by Julia Sykes
“I… Um…” My brain was a fuzzy mess. All I could focus on was the intensity of his remarkable eyes, the masculine perfection of the strong lines of his face, and the scorching heat of his fingertips at the hollow of my throat. “I like you.”
It wasn’t a complete lie; my body liked Derek Carter very much. That much was obvious, as much as I would like to deny it.
“Probably not as much as I like you,” he said with a wry smile. “You still think I’m an ass.”
“Yes,” I admitted easily. “But you think I’m a bit of an ass, too. So we’re pretty much even.”
“Pretty much,” he allowed, not even pretending to deny it. “But like you said: you just need to release some stress. I’m sure you’re actually a lovely person.” He eyed me up and down, the flagrant appreciation in his gaze making me flush with pleasure. “And if you’re half as lovely on the inside as you are on the outside, you’re a goddamn sweetheart.”
I couldn’t help dropping my eyes in the wake of such an astounding compliment. No one had ever said anything so sweet to me before. Or so sexy. Not even Steven, and I had considered marrying him.
The thought of Steven grounded me, dulling the spell Derek had cast over me. I took a small step back and managed to lift my chin.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” The coquettish tone I managed to adopt sounded odd coming from my mouth. It wasn’t like me to flirt, but I would try to use my feminine wiles if I had to. “I’ll train with you. But only in private.”
I knew Reed would disapprove of that stipulation. My partner would want to watch my back. But I wasn’t about to act like a submissive in front of an audience, especially not in front of one of my coworkers. I was coming to like Reed, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of him seeing me in a submissive position.
Derek didn’t miss my slight cringe at the thought, and he frowned.
“Does the thought of being alone with me bother you? Because you can’t have it both ways. Either you trust me enough to train in private, or we do this in the club. Do you trust me, Sharon?”
“I do.” I wasn’t sure if the swiftness of my response was the result of honesty or fear of screwing up my op. I decided not to contemplate it. “But I’d like to stay in the club, just not in front of people. Could we use a private room?”
There. That should appease Reed. Hopefully.
Derek nodded slowly. “Yes, if that’s how you would be most comfortable. I’ll reserve one of the rooms for us.”
Us. That one simple word tied my stomach in knots and sent heat rushing through my system.
Careful, Silverman. It was rapidly becoming my new mantra. Derek managed to thrill my body, despite my mind’s insistence that his lifestyle was inherently wrong. I shouldn’t be aroused at the idea of being alone with him, at his mercy.
It’s all about getting close to him for the op. If I react to him physically, that just helps my cover. I can do this.
“Come.” It was a single, deeply-spoken word. It hummed through me, the order eliciting the heat of my anger and a different, more disconcerting, heat lower in my belly.
Derek’s fingers closed around my wrist, and he abruptly tugged me forward. He turned his back to me and began striding towards the corridor that led to the private rooms.
“Hey!” I protested, hating the way the high heels made me totter along in his wake.
The look he shot me over his shoulder was pitiless.
“I told you. You should go barefoot if you can’t walk in heels. That’s lesson one: listen to your Dom.”
I full-on stumbled. “Damn it, Derek!” I cursed him as I started to go down.
He pivoted to me instantly. One second, I was sure my ass was about to hit the floor, and the next I was being hoisted up. A puff of air left my lungs when his arm closed around my upper back, his other hooking beneath my knees.
He was carrying me.
“I can walk!” I protested hotly, my cheeks flaming. We were still in the main area of the club, and I could feel dozens of curious gazes burning into me.
He glanced down at me, a cool brow raised.
“No, you can’t.” He didn’t have to say the words aloud; his expression spoke volumes. And damn it if it wasn’t true. I couldn’t walk in these fucking heels.
I crossed my arms over my chest, a decidedly sullen pose. Especially taking into account that I was cradled in Derek’s arms like a child.
“Put. Me. Down.” I forced out each word through gritted teeth.
He didn’t even deign to look at me. “No. I’m in charge of you for now, and I’m not going to let anyone see me neglecting my sub. Allowing you to embarrass yourself by stumbling around my club isn’t acceptable.”
“You’re embarrassing me right now!” I fumed. “We agreed to do this in private.”
He blinked hard, and this time he did look down at me. His gaze was still hard, but the lines of his face were somewhat apologetic. He nodded once, allowing that I was right. But he still didn’t put me down. He kept right on walking, his long strides carrying us into the long hallway where the private rooms were located.
As soon as he stepped into one and kicked the door closed behind us, he set me down carefully on my feet.
My anger had been boiling just beneath the surface, and now that we were alone I couldn’t stop myself from unleashing it. My hand shot out, my palm already tingling in anticipation of the satisfying impact with the smooth plane of his cheek.
Somehow, he was faster. He caught my wrist almost lazily, as though without a thought. All his focus was honed on my face rather than the hand that had been meant to slap him.
To my astonishment, he didn’t look angry. Instead, his slight frown seemed almost pitying. No. That wasn’t right. Empathetic.
“You really are wound up tight, aren’t you? You do need to release some tension, but there’s no need for violence.”
“You’re planning on hitting me, if I let you,” I retorted.
His grip tightened around my wrist incrementally, not to the point of pain, but a firm reminder of his superior strength. Of his dominance.
I dropped my eyes.
“Yes, I would like to hit you, Sharon. But that won’t be an act of violence. The pain I want to give you is carefully measured and controlled to suit your needs. It’s about our mutual pleasure, not about hurting you.”
Our mutual pleasure. I suppressed a shiver.
His brows drew together. “If you still think that’s what being a Dominant is about, then I don’t know if we’ll be able to work together. I won’t have someone in my club who wants to cause others real harm.”
“Of course I don’t want that!” I gasped immediately. The very idea that he might think I was some sort of sadistic bitch horrified me. “I just… I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. From a submissive’s viewpoint.”
His expression instantly softened, and he eased his grip on my wrist. His thumb swiped across my pulse, making it jump in the most peculiar way. A hint of his roguish smile returned.
“I think you’ll get it soon enough,” he said with a confidence I didn’t share. His eyes turned sincere. “And I am sorry that I carried you in front of the other patrons. We did agree to do this in private. I didn’t realize just how restricted that was. From now on, we’ll keep things strictly in the back rooms. Okay?”
It was my turn to raise a brow at him. “Are you actually asking for my permission?”
The ghost of his smile solidified. “No. I’m asking for your agreement. Communication and trust are at the heart of a healthy D/s relationship. It’s important that both partners agree on the parameters of that relationship.”
I turned that over in my mind. It sounded surprisingly close to equality.
“Because you’re inexperienced,” Derek continued, “I figure we’ll take things as we go. I’m not going to stop and ask for your permission to do things, but you will use your safe words freely so we can pause and talk about things.”
/> My confusion must have been plain on my face at the mention of safe words, because Derek sighed heavily.
“Thank god you agreed to learning from me,” he muttered. “Safe words are essential in BDSM play. They allow the submissive to feel safe and facilitate trust.” He reached out and plucked up one of my curls. Almost absently, he twined it around his forefinger. “You will use your safe words if you truly feel uncomfortable with something we’re doing.”
“Okay,” I agreed easily. My voice was low and breathy, and his thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist again. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my nerve endings began to crackle, craving… something.
His cocky, twisted smile was back. It did something funny to my insides. Something funny and not at all unpleasant.
“If you just want to pause and talk about something, say ‘yellow.’ If you become so distressed that you want to stop completely, say ‘red.’” He regarded me with a look that was inquisitive but no less amused. “You with me, Sharon?”
I blinked. Between his hold on my wrist and his tender touch on my hair, I had been staring up at him almost dreamily. My eyelids felt heavy, and my lips were slightly parted.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Only, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt so, so right.
“Um, yeah. Yellow, red. Got it.” God, I didn’t even manage full sentences.
“Good.” His voice was soft and husky. The approval and pleasure in the word awoke a warm glow in the center of my chest.
“We’ll start with the basics,” he told me. Rather than getting my hackles up at a lecturing tone, his low pitch made the words seem to slide over my skin. It was soothing, putting me at ease.
His next words sent me rocketing back to indignation.
“On your knees, Sharon.”
I jerked away from him, scowling. His firm hold on my wrist kept me from pulling away completely.
“No fucking way,” I hissed. There was one thing I associated with being on my knees in front of a man, and I was most certainly not going to give Derek Carter a blowjob. “If you think I’m going to-”
His glare cut me off more effectively than another man’s words could. My mouth snapped closed, and I knew I had said the wrong thing again.
Shit. Why couldn’t I stop fucking everything up?
“I’m not asking for that,” he told me sternly, his eyes flashing. “If I want you to suck my cock, I’ll tell you to suck my cock.”
My mouth fell open at the crass words. The man obviously didn’t have any compunction about talking dirty.
“You never have to guess what I want from you, Sharon. As a Dom, I’ll always be clear and honest about what I want my sub to do. That’s part of why submission is so freeing; you don’t have to worry about guessing what I want. You don’t have to worry about figuring out what will please me. I’ll tell you.”
As much as I wanted to be furious with him for his domineering attitude, I couldn’t help but find his words… appealing. Comforting, even. I would never have to guess when it came to pleasing Derek. I wouldn’t have to worry about being a disappointment because he would always be one hundred percent clear with me about what he wanted.
“Okay.” My voice was strangely soft. “Sorry.”
He gently curled his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face so that my eyes met his.
“It’s all right. I’m not angry. I just need you to understand how this is going to work. I would never ask you to do anything sexual for me. That’s not what this is about. D/s is about so much more than sex. Just as it’s about so much more than hitting your partner. Do you understand?”
I fell into the melted caramel of his eyes, and I was enveloped in sweet warmth. “Yes,” I breathed. “I understand, Derek.”
His smile was gentle and genuinely pleased. I practically glowed with my own pleasure. God, this was so easy. I was pleasing him, and I didn’t even have to think about trying. He made everything so clear-cut that failure and disappointment seemed almost impossible.
His fingers left my chin to find the nape of my neck. They sank into my hair, firmly grasping my curls. He continued to apply steady but insistent pressure. My entire scalp lit up, sending little sparks sinking through my skull and into my mind. My head dropped back easily.
He leaned into me, and his hot breath tickled across the sensitive skin just below my ear.
“On your knees, Sharon,” he repeated. The words were a soft command that seeped into me.
My knees folded, his hand in my hair helping to guide me down. Something soft covered the floor beneath me, cushioning my legs.
Never releasing his hold on my hair, Derek sat. His weight settled down on the edge of the bed that I was kneeling beside. When he was comfortable, he pressed my head down so that it rested on his thigh.
“What-?”
Derek’s forefinger was at my lips before the word had finished forming on them.
“Don’t speak.” The order was calm but firm, his deep voice forbidding any argument. “Just relax.”
I gave him a small nod. This was my job; this was my mission. I had to do what Derek told me to do if I wanted to maintain my cover.
Trust. I had to pretend to trust Carter if I wanted him to trust me. Then he might slip up and tell me something about the Kings and their involvement with drugs at Decadence.
One long finger tapped the center of my forehead.
“I told you to relax,” he said sternly. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.”
How did he know? If he could read me so easily, my job was going to be even more difficult than I had initially thought.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb in a small circle between my brows, easing the furrow that had formed there.
“Stop it,” he repeated. “Just be here with me.”
All my worrisome thoughts were smoothed away when Derek’s fingers began to work through my hair, massaging my scalp. Something that sounded suspiciously like a soft groan left my lips along with my sigh. No one ever touched me like this. No one ever took care of me.
Again, that thought should have set off alarm bells, but whatever he was doing to me just felt too damn good to fight it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was touching me in a remotely sexual way.
But then why had heat flooded my core and pulsed outward to fill the rest of my body?
Derek must have read the first signs of tension in my muscles as my doubts began to chill that heat. His hand rubbed down my back in a reassuring motion.
“It’s okay, Sharon,” he murmured. “It’s okay to enjoy this. Just relax.”
Relax. He wanted me to relax. That would please him.
Easy. So easy.
“Take a deep breath,” he ordered.
Without a thought, I obediently filled my lungs. The rush of oxygen flooded my brain, obliterating my niggling doubts.
“Now let it go.”
The air left me in a slow stream, blowing away all my stress and worry.
His hand began to work through my hair again, almost as though he was petting me.
“That’s good,” he praised.
For a moment, I was struck by the oddness of our positions. I had never shared space with a man like this before, but this felt just as comfortable as curling up on the couch beside Steven. Possibly even more comfortable.
I entered a sort of trance, where nothing existed in the world except for the gentle touch of his hands upon me, stroking me, soothing me. My eyes closed, and I fell into a blissfully free state. I didn’t have to worry; I didn’t have to fight; I didn’t have to wonder if I was doing the right thing. All I had to do was relax. It was an order I didn’t even remotely want to resist anymore.
Derek’s words rumbled over me. I couldn’t focus on them individually, but the warm approval in his tone made me feel lighter than I had in months. Possibly lighter than I had ever felt. I had never… floated like this.
It was wonderful. I didn’t even realize that my bl
issful tears were wetting Derek’s jeans.
“Okay, Sharon. I think that’s enough for tonight.”
His hand fisted in my curls, tugging my head back so that I was looking up into his eyes. My mind felt heavy, sluggish. Usually, the sensation would have sent me into a state of alarm. I couldn’t allow my wits to dull around a mark.
But as I fell into his eyes, I couldn’t muster up even an inkling of concern. I didn’t want to abandon this newfound bliss.
The arrogance in his smile was softened by the pleasure that radiated from him. He seemed to possess his own sense of peace. I hadn’t realized the tension that had gripped him during our every interaction, but now its absence threw it into sharp relief. How could I have not seen it before?
In truth, I had seen hints of it. I just hadn’t wanted to contemplate them too closely because I couldn’t allow myself to lose objectivity when it came to Derek. His discomfiture with what was going on in his club had been evident in the tautness of his jaw, in the capriciousness of his emotions, since I had first met him.
Was he an unwilling participant in the drug culture at Decadence?
My sweet reverie began to melt in the wake of the return of the FBI agent in me. Carter was a mark, and here I was, completely losing myself under his touch.
I jerked away from him abruptly. His hands closed around my shoulders, steadying me as I swayed.
“You okay?”
Something strange lurked beneath the concern etched into his features. Could it be hurt?
“Yes.” My reply was quick, clipped. I couldn’t believe I had lost myself like that with Carter. Wasn’t this vulnerability exactly what all the guys had warned me about?
“He won’t have to knock you down to get you flat on your back.”