by Eden Bradley
“I noticed the scar yesterday. And a bruise on his face. I don’t like it.”
“He’s not about to stop, mon amie.”
“I know.” Allie blew out a long breath. “No one has ever been able to tell Mick anything.”
“Does that mean he didn’t agree to your plan?”
“Actually, he did. I’m a little surprised, to be honest.” In truth, she was shocked. As brazen as she’d been going into it, she’d always doubted he would agree. “I just had to try, you know, Marie Dawn? Even if he’d walked away, at least I’d have given it one last shot. That was what was really in my mind. I had to be determined.”
“Why are you being so fatalistic?” her friend asked. “Especially now that he’s going to do this?”
“You know our history better than anyone but Jamie. And I don’t even know if he knows that Mick and I slept together that time.”
“I do know the history. But I also know how Mick feels about you,” Marie Dawn said. “It’s obvious any time your name is mentioned. He loves you, Allie.”
“So everyone keeps telling me. And . . . I think he does, too. Or maybe I just like to think so.” She sighed. She couldn’t help it. Hope was a tight knot in her chest. “Maybe I’m delusional.”
“You’re not.”
“We’ll see. He’s taking me to the club Friday night.”
“We’re finally giving up the details! More, s’il vous plâit. How did you accomplish this feat?”
Allie couldn’t help but smile at the glee in her friend’s voice. “Jamie and I managed to corner him into it by telling him if he didn’t play me, I’d find someone who would.”
“Very clever.”
“I almost feel bad about it. It was manipulative.”
“How do you think I got Neal to marry me?”
Allie snorted. “You did not. Everyone knew he was going to marry you the day you two met.”
“Still, men sometimes need a little push. Or a big one in Mick’s case. But the bigger they come, the harder they fall. I almost wish I shared this kink of yours so I could be there to see it.”
“You’re married to his brother. Mick would freak if you showed up at the club.”
“And I don’t have any real desire to go, but I do want to know every detail. Can we have lunch on Saturday?”
“That would be great.”
“Okay, good. I need to go run a few errands, but call me this week if you want to talk.”
“I will. And I’ll see you on Saturday.”
They hung up and Allie poured the rest of her coffee down the sink. She was jittery enough—she didn’t need the caffeine. Instead, she’d go for a run, then head to Dolcetti to gauge her family’s mood before she launched her plan to convince them to let her into the business.
She felt a bit better after talking to Marie Dawn. If nothing else, it was nice to know she and Jamie were on her side. Now that left only Mick.
She was nervous about Friday night. And incredibly, almost unbearably excited. Physically. Emotionally. She was also a little afraid. Or maybe a lot.
What if she and Mick didn’t gel when it came to the kink? Their physical chemistry had always been mind-blowing, but she knew that didn’t always translate to a good kink match. On the other hand, what if their kink compatibility was as amazing as their sexual chemistry, but Mick still turned away from her after they’d played? She wasn’t sure she could bear it. But there was always the possibility that she wasn’t what he was looking for in a submissive. That she might not please him. And in this realm, within the D/s and S/M dynamic, that was a crucial element. She could be very submissive in the BDSM realm, which was the polar opposite of who she was in her everyday life, but she was no service sub. What if he wanted more of a slave mentality, ultimately? She’d never be able to go there, not even for Mick.
And . . . she had to accept that she simply wasn’t going to know until they were together at The Bastille on Friday night.
Friday couldn’t come soon enough.
She busied herself with eating a bowl of oatmeal with honey and raisins while shopping for curtains and new bathroom fixtures online for another hour, then she decided it was time to go for her run, and got up to get changed. Her laptop pinged. Without sitting down again, she leaned over and glanced at her email. Her heart was a sudden hammer in her chest when she saw it was from Mick. She clicked it open.
Allie,
You are to do exactly as I instruct. Be ready for me at 8:00 on Friday night, as we discussed. You are to wear a dress, no stockings, high black heels—shoes, not boots. I don’t care for boots on a sub—they’re for Dominants, in my opinion. Your lingerie should be black or red. I enjoy the symbolism of the darker colors. I am certain you understand what I mean by that. Wear only a thong and a bra. Expect that they will be removed. No jewelry, which only gets in the way of play.
Before I pick you up, I want you to concentrate on the ritual of preparing yourself for me. Take a bath, rather than a shower. Take the time to soak, and while you’re there, think about what may lie ahead. Think about being in my hands. Think about what my hands will do to you. They will command you. Pleasure you. Bring you the pain you’ve asked for. And they are my hands. Never forget that. In fact, you might spend the rest of the week thinking about these things.
8:00. Be prompt.
Mick
God, she was trembling all over, her sex going warm and wet.
“And they are my hands. Never forget that.”
As if she could!
She almost wished his email had come later in the week, giving her less time to think about it. But she also knew he’d done it on purpose. He was a sadist, after all. Exactly what she wanted. And everything she feared.
It was going to be a very long week.
* * *
MICK’S COMPUTER BEEPED at him, and he checked his email. Allie had written three words back. “Of course, Mick.”
He could almost hear her saying those words to him, her voice low and soft, like a caress on his skin.
He could make her say those words to him. What a wonderfully wicked idea.
His cell phone went off and he picked it up.
“Reid here.”
“Mick, it’s Jamie.”
“Ah, our flesh merchant.”
“Ha! Hardly.”
“Our negotiator, then. Is that better?”
“Much, actually. And that’s what I’m calling to talk to you about.”
“If you think you’re going to lecture me about how to handle Allie, keep it. You’re the one who set this thing up. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t know I can be trusted with her.”
Jamie said quietly, “Can you, buddy? And I’m not asking because I intend to lecture you. It’s because I think maybe you need to talk it out.”
“I’m not that much of a talker.”
“Yeah. I just need to know your head is in the right place.”
“I’ll get it there by the end of the week.”
“Which is why I’m calling. Look, Mick, we both went through the Dominant’s mentor program at The Bastille. Are you now so experienced—or so damn macho—that you’ve forgotten it’s okay to ask for help?”
He ran a hand over his goatee. “Of course not. But I can handle this on my own.”
“It’s Allie we’re talking about, Mick. Which makes this different from any other woman you’ve played, and you fucking know it.”
“I do fucking know it, all right?” he exploded. He pushed his chair back from the old wooden door he’d made into his desk and stood up to pace. “Fuck, Jamie. Sorry. But I do know. I understand this will be a challenge. And believe me, I was not too happy with you—or with her—at first. But now . . . I’ve had some time to mull it over and I’d be lying if I
didn’t tell you I’m looking forward to it. To playing her. To the challenge of it.”
“But you believe you can absolutely maintain with her?”
“I wouldn’t go near her if I didn’t think so.” A small lie—it burned on his tongue. “Yes. Of course I can maintain control, with her or anyone.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Then Jamie said, “It’s not that I don’t have confidence in you as a Dominant, buddy. But this is different.”
“Why all the dire warnings about something that was your idea?”
“It was her idea. And I’m making a point. If you’re in denial about this stuff—”
“I’m not,” he interrupted.
“If you were, it could be dangerous,” Jamie finished.
“What we do is always dangerous.”
“Agreed. And it’s exactly why the ‘dire warnings’ aren’t warnings as much as a reality check.”
“Duly noted.”
He was getting annoyed with Jamie, even though he knew he was right. The things they did at the dungeon—or at home, in some cases—were dangerous. Physically. Sometimes emotionally. He was always careful with the women he played. He would be even more careful with Allie.
“Okay. Since I’m still responsible for her as her mediator, we’ll check in again on Thursday or Friday and see how you’re doing.”
“Yeah. Fine,” Mick agreed grudgingly.
“Fine. I’m heading to the gym around seven tomorrow night. Meet for a workout? We don’t have to talk about this.”
Despite his boxing workout that morning and the martial arts training he had scheduled that evening, he wouldn’t mind working with some weights with Jamie. It would calm him down. He hoped. “Sure.”
“See you then.”
They hung up and Mick tossed his phone onto the desk. His body was flooded with adrenaline, as it was every time he thought about Allie. Which was most of the time since she’d come back to the city. Adrenaline or a hard-on that wouldn’t stop no matter how many times he came. In bed, in the shower, at his desk.
He was growing hard even now just thinking about her for three damn seconds.
Allie.
He pressed on his aching cock through his jeans.
Control.
But he couldn’t get her face out of his mind. Her beautiful, lithe body.
He remembered what her naked breasts looked like, the hardening nipples a dark, dusky pink. So succulent under his fingertips, his tongue.
His cock grew rigid. He reached for his zipper. His cell went off again.
“God fucking damn it.”
He pulled in a quick breath before he picked it up and looked at the screen. A business call. He had to switch gears. Get his focus on work.
“Reid here.”
Twenty minutes later he hung up, having negotiated a job for the coming Monday. Which meant he’d be gone soon after playing with Allie, unavailable to do aftercare should she experience a delayed subdrop, those moments—or days, sometimes—when a bottom’s brain “dropped” after being high on the endorphins and seratonin that often flooded them during play. They could go through depression, feelings of emptiness, tears. And as the Top who took them there, it was his responsibility to see them through any aftereffects. If Allie was prone to subdrop, if Jamie wasn’t around to help out with her while he was out of town, then Friday night would be off.
He didn’t fucking want Jamie to do her aftercare.
But since Allie was new to the New Orleans scene, she might not have any other local kink friends yet, so Jamie would be it. Not that he was threatened by his best friend.
Damn it. He’d have to speak with Allie.
He dialed her number. It went to voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Mick. Something’s come up and we need to talk about Friday. Call me.”
He hung up. He hadn’t meant to sound so short.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
Almost unbearable even to hear her voice on her outgoing message.
He dropped his phone on his desk once more and began to pace again. But his office—the second bedroom in his flat—was too small to contain the thrumming energy running through his body. He went into the living room and was drawn, as he so often was when he had something to figure out, to the windows overlooking the narrow street.
It was quiet down there, no people, no cars. Just the row of close-set buildings, stucco and brick and softly painted wood, some with the intricate wrought iron balconies and gates New Orleans was known for. He tried to allow the familiar scenery to lull him, but he was crawling out of his skin.
Maybe he should go for another quick run. Either that or get into a scalding hot shower and fist his hand around his throbbing cock until he came again.
“Because twice already this morning apparently wasn’t enough,” he muttered. Then, when his cell phone went off again in the other room, “Whoever you are, I do not want to talk to you.”
He stalked into his office and grabbed the phone.
Allie.
Well, that statement had been bullshit.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” It was that smooth, purely female voice of hers. More mature now than when they’d met in high school, but still the same Allie he’d always known. Sweet.
Not as sweet as he’d imagined, or they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“Mick? You there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was working on something when you called.”
When had he turned into such a liar?
“Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt, but your message sounded important.”
“Yeah. We need to talk about Friday.”
“Don’t tell me you’re backing out on me,” she said, warning in her voice, which he wouldn’t have put up with from any other submissive. There was something else beneath the bravado. Disappointment?
“Not necessarily,” he said. “I’ll run the scenario by you, then we can talk it out.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve had a job come up in Atlanta. A small venue concert, but it’s for someone I’ve worked with for years, so I didn’t want to turn it down. It means I’ll be gone on Monday.”
“I . . . don’t understand what that has to do with Friday. Do you need to leave that soon?”
“No, I’ll leave early Monday. But it means I won’t be available again until Thursday. I haven’t checked with Jamie to make sure he’ll be around—I wanted to talk with you first. In case you need someone here for subdrop. I know we haven’t discussed this yet. I’d planned to talk through your aftercare needs later this week.”
“My aftercare needs are pretty basic—some water, a snack if my blood sugar is low, a blanket. I’m relaxed and happy after play if the connection is good. I’ve never felt subdrop, although I’ve sat with friends through it.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’m certain. Usually I’m a little giddy and dreamy the night I play, then the next day I’m a bit tired if I haven’t slept enough. Or, those times when I’ve played a whole weekend with someone, the energy just keeps going until the play is over—the endorphins, the adrenaline. The rush. Then I just sleep it off.”
He didn’t want to think about her playing with anyone else. He couldn’t stand it.
“Tell me what you usually feel like a few days after.” He had to ask. It was his responsibility, and responsibility was something he never took lightly.
“A few days after I just feel like myself. Sometimes a little happy and floaty still, but that’s a good thing. And sometimes I’m sore, of course. Loving my marks.”
Lord, he’d love to be the one to mark her. To welt that fragile-looking skin. To put bruises there. Teeth marks.
He got hard again in such a
hot, sudden rush he had to swallow down a gasping breath.
He adjusted himself through his jeans, and his own hand against the iron-hard erection beneath the denim had him shivering.
Control.
“Okay,” he said. “But I’m checking in with Jamie anyway to make sure you aren’t left alone if you need someone.”
“That’s fine. I know I can go to Jamie, anyway. And I always have Marie Dawn, of course.”
“Do you know anyone else here yet?” he asked. “I don’t know that she’d know what to do.”
“I’ve talked with a few people online, but I haven’t met anyone in person yet. So, no—no one close. But I’ll be fine, Mick.”
“Just covering the bases. That’s part of my job here, Allie. Or haven’t you played with anyone who goes by those standards?”
“Of course I have! Mick, I’m not ‘kindergarten playing’ at kink any more than you are. The people I’ve played with are the real thing. Check my damn references.”
Oh, he loved the fire in her. But her sharp-tongued reply was deserved.
He blew out a breath. “That was an asinine thing for me to say.”
“It was. But I’m glad to see you can admit it when you’re wrong.”
“I can. Just know those times are rare.”
She laughed. “God, you are such a Dom.”
“Am I supposed to be insulted?” But he couldn’t help the slow grin that quirked the corners of his mouth.
“Nope. Probably not.”
He lowered his tone. “Don’t think for a minute that I am anything but dominant, Allie.”
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure you won’t let me forget.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Okay, so, Friday night at eight, appropriately dressed and in the appropriate frame of mind,” she said, her tone shifting. He could tell by the breathiness in her voice she was switching gears, edging into her submissive role the slightest bit. He liked it.
What would she be like to play? To have her submit to him? Feisty or not, she would submit. He’d see to it that she did. He didn’t need a service sub in order to feel that yielding.
His groin tightened.
“We need to discuss sexual contact,” he told her.