by Cathryn Cade
Jake stopped with her and cocked his head to examine her face in the light of the globe lamps hanging on the walls. “You good?” he asked, his voice a rumble over the music drifting up the stairs.
Carlie nearly snorted with nervous laughter. Pink was singing about being a guy’s willing victim. How appropriate.
She nodded. “I’m good.”
His hand pressed against her back, hot through the thin fabric of her skirt. “All right. C’mon.”
She walked along the hallway with him. When she heard a smack and then a breathy moan, her head jerked left, and she peered past Jake’s broad torso. Her eyes wide, she stopped in her tracks.
Inside the room, a woman was tied, spread-eagled, to the wall on just the kind of apparatus Carlie had been worrying about—a rack. She was naked, her body pale against the dark wood and burgundy wall behind her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, but she was moving, jerking as the fully clothed man standing to one side struck her with a flogger.
He hit her again, and the tails licked over her groin, her mons. Red marks streaked her skin. But she moaned again, and her body arched out toward the flogger, not away from it. Carlie’s heart skipped a beat, then raced. The woman clearly loved what was being done to her.
The man turned, as if sensing their presence. He jerked his chin at Jake and glanced at Carlie, a swift but encompassing look. Then he gave Jake a half grin, one of those purely male looks that said, We’re good, huh, buddy? and turned back to what he was doing.
This time he reached out and put his hand between the woman’s legs. She was not young, and neither was he. They both had silver hair, although both were fit. The man leaned close to say something and the woman nodded, turning her face toward him, her eyes still closed.
“You want to stay and watch?” Jake asked.
Carlie shook her head quickly, her cheeks burning. Gah, she’d been spying on these people during a very private moment. Although, they were at a sex club with the door open. So she guessed they didn’t mind.
Jake’s hand pressed again, and they walked on. The next room held some kind of padded table. A man lay on it, another standing over him, one hand upraised, holding something he was pouring. Carlie smelled something hot, like melted crayons, and she heard a low, aroused groan. Okay, she really did not want to see any more of that. She’d read about wax play. They said it didn’t really hurt, but it certainly looked as if it did.
Jake ignored the two men, reaching past Carlie to push the last door open. She walked hesitantly into a room. Another wave of relief swamped her. The room held a wardrobe, a chair, a bench and a bed, a big bed covered in a plush black-and-burgundy-patterned coverlet. There were no handcuffs, whips or chains, or anything else frightening.
The door closed behind them, and the music muted out, leaving only the beat pulsing through the floor, and the soft, irregular sound of her own breath.
She was upstairs. With Jake. Finally, thank God—although, maybe she should just wait a little on that.
Jake stood close behind her. So close that his heat reached out to her, radiating through the thin layers of their clothing. His warm breath stirred the hair on her nape, but more than that, the deep timbre of his voice stirred her body to a taut, shivery awareness of him as a man. She quivered with anticipation and nerves, wondering if she should turn to him or wait.
“Why are you here, Carlie?”
She frowned. “To…have sex.”
“No.” His voice was calm, with no impatience. “Why are you here?”
Her mouth dried, and her next breath caught in her throat. He was going to make her say it. Heat fired in her cheeks, spreading down over her chest.
“I’m here to be—I mean I want to…submit.” Oh God, she’d said it out loud. In a croak, because her throat seemed clogged with reluctance, but she’d said it. She was a grown woman, a successful career woman, a modern American woman, and she’d just admitted she wanted a man to own her sexually. For a little while, anyway. As long as it took to have a great orgasm.
“That’s right.” His deep voice was softer now, and his hands closed over her bare arms, big and powerful and…comforting. He leaned closer, his mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “Good, baby. I know that was hard. But it’s okay. You’re here, and I’ve got you.”
He gave her arms a little squeeze and moved one hand to the high curve of her hip, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh. A possessive grip, and one that anchored her, made her feel safe.
“You’re interested in bondage,” he went on, and the heat on her face spread down her throat, her heart tripping as he voiced what she’d indicated on her questionnaire. “So we’re gonna try it. We’ll go light this time, but first, what are your safe words again?”
“Green means go, yellow means I’m not sure, slow down, and red means stop.” Thank God the words were ingrained, matching traffic signals. She didn’t have to worry about getting so nervous she forgot. Because she was nervous enough that her armpits were prickling. Ooh, what if she got that nervous stinky sweat, and he was grossed out before he even saw her naked?
Then he spoke, and her attention leapt back to him, every iota of her focused on the man behind her.
“More than that, red means every dom in the place will come running to help you,” he said, his voice hard as steel. “But since I’m planning to go easy on you, if you use red, we’re done. You got that?”
Dismay iced through her anticipation. “D-don’t you… I thought you wanted to be with me?” She twisted to see his face. Was he telling her this was just a chore for him, just part of being a club owner?
He shook his head, a frown drawing his brows together. She shivered at the displeasure in his gaze. “Carlie, if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t be. Simple as that.”
His deep voice hardened, and she froze instinctively. Wow, so this was what it was like to displease a dom. “But like I said, I’m gonna be going easy, so if you can’t handle it or don’t like it, there won’t be much point in exploring bondage any further. So again, do you understand that if you say red, we’re done here? We won’t be trying to scene again.”
She nodded.
“Good. Now eyes on the floor, sub. I’ll tell you when I want you to look at me.”
Before she knew it, Carlie snapped her head around and lowered her gaze to the floor. Her hair slid forward, one curl tickling her cleavage. She should be glaring back at him, and demanding to know what century he thought they were in. But instead, a guilty thrill of pleasure coursed through her. He was going to take care of everything. All she had to do was whatever he told her to do.
Jake moved, his shirt brushing her bare arm as he moved around to stand before her.
“That’s a real pretty outfit,” he said. “Time to take it off.”
Whoa. This was the more modest of the two outfits she’d purchased at Kiss Me, Kink Me expressly for this purpose. And she’d known this moment was coming, but now it was here. She wanted to look into his eyes for reassurance, but she remembered just in time to keep her head down, because he wanted her to. Dipping her chin to her collarbone, she reached for the hook at one side of her waist and unfastened it. Her hands were trembling, but thankfully, the fastener was simple.
The soft fabric drooped open, and with a quick breath for courage, she pulled the tie at the back of her neck and let the halter slide down into her hands, baring her deep cleavage, her pale midriff and belly, bisected by the dark pink of her lacy plunge bra.
Jake made a deep sound of approval. “Mm, nice undies.”
She nearly giggled, caught her breath on a nervous hitch. The woman at Kiss Me, Kink Me had tried to sell her a black set, but sexy undies were another of Carlie’s weaknesses, and she was not spending a fortune on more. “Thank you.”
She pulled the fastener at her hip open and let the skirt fall, draping on the floor around her feet. Now he could see everything, or nearly. Her high-cut briefs were mostly lace, and her stockings, so light she could
hardly feel them, had a stretchy band at the top so they clung to her thighs, but because of her workouts, they did not, thank God, leave an ugly bulge in her thighs.
She wanted desperately to look at Jake, see what his gaze held—admiration or something else. But no, she was glad she didn’t have to see his expression, because if she couldn’t read it or saw a look she didn’t want to see, she might just bolt.
“You can hang it in the wardrobe,” he said, his arm moving to indicate the big, antique wardrobe to one side of the room.
Carlie dipped her knees to pick up the skirt from the floor, because she was not bending over and sticking out her ass. Unless he told her to. Oh, geez. He might—it could happen.
Turning, she walked across the room. She was conscious of every part of her moving, of how she must look to him, a woman walking away in high heels and stockings, bikini panties and a bra, the rest of her bared to his gaze. She reached the wardrobe. The door opened soundlessly to reveal a rod with a few dark robes hanging, and a set of narrow drawers.
Conscious of his gaze on her nearly bare ass, Carlie held herself stiffly erect as she hung the dress neatly on a hanger and turned back to him. Her gaze flew to his face, her hands clenching into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms. Would she find distaste in his eyes, or something else?
Jake’s eyes met hers, and he raised one brow, his expression giving nothing away. Oh, right. Carlie lowered her gaze to his feet.
“Do you…want me to take the stockings off?” she blurted.
“No,” he said, and she dared one glance to see his gaze on her legs, with a heat that flashed through her like a hot ball of need. “No, I think we’ll leave them on.”
She let out a breath. He wasn’t disgusted, anyway.
“Come here,” he commanded.
She walked back to him and stood before him, waiting. Okay, now she felt like a submissive. She’d come to him at his command, and she wore only scraps of sexy lace and sandals, while he was fully clothed in a black silky T-shirt, pants and woven slip-ons that were not tiny high heels designed to make his legs look longer, as her shoes were.
He lifted his big hands and pushed her hair back over her shoulders, his touch gentle. “You look amazing, baby.”
Before she could stop herself, she shook her head once in embarrassed negation. His hands stilled. She waited, not breathing. Oops. Pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to argue with a dom—especially not this one.
“You don’t believe me?” He put a calloused forefinger under her chin and tipped her head up to look into her eyes. He scowled, and this time he shook his head. “Damn, you really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” she managed.
“That you are one hot, sexy woman.” His gaze slipped down over her to linger on her breasts. Her body reacted instantly, her skin flushing, nipples tightening in their thin lace covering, poking out. He made that sound of deep approval again. “You have world-class tits and a smokin’ body.”
He let his gaze wander farther, down to the apex of her thighs. “Not all guys want walking toothpicks, you know.”
She stiffened, her pleasure in his words disappearing.
He cocked his head and regarded her narrowly. “What?”
Carlie stared at his broad chest, her hands fisting at her sides. “Nothing.” It was none of her business if his actions didn’t match his words. She didn’t need him to say all this stuff.
His hand lifted her chin again, but this time his thumb and forefinger held her in a firm grip, and his face was stern, displeasure in every line. “Carlie, when I ask you a question, I get an answer—an honest one. That’s how this works. If you don’t trust me, don’t trust what I say, then you don’t belong here with me.”
She flinched but forced herself to return his gaze. “I’m—you’re right. It—it’s just that…woman you were talking to when I walked in? I saw you with her at Pink Night. She’s…well, the opposite of me, that’s for sure.”
An odd expression crossed his hard face. He set his hand on her hip, and Carlie nearly whimpered at the pleasure of his touch on her bare skin. His hands were so big, so warm, and she could feel calluses. He rubbed his other thumb over her chin, his gaze falling and then lifting to meet hers again.
“I’m not gonna discuss what I do with other subs here. Suffice to say, men are wired different than women. And I’m a dom. That means I give club patrons what they need. Lot of times—a lot of times that doesn’t include fucking.”
Carlie blinked. The other subs here, like she was just one of a group. Eww, she wasn’t sure about that. Still, it sounded as if he hadn’t had sex with that woman.
A faint twinkle warmed his eyes. “You don’t like that word—fucking?”
“I don’t mind it.” She wasn’t going to say it, but if he did, well, they were in a sex club.
“Good. You want me to fuck you, Carlie?”
Heat suffused her, this time not from embarrassment. Oh God, just the thought of getting him in her arms, his impressive package inside her was enough to make her knees weak and her pussy clench.
She tried to nod, but his grip wouldn’t allow it. Which was okay, because she could drown in the hot ice of his gray eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.
His hand moved on her hip, sliding down over her ass, his little finger sliding inside the lace of her panties to rest at the apex of the cleft of her ass. That tantalizing touch sent a shiver right through her. “Ask me, sub.”
It was a challenge, an order. And even with her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it and her weak legs ready to drop her at his feet, she was going to take it.
“Please,” she asked, her voice cracking as she gazed into his eyes. “F-fuck me, Jake.”
“While you’re restrained,” he goaded, his mouth so close to hers she felt every puff of his warm, minty breath. He must have had a breath mint after his beer. The stray thought flitted through her mind and disappeared in a rush of heat.
Oh God, now her legs really were going to melt. A small whimper broke free from her throat, and his body tensed, a large predator ready to spring. “While…while I’m restrained,” she whispered. “By you.”
“All right, then. You want that, that’s what I’ll give you.”
And this was what she’d give him. Her body, and her trust. Just for now, because that was all this was.
Carlie peeped past Jake at the bed. “Um, do we have to…go somewhere else?” she asked.
“Why would we have to do that?” he asked, his attention fully on her, not looking at her breasts or already grabbing her ass, moving ahead to the main event. She loved that about him—how he really listened to her and watched her to see what she was feeling, what she really meant when she spoke.
Having Jake’s undivided attention was more arousing than any other guy touching all her best places. When he looked into her eyes, the way he was now, she felt special, beautiful and turned on.
Oh right. He’d asked a question. “Well, because there’s no…um, stuff in here. Bondage stuff—I mean, equipment.” Gah, she sounded like an idiot.
Unexpectedly, he grinned. And Jake Stone grinning was a sight to see, like the sun breaking through the Portland winter clouds. His white teeth flashed, one of his eyeteeth slightly crooked so his lip quirked up over it, his eyes twinkling, a crease in each of his hard cheeks, amusement radiating from him. “You don’t think there’s ‘stuff’ in this room? Remember where you are, sub.”
A hard shiver of awareness racked through her. Right. She was upstairs at the club. There was bondage equipment here, somewhere. Concealed. Waiting for her. She peered around the room again, her nerves jumping higher.
He felt her shiver, because his smile slid away, leaving a man intent on what he meant to do—her.
“Y’know,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I was gonna ease you in, but I think we’ll just skip a step or two, because the thought of this really excites you, doesn’t it?”
She wanted to shake
her head, wanted it very badly, because she was scared. But she knew if she did, she wasn’t being honest with herself or Jake. Because mostly what frightened her was what she would discover about herself. And she hadn’t made it this far to lie.
Looking into his eyes, she nodded. And was rewarded with a squeeze of his hands. “Good. We’ll get to the bed later. After we’ve had some fun.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jake kept his hand on Carlie’s ass, guiding her firmly. Not making her choose anymore.
He walked her to the heavy draperies hanging on the wall. Reaching to one side, his gaze on her face, he pulled a cord. The draperies parted as if revealing a stage set. Carlie gasped, breath freezing in her throat.
A huge X in a wooden frame took up most of the wall, like the one she’d seen in the first room. The wood was smooth and dark. Dangling from it were cuffs, ropes and chains, all of them in black fabric and dark metal. Classy, and the metal pieces were even padded. But still scary as heck.
Jake gave her only a few seconds to take it all in before moving her to the wall, and turning her so her back was to it. “Look at me,” he ordered.
Carlie’s gaze flew to his as if his gaze were a lifeline.
“I’m gonna restrain your hands,” he told her, his hands already circling her wrists and lifting her arms up and to the sides. “Hold on here, baby.”
Baby. Carlie curled her fingers around the smooth, wooden grips and watched his face as he looked up and to the side. She knew other women who sneered at being called that, thought it was an attempt by a man to diminish them. Now she knew it was because they hadn’t heard Jake say it to them in this soft rumble, which wrapped around her as surely as the velvet grip of the cuff he fastened at her wrist. He tugged, and then turned his attention to the other side. Then he looked back at her.