by Julia Sykes
It took me two attempts to pull myself up onto the high barstool. I had long ago learned how to move my small frame gracefully, but with the added height of the heels my efforts were an awkward clamor.
I can’t win a fight in these ridiculous shoes. Maybe I should take Carter’s suggestion to go barefoot.
Like a sub? No way.
I vehemently shoved the thought away, angry with myself for considering it for even the briefest moment. I resolved to walk in the boots all day, every day until I got the hang of them. My pride was worth more than a few blisters and aching arches. I could deal with pain; I had taken enough bruises while training at Quantico, and I had learned how to ignore it.
“You’re new here, right?” The woman’s innocent question got my hackles up. Was I really so transparent? “I come here pretty regularly, and I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new to the City?”
The aggressive tension left me. I had been so edgy in the last few months. Ever since Clayton had been shot on my watch, everything seemed to grate on my pride.
“We Dommes should stick together,” the stranger continued warmly. She was striking in a harsh way, her beauty almost cruel. The lines of her face and slim body were sharp. Her raven’s wing hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the blunt cut of her bangs accentuated her intimidating severity. Even seated on the barstool, I still had to look up into her dove grey eyes. The woman was taller than me by at least half a foot.
The grin she turned on me softened her features into something more accessible. “I’m Clara.” She extended a pale hand tipped with blood red nail polish. I shook it firmly, an answering smile spreading across my face.
“Sharon,” I supplied. “It’s nice to meet you, Clara. So, you said you come here often? This is only my second time.”
My casual tone belied the incisiveness of my question. Clara seemed nice enough, but if she frequented Decadence, she might be one of the less reputable patrons.
“I used to come to Decadence every week, but I haven’t been here in a while, actually,” Clara admitted. “A new club opened up, and I’ve been going there mostly.” She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I figured it was time to come back. Derek’s a friend of mine.” Her eyes cut to the side for half a second. I recognized it as a sign of unease, possibly even a lie.
Interesting.
“So you think Decadence is a good place? Or should I try out the other club?”
“The setup here is better, and Derek’s a good guy.” She shifted on her stool.
“Are you sure about that?” I couldn’t hold back my small frown as I questioned her. “I met him last night, and he didn’t seem very nice. I almost didn’t come back tonight.”
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off completely.”
I jolted at the sound of his low, deep voice just over my shoulder, and I nearly tumbled off my stool. His large hands gripped my corseted waist, and he had the nerve to chuckle as he steadied me.
Knowing better than to struggle uselessly against his hold, I shot him a pointed glare. “Do you always sneak up on your customers? Because it’s really creepy.”
His fingers closed, giving me a light squeeze before he released me. I refused to contemplate the answering squeeze between my thighs. His grin stayed firmly in place, despite my acidic words.
“My ears were burning, and I had to track down the person who was talking shit about me in my own club. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my search led to you.” He cocked a mock-censorious brow at Clara. “Are you encouraging this? I know we have our differences, but I had always suspected that you secretly liked me.”
Clara returned his cool expression, but a smile played around the corners of her lips. “I like to be enigmatic. It keeps you guessing.”
Carter laughed. “Save your tricks for throwing your subs off balance, Clara. I’ve got you figured out.”
“Think what you want.” She shrugged noncommittally, but her lips quirked up further. “And Sharon’s right, you know. You’re being really creepy.”
He gave her a sardonic grin and spread his arms wide as though to encompass the entirety of the club. “This is what I love about this place. The clientele is so kind.”
I took a moment to appraise Clara’s body language. She had claimed that Derek was her friend, but she was eyeing him with the same inquisitiveness that I afforded her. And the genuine warmth she had shown toward me – a perfect stranger – was muted in Derek’s presence. I couldn’t tell if that was a result of a playful Dominant rivalry or true iciness on her part.
“The clientele have probably adopted the kind attitude of the owner,” I remarked with what was rapidly becoming my signature snark.
Carter’s easy grin slipped ever so slightly, but it was fixed back in place a moment later. Despite his smile, a troubled light remained in his caramel eyes.
“If the owner is such an ass, why did you come back?” He had the audacity to appear amused rather than offended. God, the man was cocky.
“Because I wasn’t going to let one arrogant Dom keep me away from exploring the lifestyle.”
Derek appeared a touch abashed at my gumption.
Clara gave me a light slap on my bare shoulder in a show of camaraderie. “Good for you! Derek’s not used to women who are immune to his smolder. You’ll make a great Domme.” She eyed him appraisingly. “Or maybe he’s just losing his touch.”
Derek scowled at her, his cheerily confident demeanor evaporating. The Domme had obviously hit a nerve, and his sudden ferocity was intense enough to make me shrink back half an inch before I could stop myself. Clara remained implacably cool.
“I’d like to speak to Sharon alone, please.” The gruffness of his declaration made it clear that it wasn’t a request, despite the veneer of politeness. “She seems to have the wrong impression of me, and you’re not helping my cause.”
Clara sighed, her aloofness turning to something almost empathetic. “Sorry, Derek. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She gave me her warm smile again and slid down off her barstool. “Don’t worry. He won’t bite unless you want him to.”
My scowl was a bit forced. Involuntary warmth stirred between my legs at the mention of Derek’s bite, making it more difficult to convey my distaste than I would have liked.
One corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up as he turned his full attention back to me. With the bar at my back and his large body in front of me, I was struck by the sudden sensation of being trapped. He was so close that the heat of him teased across my skin. I shifted my weight on my stool, angling my body away from his in a futile attempt to escape that intoxicating warmth. His twisted smile became more pronounced.
“I don’t appreciate being labelled as creepy, but I’ll easily admit that I’ve acted like a total ass. Can I buy you a drink to begin to make it up to you? I really can play nice. If that’s what you want.”
The playful spark in his eyes held a darker edge. That lustful light let me know that he would rather not play nice when it came to me. And damn it if that knowledge didn’t make an answering darkness coil deep within me.
“As a Dominant, he’s a master manipulator. He won’t need to knock you down to get you flat on your back.” Smith’s warning skimmed across my mind, but it didn’t fully douse the unhealthy heat inside me.
Careful, Silverman.
“You’re being creepy again,” I pointed out lightly. “But I do appreciate a man who can admit when he’s wrong.”
He laughed, a rich, breathtaking sound. It illuminated his features, wiping away any traces of cocky amusement or frustrated ire. He looked… free. His melted caramel eyes were golden and almost boyish in their genuine humor.
“You’re a bit of an ass yourself, you know,” he informed me when his laughter died down to a chuckle. “Most people aren’t so brazenly impolite, even if the person they’re talking to hasn’t been so nice.”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t hold back my smile; his pleasure was infectious. I might have been offended if it wer
en’t for the fact that he was right: I had been acting like an ass. If the accusation had come from Smith, he would have earned himself a slap. But from Derek, it wasn’t an accusation so much as playful banter. He made the insult sound like an admiring compliment.
“I prefer the term ‘blunt,’” I told him with a grin. “Maybe even ‘ballsy,’ if you want to be crass about it.”
“Oh, I can be crass, babe. I like to talk dirty.” He winked at me.
“Creep.” My pointed allegation was ruined by my amused smile.
“Damn.” He smothered his own smile, doing his best to school his expression into something contrite. “I promise I can be good.”
His attempt at wide-eyed innocence didn’t suit him at all. He looked so ridiculous that I couldn’t hold back my laugh, ruining his efforts to keep a straight face.
“Well, if you promise to behave yourself, I guess I will take that drink.”
“I wouldn’t make that promise to anyone else. But I’ll make an exception in your case, as a form of penance. Which is something else I don’t do, by the way.” He eyed me carefully. “Maybe Clara’s right. Maybe you will make a good Domme.”
The way the lines of his face drew downward let me know that the thought didn’t please him.
I did my best to ignore my unease at having disappointed him. I didn’t like disappointing people. It was a reflexive thing, an ingrained response from years spent trying to please my father.
Shaking it off, I grasped at the opportunity to further my mission.
“That’s actually why I came back,” I said quickly. “I wanted to talk to you about what it takes to be a Dominant. Even though you pissed me off, you seem to know what you’re talking about, and I want to do this right. Safe, Sane, Consensual, right? It’s my job to uphold that.” My lips took on a wry twist as I added, “No matter how creepy my instructor is.”
Derek’s brows rose in disbelief. “You want to sub for me to learn how to be a good Domme?”
“Maybe,” I hedged, my fears getting the best of me. I knew I should accept immediately, but nerves made me shy away from the commitment. “I’d like to talk about it more before making up my mind about that,” I amended.
He considered me carefully for a moment. Did he approve of what he saw?
Stop that! My entrenched people pleasing would get me into trouble here if I didn’t focus on holding my own around this man.
Finally, he nodded, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Okay. We can talk about it over that drink and then revisit my proposal. What’s your poison?” That signature smolder that Clara had warned me about threatened to make me melt for him at the mention of his proposal.
Submitting to him. Shit, I needed a drink. A strong one. But now wasn’t the time to get plastered. I had to keep my wits sharp.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke, please,” I requested.
Derek waved down Ortiz to get our drinks. He ordered tonic water. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who wanted to stay sharp.
The look he gave me as he pressed the Diet Coke into my hand was one of respect. And that hint of lust still remained, flaring when his fingers brushed against mine. I should have pulled away, but I allowed the contact to linger, enjoying the tactile sensation of his calloused fingertips on my skin.
I’m just playing my role, I assured myself. But deep down, I knew my actions were the result of something more than my sense of duty.
“I’m glad to see you’re abstaining from alcohol. A Dominant needs to be fully aware when interacting with his submissive. The sub’s safety is his most important responsibility.”
His lips thinned suddenly, and he withdrew his hand from mine.
Again, he stressed that safety was of the upmost importance to him. And he seemed deeply disturbed by the thought. Did he know what was going on in his club? If he did, his expression indicated that he disapproved.
He blinked hard, his expression slipping into a genial mask.
“I guess that’s a good place to start: a D/s relationship is about the Dom caring for his sub. If that means giving her structure in her life or giving her pain to help her release negative emotions, then that’s his responsibility. Ultimately, D/s is meant to be a mutually fulfilling relationship, based on trust and complete honesty.”
I couldn’t help but take note that he said he when referring to the Dominant and she when referring to the sub. I decided to let it slide.
“So it’s not just about power?”
I had assumed that Dominants were on a power trip and submissives had low self-esteem.
Smith was right. I have no idea what it means to be a Dominant. I should have researched more carefully.
Shit. I was going to have to talk to Miller, after all.
Derek gave me a censorious frown. “Is that what you’re here for? Power?”
“I… Isn’t everyone?” My question was little more than a squeak in the wake of his disapproval. Damn, I hated it when he looked at me like that.
His expression softened, his eyes turning introspective. “Yes, the power exchange is at the heart of the D/s dynamic. But it’s about so much more than that. Casual BDSM play between two consenting partners isn’t as deep as a committed relationship. The sense of control that the Dom gets and the sense of release that the sub attains is the payoff for that kind of play. If you do enter a D/s relationship, there will be a deeper sense of satisfaction in the trust you share with your partner and the fulfillment of caring for someone. Or being cared for.”
I suppressed the urge to shiver at his last words. They were accompanied by that damn smolder again. It made me wonder what it would be like to be cared for. No one had taken care of me in a long time. Not since my mother had died when I was eleven. And my father had been painfully closed off after that.
Don’t go there.
“Oh,” I said stiltedly. “I didn’t realize…”
I became aware that my hand had fisted from my nerves when Derek’s fingers hooked through it, gently loosening my grip. He rubbed small, soothing circles across my palm, and I instantly relaxed, my muscles easing from my fingertips all the way up to my shoulder. I almost groaned at the blissful release of the tension that had gripped me for days.
“Taking care of your partner is about more than the exchange of pleasure and pain. The sub serves her Dom, but a good Dom will serve his sub as well.”
The implications of his words and the heat in his eyes slowly registered in my brain.
Sub. He’s treating me like a sub.
I jerked my hand away as though his heat had burned me.
“Um… Okay. I think I get it,” I fumbled.
When I dared to glance back up at Derek, he was regarding me seriously. “It’s okay to enjoy my touch, Sharon. Practice with me. Let me show you what it means to be a Dominant. I won’t hurt you.”
“Won’t you?” I meant it to be a snarky challenge, but the question came out as a hoarse whisper. “You just said that a Dominant gives a sub pain. If I do this with you…”
I trailed off, unable to put the humiliating things I might allow him to do to me into words.
“There’s a difference between giving pain and hurting someone,” he told me gently. “If you work with me, I can show you that. It’s your choice, Sharon. You can still come to my club as a Domme, even if you don’t do this.”
I eased down off my barstool, edging away from him as though he was a rabid beast. But if I was honest, I was more frightened of myself, of my reactions to him, than I was of Derek.
“I’ll let you know. I need some time to think about it.”
I need to talk to Miller about what the hell I’m getting myself into.
Turning my back on Derek and his alluring aura, I almost fled from him to search for my partner.
Chapter 4
I took a deep breath and plunged right in. “I need to talk to you. About BDSM.”
Miller grinned at me. “Smith and Clayton told me to talk
to you, too. I’m happy to do it, but I don’t appreciate being given orders.”
“What?!” I spluttered, my familiar ire rising up within me, driving away the warmth and consternation that Derek’s touch had awoken within me.
Barely twenty minutes had passed since I had left his side. As soon as I had tracked Miller down, he suggested we leave and get a bite to eat. My distress was written all over my face, in every taut line of my body. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him reading me so easily, but I was too relieved at his agreement to get out of Decadence to worry about it.
Now relief gave way to annoyance. The force of my hand hitting the table nearly made my coffee slosh over the sides of the mug.
“Asshole Doms,” I muttered.
“Hey!” Miller was obviously offended, but there was a playful lilt to his protest that let me know he wasn’t truly angry with me. “Sure, it’s in our nature to be controlling, but the guys are just looking out for you.” He met my glare steadily. “And if it makes you feel better, I told them I wouldn’t force you to discuss anything with me. Not all of us are as pigheaded alpha as Smith. Clayton seems reasonable, but he cares about you enough to be pushy when it comes to your safety. Can you blame them for that?”
I blew out a long sigh. God, when he put it like that, it made me sound like a petulant child. My pride and stubbornness were impairing my judgment. I hated to admit it, but Smith and Clayton were right. I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into. Tonight had proven that.
“Right. Sorry, Miller. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I guess I am a bit of an ass these days.
Miller shrugged and nodded his acceptance of my apology. “You can call me Reed, you know. All this surname stuff seems cold. I’m your partner, and I’d like to be your friend as well.”
I eyed him suspiciously. What was his game? Was he trying to lull me into complacency in order to get the upper hand on my op?
“I don’t play games, Sharon. Well, not outside of play.” He shot me a roguish smirk before his expression turned more earnest. “You can trust me.”