by Selena Kitt
"And what did you expect?" he asked distantly as he unlocked his door.
After the way he'd been acting, it was on the tip of her tongue to say 'a cave'. She didn't, not foolish enough to test him with his fingers still curled possessively around her arm as if he expected her to run from him again. She gritted her teeth, irked by his cool aloof manner, not that she blamed him, but where would she go? Her car was back at the base and her apartment was across the bridge on the mainland.
He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her on in. While he closed and locked the door behind them, she took in his home, seeing gleaming hardwood and vaulted ceilings in a great room. French sliders on the far wall led to a small patio in the back. To the left was a wooden staircase leading to a second story with the same wood on the treads and the rail spindles. It was immaculate, everything orderly and in its place. The furniture was dark woods and leather, utterly masculine and the only thing that wasn't surprising about his home, the huge wall mounted flat screen TV notwithstanding.
"My grandparents bought the house new in 1929. They left it to me when they passed a few years back." Before she could comment, he added, "We'll talk in the den."
He moved through an archway and she hurried to follow, seeing a neat, updated kitchen with a dining area off the hall and a spacious bathroom halfway down. He waited for her at the end of the short hallway, his hands on his hips, clearly impatient. When she entered, he again shut the door with a firm thud. He walked to his large desk, bare on top except for a small lamp and old landline phone. Then he turned and leaned his backside against the front edge, crossing his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles. He nodded at the chair in front of him, a silent order to have a seat.
She took it, sitting nervously on the edge and waited for the storm to hit.
"I spoke to Lieutenant Jameson."
Surprised, she looked up. "Why?"
"You came to a private club in disguise looking for something, Cassie. Then ran out after seeing me like your ass was on fire. You didn't stop when either of us called and according to him, didn't answer your phone or door all weekend. They were worried about you, as was I. We would have had this discussion yesterday, but he wouldn't give me your address without your permission, which you couldn't give since you weren't answering your phone." Anger and frustration were beginning to creep into his voice. "I also called your company, which turned into a damn awkward Q&A session with your boss, who wouldn't give it out either."
She stiffened, stifling a groan. Getting a call like that, on a weekend, from an officer on base would have freaked George Austin out. He was high-strung and when he was hit with the unexpected, he tended to do one of two things: think the worst, or panic. And usually, he did both.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing personal, I do have some tact."
Her shoulders slumped in relief, then she realized how insulting that could appear and peeped up at him. He was watching her closely, his face blank, the same expression she had seen him use when counseling a trainee who kept failing the simulator. Often, those SEAL applicants didn't return. She hoped that wasn't her future too.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"I want to know why you didn't tell me immediately who you were, and when you were unmasked, why you ran from me—into the street, at midnight, in downtown LA, in a skirt up past your ass with your panties and bra showing. Did you even consider what could have happened to you?" Flint walked around his desk and opened a drawer. Next, he withdrew her purse and dropped it onto the desktop with a resounding clink. "You had no money, no ID, no keys, no phone. What the fuck, Cassie?"
At last, his stony façade cracked. He was livid.
"I didn't want you to know I was there. It's embarrassing."
"Why? I was there. Do you think I look down on club members when I am also one?"
"Well, no…" she whispered, "but I was there to—"
"To meet someone, obviously, as was I, since I had joined in on the game as well. Do you think less of me for that?"
"No."
"Sir."
She flushed. "No, sir."
"I thought you were shy, Cassie, not submissive." His hands came up to rub his face, as he muttered to himself, "Damn, I must be getting old for my radar to be so off."
"I haven't been submissive for a long time."
"You make it sound like submission is something you can turn off and on."
"I meant it's been a long time since I've been with someone, as a submissive."
"Why?"
She shook her head, looking down at her hands.
"Answer the question."
"I haven't had much success with relationships."
"It can be hard to find a good match in the lifestyle. How long has it been?"
"Years. Since college."
"So, what? Two or three?"
She looked at him with disgust. "How old do you think I am?"
"Twenty-three, twenty-four?"
She rolled her eyes. Him too? "I'm thirty, and my birthday is next month."
His brows rose. "You look much younger."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. As well as men who want to dress me up in little girl clothes." She shrugged. "Not that I'm judging, but that's not my kink. A plaid skirt and knee socks is about as far into age-play as I go."
"You made a very sexy schoolgirl, baby."
She drew in a quick breath, stunned by his words. Did he mean the sexy redhead he wanted, or the boring blonde underneath the disguise?
"You're surprised. I enjoyed our dances, and thought you did too."
"You danced with someone else." She dropped her eyes. "I could tell you were disappointed when you found out there was a geeky computer nerd under the wig and short skirt."
"So you're a mind reader, as well as a computer whiz. Good to know."
"Flynn, I—"
"I believe I asked you to call me sir, Cassie."
"Why are you doing this?"
He leaned forward. With his hands gripping the arms of her chair, his face was very close and his eyes were level with her own. "Because I've wanted you since the first day I saw you, but I thought you were shy and conservative. I didn't know a sub, bold enough to come to Decadence LA in search of a dom lay beneath the girl genius surface. I also thought you were twenty-four years old, which made me a pervy old man."
"Nine years isn't perverted."
"No, although sixteen is pushing it for me."
"You never asked."
"True. That's on me."
"I might look like a teenager, but I'm a grown up."
His finger beneath her chin forced her eyes to meet his. "Maybe it's time you started acting that way."
She blinked back tears. Though he was right, it didn't make the cold, hard truth hurt any less.
"So you went to Decadence LA to find a dom. You know the club has a reputation?"
"Colt told me."
"The club is edgier than most and since it's private, public nudity and sex are the norm not the exception. And many of the members enjoy ménage or practice polyamory. There are some events that go on in the dungeon that would curl your hair." His eyes rose to the sleek fall of her straight hair, and he smiled softly.
"Colt and Julie, do they, uh…"
"That is for them to share, isn't it?"
"Of course, I don't know why I asked. It doesn't matter anyway." She looked at him, wondering if that was something he was into. He would be in great demand if it were so. Then her mind whirled with conjecture about all the other things he might be into.
"Do you?" she dared ask.
One brow quirked upward. "We're going there now?"
"Well, I, uh…" Stammering, she wasn't sure she wanted to know, God forbid she should have to detail her own past. "No," she admitted, looking away from his knowing gaze. "Why am I here, Flynn?"
"I don't want my presence at the club to alter your plans. You came in search of a dom, so I offer you two choices. Option one, come ba
ck next week and I'll introduce you to some single doms who I think you might like."
There it was, the rejection she'd feared, but it didn't hurt like she expected it to. It was worse, so much worse, like a knife in the gut. Biting the inside of her lip as she fought the tears that threatened, she jerked her face away from the hand that still held her.
"There's another option, Cassie."
She barely heard, her misery so acute it was a physical pain.
"Imp, look at me."
Shaking her head, she couldn't. He'd surely see the pain and that she was shattered. Why had she let Julie talk her into going to the club? It had ruined everything. She'd have to get a new job, start over. Swear off men yet again.
Strong fingers recaptured her chin, angling her face upward until she looked at him, watery image that he was.
"Why are you crying? You haven't even heard the other choice yet."
She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears under control, whispering pitifully, "I'm not."
He smiled, giving her the dimple as his thumbs slid across her damp cheeks, but he didn't call her on the out-and-out fib.
"Option two is you become my submissive."
She shook her head, more hot tears escaping. "That's a pity offer. You've never shown the least bit of interest."
"I'm not offering out of pity. That's bullshit," he grumbled. "I never mentioned my inclination because I didn't want to shock the pants off you, Cassie." His lips twitched in a fleeting grin. "I wanted them off, naturally, that tempting ass of yours has been haunting my dreams, but you gave me no signs either. So I kept my distance; besides, work relationships can be difficult."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"I said difficult, not impossible. And I've found that the sweetest berries are often the most challenging to reach, though well worth the extra effort in the end."
Her heart fluttered at how endearing that was, but it couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? "What about the Navy? Surely fraternization is frowned upon."
"You're a contractor and don't report to me. I have input into the project, nothing else."
"My company values your input. They listen to you and want to keep their biggest customer happy."
"This would certainly make me happy."
"Flynn, I mean, sir… I don't know. What happens when it's over? It would be more awkward than it has been these last few days."
"You're calling it quits before it begins?"
"I'm being realistic."
"You're being a skeptic. I see things differently, however, and in my scenario, we work." His hand slid along her cheek, brushing back the damp strands of hair from her tear streaked cheek and tucking them behind her ear. "I don't want to know your answer now. I want you to have time to think. We'll go on as we always have. At work, you run the lab, train the men on the simulations, encourage them when they get frustrated, while I chew them out when they fuck up."
His description of their roles was so true, her lips trembled on the verge of a smile.
"And we'll have lunch as always, which you owe me. I'll have to claim that rain check later, though. One of the other instructors had a family emergency. I'm having to cover his rotation. That's why I had to wait until the end of the day to come find you."
"I was wondering where you were today. I thought you were mad at me."
"I was. Which brings us to the matter of your recklessness on Saturday to deal with."
"What?"
"I warned you a sore bottom was in your future." He straightened, his eyes scanning the room. "The window seat I think. Hands flat on the cushion and wait for me."
"You're going to spank me, before I've made a choice?"
"Yes, this is for running out of the club without concern for your safety. Lieutenant Jameson was livid, not to mention worried sick. You came in his care and it was incredibly rude for you to leave him the way you did. And your friend Julie was out of her mind."
"I've apologized."
"As you should have, and this spanking will reinforce the lesson." He extended his arm toward the window, as if an invitation, although it was nothing short of a command. Their eyes met and a sensuous light passed between them. She couldn't deny that she had dreamed of him taking charge of her, and this was a little taste. Though she'd prefer he take her over his knee, she knew if she agreed to this, that wasn't up to her.
"Do you have a safe word, Cassie?"
"I used red in the past."
"Red it is. Now, do as you're told and get to the window, or use your safe word and we end this and go to dinner."
"You'd still—"
"Yes, opting out doesn't get rid of Flynn the man, and the friend who cares about you. Like work, that will not change."
She tilted her head in question. He was a very unusual dominant and convinced he could compartmentalize his feelings if she declined.
"I won't wait all day however. I also frown upon stalling and will clarify that I consider not using a safe word as good as consent. I'll carry you there if I need to, but don't recommend that you push me that far."
Okay, maybe not so unusual. She stood slowly, conscious of his watchful eyes. As she walked to the window, she cursed her choice of a pencil skirt that morning and tried to remember what underwear she had selected while dressing in an anxiety-induced haze.
At the window, she bent forward, hands on the cushion as she faced the glass. Through it, she saw his backyard, also private with a thick, high hedge. It was lush, green, and well-tended. Adjacent to the deck off the back of the house, with its cushioned wicker furniture, she saw a gorgeous gazebo with clematis, in big hand-size star shaped blooms climbing up the rails and posts.
His hand on her back, pressed her down until her bottom was arched high, reminding her why she was at the window gazing at the pretty sight in the first place.
"Hands flat, feet apart, baby."
When she was in position, his hand slid along her back, over the curves of her bottom and down her thighs to her hem, which hit just above her knee when standing—an appropriate length for work—except in this pose, it had risen to mid-thigh. He tugged it upward, over her behind to her waist. His hand then slid over her panties.
"Pink, very nice," was his barely audible murmur, which made her wonder if he meant to say it out loud. His next action was absolutely intentional. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and peeled down the satin and lace, baring everything, as he lowered them as far as they would go with her legs spread, which was above her knees.
Warm and light, his fingers trailed over her cheeks, the barest touch making her skin tingle and sending a jolt of arousal straight to her clit. Too soon, it was gone only to return in an instant, swift and sure, as the flat of his hand connected sharply with her right cheek. Just as quickly, another landed on her left side. In a staccato rhythm, he laid down a good, even dozen, side to side, up and down, and all around, his big hand covering considerable territory in every swat. It smarted, a heck of a lot, because Flynn spanked hard, heating her skin to a low burn.
Abruptly he paused, gently rubbing the areas he had set on fire. "You have beautiful skin, imp, flawless and petal soft, like the roses out front. It blooms with a pink glow from a spanking, which is even more stunning." He squeezed, massaging her deeply on both sides and across her upper thighs. "You took that quite well; undoubtedly, you've been spanked before."
"Yes, sir," she breathed out, trying to control her skyrocketing pulse and the need coursing through her veins, impossible though it was.
"What about a paddle, lash or a cane, have you experienced any of those?"
"All of them, sir, although it has been a long, long time."
"It will come back quickly, I'm sure." His hand left her, and the blinds on the window swayed slightly, tapping against the glass. Glancing up, she gulped another deep breath of air, part dread, part excitement, as she watched him remove the tilt wind from the hook on the top rail.
"You'll find with me, that the
harshest punishments come when you place yourself in danger. Otherwise, making you tremble with desire and beg for release is what I enjoy, however that comes about. Nonetheless, when a lesson is earned, it will be well remembered and hopefully inspire a different choice in the future. Do you understand?"
"I do, Commander, and won't run off like that again."
"Good girl. Six strokes will ensure that you remember."
A whoosh through the air preceded a line of fire exploding across both cheeks. She hissed, breathing through the pain as she'd been taught long ago. Ten seconds later, another followed, exactly like the first, only a fraction lower. Two more came at steady intervals and tears stung her eyes, a moan accompanying them, but neither swayed him from his count.
"Put your cheek on the cushion and come up on your toes, these last two go on your sit spots where you will be reminded of this lesson each time you sit for the next day or so."
She obeyed, not sure what tiptoes had to do with anything, until the wand came zipping down yet again, connecting with precision on the crease between her ass and thighs.
"Sir!" she cried.
"One more, Cassie. Take your punishment for me like a good girl."
Her fingers curled into the window seat cushion as she steeled herself for one more. When it came, it burned like the five before it, except across the uppermost aspect of her thighs, it blazed even hotter. Unable to hold still, she came down off her toes and did a little dance, providing her own music in a wail of "oos" and "ahs".
Setting the wand aside, Flynn gathered her in his arms. He lifted her and took her place on the window seat, curling her toward him so she rested on her hip on his lap, his broad hand caressing her fiery skin. She clung to his shoulders as he held her against his chest, rocking her gently while his lips brushed softly along her temple.
"It's over, imp. Let's not have a repeat of that, all right?"
"Yes, sir. I'd certainly prefer that as well."
He chuckled softly, moving his kiss to her forehead, as his hand expanded his stroking up and down her back. "We've talked, you've had a taste of my discipline, next will be your decision."
"Flynn, I—"
His finger came up to her lips, stilling her words. "Not now, when emotions are high. Saturday at eight o'clock. If you choose me, come to the club in the same outfit as the last time and we'll start over. We'll explore and I'll personally show you all that Decadence LA has to offer. Be prepared to spend the night in one of the apartments upstairs. If you decide I'm not the dominant you want, I'll accept that and will work with Colt to identify a dom that you do. From there we'll go back to being co-workers, perhaps fellow members at the club, if you decide to join, and friends who share lunch every now and again. No hard feelings."