by Lexi Blake
It had been the first time he’d been accepted lovingly for who he was, the first time he’d felt like he belonged.
He told himself it was strictly in honor of Colin Roberts that he opened his mouth. “Cole is jealous, sweetheart. You look amazing and he’s completely forgotten that he asked you to do this. He never would have asked if he’d known he would have company tonight. He wants to keep your nakedness all to himself, but I personally think you’re too beautiful to have only one man’s eyes on you.”
Kitten stopped, and he could see her tentative smile.
“He’s right,” Cole said quickly. He stood and strode over to where Kitten was. “I forgot I told you to be naked tonight. I forgot. My fault, Kitten. Forgive me.”
He stood in front of her, towering over her. He had to give it to Cole. He was a stunning man. Alpha as the day was long. Cole’s broad shoulders could block out the sun. They could make a sub feel like Cole was ten feet tall, a bulwark against all the bad things of the world. Cole reached out to touch Kitten and she walked right into his arms.
He was a stupid bastard. He should have kept his mouth shut.
And then Kitten would be crying somewhere, thinking she’d offended them when all she’d done was sparked her Master’s jealousy.
No matter what, Kitten should be protected. He would have his revenge, but he would protect her, too. He hadn’t lost that much of himself. He could still find some kindness.
He could damn straight still find lust. His cock was practically thumping against his sweats. She was stunning.
Fuck, so was Cole. Damn it. He wasn’t going there. He wasn’t going to think about what it would mean to stand beside Kitten as her supportive fellow sub. Because he couldn’t go there. He would never sink to his knees beside her and reach for her hand as they waited for their Master. He wouldn’t play and kiss and gossip with her while they rolled in bed at their Master’s command.
He would be the Master and then he couldn’t be hurt again.
“Do you want me to put on clothes?” Kitten asked, her eyes on Cole. She wasn’t looking Mason’s way now. She only had eyes for her Master.
Cole chuckled. “No. I think I prefer you like this, and if that means Mason sees you as well, then I’m all right with that. Come and sit with us. You promised to tell me what’s good. I have no idea. You know I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”
Cole handled it well after his initial stall. He hadn’t changed at all. It was the same Cole from years before. He struggled to express himself, had trouble with apologizing even when it was his fault. He tended to look a bit like a deer in the headlights until Mason stepped in and gave him a chance to turn it around.
Cole kissed the top of her head and Mason would have bet his miserable life that it was one of the first times Cole had done that with Kitten. He’d likely been holding himself back. Given Kitten’s history, Cole would attempt to be patient and wait until the time when he was sure that Kitten was capable of making her own decisions without her prior history coming into play. He would try to almost reset her to a place where she could make decisions without thinking about the trauma.
That wasn’t possible. The trauma had reshaped Kitten, turned her into something different than before. Mason had always known that no one was without damage. The scars he bore made him who he was. Not that he liked who he was much these days.
Kitten took her place across from him, sitting down in her chair with a complete unselfconsciousness he rarely saw in women. She almost seemed more comfortable without her clothes, as if she preferred the lack of walls and barricades.
He had the sudden urge to get rid of his own clothes. Sitting with the Master and his playmate, feeling content that he belonged, that was all he’d ever wanted since that first moment that he and Cole had visited a club and realized what their places were. Mason liked having that place. He craved being the switch because it was the best of both worlds. He got to top a gorgeous woman and be served by the Dom of his dreams.
Except the woman Cole had chosen had been an outrageous harpy, and Cole himself had turned into a nightmare.
“Mason? Are you feeling all right?” Cole’s deep voice cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the present.
He looked up, catching Cole’s eyes. “It’s a headache. That’s all.”
“Should we call in a doctor? Perhaps the doctors at the emergency room were wrong and your injury is worse than we thought.” Kitten leaned forward, concern on her pretty face.
No one had given a damn about him in years. He soaked it up like a sponge because he was stupid and never, ever learned. The first person to reach out to him had him panting after her. He needed to be colder, but he couldn’t work up the will. Not tonight. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a bit woozy. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
She was back on her feet, walking around the table. “You should start with the soup. It’ll be easier on your stomach.” She began to reach for the covered crock. “I have wonton and egg drop.”
No one had served him, either. Not in years. Not anyone who wasn’t looking for a twenty-percent tip. “Wonton, please.”
There was no way to miss the jealous look in Cole’s eyes as Kitten fawned on him.
Yes, his day hadn’t turned out so badly after all.
* * * *
Cole entered his private dungeon with his head spinning. The day hadn’t exactly gone as planned, and he didn’t like the feeling of not being in control.
Mason was under his roof. He was asleep in the pool house. Cole had followed Kitten, who insisted on making sure Mason took his medications and tucking him in before they had their session. She’d fussed and fawned all over him and the years had peeled back and he’d seen his mother there doing the same thing. She’d stood over Mason that first night.
Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie. You have a home here. Our Cole loves you so we love you, too. And stop calling me Helen. I prefer Mom. You sleep tight, and in the morning we will all sit down as a family and figure out what we’re going to do.
His mother had turned off the light and taken Cole’s hand as she walked back to the main house. He remembered every word she’d said that night.
Imagine that woman calling herself a mother. A mother doesn’t toss her child out because he’s not exactly what she wanted him to be. You know I’ll love you no matter what, don’t you, Cole?
Would his mother be proud of the person he’d become? She would accept him. He had no doubt about that, but would she wonder where she’d gone wrong that he’d become so rigid and controlling? His life had become so bland and predictable that eating Chinese food was a feat of daring for him.
He was the Dom, but he had to wonder if Kitten wasn’t the brave one.
He held the door open for her. “Find your position.”
He was relieved to close the door and shut out the rest of the world. This was his dungeon. He was in control here. He had the power.
Kitten immediately sank down, her knees gracefully finding the wood of the floor. Her legs spread wide in a conscious show of her beauty. Palms up. Back straight but with no real tension to it. Her head was at the perfect angle.
Her slave pose was flawless. She needed not an ounce of his teaching when it came to this.
“Which of your Doms taught you how to greet him with such perfection?” He was curious. He would bet it was one of the Dawson brothers. Chase, most likely. He was known to have very particular tastes.
“It was Hawk. He made me practice until I got it perfect.”
Cole’s stomach turned. He didn’t want to think about what that psychopath had done to ensure she was sheer perfection. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Kitten’s head lifted, and there was a frown on her face. “Does where it came from change the beauty of a thing? Should I not take pride in how I greet my Dom because it came from something ugly?”
A minefield, but then half the time he felt like he was walking in one with her. He needed to be
honest and forthright. “I think you’re beautiful, but I worry that every time I ask you to find your position, you’ll think about how you obtained the knowledge.”
She bit her bottom lip, a thing he’d come to associate with her thinking. “That time is a part of me. Maybe it’s an ugly part, but it’s always here. Should I not accept it? Should I fight to forget?”
“You should fight so you don’t have to think about it every day, so you can get back to the girl you were. That way you can get on with your life. With the life we could have here.”
She was quiet for a moment and he rather hoped they were ready to move on, but these sessions were about her and if she chose to spend them talking, then he would listen. Finally her eyes came up and she caught his. “Sir, I’m twenty-five. Is any twenty-five-year-old truly the same person she was at eighteen? At twenty? Even if I hadn’t been taken, I would have changed. I can’t pretend like my life was put on pause and go back to that moment. Besides, I didn’t particularly like the person I was before.”
This was exactly what he worried about. This was why he’d held back. “So you like the person your captor turned you into?”
“No, but I do like the woman who survived.” There was a sheen of tears in her eyes but there was something prideful about them. These weren’t tears of sadness. They were the emotions of a woman who was standing up for herself even as she was on her knees.
He didn’t understand her, but he admired her. He wanted her. He couldn’t have her yet, not until he found that understanding he needed to move on, but he could certainly give her what she needed. “I like that woman, too, pet. Now let’s get on to tonight’s session.”
A flogging. It would relax them both. That was what they both needed, a good long session to ease all the tension. He would find his top space. She could spend her time in subspace. It would all be fine, and they would begin again in the morning. He turned and studied the wall of impact toys. Each had been lovingly handcrafted.
Deerskin to start? He preferred to ease into it. Deerskin was gentle but she liked a big bite of pain.
“What happened between you and Mason, Sir?”
“Have you forgotten protocol?” The question came out a bit harsher than he’d intended, but then her words had been completely unexpected. Kitten was perfect. When she got to the dungeon, she only spoke when spoken to and followed every rule. She wasn’t the type of sub who misbehaved to get punished. She expected the punishment as a reward for good behavior, not the other way around.
Her eyes slid to the floor and she was silent again. Though she didn’t move a muscle, some of the ease of their company had left. There was a tension between them now that he hated, a definite distance.
“I don’t talk to my submissives, Kitten. Not in that way.” He hadn’t covered this in their contract and it hadn’t come up. “I will listen to anything you want to say, but I’m not the type of man who needs to talk things out. What happened between Mason and myself is ancient history and it will remain that way. All you need to know is that he and I had a falling out and it will not affect you. We will mind our manners around you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice held none of the warmth from before. It was soft, submissive, but the personality had leeched away.
They were back to Dom and sub, and for a moment, they had seemed like something close to friends.
Did he want to be friends with her? He hadn’t been what he would call friends with his other submissives. There hadn’t been many. Only three. Anna was happily married with a couple of kids and living in Oregon now. She’d been the first, but she’d known what she wanted and it hadn’t been a permanent ménage. Susan had been a wild thing. She and Mason had gotten into so much trouble together, but she left, too. And Emily. He’d certainly not been friends with Emily. He’d been an odd combination of father figure, Dom, and therapist. He’d certainly had to be her disciplinarian.
What did he want to be to Kitten? Merely her Dom? Did he want to put her in a space slotted for relaxation and a sense of accomplishment?
What did she truly need from him?
He looked up and realized minutes had passed. How many he wasn’t sure, but Kitten hadn’t moved. Discipline. She was the definition of the word.
And he rather missed the brat who tried to manipulate him, the one who grinned in a wickedly sensual way, the imp who’d brushed her breasts against his arms as she’d served him dinner.
“Come here.” If he was going to do this, he could at least kill two birds with one stone. “I’ll talk while I warm you up. Would you like that? I warn you, it’s not a happy story.”
The smile on her face as she got to her feet was worth any discomfort talking about his relationship with Mason would bring.
“Yes, Sir. I would like that very much.” She practically ran to the spanking bench, her breasts bouncing sweetly.
“Hey,” he said in a moment of complete impulse. “You should kiss your Dom before he services you.”
He’d gotten her off a couple of times, but he’d never kissed her, and now that seemed like such a stupid thing to have put off. Perhaps he was being too cautious. They both needed some affection.
She bounced back up. One of the things he adored about her was her boundless enthusiasm. The minute she walked into a room, it felt like the lights came on for the first time. The energy went up or down based on her mood. And that grin she had when she was truly happy did weird things to his heart.
The way looking at Mason used to move him.
“Is this a new protocol?” Kitten asked with wide, innocent eyes as she went on her tiptoes.
He loved protocol because it taught him how to behave. It gave him a structure to his life he needed because he didn’t always understand the social niceties. It taught him how to act. Like his father had taught him to always look a person in the eyes when he talked to them, even though it hadn’t been his instinct. Like Mason had taught him that hugging and kissing could be nice, and then he’d shown him an entirely different world. “Yes. The new protocol is that your Dom gets a kiss before and after a session.”
She put her hands on the side of his face and the sweetest look came over her. She seemed to study him for a moment, her eyes taking him in to the point that he almost felt uncomfortable.
“Do you not want to kiss me?” He wasn’t sure how he would handle that.
“No, Sir. It’s the first kiss. Our first kiss. I want to remember it.”
It felt like a fist closed around his heart, squeezing tight. “Kitten, I’m going to ask you a question and I need a real and true answer from you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Have you ever willingly kissed a man?”
Her hands found his hair and she ran her fingers through slowly, as though she was attempting to memorize the feel. “No. I had a sheltered childhood and then I was taken. When I got to The Club, I had Doms, but none of them wanted to kiss me. The rest was not my choice so this is my first kiss, and I want to make it count.”
Now he knew why he’d hesitated, why he’d waited. He was afraid. He was afraid he would screw it up for her. Afraid that what that monster hadn’t managed to ruin with his violence, he would do with his coldness. He didn’t want to be cold with her, but he wasn’t certain how to loosen the reins.
You’ve never kissed a man before. Have you kissed a girl, Cole?
“Mason was my first kiss.”
“Really?” Every time he offered her some piece of his soul, she lit up like fire being stoked to life.
He nodded. “I was single-minded in my studies in high school. Very competitive. A little shy. Hell, I was a lot shy, Kitten. I was overweight and I wore these thick glasses because I couldn’t stand the thought of contacts. I met Mason at my father’s country club. His father was the groundskeeper. I kissed him in the woods behind the ninth hole.”
“You kissed him?”
He nodded. “He insisted. He said he’d kissed a bunch of girls and a couple of guy
s by then, and that I should be allowed to discover what I liked. So why don’t you kiss me?”
There were tears in her eyes as she went on her tiptoes. They still terrified him but now he was beginning to see her willingness to show her emotions as a type of strength.
She touched his face, her eyes carefully taking him in as though studying him. Her fingertips brushed along the planes of his cheeks, over his nose, tracing the lines of his jaw.
He was always in control except for those brief moments when he’d tangled with Mason and they wrestled like wildcats trying to prove their strength. He’d never once had this singular instant of discovery, never had a woman stare at him like he was a treasure she’d found, and in that one moment, he realized why a sub was a sub.
There was a beauty in trusting someone to not harm him, in giving over and allowing another to have their way. It wasn’t something he could do often, but as he allowed Kitten to explore, he realized that he hadn’t given her everything she needed. She needed to be worshipped, to feel like a thing of beauty.
She rubbed her cheek against his and his cock hardened painfully. Her body was so close. He could feel her heat, smell the shampoo in her hair.
Mason had understood what she needed immediately because it was what he needed, too.
Could he ever trust Mason again? Could he willingly stand still and let Mason rip his heart out again?
Still. It was odd to be so still because he was always in motion. Even sitting quietly, his mind always raced at a million miles an hour, but now he was forced to stop and pay attention to her. Kitten was more animated than he’d ever seen her. Her green eyes were lit up, glowing with some deep desire, some glorious discovery.
She was discovering him, and if he took this as seriously as he should, he suddenly knew he could discover her, too.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a kiss as much as I want this one.” He owed her honesty. He wanted her to know how crazy she was making him, how she was tearing down his walls and he felt like a kid again.