Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "You've asked Carter to top you, so I suggest you kneel and wait for him to take over." Chicklet arched a brow at Carter. "Any time now."

  Carter ducked his head and grabbed some ropes from beside the ottoman. "Yeah. I figured we'd start with that corseted thing you taught me, but we haven't had a chance to negotiate."

  "Then maybe you should." Chicklet stared Silver down until she recalled the suggestion and dropped to her knees. "Forget I'm here. Do you know the club safeword?"

  "Red," Silver looked from Chicklet to Carter. This was so wrong. Not at all what she'd expected, but . . . maybe it would get better once they 'negotiated'. "I guess I need to tell you what I want?"

  "Tell me what you need," Carter said, looking to Chicklet for approval.

  Chicklet groaned. "This is starting off well."

  Silver ignored her. "I . . . I don't understand how I reacted to being spanked. It hurt, but . . . I liked it. I want you to . . . ."

  "She wants you to hurt her." Chicklet smirked. "You're pretty good with a flogger. Wrap her up and have some fun."

  "Fun?" Carter grinned as he unwound the rope. "Not a problem. But I need something first, pet."

  Silver wanted to laugh. The whole scene seemed like one ridiculous parody. Like something she might do in one of her worst films. "What?"

  Carter's expression changed. His eyes narrowed as he loomed over her. "Strip."

  "Already?" She snapped her lips shut at his frown and rolled her eyes. Pushing him was no fun. Not that pushing Dean was fun, but something about him made her want to test her limits. With Carter she felt like either she had to play along or they'd get nowhere. She stood gracefully and shed her clothes, much the same way she would before a photo shoot or a scene in a movie. It was part of the job. Might as well get it over with.

  As he circled her, she did her best to stand up straight and hold in a weary sigh. They had a few gawkers, two naked men wearing harnesses and two Dommes standing behind them, leashes in hand.

  From behind her, Carter moved close enough for the crease in his dress pants to brush her calves. He whispered. "What are your limits?"

  "No blood. No sharp things. No anal." She blushed at the last. Why the hell had she said that? Anal wasn't a hard limit. And had she just given him permission to fuck her?

  Why not? He's hot.

  "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" He gently wound her hair around his hand and pulled her head back so he could kiss her. A nice, deep, kiss. Decent. Really. "I can't wait to see you in my ropes. Move exactly as I say and don't speak unless you're uncomfortable. Understand?"

  She nodded and followed his instruction as the soft ropes slid across her body, white and bright blue, above her bare breasts, over her shoulders like bra straps, then around and around her waist with a complicated pattern over her ribs and all the way down to her stomach. Snug, but not in a bad way. His practiced movements, his soft touch and the caress of the rope, stirred her blood as the first hint of arousal heated her core. He pulled her arms behind her and bound her wrists in the trailing rope.

  "That's lovely, Carter." Chicklet stared at her as though entranced by the rope work. "Better than what I showed you. Where'd you learn that?"

  Carter pressed his lips to Silver's shoulder, then stepped in front of her to admire his work. "Callahan gave me some pointers."

  Bile rose in Silver's throat. For fuck's sakes, was that man everywhere?

  He's not ruining this.

  "What should I do now?" She groaned at the snap in her words.

  He doesn't need to. You're managing just fine.

  "Kneel up in front of the ottoman." Carter helped her lower to her knees, then eased her face down onto the cool leather surface. "I'll start slow, warm up your flesh at bit before we start anything heavy. If it gets to be too much, just tell me. Yellow means slow down, but you might forget if you're into it."

  Yeah, yeah. Can we get started? She pressed her forehead into the leather and muttered. "Yes. I understand."

  The first pass of the flogger tickled. The next tickled more. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine reaching that space she'd reached with Dean. A place where her brain wasn't working so hard to convince her body to enjoy itself. But Dean never gave her a chance to think about much. His intensity swept her away with a glance.

  Warming her up seemed to take forever. Finally she sat up and shook her head. "This isn't working. I'm not—I can't—"

  "Shh . . . it's all right. I didn't want to move too fast, but we can try something else if you want?" Carter crouched down at her side and brushed her hair away from her eyes. "What would you like me to do?"

  Fuck, hit me like you mean it! She studied his face. He would do anything she wanted. All she had to do was ask. "Can we try something?"

  "Absolutely."

  Speaking low enough so Chicklet wouldn't overhear, she told him. His eyes widened. He started to look at Chicklet, as though to asked permission. But then his jaw firmed and he nodded.

  She rose up on her knees and braced herself.

  * * * *

  Dean did one last round of the club and returned to the far end of the bar, where he could observe Silver without her seeing him. The moment she arrived and let Carter lead her away, he'd wanted to grab her and throw her over his shoulder, make it clear to one and all she was his. But she'd made it clear she didn't want to be his. So all he could do was stand by and watch to make sure she didn't get hurt.

  Carter was gentle, attentive, and way too young and inexperienced to put someone like Silver in the right headspace to enjoy what he was doing to her. They both went into the scene as though it was something any two people could just do, but the whole thing was painfully awkward. Silver rolled her eyes and sighed and Carter didn't react. The ropes seemed to help a little, but Carter might as well have been working with a volunteer from the crowd at a workshop.

  "You going to stop them, or should I?" His brother, Tim, freakishly observant as always, took a seat by his side and stole his beer. "She's already topping from the bottom. Carter is going to let her talk him into something stupid."

  "I doubt that." Dean tried to laugh like it didn't matter, only, it did. Silver was going to ruin this for herself. "She's going to get bored and he's going to give up. Chicklet looks like she's falling asleep."

  But Chicklet woke with a start at the loud Smack!

  The room passed him in a blur as he cut across the distance between him and Silver. He already felt Carter's throat under his hands, as it would be in seconds when he got to him.

  Chicklet blocked him. Tim grabbed him from behind.

  Silver noticed none of them. She blinked as the huge handprint on her cheek turned a bright red. And whispered. "Again."

  "I can't." Carter tripped backwards. "Fuck. Red. Fucking red. This isn't—I can't—"

  "Why not?" Silver's eyes spit fire as she stood. "You asked me what I wanted and I told you! I guess it's wrong, right? Too fucked up for you?"

  "Enough!" Dean shook with rage, but not at Carter. The poor, stupid kid was in way over his head. He focussed on Silver. "He said red. That means it's over. Find someone else to play with."

  Silver laughed. "Like you?"

  His nostrils flared. "At the moment, I wouldn't touch you if you begged me. That kind of manipulation makes me sick. I suggest you get dressed and go home."

  * * * *

  Silver hung her head as Carter fumbled with his knots, his icy fingers making her shiver. The ropes didn't loosen, instead seemed to tighten, putting more pressure on her lungs, so much that she couldn't breathe. Only it wasn't the ropes constricting her airway. It was something else that weighed heavy on her chest.

  Guilt? Her nostrils flared. No way. She hadn't done anything to feel guilty about. Negotiations between her and Carter had gone well, he'd just freaked out after his hand hit her cheek. The shock on his face told her he'd gone past his own limits without realizing it. She gave him a sidelong look. Brow furrowed, he concentrated on the tangled
mess he'd made of the ropes around her wrists. He seemed all right. Except for his shaky hands. And the twitch at the right edge of his mouth.

  "Carter, let me take care of her." Chicklet put her hand on Carter's shoulder. "Go for a walk."

  "I'm fine," Carter said.

  Chicklet's fingers dug into his shoulder. "No. You're not. Go. Walk. We'll talk when you come back."

  Carter walked. Leaving Silver alone with Chicklet.

  Meeting the Domme's steady gaze, Silver shrank a little. Tied up, exposed and shamed by the club owner, now at the mercy of Carter's mentor. Might be a good time for her to safeword out.

  "Stop looking so scared, I'm not going to hurt you." Chicklet took a knee behind her and sighed. "Wow. You really fucked with that kid's head. These knots were perfect. I don't know what he did, but I'm not going to be able to untie this." She fetched a small black bag from the side of the ottoman and took out a pair of clippers. "Hold still, I'll have you out of that in a minute."

  As the pieces of the rope fell away, a strange sensation came over her, like being on a rollercoaster without restraints. Her pulse beat too fast. Air came in short little burst, metal and leather, dark and thick and sweet.

  Chicklet snapped her fingers in front of Silver's face. "Stay with me. I'm almost done."

  Done. Then Silver would be free to leave. And she had to leave. She didn't belong here, they'd all made that perfectly clear.

  After helping her to her feet, Chicklet shoved her dress at her. Grinning, she pointed towards the small hall to the bathrooms across the room. "Get dressed, then go splash some water on your face. This is going to take some grovelling, little girl."

  Me? Grovel? Like hell! Silver pulled on her dress and panties, then tossed her hair to give it some life. "What are you talking about?"

  "Carter had no business topping you, and you had no business asking him to. I shouldn't have let it go as on as long as it did, but I figured one of you would smarten up before it went too far." Chicklet shrugged. "My bad."

  "Why shouldn't he have topped me?"

  "Because you have a top already and it wasn't fair to use Carter to hide from him. You're lucky Dean didn't get to him. If that kid had gotten hurt, I'd have dragged you into the alley and shown you what a rabid bitch I can be." Smiling pleasantly, Chicklet lowered herself to one of the leather chairs and rested one ankle on her knee. "Hopefully that won't ever be necessary. I like your sister and you must be all right if Dean likes you. Not convinced, but you'll work on that, right?"

  "I still don't get it. Why is what I asked for so wrong?" Lips pursed, she searched the room. At the spanking throne she saw what she was looking for. A man grabbed his lover's jaw, said something to her, then hauled back and slapped her at least twice as hard as Carter had hit Silver. "Why is it okay for them?"

  Chicklet snorted. "They've been married for ten years."

  "So you can't have fun here unless you're married?"

  "No, but face slapping is a bit extreme for a first scene with someone. There was no telling how either of you would react, but you're good at using your looks to get your own way. Which of course reflected badly on Carter, not you." Chicklet sucked her teeth. "But whatever. It happened. And hit a trigger for him. And you didn't care enough to notice. To make it worse, you asked for more. Hope it was worth it."

  Silver winced. Okay, put that way, maybe it hadn't been her finest moment. Some could even call it selfish. Reckless.

  Heartless.

  "Should I go talk to Carter? Apologize?"

  "No. You're either going to make things right with Dean or you're going to call yourself a cab and go home." Chicklet pulled something out of the small pocket on her vest. Her namesake. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth a chewed hard. "If Carter sees you with Dean, he'll get it. He won't feel like a failure. I'll find him an experienced sub to play with and things will be peachy keen."

  Lovely. Silver sought Dean out in the crowded bar. There, showing a young woman how to hold a whip. He moved on to scrutinize a—Silver almost bit through her tongue—waxplay scene. The colorful spill over the woman's breasts, the lick of fire on the wick, held so close, hardened her own nipples as though they shared the sensation. And enjoyed it.

  Dean bent down, whispering something to the woman that made her smile.

  Silver's eyes slitted. She put her hands on her hips and spun around to face Chicklet. "Dean told me to leave."

  "No." Chicklet smirked over the fist where she'd propped her chin. "He suggested it. You choosing now to be obedient, missy?"

  "Maybe . . . ."

  "Coward."

  "Fuck you."

  Chicklet arched a brow. "I could flog you for that. And I promise you wouldn't enjoy it. Might want to run along before I decide I would."

  Yikes! Silver didn't even try to fake not being afraid of the woman. Her attitude wasn't holding up and she couldn't very well charm the woman into liking her, not after the whole thing with Carter. A punishment from her would be straight up, no nonsense, without anything sexual to dampen the pain.

  At least moving fast kept her from seeing any more scenes. She knew Landon was here, and if she saw him now, she'd forget about putting space between them and walk straight into his arms. He would get what she'd been trying to do. He'd warn her to be careful, but then he'd hold her and make everything better. She wouldn't feel stupid, or alone, or . . . .

  So why are you even considering going to Dean? Chicklet was right! You'll have to kneel and beg his forgiveness. But with Landon—she cut off that thought. One slip with Landon and they wouldn't be friends anymore. They'd be lovers. Then they'd be nothing.

  In the bathroom she splashed water on her face, not worried about ruining her makeup since everything was waterproof. Two women chatted in the stalls, nothing but white noise at first. Until she heard one mention Landon's name.

  "He's new and oh my God!" The woman sounded like Minnie Mouse on crack. "My husband arranged to do a scene with him!"

  "I saw him, you lucky bitch." The second woman squealed. "Do you mind if I watch?"

  "Not at all. He says he doesn't do 'penetration' when he's doing scenes with couples, but my husband will make him a deal. He might be old, but he gets me everything I want. And that stud is mine!"

  "I'm so jealous!"

  "Don't be. Maybe I can slip you in somehow."

  "You are a true friend!"

  Both women laughed. The doors unlocked.

  Silver slipped out before they spotted her. In the hall, she gouged her palms with her nails and counted down to calm her breathing. She hated the idea of those women using Landon like a piece of meat, like their own personal toy. But what could she do? It was none of her business who he fucked.

  Which didn't mean she couldn't look out for him. She slipped into the main room and circled towards the bar, keeping her eye out for Landon. Unable to find him, she watched the hall, and, when two women emerged, nonchalantly followed them to a roped off area in the darkest part of the club, some distance away from the dance floor. All it contained was long, red padded table with restrains hanging from the top and bottom.

  There he was, speaking to an older man as he opened a metal box. As the women, both naked, approached he straightened. They dropped to their knees before him within the rope barrier. Landon's expression darkened and one of the women scrambled to her feet and ducked under the rope.

  That look. Silver swallowed and hugged herself. Oh yeah, he was definitely a Dom. Even concealed behind the curious onlookers gathering on this side of the ropes, she could feel his . . . presence. The only thing that she could compare it to was when she'd gone camping with her parents and her siblings—she couldn't have been more than six—and Daddy had spotted a wolf close to their tent. Her brother and Oriana went out to get a better look, but Silver had stayed in the tent, simply peeking out, afraid to get too close, but needing to see it. She knew she was safe, the wolf paused for a second before disappearing into the woods, but she'd been aware of it
on a primal level.

  As Silver watched, the woman laid herself out on the table and let her husband and Landon strap her down. Landon petted her bare stomach, whispering as he held up something with a thick black handle and a thin glass tube. He manipulated the handle and the tube glowed with an iridescent purple light. Then he traced a circle over the area where his hand had passed.

  In a trance, Silver inched closer until she could see the tiny white sparks hitting the woman's flesh and hear the faint crackling of electricity. The woman made sharp little cries as Landon drew the tip of the glass up to her breasts, lifting it a little above one nipple so the tiny white bolts snapped at it. He continued to tease her with the thin tube, paused, then went to his box for a large glass orb. The people around her ohhed and ahhed over the beautiful, blue color of this one.

  All Silver saw was the glistening between the woman's thighs as she jutted her hips up and grunted. Landon was using the orb along the woman's inner thighs and she moved like she was getting fucked.

  "Oh please! Please!" The woman slammed her head on the table. "I want you!"

  "Hush. Don't fight it." Landon held the orb over her cunt. "You're close. Come for me. I want to see you lose control."

  The woman looked like she might, but instead her eyes opened wide and she glared at her husband. "Earl!"

  The old man pulled out his wallet. "How much will it cost? It should take you more than two minutes. Like you said, she's close."

  "We discussed this earlier. I don't charge, and I don't fuck those I demonstrate for."

  Around her, the crowd began mumbling. She wasn't sure what they were saying. She was waiting for the man to back down. Or for Landon to stop.

  But his focus was on that cunt. Who was completely ignoring him.

  A light throb began in the base of Silver's skull, gaining strength and wrapping around her throat until she couldn't breathe.

  Let Landon handle it.

  "You told your husband you needed this. He doesn't know how to give it to you, but I can teach him." Landon waved the old man closer. "See the way her muscles clench. If you trigger the right pressure points, you force her to open and close in a way that simulates sex. It's even more intense with the TENS."