by Brandi Evans
"You're my future, too, Max."
"That's all I needed to hear."
He kissed me again, slowly, thoroughly, the kind of kiss that usually led to him dragging me not kicking and screaming into his bedroom. The kicking and screaming usually came after, when I'd lost the ability to control my actions.
When my internal body temperature reached the point where it usually cooked my bones until they were the consistency of cooked spaghetti, Max put me at arm's length. "Finish getting dressed. I need to make an important phone call. I won't be long." He turned but immediately turned back. "Bree… wear that blue dress I bought you, the one with the pearl buttons down the front. It'll be perfect."
"Perfect for what?"
"You'll see." He grinned.
And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared, leaving me wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Chapter 3
"Where are we?"
I leaned forward in the passenger's seat of Max's Jaguar and surveyed the small parking lot where I found myself. An abandoned alleyway lay between us and a four-story brick building. The structure was so nondescript that I doubt I'd have looked at it twice if Max hadn't pulled in here.
Max put the car into park, took my hand, and gave it a squeeze. "This, my sweet, is Restrained Fantasies."
"This is what?"
Every muscle in my body went rigid. I'd mentioned yesterday evening I'd wanted him to bring me here so I could experience the place, but with all that had happened between then and now, I'd practically forgotten—let alone had time to mentally prepare myself for coming here.
Since our tiff in the kitchen, we hadn't spoken much, just the general Max-and-Bree morning pleasantries.
How close are you to ready?
Would you like me to get you some more coffee before we leave?
Mmm, that dress makes you look positively fuckable. How am I supposed to keep my hands off you the rest of the day?
That sort of thing. He hadn't said or done jack shit to prepare me for this.
He'd mentioned a surprise, but I'd assumed it was something like going out of our way to run by my favorite coffee shop, Spill the Beans. Since it was Boudoir Fashion Week, I hadn't been at Red Light this week, and I was missing my usual coffee-and-gossip sessions with my Red Light coworkers, Chad and Aimée. Chad had started dating a new guy about the same time Max and I had gotten together, and the week before last, Chad had uttered the words, "I could see this turning into something serious." For free-spirited, love-'em-and-leave-'em Chad, that was saying something, so yeah, I was dying to know the latest details. Max knew that, so an unexpected trip to see them would have been right up his alley.
But this…
This!
My heart knocked against my sternum as Max stepped from the vehicle, came around to my side, and opened the door. He offered me his hand, but I didn't move. He was a perfect gentleman, even outside a BDSM club. Why did that hit me as such a strange contradiction?
"I'm scared," I admitted, hands fisted in my lap.
"You asked me to bring you, didn't you?"
"Yes, but, it's just…" I closed my eyes. "…I didn't say I didn't want to go. I'm just—"
"Scared."
"Yeah, I'm scared." I willed my heart rate to slow and failed. "It's not like I've had time to prepare myself for something like this." Which was true.
With an index finger to my chin, Max tilted my face up and gifted me with a brilliant smile. "Restrained Fantasies is a safe place. Its owners have made sure of that. There's no better place to let yourself free. Plus, it's closed right now. We're just meeting one of the owners and his submissive, and they're going to give you a tour. That's all. I didn't spring some early morning sex rave on you."
"I'd never think that." And I didn't. Max was a lot of things—stubborn, domineering, unwilling to share much about his past, a bit of an asshole if I was keeping it one-hundred—but never in a million years would he spring a trip to a BDSM club for a romp without properly preparing me. Of that, I was positive, even if there wasn't much else I was positive about.
"Who're the club's owners?" I didn't really care. I was procrastinating, trying to talk myself into walking into that building.
I wanted to go.
I wanted to run.
"One's an oncologist named Dr. Stephen Phillips. The other's an architect named Brock Michaels. They're both good men." His lips straightened as he tried not to smile. "Any other questions you'd like answered while you're getting up the nerve to get out of the car?"
Damn him for seeing right through me!
Since he'd brought up the topic of questions, I decided to take a chance. He wanted me to go in there. But how much did he want it? Would he be willing to play a little game of tit for tat?
"Tell me something about Giselle," I said. "You two used to be an item. I got that much. What happened between you that made everything go south?" I paused. "Were you her Dom, too?"
He retracted his hand and crossed his arms. The move had creases forming at the elbows and beneath the underarms of his suit. If ever anyone had adopted a more defensive posture, then I hadn't seen it. Shadows from his past played over his features, heightening his defensive stance.
Remorse for being the catalyst that put that look on his face had me stepping from the vehicle and reaching for him. Remembering our relatively public backdrop, I thought better of touching him and pulled up short of physical contact, thought about it again and decided to fuck it. The parking lot was deserted anyway.
While I placed my palms on either side of his cheeks, I whispered, "You don't want to talk about your past. I get that. Of all people, trust me, I respect the fact you have this dark place you don't want me to visit. Everybody has dark places." Me too, but I'd tell you about mine if I could. "Please, Max. Just give me something, anything, even the smallest glimpse into something that so obviously shaped the man standing before me." The man I love.
For a long moment, he didn't appear to breathe.
A car whizzed by on the adjacent street, a loud, bass-heavy rhythm pounding from its speakers, but the vehicle was here and gone too fast for me to make out a recognizable song.
"If I tell you something, will you go inside with me?" he finally asked.
I nodded before the ramifications fully sank in. I was saying yes to going into the club before I was ready, but it was a price I'd willingly pay to better understand Max. But it wasn't just the understanding I wanted; it was being able to help him ease whatever darkness he kept locked away inside.
"Okay." He closed his eyes and forced his cheek more securely against my palm, as if taking strength from me. It was, by far, one of the most intimate moments we'd ever shared. "Yes, I was her Dom, too."
I swallowed. Why did that knowledge hurt so much? "What happened?"
"We broke up."
I wanted to box his ears in. "I figured that much. Why'd you break up? And how does Théo play into all this?"
"She was…" His face scrunched up as if a painful memory was playing through his mind and he wanted to block it out. "Let's just say Théo was a big part of the reason."
So, Giselle had cheated on him with Théo? I'd suspected that, but the venom in Max's words as he'd spoken of Théo was born of something much deeper than a long-ago affair.
I forgot all sense of should or shouldn't as I pushed onto the very tips of my toes, the heels of my stilettos lifting from the concrete, and wrapped my arms around his neck. The hem of my dress fluttered in the breeze as I pressed my cheek to his. I held tight to him as he held fast to me. His grip was crushing, but I didn't care. To chip away at the mystery of Max's past was worth any discomfort.
"Was yesterday the first time you'd seen her since you broke up?" I asked.
"Unfortunately, not."
"Tell me about it."
He shook his head and pulled back. "I kept up my end of the bargain. You'll have to come upstairs with me if you want to know more."
I swallowe
d my disappointment, but he was right. We'd had an agreement. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it would always be this hard to wring information out of him.
I pushed back onto my tiptoes for one soft kiss. "Lead the way, Sir."
The slightest of smiles toyed with his mouth as he took my hand, tugged it to his lips, and after a moment's pause, we headed into the lion's den.
I stumbled as we neared the door separating us from whatever lay inside the brick building. Max breezed through the fingerprint scanner to the right with a touch of his thumb and a four-digit code. The square room inside, about half the size of Max's master bathroom, had a single elevator along the opposite wall. I couldn't see any other entry or exit points, just the elevator and the door we'd stepped through. I couldn't help but feel as if I were being led into a trap.
The elevator was also protected by a fingerprint scanner, which Max breezed through as well. Once inside, we were presented with two buttons; one had a script letter "R" while the other showed a pair of manacles coiled to form the letters "RF."
I eased my finger over the latter button. "Restrained Fantasies, I presume. Or quite possibly Run Fast." I was still trying to decide.
"There's no need to run, my sweet."
He fitted his fingers over mine, and we pressed the "RF" button together. The elevator began to ascend. With each passing second, my heart rate climbed. What would I find when those doors opened? Max and I had played a lot since he'd introduced me to his BDSM world, but being alone with him—or alone with him, Garrett, and Karen—in our own private erotic paradise was a different prospect than being in a room full of people engaging in—
What exactly would everyone be engaging in? Would I be forced to participate whether I wanted to or not? Would I be able to use my safe word here? Would I—
"Breathe, my sweet." Max wrapped an arm around me and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "I swear, I can hear your heart racing."
"That bad?"
"Only a whole lot." He turned me so we were face to face and flashed me the sweet, sexy smile that made me melt. "Restrained Fantasies is a safe place," he repeated. "Safe words still apply here. In fact, they have dungeon monitors whose sole purpose is to wander the club and make sure all players' rights are respected. You really have nothing to fear."
Sure, I didn't.
I took a deep breath and held it in my lungs, surprised when the aroma of something sweet played over my senses. "I smell cake. Or maybe cookies. Whatever it is, it smells decadent. I know that's weird, but I smell it."
"I can, too. It's probably Ravenous, the restaurant on the first floor. It's BDSM-themed, with lots of the same aesthetics as the club, but it's mostly for show. It's for those who want to be a little risqué but without the commitment."
"Maybe we should start there." I was only half-joking.
"One day, I'll most certainly take you." When our relationship's public.
He didn't need to add the latter; I heard the words.
As the doors slid open, he kissed me again, and hand in hand, we stepped into a hallway. Adjacent to the elevator sat a storefront with an all-glass exterior. Sketched into the glass in a scrawling script were the words Restrained Gifts. As I glanced around the store's interior, I felt a little at home. Restrained Gifts was similar to a business I was used to inhabiting: a lingerie shop. Except this place was Red Light on steroids, way more hardcore, lots more leather than lace. Plenty risqué objects to grab a girl's attention—harnesses, ropes, ball gags, floggers, and any other number of fetish products—but the object that caught my attention and didn't let go wasn't an object at all. He was a man as big as a mountain.
Easily standing six-foot-two, he was covered in tattoos. His head was shaved, and he wore all black. A tank top covered a well-muscled torso, and a pair of leather pants barely contained legs big around as my waist. Okay, maybe not quite that big but damn close. He'd be terrifying if not for the affectionate smile he gave the petite brunette beside him.
His companion, with her super-short hair and nearly gaunt body, returned his smile as she pushed onto the very tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his massive neck. Their kiss was a long, slow touch of the lips that jump-started something inside me and came damn close to incinerating my fear. I should have looked away from the pair, but I couldn't. They were too striking a combination—big and small, masculine strength and feminine beauty, the bad boy and the girl next door.
I only turned away when Max urged me into the store. A ding announced our arrival, and the couple looked our way. The big man's smile shifted from one of affection to something more akin to surprise.
"Max!" the mountain said, hooking an arm around the woman at his side before making his way toward us. "It's been too damn long, my friend. Too long."
"Much too long," Max returned, smiling in a way I didn't often see. This smile wasn't the one he used as the business mogul assuring his board or wooing potential clients. It wasn't the kind he gave me when we were intimate. This one exuded friendship. I liked seeing Max like this.
"I saw the club you two redesigned in Germany," Max continued. "It's a work of art. I cannot wait to visit again."
"Yeah, that club has been some of my best work. Well, our best work." The mountain grinned at the woman beside him. "Isn't that right?"
The woman grinned right back. "What can I say? You inspired me."
"Right back at ya." The man kissed his partner again.
When they returned their attention to us, Max positioned me so I was on display. "Bree, this is Master Brock Michaels. He's one of the owners of Restrained Fantasies, and this is his lovely partner and sub, Vivian Michaels." He then motioned back to me. "Brock, Vivian, this is Breanne Jennings."
Brock—er, Master Brock—looked me up and down, and I bristled. His move wasn't overly aggressive or sexual; it was, however, intense. I swore he could see all the way to my soul.
"The hesitant sub," Brock finally said, no recrimination or negatives playing in his words. "I'm glad you're considering joining your Master here. He told me you're scared, but please understand that's very natural. Most everyone new to the lifestyle feels some sense of apprehension before stepping through the club's gilded doors for the first time." Brock turned to the woman at his side. "Isn't that right, my pet?"
"Like you wouldn't believe!" Vivian flashed me an understanding smile. "Which is why, if you agree, I'd like to give you a tour of the facility, just me and you, new sub to still-relatively-new sub. What do you think?"
I looked at Max. I liked the idea of viewing the club through the eyes of another sub, but I wasn't sure how things worked inside a BDSM club. Was I allowed to speak my mind? Or would things remain more like they were when Max and I played at home, where I could speak and voice what was on my mind unless I was explicitly told to zip it?
"I think that sounds perfect," Max said and then gave me a gentle kiss. "Unless you have any objections."
I shook my head. "No, Sir. No objections."
The sexy smile I desired made a comeback, and I knew my use of "Sir" had been the instigator. He always got that way when the dynamic between us slipped from co-workers and equal partners to that of a Dom and his willing submissive, and I liked knowing a simple word from my lips could do that to him. I might be his sub, but that didn't mean I held no power over him.
Max pulled me close, and I melted against him. "You can trust Vivian," he whispered, "but if you need anything, just call, and I'll be back in a flash."
"Will do, Sir."
He brushed his lips against mine again before following Brock from the store and leaving Vivian and me alone.
I gave the other woman a quick glance before turning my attention to my surroundings, mainly in a move to steady myself. I was comfortable in a lingerie shop, kind of had to be considering the store I managed, but this place made Red Light feel like Old Navy. Okay, that was a stupid comparison, but I was overwhelmed. Red Light might have novelty BDSM gear, but this place was a BDSM playg
round. And it was only the gift shop. There went my heart rate again.
I ran my fingertips over the black hilt of a lethal-looking whip. Silver studs decorated the tightly bound leather. In all the times we'd been together, Max had never used anything so scary on me, and even during those times, I'd been completely outside my comfort zone. But it had been the most orgasmic experience of your life, a little voice reminded and a vivid image of Sir using that crimson riding crop he'd gifted me played through my mind.
Vivian moved alongside me, smiling as if we were old friends. "The very first time Brock brought me here, I thought my heart was gonna explode. I had to fight every instinct to run. Actually, I did run, I'm embarrassed to say. He'd completely floored me, and I just freaked. If I had to guess, you're about to have your own freak out moment."
"Pretty much." I turned from the whip and faced her. "Max and I have been together for about four months. We've been Dom and sub all that time, but in a lot of ways, it didn't quite feel real until now. Just seeing this room is nerve-racking, especially since I know this can't compare to what's in the club itself. So yeah, freak-out moment imminent."
"It'll get better and easier. I promise." She feathered her fingers through her short locks, looking ridiculously adorable and genuine at the same time. "When Brock first brought me here, I knew nothing about the lifestyle. Nothing. You, at least, have the knowledge of how your safe word works and that your Dom would never hurt you. There's a lot to be said for that."
"Very true." I did have that. Even as I balanced on the precipice between terror and arousal, I was steadfast in the knowledge Max would never hurt me. Physically at least. Emotionally, well, that was still up for debate. The power he held over me still startled me at times. Okay, more like all the time.
Vivian motioned toward the exit. "If you're ready, we can start your tour, just two subs and any questions you'd like to ask."
