favorite.

  When she looked up at him, he glanced away. He seemed distracted.

  He said, “I wanted you to take me in your mouth then, too. Last week in this room.” He reached into his trouser pocket. “Do you want a condom?”

  They’d have to use one in the main rooms, she knew. “Not if you don’t. And not if we don’t have to.”

  “Would I prefer to feel your mouth on my cock? What do you think?” He put his hands on his hips. “Well then?”

  She edged closer until her knees were just inside his polished shoes. She undid his belt and the waistband button, then lowered his fly. She tugged down his briefs until the elastic was tucked under his balls. In her experience, the added pressure would make his orgasm that much better.

  His hands were still on his hips, so it seemed he didn’t have any objection. She stroked his cock firmly, squeezed his balls a little, then pressed her lips to the head. Her tongue traced the rim. Another kiss, deeper and more tongue, then she was inhaling his scent along with at least half his length.

  With one hand on the base of his cock and one hand on his balls, she got a rhythm going that allowed her to hit that sensitive spot on the underside with each stroke. Then his hands were in her hair, and he took over the pace.

  “Harder.”

  She tightened her hold.

  “Oh, God, yes. So good.”

  She felt his body flex as he threw back his head and pistoned his hips. Then he was coming, hard. She lapped it up and didn’t pull away until he was completely done and starting to soften.

  “Little cat,” he breathed. “That was exquisite.” He massaged her scalp, making her wish she could purr.

  When he was zipped up, he gave her a hand. “So. Do we have a deal? You’re mine exclusively here at The Club?”

  Isabelle rose, savoring the taste of his pleasure on her tongue. “Of course. And you’re mine.”

  Chapter Six

  Sebastian couldn’t hear anyt
hing but the roar in his head after she said “Of course.” He had her and he got to keep her. For now. In fact, for right now. Even after another great blow job, he wanted more.

  He stepped back and zipped up his trousers. “I want to see you draped over a spanking bench. After I get your ass nice and red, I want to fuck you. Out there, in front of everyone.”

  Her eyes got huge, gleaming with excitement.

  He knew what was driving her eagerness. They hadn’t done a scene with impact play at The Club. Coupled with their shibari session, playing with the same sub was significant. Add that to any gossip going around, and the other members would get the idea. Sebastian wanted to mark Isabelle as his sub.

  Mine.

  He knew this was an untenable situation. He couldn’t keep her to himself forever, even if she wanted him to. However, the thought of seeing her with any other Dom was so excruciating that it made his head ache—even after an orgasm that barely left him with enough synapses to form a coherent thought.

  She started to adjust her tits, but he caught her wrist. “Leave them. I want them on display.”

  She flushed with a lovely color. She’d softened somehow. He’d seen this transformation already—it had happened over the weekend. Feisty, crisp Isabelle went all soft and gooey when he did his Dom thing. Another reason he didn’t want anyone else to top her. If he turned around and saw her giving melting looks to another Dom, Sebastian would have to kill the guy. Or something.

  They went back out to the main part of The Club, returned the key to Mac, and found a spanking bench. Sebastian crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Isabelle’s hips. She laughed and tugged on a black ribbon, letting the bow unravel. She pivoted and untied the other bow. A step forward and her panties were on the floor.

  He looked down at the patch of copper curls. He knew them intimately, knew what they felt like, the way they smelled, how her pussy tasted, that tightness when she came. He knew more about her body than he did about any other sub he’d played with, and it still wasn’t enough. Isabelle had secrets inside secrets wrapped around secrets. He resolved to discover them all.