by Lilia Moon
TRUST (Fettered #5)
Meghan & Quint
Lilia Moon
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Lilia Moon
Borrowing my words to make money is a hard limit. Using them to fuel your own fantasies is totally encouraged!
xoxo Lilia
Contents
1. Quint
2. Meghan
3. Quint
4. Meghan
5. Quint
6. Meghan
7. Quint
8. Meghan
9. Quint
10. Meghan
11. Quint
12. Meghan
13. Quint
14. Quint
15. Meghan
16. Quint
17. Meghan
18. Meghan
19. Quint
20. Meghan
21. Quint
22. Meghan
23. Quint
24. Meghan
25. Quint
26. Meghan
27. Quint
28. Quint
29. Meghan
30. Quint
31. Meghan
32. Quint
33. Meghan
34. Quint
35. Meghan
36. Quint
37. Meghan
38. Quint
39. Meghan
40. Quint
41. Meghan
42. Meghan
43. Quint
44. Meghan
45. Quint
46. Meghan
47. Quint
48. Meghan
49. Quint
50. Meghan
51. Quint
52. Meghan
53. Meghan - Epilogue
54. Quint - Epilogue
Note from Lilia
Chapter One
Quint
I look around at the shiny, awed faces, making eye contact with each one. Noticing who drops their eyes, who shivers, who has no idea what to do.
Today, we have a lot of people in that last box. Which isn’t unusual—kink, or at least its softer edges, have somehow gone mainstream, and our beginner classes are full of people who would run screaming if I held up any of my favorite toys.
Ari elbows me, and I try not to grumble. We’re facing twelve people so new they squeak, and there’s a reason she helps me out with this particular class. The good news is, these aren’t potential members, so I don’t have to screen them. They’re just couples, or one triad in the back corner, who want to add a little excitement of the bondage-and-spanking variety to their sex lives.
Community outreach, Fettered style.
Ari gives them another moment to stare at a real Dom in the wild and grins at her captive audience. “He’s just as scary as he looks, but don’t worry—I’ll protect you.”
The class titters, which means she’s probably the only one who hears me snort. She might look like a sweet blonde cheerleader, but anyone who believes that is an idiot.
I sit down on the stool beside hers. “Time for introductions. You should all know who we are already, but a recap for those of you with short memories. Ari here is the person you’d meet at the front door if you ever decide to visit the club.”
She pipes up beside me. “We’re having a visitor night next month for people in committed relationships who are new to the scene.”
I manage to keep my wince under wraps. I keep arguing that Fettered is a sex club and too many cute and cuddly newbies will kill our vibe, but nobody’s listening. They’re too busy being cute and cuddly.
One of the guys in the triad in the back corner raises his hand. “Poly relationships too?”
I eyeball the rest of the room, because they’re the ones who need to hear what I say next. “The kink community welcomes people in all types of consensual relationships. If you’re married and straight, that probably means you’re about to get an education, so just remember that the rules out there and the rules in here are different. Check your judgment at the door, take some chances, get to know people who aren’t like you.”
One of the women in the front row turns around, looking at the triad. “Is that why you guys are sitting in the back corner?”
Several faces turn red.
I nod my approval at the woman who spoke. “Welcome to a world where truth matters more than being polite, folks. Even if you never come to the club, that’s something we want you to remember. Kink isn’t comfortable, and it isn’t meant to be. These classes won’t just be adding restraints and spanking technique to your relationship repertoire—we hope they add honesty and respect as well.”
Ari beams at me. She should—I just quoted her marketing materials word for word.
The woman in the front row gets up and moves her chair to the back. Her husband awkwardly follows her. They signed up for the class in the classic woman-as-sub, man-as-Dom configuration. I catch Ari’s eyes, because the couple obviously has it backwards. She sighs and nods. As a switch, she’ll be far better at explaining to both of them why they’re trying to pour themselves into the wrong mold, and why the right one will be far more fun.
I point at another couple that’s worrying me. The guy clearly wants to be here. His wife, not so much. “Why did you two sign up?”
Ari winces at my tone. I don’t care. If they can’t handle a Dom asking them a really simple question, they shouldn’t be here.
“I’m Jackie.” The woman speaks up, and her voice is smooth, smoky, and very professional. “Mac asked me to take this class with him as his birthday present. I’m not sure I belong here, but I’m willing to listen.” She glances at her husband and her eyes soften. “What he wants matters to me.”
He’s a lucky guy. “That’s a good answer. An honest one, too, and I appreciate that, even if Mac here isn’t listening well enough to yet.”
Her husband jerks and stares at me.
I give him the standard look I reserve for baby Doms who are being idiots. “Kink, especially at the beginning, isn’t about what you want as a Dom. It’s about what your sub needs. The only way you’re going to figure that out is if you listen hard and find out what makes her curious, what makes her nervous, what turns her on.”
He gives me a totally blank look.
Ari’s hand slides smoothly inside my elbow. “I think it’s time for our first exercise.”
She’s obviously picked up on my cranky vibe. Normally I’d just handle this with a quick demonstration with an unattached sub, but these two have been married for fifteen years and I’m not messing with that. I grab an empty chair and swing it around so that it’s right behind Mac’s ear and take a seat. Jackie eyes me, surprised, but not nervous. If she were my sub, I’d change that really fast, but she’s not—and she needs some tools to handle the dense guy who wants to be her Dom. “One of the early conversations you want to have with any potential kink partner is about likes and dislikes and hard limits. Those can be tricky if you’ve never tried anything, so what I’m going to have Mac do with Jackie here is name some potential ways to play that would be appropriate in a beginner scene between committed partners, and watch carefully to see how she reacts. He’s going to watch her non-verbal cues, and Jackie’s going to pay attention to how she feels when he says those things and give him the most honest answer she can.”
A small, round, very attractive woman in the middle of the room giggles and claps her hands over her mouth.
Ari grins at her, which does a lot to chase away the woman’s dismay. “What’s so funny, Kari?”
Kari shakes her head, still really amused. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m a psychologist, and I do communication classes for couples. This is an exercise I do
all the time. I somehow never imagined it was what we’d be doing today, but it makes total sense.”
Her partner leans over and kisses her forehead, obviously enjoying her.
Good. They’ll be fine. I nod at Ari, who hands me our list of suggested beginner activities. “I think even those of you who’ve done this before will find the exercise feels a lot different when the question is whether or not your Dom can stick an anal plug in your ass and take you to dinner.”
Kari’s eyes go wide, and she looks at her partner. “Yes, please.”
It’s always good to have quick learners in the class. I let her see the approval in my eyes as Ari hands out sheets of paper. “Doms, you’re going to read items from this list, and you’re going to pay close attention to how your subs react. Watch their eyes, their breathing, whether their skin tone changes, whether any muscles tighten. You’re looking for their tells—ways their body communicates whether they’re aroused or afraid or conflicted or uncertain.”
Ari puts her chair down beside the couple that needs to rethink who’s wearing the latex pants and grins. “It’s like poker, only way more fun.”
The triad, clearly way more used to communicating than most couples, is already talking. Ari scans the other couples in the room to make sure we’re working with the ones who need our help the most, and then rejoins her role-confused duo.
I turn back to Mac, whose eyes are bulging. He looks down at the list, which is shaking in his hand. “She’s not going to want to do most of this.”
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms. I love it when guys underestimate their wives. It’s so much fun to re-educate them. “We don’t guess here. We ask, and we pay attention.”
Mac glances at Jackie, takes a deep breath, and stabs an item on the paper at random. “You’re kneeling on the bed naked, your hands cuffed behind your back, your legs spread wide enough that I can see your pussy.” He barely gets the last word out. “You watch in the mirror while I touch you.”
Jackie’s answer is emblazoned on her face, but Mac is still staring at his paper.
I shake my head and lean forward to help him. Two more hours of this, and then Ari has me down for three days of member-intake interviews. I’m pretty sure I’m being punished.
Chapter Two
Meghan
I set my bowl of peanut noodles on a side table already groaning with food and stick my head through the archway into the living room. “We’re all here—time to eat.”
Scorpio is first off my couch and rubs her hands together as she spies the spread. “Wow. Harlan begged for leftovers, and he just might get some.”
Emily elbows her. “If he begs, take video, okay?”
I roll my eyes and pick up a plate. A year ago, Emily was easy to tease—too easy, maybe. These days she gives as good as she gets, and most of it has undertones that remind me just how different my best friend’s life has become. Boyfriends we’ve traversed before. Damon’s not your average boyfriend, but it’s the world he’s attached to that has brought the most change.
I stab a fork into the peanut noodles a little harder than necessary. I know change isn’t my thing. I’m trying. Emily’s stupidly happy, and that helps a lot.
Gabby’s hand strokes down my arm, warm and comforting. “I remember what it was like to be the only single parent in a room full of couples. I felt left out sometimes, just because our lives were so different.”
She’s speaking low enough not to be heard over the general chatter as Ari, Mattie, and Scorpio debate whether brownies should be the first course or the last one. I sigh. Gabby isn’t wrong. The inside jokes don’t include me as much anymore, but it’s more than that. My best friend has changed her orbit. Your Perfect Moment isn’t at the center of her universe anymore. Which is right and good and Damon’s totally worth it, but I feel a little lonely in the world we created together—and like a gawker on the sidelines of the one she’s in now.
Which is way more of me feeling sorry for myself than I ever allow. I put my hand over Gabby’s and work up a smile. “I think I’m going to start with one of your brownies.” Chocolate is never the wrong answer, and Gabby’s the kind of cook who could make week-old socks taste good.
Emily turns from the side table, plate loaded, and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for making my favorite noodles.”
They’re the easiest recipe ever—a little peanut butter, soy sauce, dashes of a couple other ingredients, and fresh soba noodles from the tiny Asian market down the street. They’re also the pinnacle of my cooking skills, but Emily has always emptied the bowl and clamored for more.
Scorpio forks herself a pile of them and lands them on top of everything else on her plate. “They’re delish. They’ll make a great brownie chaser.”
Gabby shakes her head and digs into the salad Ari brought. “Next time I’m hiding the dessert until you’ve all eaten.”
Ari grins and wrinkles her nose. “Yes, Mom.”
I snicker and scoop up some of Mattie’s eggplant parmesan. It’s way better than my noodles, and just one of the many reasons we keep Mattie around and as happy as possible. She’s a fantastic addition to both our office and our potlucks. I scoop up some of Ari’s salad too. She can’t cook any better than I can, but she knows where to find the really good lettuce.
She smiles and blows me a kiss. I try not to let my existential pity party show on my face. Ari’s the most recent addition to this group. I like her a lot, but I’m also acutely aware that she and Mattie live on the seriously kinky end of the spectrum, and that’s just one more push into a zone where I’m not remotely comfortable.
Which Ari will figure out in a hot minute if I don’t stop my mental whining. I slice into the eggplant parmesan on my plate and fork a huge bite. Clearly I need food. I have a house full of really good friends—my life doesn’t exactly suck.
I feel Emily beside me before I see her shadow. She’s watching me in that new way she has. She always used to pay attention, but now you know she’s doing it. She hands me a glass of wine, which I juggle while I fork myself more eggplant parm. Other people would need four hands to do this, but we’re wedding planners.
She snags a brownie for her plate. “You’re quiet—everything okay?”
I give her a rueful grin. It is now. “Yeah. Just feeling sorry for myself, which is dumb. Did Leo and Sam hear anything today?” We’re officially on baby watch. If it takes them two years to get a baby like the social worker warned it might, we’re all going to go crazy.
Emily shakes her head. “Nope. And the Dom Ari was hoping might move up from LA got a better offer in New York and decided to switch coasts for a while.”
I might not swim deeply in Fettered’s ocean of gossip, but even I know how much she was hoping he might come. I glance over at Ari and wonder if those are faint shadows I see at the backs of her eyes. I’m maybe not the only one feeling a little lonely and blue tonight, even in the middle of my tribe. “Extra brownies for Ari.”
Emily smiles. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Gabby made them.”
Gabby moves totally smoothly between the kinky world and the wedding-planning one. Baked goods rule in both places, and so do sweetness and generosity. Or at least that’s what I’ve concluded from the flow of alpha men who drop by our office just to soak in a little of Gabby’s magic.
Emily elbows me. “You’re wallowing again. It must be serious.”
I tell her everything—but I can’t tell her this. She’s too happy, and I wouldn’t throw dirt on that for anything. “I’ll eat brownies with Ari. We can commiserate that we’re the only two in the room not having hot, sweaty sex on a regular basis.”
Emily’s lips quirk. “Um, Ari works at a sex club, sweetie.”
I grimace, because that’s part of the change I haven’t quite caught up with yet. My single friends used to hang out in the sex desert with me. I don’t actually know all of what Ari does when she’s between guys, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t covered in my romance novels. “Fine. The
n we’ll commiserate that nobody eats naked pizza with us.” I put enough humor into my tone that Emily stops looking quite so worried.
Scorpio comes in from the living room and grabs another brownie. “Come eat with those of us who actually require a flat surface for our plates. I’ve got gossip.”
It won’t be about wedding clients. That’s changed too. I’m pretty sure the stories of what happens inside Fettered’s walls are sanitized, at least when they’re told in my hearing. Which I understand—if I got naked at a sex club, I’d want privacy too. But it’s still shifted potluck gossip into whole new realms. I pick up the dish of eggplant parm and prepare to follow Emily into the living room.
And feel the decision I’ve been toying with for weeks finally make itself. I might be making it for the wrong reasons, but I don’t care anymore.
It’s time to stop being a wallflower.
Chapter Three
Quint
Back when I first volunteered to do new member intake, it ate up a couple hours of my month. Now, even with Ari and Harlan doing pre-screens, it feels like it eats up half my life.