TRUST - Meghan & Quint (Fettered Book 5)

by Lilia Moon

  I grin. “I love cuddling on the couch to watch a movie or a hockey game or whatever, but when I sleep, I need a king-sized bed to myself. We all have different needs for touch, and different timing. I like to have my hands on a sub some in aftercare, but I’m still waiting to hear if that’s okay for you.”

  She looks a little confused, but she’s following me talking in full paragraphs, which is fairly impressive given how hard she just came. “I think so.”

  I can’t tell whether the hesitance is legit or because I blew it and expressed my wishes first. Trainer fuck-up. I need to stop making those. “You can change your mind at any point.” I reach out and run my hand down her arms, over top of the blanket. “How are your shoulders and wrists?”

  She looks at me blankly.

  “Restraints can cause shoulder pain for some subs, especially behind your back. You seem pretty flexible.”

  She nods, still distracted. “I was a swimmer. Butterfly. My arms feel fine.”

  The thought of water on her sexy skin is damn distracting. “Any good Dom will always check. If we’d done a longer scene, I’d be checking you over with my eyes and my hands, not just my words.” Her cheeks turn pink, and I manage not to laugh. “This time I’ll just ask. How’s your ass?”

  She squirms and gets pinker. “Still warm.” She opens her mouth to say something else and snaps it shut.

  I have my fingers under her chin before her teeth meet. No sub on my watch gets away with that shit. “What was that thought?”

  “It was stupid.” She looks down at my chest, embarrassed. “I was wondering if you left marks, but I know you said you wouldn’t.”

  She has no idea how close I came. “Not today, but I think you could have handled it.”

  Her head flies up, eyes surprised.

  “Marks are about technique, and you can take enough pain to make them.” I stroke her hair, watching her body language carefully. “But for your safety and mine, I stay within the limits we negotiate before a scene starts. Your ass is nice and pink, and the crop left some rosy spots. I have some cream I’ll rub in soon so that you don’t hurt tomorrow.”

  Her face shifts into what I’m rapidly coming to recognize as her thinking mode. “The woman in the picture. With the lines. She’s going to hurt tomorrow.”

  “She’ll feel that way with pride.” This is hardcore for a newbie who wasn’t sure she even wanted to be in a kink club an hour ago. I wonder how much longer it’s going to take her to realize that.

  She starts to make a face and hides it.

  I growl. None of that shit. I wait until she looks at me again, her eyes flooded with embarrassment. I let her see the approval in mine. “Have you ever had a really awesome bout of all-night sex? The kind that leaves you sore in the morning and you can feel it all day?”

  Her lips quirk. “Not in recent memory.”

  Men are stupid, but offering to fuck her all night can’t be the next thing out of my mouth. I know it, even if she doesn’t. Trainers have responsibilities. I dig my fingers into the back of the couch and focus on the actual shit we’re supposed to be talking about. “For some subs, the marks and the leftover pain or soreness after a big scene are just like that. A welcome reminder of what caused them, and of the trust and connection with their Dom.”

  She nods slowly. “Okay. That makes sense.”

  It needs to, because she likes more pain than any of her close friends. I need to hook her up tighter with Mattie and Ari. Soon. “We’re all wired differently. Pleasure is different for every person. You like some sharpness, some pain. It arouses you.” I say it like I’m describing her hair color, because I need to know her reaction, unshaded by mine.

  She shrinks back a little deeper into the corner of the couch.

  Looking for a space to think. I set my hands on her thighs. Giving her space, but not distance.

  She inhales and breathes out slowly. “I’m a little freaked out by that.“ She pauses and looks at my hands. “Okay, a lot freaked out. That’s pretty far away from the kind of sex I have right now.”

  Not anymore. “For some people, impact play isn’t sexual. Mattie was like that, at least before she hooked up with Milo. It can be a way to clear your head, to chase everything else away.”

  Meghan nods. “Ari says it’s like meditation, only with props.”

  Bless Ari and her ability to make pretty much any kink sound normal and healthy.

  Meghan takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. “I’m not one of those people, am I?”

  “You’re not.” I smile at her, because she’s adorable when she’s being brave. “Ari calls that having your ass hot-wired to your pussy.”

  Meghan’s groan has growly edges, which does nothing to diffuse her aura of adorable. “It totally is. There’s no way I would have let you use that crop thing on me more than once otherwise. It hurt like hell, but then it turned into something else.”

  She’s seeing herself damn clearly for a newbie. “Right. Some people like pain as an end goal. Some like it to clear themselves. Some like it as a gateway to pleasure. You seem to be in that last camp.”

  I can feel her thighs bunching under my hands. If she keeps trying not to squirm this hard, she’s going to break something. I slide my hands up until my thumbs are almost in her leg creases. Even with the blanket guarding her virtue, I’ve just very intentionally invaded her space. “It’s okay to be aroused by pain. And okay to be aroused by the memory of me landing a crop on your ass. I’ll be happy to do it again once you’ve had a day or two to recover.”

  She makes a sound that’s mostly a squeak.

  I grin. I’m not nearly done with making her feel uncomfortable. “How do you feel about my cock in your pussy?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Meghan

  I sound like a freaking mouse. I swallow, trying to banish the squeaks back to whatever dark hole they escaped out of, and meet his eyes. “You want to have sex with me? Now?”

  He laughs. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

  The blanket he’s covered me with isn’t doing squat to keep my body from reacting to his hands. My nipples are almost itchy they’re so tight, and the puddle between my legs wants to invite his fingers to come skinny dipping. Instead, I sit up and try to feel like something other than a half-naked, slightly desperate woman with far too vivid an imagination. “What did you mean?”

  “I offered to train you, but that looks different for every trainee. Sex doesn’t have to be part of the package, but it can be. Because of the way you’re wired, you’ll eventually need to add in the pleasure parts of kink in order to fully explore how much pain you like. That can be done with toys only, underwear on. Or you can expand your Dom’s options by allowing fingers and cocks and penetration.”

  Forget puddle—I think I’m creating Lake Washington. I try to push his hands away. “I can’t think while you’re touching me.”

  He raises an eyebrow, but slides his hands away. A little. “Yes, you can. You’re aroused, not brain dead. It’s giving me a good chance to learn your signals. What parts of what I just said are making you hot?”

  Too many of them. “I liked when you touched me with your fingers before. It’s really embarrassing to be sitting here and getting aroused again, though.” And having him watch. I swallow. “Sex is different here, right? Scorpio and Gabby were talking about anal plugs the other day. They sounded worried, and like they didn’t have much choice about whether they got used or not.”

  He leans forward, crowding me again. I can’t figure out why I like it. “Here, you decide your hard limits, and you always have your safewords. But other than those, once a scene starts, I get to decide what I want to do. If you’ve green-lighted nudity, finger and cock penetration, and anal, I might paddle your ass and then fuck your pussy with my cock while I use my thumb or a vibrator in your ass.” He’s totally got his Dom face on. “Or I might switch around any of those things. Crop your pussy and fuck your ass. Hold a magic wand to your pussy wh
ile I cane your thighs and tell you not to come. It would be my choice. How long, how hard, how much pain, how much pleasure, are all things I control.”

  I can’t speak. I literally can’t. An hour ago, I would have run screaming from any of those versions. I still think I maybe should. But my legs aren’t working any better than my voice.

  He studies my face for a long moment. “I’m a hard-ass, sweetheart. I won’t make this easy for you.”

  No. But he could make it really good. “I’d like some time to think about it.” Preferably when there’s not a hot guy with his hands on my legs and my pussy isn’t busy leaking rivers trying to reach him.

  His eyes flash approval again. “Good. That’s smart. No kink negotiation ever has to move faster than you’re comfortable with.”

  He’s slipped into trainer mode again. It’s weird when he does that, even when he’s pleased with me. “So what happens next?”

  He tips his head and watches me, thinking. “How are your bartending skills?”

  That’s so not what I expected him to say. “I can do the basics.” Any wedding planner can. Sometimes hired help doesn’t show up.

  Quint nods. “Good. You need an education, and the next newbie class doesn’t start for a month. Come hang out at the club any night you’re free. You’ll stay with me or someone I explicitly leave you with, and you’ll listen and learn and pay attention.”

  It’s a smart plan. Exactly the kind I would have wanted when I walked in here. A chance to see what all the hype and happy faces in my office are about, with a bar and a job to hide behind. I swallow and look at him. “Is that all?”

  “No. Hard-ass, remember?” He grins, and I can see the man again and not just the scary guy in leathers. “In between mixing drinks, we’ll talk about your limits. We’ll do some scenes when I have some free time or if there’s a lull in the drink orders.” He winks at me. “You come pretty fast, and the members haven’t had a show on my bar counter in a while.”

  Once again, I can’t speak. Or swallow. Because it’s really obvious he would totally do it.

  And I’m not entirely sure my answer would be no.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quint

  I walk into Damon’s office and slap eight files down on his desk. “The new members I’m prepared to let in.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “In one week?”

  He damn well deserves to share my pain. “Four singles. Three with solid experience and references. One sub who’s still got some green on him, but he should be fine out on the floor so long as someone’s got eyes on him. Two couples who hear we do weddings.”

  He has the decency to look embarrassed. “Can’t you just refer them to Emily or Meghan? People can get married without being members.”

  Not these people. “Deep in the lifestyle, all of them. And the older couple is all excited about using the dungeon they got married in.”

  Damon groans. “I had no idea how many kinky people were closet romantics.”

  I’m looking straight at one of them, so I just raise an eyebrow.

  He raises one of his own. “Shut up.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Like fuck you didn’t.”

  I stop, because in another minute we’re going to sound like kids in a schoolyard instead of big, scary Doms. I have something else I need to run by my boss, and I’m pissed off that it feels weird. “I have one more possible probationary member. Trainee status. Meghan Delany.”

  Damon gives me a blank look.

  I roll my eyes. “Your sub’s best friend? Wedding planner, curvy brunette, studiously avoids looking at the equipment when she’s here for events?”

  He winces. “Seriously?”

  I nod. “Ari pre-screened her and dumped her in my lap.”

  He’s still making faces. “She’s a sub?”

  The fact that both of us had to guess goes to show just how far Meghan can hide things underground. “Yeah. I used Ari’s porn collection to verify.” That’s the good news. I came in here to deliver the bad. “She green-lighted every kink on her intake contract and didn’t expect to actually try any of them.”

  He’s beginning to look resigned. “So a submissive, but one who’s clueless.”

  It’s deeper than that, but there’s a rhythm to these things.

  Damon tosses his stapler hand to hand and follows it with his eyes. Troubled. “Why did she come in?”

  I give him the short version. “She’s feeling left out.” Which I wouldn’t normally consider a good reason, but her whole office has gone down the kink drain, and I happen to know something about offices that do double duty as tribes.

  My boss sighs. “Emily was worried about that. Wedding planning is like running a sex club. Lots of evenings and weekends are tied up and there’s not much time for friends outside of work.”

  I nod. “And then her work friends all went and got themselves kinky.”

  “Fuck.” Damon sighs. “Any chance she wanted to try something she saw in Ari’s porn?”

  He’s not going to like my answer. “Yeah. She got all hot and bothered over a woman with caning stripes on her ass. So we played a little. She liked the crop.”

  Damon blinks twice, really slowly. “Okay, I wouldn’t have called that.”

  I give him a minute.

  He sets the stapler down. “Shit. She’s a pleaser, Quint. She comes across as really confident, but that’s all gloss. She doesn’t freaking decide what to eat at a restaurant until she sees what the rest of us are ordering.”

  I nod. “I know. That’s part of why she green-lighted everything on the intake contract. She thought kink was about letting the Dom decide what he wants to do.”

  His next wince is a lot more worried. “So she’s a sub who was kink-reluctant until you took a crop to her ass, she’s a pleaser who probably can’t set limits or use her safewords worth crap, and she likes pain?”

  He likes his bad news in a tight wad, just like I do. “Yup.”

  He rolls his eyes. “And you approved her for membership?”

  I lean back, because he’s picked the stapler back up and he’s got damn good aim with that thing. “Conditional on me training her.”

  He finally looks surprised. “You want a trainee?”

  I go with the easy answer. “I don’t want a stick of dynamite loose in my club.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  Fuck. “She’s a total greenie interested in crops and canes. I’m the right guy to handle her—you know that.” I sigh. “And she’s interesting, okay? Under the gloss. I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for her, or because she’s Emily’s best friend, or because Ari used her puppy dog eyes on me.”

  Damon snickers. “Did she?”

  Two can play that game. “Not yet.” I actually don’t know how Ari would vote on this one. She’s a total hard-ass on keeping things safe, and Meghan’s an oil spill waiting to happen.

  Damon leans back, eyes on my face. “How are you going to handle her?”

  None of his damn business. Which isn’t remotely the right answer. “Put her to work behind the bar. Have her listen in on some negotiations. Make her develop some damn opinions and the backbone to use them.”

  His lips twitch. “And then you’ll take a crop to her ass until she’s begging to please you?”

  I don’t waste my Dom juice on him, but it’s a close thing. “Something like that.”

  He grunts. “Keep her safe or my sub will use my freeze-dried guts to strangle you. They’ve been friends since third grade.”

  Shit. “I’ll train her. Then I’ll set her loose on the floor and Emily’s going to have to deal.”

  Damon looks amused. “Sure you’re going to set her loose?”

  I feel like he’s just hit me between the eyes with the stapler even though I can still see it in his hand.

  He takes one look at my face and his lips start twitching.

  “Shut up.” I intercept the stapler and slam it on his desk. “I’m
not looking for what you have.”

  He mostly sobers up. “I don’t know why the hell not.”

  Because I like my life. Because I like my job. Because I have no intentions of getting goopy over a woman who quietly makes a puddle on a leather couch and never once thinks its her right to have that need met. “Because I’m a hard-ass Dom and I like it that way.”

  He shrugs. “Okay.”

  I may need to rethink my policies on death by stapler. “I’m training her. That’s all. Make damn sure your sub knows what that means.” I don’t want entrails around my neck for doing my job. “Meghan will be behind the bar with me tonight.”

  Damon raises an eyebrow, mostly back to business. “Tonight will be pretty hardcore.”

  I know that. It’s a night for our regulars, mostly singles, and they play hard. “I won’t take her into the dungeon. I want her to hear good negotiating. The kind where it really matters and everyone involved knows it.” And the kind where nobody will blink twice if I ask them to do it within earshot of my new bartending associate.

  The wrinkles on Damon’s face smooth out. “That’s smart.”

  That part is. What I want to do after might not be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Meghan

  I sit down on my couch and set two hot chocolates on two coasters that look like they were made by drunk puppies. Or in this case, eight-year-old girls who became fast friends while making them.

  Emily smiles. “I can’t believe those have lasted this long.”

  Me neither, but fortunately for my heart, ugly is hard to kill. I lean back against a pile of pillows and smile at the woman who’s been drinking hot chocolate with me for almost a quarter of a century. “Thanks for coming over.”

  She eyes me curiously. “I’m happy to sit on your couch and hang out for no reason at all, but it sounds like you have one.”

  I pick up my hot chocolate, which is still too hot to hold, never mind sip. I do it anyway, and then make the burnt-tongue face that I know will amuse Emily.