by Lynda Aicher
She stared into his eyes a moment longer, her thoughts flashing in a silent exchange that hinted at everything she wasn’t saying. Then she lowered her lids until her lashes dusted over her cheeks. “Yes, sir.”
The curses flowed through his mind in a stream of profanity that would’ve made a fisherman cringe. “You can’t play me.”
“No, sir.”
Bullshit. He tipped his head and searched out the truth, trailing his mouth up her neck until he found what he sought. Beneath his lips, her pulse beat a staccato pace of emotions, and he slowly traced the pulse point with his tongue. Her breath hitched, her breasts jerking beneath his thumbs before her head fell back.
“This is your one chance, Quinn.” His lips never left her neck. He nipped at her pulse, the rhythm increasing with each quick inhalation. “Say stop, or you’re my sub while you’re here.”
A tremble ran through her small form, and her legs clenched tighter around his waist. “It’s what I want, sir.”
He had to bite back the growl that rose in his chest and instead clamped his mouth to her neck. He sucked hard and fast, the force instantaneous. She gasped, but it was the little whimper that followed that fed his adrenaline. Another second, and he pulled back to admire his mark. The bruise was dark and angry, the purples and reds blaring the claim he’d made. His dick twitched at the sight.
It looked so right on her.
“Rules,” she panted. “Shouldn’t there be rules?”
Her words broke through his fog. Of course there were rules. How in the hell had he skipped that? It was practically the first lesson in Dom Training 101. Maybe this was her first: don’t tease a Dom.
“Yes.” He nipped her earlobe for good measure before leaning back to see her eyes. “Do you know yours?”
Her pupils were dilated and overtook the blue-green ring of her irises. A heavy layer of dark makeup made her eyes appear sultry and seductive. Her bright, cherry-red lips were parted in what could be an invitation or simply a need for air. There was no hint of the child star remaining. Her disguise was absolute. But how deep did it go?
The doubt flared in his mind and doused his lust in an icy wash of reality.
“Yes,” she finally answered him. “I think so...sir.”
He stepped away and lowered her until her feet rested on the ground. She kept her hands on his forearms and he slid his to her hips. The top of her head stopped at mid-chest on him and she lifted her chin to study him.
He leveled his voice. “Then we should talk.”
She tipped her pointy chin once. “Okay.”
He led her to the only place in the room to sit—the bed. It was queen-sized, positioned in the middle of the room. The four-poster metal canopy had been tricked out by Jake with hooks and chains to make it the ideal play place. Marcus had picked this private room for the reaction only. Now, he had a desire to use it for its purpose. Quinn would be beautiful splayed wide and open from him, with her blond hair spilling over the black sheets.
She sat on the edge, scooting back until her feet dangled off the floor, and tucked one foot under her knee.
He took a seat next to her and leaned on one of the posters before crossing his arms over his chest. “Your rules.”
She fidgeted with the bedcover before looking up. The unguarded action gave him his first glimpse of the real her since entering the room. He wanted more.
“My safe word is saffron,” she said, her voice growing stronger as if she was remembering her part. “I reserve the right to refuse anything I don’t like. I want to try new things but won’t risk being recognized in a public Scene.”
“What if your identity is completely disguised or hidden?” He watched her swallow. “Would you then?”
She wet her lips. “It depends.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m only submitting to you.” Her eyes narrowed. “For show. I won’t play this role for anyone else.”
“Kitten.” He leaned in and was impressed that she held still. “That won’t be a problem.”
It was definitely an icy grin that formed on her lips. “I hope not. Especially since you’re being paid to ensure that.”
“Lesson number one.” He waited until he was certain she was listening. “Doms are a possessive lot. If we claim a sub, no one will touch that sub without our say.” He traced the tip of his finger over the bruise he’d left on her neck. “This ensures your safety with me.” Her pulse fluttered and her eyes closed before she whipped them back open. That, there. That wasn’t an act.
“Lesson number two,” he continued. “Submissives trust their Doms to keep them safe. If that trust isn’t there, then they should never submit to that person.” He tilted her chin until she looked at him again. “This may be an act for you, but if you don’t trust me to keep you safe, then we’ll end this now.”
“But I just met you,” she whispered. “That trust hasn’t been built.”
“And that leaves you vulnerable.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “Yet for some reason you don’t understand, that also excites you.”
She jerked her chin away and stood, her hands fisting at her sides. “This is purely educational for me. It has nothing to do with who I really am. And I would appreciate it if you remembered that.”
He wanted to laugh, and only years of experience kept the sound from bursting out. But he let the smirk show. “I will. But will you?”
Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink and for a second he thought she might actually stomp her foot. Instead, she surprised him again by lowering to her knees to resume the submissive pose. With her gaze on the floor, she asked, “And your rules, sir?”
Oh, holy fuck. His initial assessment of her had been spot on. That strength within her was powerful, yet weakened her when wielded stubbornly. And he doubted she realized that. Would she before she left here? Maybe, if he did his job.
He went to the bureau along the wall and retrieved the simple black leather collar he’d placed there earlier. He stalled for a second, his hand hovering over it before he snatched it up. It might be temporary and a means to prove a point, but she was the first submissive he’d ever collared and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—take it lightly.
She would be completely his if she agreed to wear it. The thought was heady and frightening, and somehow blindly right. She needed him. She might not know that now, but he’d make damn sure she did before she left.
He returned to her and kneeled at her back. Again she kept her form like a pro, and he paused to admire the straight line of her spine. It took most people hours of direction to get it right.
“You’ve been practicing this, haven’t you?” He ran his palm over the curve of her shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
He trailed his finger around her nape and was rewarded by the tiny shiver that skittered down her spine. “What else have you been practicing?”
“Only what I could research by reading.”
He finished his course to the edge of her other shoulder before traveling back. “So why this path? Why be a sub instead of simply watching and learning?”
She swallowed, her throat undulating under the tip of his finger. “Because you were right on the phone. I can only truly understand by experiencing it. It’ll make my character more believable.”
“And that’s the only reason?” He posed the question against the shell of her ear.
“Yes,” she answered so softly he doubted she believed it either.
He slid the collar around her neck, and finally she flinched. The little sniff gave away her surprise. “You’ll wear this whenever you’re here. It’ll protect you as well as mark you as mine.”
“I thought the hickey did that.”
He smiled at her quip because she couldn’t see him. “That was a start.” He finished the buckle, testing the tightness before he attached the lock and clicked it close. “This will guarantee it.”
Her hand rose to her neck to trace the collar. Forgetting her chara
cter, she twisted around to gape at him. “Did you just lock this on me?”
His pulse raced, the blood rushing in his ears. He fiddled with the lock, letting the unspoken promise sink into him. “Yes.”
A flash of defiance blazed in her eyes before she stifled it behind the cool reserve that he was now catching as her business front. “I won’t wear it outside of The Den.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He held up the key. “But I hold this. I’ll release you at the end of each night.” It was just a club thing, nothing more—or was it?
“Or I’ll cut it off when I get home,” she muttered as she turned back around.
Again he wanted to laugh. Instead, he traced the thin, black leather around until his hands circled it, forming a noose around her neck. “I can get a stronger one, made of metal or chain if you prefer.”
There was the shiver again, that small tremble that raced down her back and made the tiny hairs stand at attention. “This is fine, sir.”
The gentle tone of supplication had returned to her voice, indicating she was back in the submissive role. How far could he, no—should he take this? “Do you understand what a collar signifies?”
“That I belong to you,” she answered without hesitation.
Yes. She did. “What else?”
“That I will obey you.”
The words were as simple as the collar, and they both sent a rush of power through him. And she had no idea what she’d just given him.
He inched forward until he pressed against her back. He kept his hands circling her neck to mark his presence. In this position, her head was cradled between his thighs with the semi-hard length of his dick resting against the back of her head.
“How far does that go with us?” To push his point, he smoothed a hand down her chest to cup her breast. Her only reaction was a squeezing of her closed eyes and a long inhale that pressed the small mound into his palm. “Will you say no to this?” And what if she said yes?
“It’s something I need to learn, sir.” The last word came out sharp and forced. He was testing her, and she understood that.
“But not endure. Do you understand the difference?” He’d never forced a sub to do anything outside his or her limits. “You need to complete a limits checklist. There are a lot of things I don’t think you’re prepared for.”
The release of tension from her shoulder eased down her torso. “Thank you.” The whispered appreciation reached in to constrict his chest. The vision of her saying those words during a Scene, just like that, created a new goal for him.
Abruptly, he stood. “Follow me.” He extended his hand to help her up. “You have some more paperwork to complete before we can begin.”
“Okay,” she breathed and nodded. Her palm was damp in his hand. “That would be good.”
“Quinn.” She looked up, her face closed and neutral. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What?”
“This little show here.” He gestured to the room and them. “It was incredibly dangerous and stupid of you to put yourself at my mercy like that. You don’t know me. We don’t have a contract, let alone a discussion about limits and safety.”
“But there are cameras.” She pointed to one mounted from the ceiling in the corner of the room. “I was assured I’d be safe here.”
“At The Den, with me, yes.” He hardened his stare, wanting to scare her. “But not everywhere. Even here, you’re the only one playing a role. This is a way of life, a choice, for everyone else. And as much as The Den screens and trains and monitors, we don’t intercede unless a sub is in clear distress.”
“What if I scream for help?” She was fishing, searching for security now that hers had been stripped away. He understood that, but it didn’t change the brutal facts.
He cupped her face and stroked his thumb over her cheek. “Here, that doesn’t guarantee anything. That’s why safe words are used. A lot of subs will say no or help as part of a Scene, but it doesn’t mean they want it to stop or anyone to intercede.”
“Oh.” She wet her lips and forced a weak smile. “I obviously have a lot to learn.”
Brave. That’s a word that defined her. At that moment, for the first time, she appeared as young as the twenty-five years her file declared her to be. Yet she wasn’t too arrogant to admit she’d made a mistake. With each bit of her she revealed, he wanted to know more. Learn more until he had all of the real Quinn.
“Yes. You do.” He gave in to a part of his desire and stooped to kiss the top of her head. “And I’ll teach you what I can.” He waited for her to meet his eyes. “But you know the saying—play with fire and you’ll get burned.”
“I have no intention of getting burned.”
“So says the arsonist.”
Her eyes narrowed before she relaxed and smiled. “Got it. I’ll follow your lead from now on.”
“Spoken like a true submissive.” He gave her a wink when her mouth parted in denial. “Careful. There’s also that saying about those who protest too much.” Her mouth snapped closed, and he chuckled. “If you’re serious about being my sub, then you’d better get used to the assumptions everyone else will have about you. You’ll be my submissive and are expected to behave as such. They won’t know it’s a role or an act. You sure you can handle that?”
She blew out a breath. “I won’t know unless I try.” She thought for a moment then gave a quick nod. “Yes. I need to do this.”
And let the fun begin. Marcus opened the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you through the other paperwork. Then we can start your instruction.”
She balked. “My what?”
Oh yeah, this was going to be fun. “Instruction. If you’re going to be my sub, you need to know what I expect from my submissives and the consequences as well.”
“Consequences?” Her voice raised an octave.
He resisted sighing. It might be fun, but it was also going to be a long, hard week of work. Breaking in a new sub was always exhausting. It required him to be constantly in tune with the submissive. Over-aware and intuitive to the unique quirks of the individual. Most thought his job was cake and not really work. But it was often mentally and physically draining.
“Yes,” he answered. “Consequences. If you don’t follow my rules or if you break protocol, there are punishments.”
Her scowl deepened. “Despite what my size might indicate, I’m not a child. The idea of punishment isn’t appealing.”
“We’ll talk about it. But it’s part of being a submissive that most Doms and subs adhere to. All actions have rewards and consequences. It’s true in life as well.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “We can talk about it.”
And there he saw her inexperience. In some ways, the petulance made her more real. It was a rare, honest emotion from her.
He led her out the door and toward the stairs. “Nice outfit, by the way.”
She blushed, the red continuing down to include her neck and chest. “Thanks. I can assure you, I’d never wear this on the streets of Beverly Hills.”
His laughter boomed down the empty hall. “I hope not. You’d stop traffic and get arrested.”
“And wouldn’t that be something for the gossip rags.” She quirked a smile at him.
He stopped her at the top of the stairs but continued down two more until they were at eye level. “Your identity is also safe here. Trust me on that.”
She didn’t respond right away, but she smiled when she did. “Okay. If I doubted that much, I wouldn’t be here at all.” She reached up and hesitantly traced the line of his jaw. The trail of her finger seemed to burn over his skin. Her hand shook a little, but her gaze was steady. “And I want to trust you too. Don’t hurt me. Okay?”
The plea encompassed more than physical harm. Emotionally, she must have been battered and bruised at some point, and there was no way he’d add to that.
“I won’t.” The oath was growled more than spoken.
She dropped her hand,
her smile halting before it reached her eyes. He didn’t like that. At all. But was one week really enough time to take away any of that hurt? He wasn’t certain, but he was sure as hell going to try.
Chapter Five
“Ready?”
Quinn turned to Master Marcus and fought the urge to run. “Yes.”
She hoped he didn’t notice the quiver in her voice. It’d taken all of her acting skills to play the submissive role earlier in the private room. And she’d failed miserably. The Dom had seen right through her and called her on her many errors.
Thank God he was a good guy. After spending the last hour walking through the list of limits with her and patiently explaining what everything was, she completely understood what he’d been talking about. Blood, breath and fire play, golden showers—ugh. Not to mention age or animal play and infantilism. She’d had no idea that kind of stuff existed. Those were all a big “No, thank you” for her.
At one point she’d been sure her cheeks were going to burn off from the heat of her blush. However, justifying it as a chance to explore her sexuality, she’d included some things that had intimidated her until she thought of doing them with Marcus. Bondage, spankings, toys all became exciting when she envisioned the firm, strong Dom administering them.
The hefty fine her lawyer included in the general contract with The Den if anything was leaked to the tabloids helped to bolster her courage. In the end, she was grateful for Marcus’s diligence and felt almost safe leaving the room with him.
Almost.
She had to trust him on some level or she might as well call a halt to everything and leave right now. And she couldn’t do that.
“It won’t be as crowded tonight as Friday.” He moved closer, and she had to wrench her chin up to see his eyes. “But I expect it will be harder for you.”
“How so?”
He picked up a leash that had been coiled on the table next to them. She’d noticed it earlier and wondered who’d had a dog in there. After the fiasco in the private room, Marcus had brought her down to the small room Vanessa had first taken her to.
Her confusion increased until he clipped the end of the black leather leash to the ring on the front of her collar. She’d forgotten about it, but now it seemed to be constricting by the second. Her pulse took off and she had to fight the imagined sense of being suffocated. She swallowed, and the smooth line of the leather rubbed against her skin.
