Shiver

by Suzanne Wright

“You mean because there aren’t people strutting around in PVC or leather?” There was a smile in his voice.

  “Kind of.”

  Much as he had in the cabana, Blake twisted slightly to face me. “There’s a company that likes to hire our function rooms to throw private fetish parties. That’s where you’ll find the leather-clad people. Here in the basement, you have people who are more … curious. They don’t want costumes, medieval-looking machines, or anything too hardcore. They just want to be in a safe place where they can have fun, experiment, and meet like-minded people. Some even treat it as a sort of hotspot for subs and Dominants to find each other. They may then move onto … darker pastures together. They may not. It all depends on what they like.”

  A door on the far side of the large space swung open, and loud music briefly filtered through. “What’s through there?”

  “A lot of things.” He traced the shell of my ear with his finger. “This, here, is the lounge. Most people come to have a drink or a meal as a start to their evening. Once done, they often go play.”

  Play. The word sent a pleasant tingle down my spine. “And, what, you’re a Dominant?”

  His brow creased. “No. I’m not interested in labels, safe words, props, or hearing anyone call me ‘Sir.’ I like control. I don’t want the illusion of it. I’m dominant in the bedroom, but I’m not a Dominant. I don’t want a sub.”

  “BDSM doesn’t do it for you because subs have the true power, so it wouldn’t feel like being in control?”

  “In a sense, yes.” He idly combed his fingers through my hair. “What I really like is having control over someone who doesn’t want to give it to me—not by me taking it, but by them grudgingly ceding it. That’s power. But it’s not a power I’d abuse. I don’t want it because I get a sick kick out of it. I don’t want to crush someone’s will or change them.”

  “You like the struggle,” I understood. “The psychological battle. You like to win it.” And it made me wonder if someone had once stripped him of power to the extent that he’d always crave a fight to win it.

  “Yes,” he said simply. He owned his sexuality and made no apologies or excuses for it. I liked that. Admired it.

  “Okay. So why did you bring me here?”

  He glanced around. “A lot of the people here only have a relationship within the confines of the club.” He tipped his chin at a cute couple who were snuggling on an armchair, laughing. “Take them, for example. Whenever they’re in the Vault, she’s his, and he’s hers. Neither of them stray while they’re here. Outside the Vault, they lead separate lives and they never mix them. They’re happy this way.”

  My brows lifted. “Do they date other people when they’re not here?”

  “Don’t know. Never asked. I doubt they do, though, because he’s very possessive.” Blake’s mouth twisted. “I think you see where I’m going with this.”

  Yes, I did. This was the ‘middle’ he’d been talking about.

  “You said you’d keep an open mind, Kensey. The arrangement that many of these couples have isn’t typical, no, but it’s not bad. Look at them. They don’t just come here and disappear into one of the private rooms. First, they have a drink, maybe even a meal, take some time to enjoy each other’s company. That’s more than most bed-buddies can expect, and it’s a far cry from a meaningless hook-up.”

  He was right on that. To be honest, I found myself fascinated and curious about how it all worked. “They don’t mix their lives outside the Vault?”

  “Most of them don’t, no. But it’s not that they each think of the other as a dirty secret. A kinky secret, maybe, but not a dirty one. For them, this is their place. This is where they can come to shed all the shit going on in their lives. Here, they can let it all go and be themselves. Here, the only thing they have to concentrate on is each other.”

  The waitress appeared and put two glasses of red wine on the table. She blushed at Blake’s nod of thanks.

  “Some of the members are focused on their careers,” Blake went on when we were alone again. “They don’t have time for the dating game. But, like you, they don’t want something impersonal. Add in that their sexual preferences aren’t conventional and it becomes even harder for them to find something that works—especially if they’re celebrities and like to keep said preferences private.”

  I took a sip of wine. “And this works for them?”

  “Yes, and I think it would work for us. Agreeing to an arrangement like this would address both our problems, Kensey. Neither of us can invest in a relationship right now, but you don’t want a hook-up. You don’t want to feel used and discarded. You don’t want something cold. Does what they have look cold to you?”

  No, it didn’t. They looked relaxed. As if, just as he’d said, they’d shed all their worries. I supposed there weren’t many places where people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at your partner kneeling at your feet instead of sitting beside you.

  “And I’ve come to realize that a one-night stand wouldn’t cut it with you,” Blake added, voice deepening. “There are just too many things I want to do to you.”

  I swallowed, a little flustered by the raw need that was practically carved into his face. “You don’t see this as a form of relationship?”

  “What we’d have is an arrangement. The boundaries would be clear. Our lives would be our own. We’d each know where we stood. But it wouldn’t be impersonal.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “This might not be a conventional way to meet you in the middle, but I believe it would work.”

  It struck me that, hey, he really had made an effort to find a compromise. “If I said yes, how would it work? What are the rules?” I didn’t do well with rules.

  “The only rules will be the ones we make for ourselves.”

  “And you would, to a certain extent, expect me to obey you?” That would be a major problem.

  “I’m not going to ask you to keep your eyes on the floor, wear a collar, or speak only when I give you permission to do so. I told you, I don’t want a sub. I won’t expect you to do anything. But will I try to control you in the bedroom? Yes, I will.” He drank some of his wine. “Notice that there’s a certain dress etiquette here that people follow to avoid misunderstandings.” Placing a hand on my thigh, he leaned toward me, though his eyes were running along the others in the room. “See how many people are wearing something red?”

  I glanced around, annoyed that I hadn’t noticed it before. There were many red ties, shirts, dresses, sashes, and pieces of jewelry. Some people wore items of clothing with red stripes or patterns. “Yeah.”

  “That means that, within the confines of the Vault at least, they’re taken. Off-limits. No one will approach them with the intent of making a pass at them. I’d expect you to wear something red to signal that you’re claimed. I’d do the same.”

  “Some of these people appear to be in threesomes. Even foursomes. Or maybe they’re just grouping together for the night, I don’t know …”

  “No one but me would touch you,” he said, sensing my concern. “And I wouldn’t touch anyone but you.”

  “What about when we’re outside the Vault?”

  “I’d like that exclusivity to still apply. I know from how I felt seeing Cade at your apartment earlier that sharing you would be … difficult for me.”

  I was glad of that. The whole ‘seeing other people thing’ just wasn’t something I could navigate without getting pissed at someone. “Okay, let me get this straight. Here, I’d be yours. Out of the Vault, my life would be my own. The two worlds wouldn’t mix. But neither of us would date other people.”

  “That’s right.”

  I worried my lower lip. “How often would we meet here?”

  “As often as we wanted.”

  “Would I have to keep it a secret?”

  His fingers briefly paused in doodling on my thigh. “If you mean could you tell Sarah, yes. I’d rather Sherry and Dodger didn’t know.”

  “I wouldn’t tell them anyway.” Nor
Cade or Clear. None of them would get it. They’d tell me I was worth more. I was. But Blake would never be the person to give me more. And that realization caused a twist of pain in my stomach—a twist that was dangerous, unexpected, and gave me pause. “I need to think about it.”

  “What do you need to think about?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle and patient.

  I just needed to be sure this could work for me. I could see why this kind of arrangement would appeal to him. He fed all his energy into his own life. A relationship would mean giving up some of the control he held over that life, and it was clear that Blake had a hard time giving up any. He didn’t want another set of opinions, routines, and obligations to consider. Didn’t want responsibilities or ties. And if I went along with this, I’d need to be good with that. Right now, I was. But if that changed, this ‘arrangement’ would eat at my pride and leave me hurting.

  “If you have questions, Kensey, just ask.”

  Well, I did have one. “I can tell by the way some of the women here are looking at you that you’ve, let’s say, indulged yourself. How many arrangements have you had with people here?”

  “None.”

  I blinked. “None? Why not? I mean, you’re a guy.” A highly sexual one. “Guys tend to like regular sex with no strings.”

  “As you correctly guessed, I indulged. Sometimes it was regular sex with no strings, but I didn’t stake a claim on any of the women because I didn’t want to. Besides, most of them wanted a Dom; I don’t wish to be one. I simply like control.”

  I took another sip from my glass. “Have you ever been in a real relationship?”

  His face blanked. “No.”

  “That was a lie.”

  He didn’t deny it. He also didn’t look in the least bit apologetic for lying.

  “I don’t expect you to share dark secrets or bare your soul. But like I told you this morning, I’m not interested in fucking a stranger.”

  After a long moment, he shrugged. “I was too young for it to count as a real relationship.”

  Something about the way he said that made the hairs on my nape rise. “How young?”

  His jaw hardened. “Seventeen.”

  So not illegally young, good.

  He slid his warm hand a little further up my thigh. “Tell me about Cade.”

  “We’ve been close friends since we were kids. We dated when we were in high school for about a year.”

  “But you’ve slept together since then, haven’t you?”

  I shifted in my seat. “There were a few random encounters.” When we were drunk or lonely.

  “When did the last one occur?”

  “Four years ago.” Before I’d promised myself no more one-night stands.

  “Did he go to your place last night for sex?” There was a dark edge in those words that made my hackles rise.

  “No.” Again, music filtered into the lounge as the door on the other side of the space swung open. “Seriously, what’s through there?”

  His lips twitched. “So curious.” He sipped his wine. “Private rooms, and the dome.”

  I tilted my head slightly. “The dome?”

  “A large dancefloor.” He drained his glass and then set it on the table. “I’ll give you a tour.” Rising to his feet, he offered me his hand. “Come.”

  Putting down my half-empty glass, I placed my hand in his and let him lead me across the lounge. People nodded his way or raised their glasses in greeting. I avoided their eyes, keeping my focus on the door. Blake pulled it open and ushered me into a long, dimly lit hallway. Looking at the row of doors, I said, “I’m guessing these are the private rooms.”

  “Many of them are themed.”

  I blinked. “Themed?”

  Cupping my hips, he drew me close. “Let’s say your fantasy is fucking in a library. Well, there’s a room that will cater to that. Or maybe you want to know what it’s like to fuck in a public restroom. There’s a room that caters to that too.”

  Wow. That was kind of … cool. My imagination was seriously impressed. “What other fantasies do you cater to?”

  He skimmed the pad of his finger along my lower lip. “If you say yes to my offer, you’ll find out.”

  At the far end of the hallway was a set of ornate doors. Through the glass, I could see strobe lights flickering. The music was muted yet still loud. “I take it that’s the dome.”

  “It is.”

  “I want to see inside.”

  His mouth curved. “Thought you might. It works to my advantage that you’re so inquisitive.” Interlacing our fingers, he guided me down the hallway. Some people lingered here and there. They each greeted Blake, but he didn’t break stride or give them anything other than a brief nod in response. Finally reaching the glass doors, he gently steered me inside.

  The dome was very much like a grand ballroom. The black marble walls were as glossy as the checkered floor that made me think of a chess board. Red velvet drapes framed the fake French windows, and beautiful tiered chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

  The room was full. People sung, danced, and whooped. Others leaned against the fluted columns or stood within the small arched hollows near the long mirrors.

  Blake’s mouth grazed my ear. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s seriously fucking impressive.” Noticing that there were two other sets of ornate doors, I asked, “Where do they lead?”

  “To more private rooms. I guess you could say the dome is the heart of the basement.” He linked our fingers again and drew me through the crowd to the doors on our far left. As we stepped into yet another hallway, he said, “I booked us one of the standard rooms.”

  I arched an imperious brow. “Very sure of yourself, huh.”

  “No. Hopeful.” Finally coming to a halt, he unlocked a door with a keycard. Eyes on mine, he let the door swing open, but he didn’t usher me inside. He was leaving the choice up to me, I understood.

  No coward, I walked in, stepping onto a lush carpet. It looked like a luxury hotel suite, complete with an en suite bathroom. It even had balcony doors and coffee amenities. Seriously, I could honestly believe I was in a hotel.

  “I’ve given you a lot to think about,” said Blake, moving to the center of the room. “I know that. There’s nothing romantic about what I’m offering you—I know that too. But give this a try, Kensey.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. There was definitely nothing romantic about it, but I’d never been big on romance. I didn’t mind that he wasn’t offering me hearts and rainbows. But, well, I hadn’t exactly foreseen myself having such an odd ‘arrangement.’

  I doubted it would last long—Blake Mercier struck me as the kind of guy who got bored easily. That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, right? But was I daring enough to give it a go?

  One thing I knew for sure was that if I walked out of this room right now, I’d always wonder if sex between us would have been as good as all that chemistry promised. If I stayed and agreed to his offer, I’d later walk away with some super fun memories—where was the harm in that?

  His hands framed my face. “What’s making you hesitate? I can’t make it go away until you tell me what it is.”

  I sighed. “There’s only one thing holding me back, but I’m not so sure it’s something you can fix. I mean, it’s a big problem.”

  “Try me.”

  “The fact is … I really doubt I can afford the membership fee.”

  He smiled, sensing my surrender, and skimmed the tips of his fingers down my arm. “No charge for you.” He took my purse and dumped it on the desk. “There are perks that come with belonging to the owner of the club.”

  “Belonging?”

  His eyes glittered at the note of challenge in my tone. An intensity gathered behind those eyes, and the air charged and snapped taut. He snaked one hand around my throat. “When we’re here, I own you,” he said calmly but with a silky menace. “From the moment you step through the doors of the Vault, you
’re mine. Understand?”

  Fighting my defiant streak, I gave a curt, begrudging nod.

  “Say you understand.”

  “I understand,” I bit out.

  “Don’t forget it.” He grabbed my chin and yanked my mouth to his, sinking his tongue inside. The kiss was hard, wet, and rough. I sucked on his tongue, knowing it would make him imagine me sucking his cock.

  He twisted my hair into a ponytail and snatched my head back. “I can’t look at your mouth without wanting to fuck it. I will have it. I’ll do a lot of things to you. Fuck you. Tease you. Use you. But never hurt you.” Then he was kissing me again. Harder. Deeper. Practically fucking my mouth with his tongue.

  I slid my hand down to snap open his fly, but he pinned my wrists behind my back and shook his head. With a frown, I wriggled, fighting to be free. He didn’t say a word; just watched me, letting me struggle, showing me how much stronger he was … and sending the message that I wasn’t in control.

  I finally stopped struggling and snarled, “Let me go, asshole.” He did, but I felt no victory because his mouth curved into a smile that caused the hairs on my nape to rise. He began to circle me like a predator surveying its prey. He made me think of a jungle cat toying with a baby gazelle; letting it free just to humor it and see what it would do, so sure he could catch it again whenever he pleased.

  “You know what I think, Kensey?”

  “What?”

  “I think defiance is in your very bones.” He moved to stand in front of me and lowered the side zipper of my dress. “And I think …” He drew the thin straps over my shoulders and let the dress puddle at my feet. His eyes blazed as he stared at my breasts spilling out of the black, lace bra. “I think I’m going to enjoy breaking you in.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “Breaking me in?”

  “Not breaking your spirit. Not training you to blindly obey me.” He rubbed his nose against mine. “Gaining your trust. Making you see that you’re safe with me. Getting rid of that skittishness.” He flicked open the front hook of my bra, brushed the cups aside, and filled his hands with my breasts. I groaned as he squeezed them just hard enough to hurt in a good way. “You have a phenomenal body, Kensey.”