Bonds of Hope

by Lynda Aicher

  “Do you want that?”

  Did she? He kept asking her questions that should’ve been easy to answer, but they weren’t. “Not really,” she finally said. “Are there people who play that way?”

  “Some have 24/7 relationships that require that, yes.”

  She shivered at the thought. But was it in revulsion or longing? She’d never been so confused with a man before. None of the men she’d been linked with in the tabloids had managed to stir more than a superficial interest on her part. Most had been arranged by Jewels and the few who weren’t had wanted her fame more than her.

  “Come here.” He patted his lap, and she frowned at what he wanted. “No one’s paying attention to us.” When she still hesitated, he lowered his tone. “I thought you trusted me.”

  If this was a test, she was failing. That sick sensation started in her stomach. She glanced around the campus, spotting other couples snuggling together, uncaring of what people thought. This wasn’t any different. Really.

  She’d come to Minneapolis to get away from the paparazzi and be normal. After another second of indecision, she set her purse on the bench and straddled his lap. He circled her waist and ran his hand under her coat to stroke up her back over her sweater.

  “What do you see?”

  She frowned. “You.”

  He was all she could see. Finally at eye level with him, it was impossible not to study his face. It was unguarded, but not completely open like he’d been at the café.

  “I’m a man who has a strong dominant side.” He brushed her hair away from her cheek and trailed his fingers down her neck until she tucked her chin to stop the tickle. “I’ve done the 24/7 thing with a sub before. It wasn’t for me. You said your role doesn’t call for it either.”

  She sucked in a breath. She’d completely forgotten about the acting role. Somewhere during their discussion, pretense had fallen away and she’d been answering as herself. And he knew that. She could see it in the gleam in his eye.

  “I think you’ve learned all you can by watching,” he continued. “Tonight you’re going to try experiencing again. If you’re up for it.”

  Words evaded her and the rest of the world disappeared. Experiencing? She swallowed and gripped his shoulders, trying to ignore the many images that came to mind, only to notice the ridge of his dick hardening against her crotch.

  “I’m going to tie you down. I think to a spanking bench first. Then the bed.” He stared at her lips until she had to wet them, her tongue flicking out to pull her lip back so she could bite it. His dick grew harder. “I’ll show you how each tool feels different. A paddle, whip, cane, flogger, crop, my hand. You decide what you prefer and as my sub, you’ll take it. But I control how much and when.”

  None of what he said should be appealing. But just the description had the heat rising in her blood. She swallowed and fought back the memory of his first brief spanking. She rocked on him, unable to stop the ache that had grown in her core.

  He grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her sides. “None of that, kitten. I control that too.”

  His dick was impossibly hard now. It was right there, next to her pussy that clenched in desperate needed to be filled. There was something wanton about it. They weren’t doing anything wrong or offensive, but it was still incredibly erotic in an understated way.

  “Yes, sir.” Her response was automatic. She should be shocked again, but it felt right. Somewhere he’d switched over to the Dom and she’d followed right along.

  “If I feel like it,” he continued, his voice low and so damn steady she hung on every word, “I may try some toys on you. Have you ever used a vibrator?”

  She shook her head.

  “A dildo?”

  Another head shake.

  He lifted a brow. “Not even an object around the house? Like a perfume bottle or anything that was conveniently shaped?”

  She could lie, but he’d probably know. So she shook her head again.

  His lips curled in a devious half-smile. “I think I need to fix that.” He eased his hands lower, his thumbs pressing into the crease of her legs. “Should I assume you’re an anal virgin as well?”

  She didn’t want to blush, but she couldn’t stop the heat from rising on her cheeks. Her nod was very small since it wasn’t really unnecessary.

  “You’ll always have your safe word.” The reassurance was good, but it hadn’t even entered her mind. “If you say no right now, I’ll change my plans. We can go back to watching. It’s your call.”

  Her call. Wasn’t the Dom supposed to decide everything? However she answered, she was responsible for the outcome. The idea was unsettling even though it was exactly what she’d said she wanted. To make her own choices. It was just so contrary to everything she’d understood about a Dom/sub relationship.

  “This isn’t normal, is it?” Her throat was dry, the lingering taste of the latte turning stale in her mouth.

  “What?” His thumbs circled and pressed lower, closer to her clit that was dying for stimulation. “You having the power to decide?”

  She nodded.

  “Another lesson for you. The sub always has the power. The Dom is the facilitator. The submissive controls the Scene.”

  “How?”

  “A good Dom, a real Dom understands that he’s only doing the Scene because the submissive allows it.” One of his thumbs caressed over her clit, the pressure just hard enough to send a jolt of longing through her. “What’s your decision?”

  He wasn’t playing fair. Not really. But she trusted him to stop. He’d proved that last night even though she’d forgotten to use her safe word. “Let’s try it.” Her breath had gone heavy.

  His thumb pressed on her clit and he cupped her head, pulling it into his neck to bury her moan. He released the pressure, and she registered the chuckle rumbling in her ear.

  “You play dirty,” she mumbled into his neck. She lifted her head and nipped the lobe of his ear, only to find his thumb back on her clit, rubbing until she had to bite her lip and force her hips to stay still.

  “Isn’t that the point?” he finally said once he’d stopped his teasing torture. She lifted her head to stare at him. “And that orgasm you almost had. It’s mine. No taking care of it at home. You get to come when I say you can. Understood?”

  So many possible answers flooded her mind, but her mouth said, “Yes, sir.”

  He leaned in, his lips only centimeters from her own, which had parted in expectation. His gaze flicked to her mouth for a long moment then her eyes before he pulled back. “Perfect.” His voice was thick and he cleared his throat. Before she could say anything else, he lifted her up and set her on the ground. His grin transformed him back to the man. But weren’t they one in the same? It was all too confusing. “We should get going.”

  He handed her purse over to her and it was a good thing he remembered it because she probably would’ve left it. Her head was spinning from everything that had just happened. He tucked her under his arm and his sure gait led them off campus with the confidence of someone who’d walked the route many times.

  “The driver will pick you up at eight tonight,” he said when they were back by the café.

  She nodded. He’d insisted on having one of The Den’s employees take her to and from the club each night. She could’ve protested, but she actually liked the safety it provided.

  “Hey.” He waited until she looked at him. “You okay?”

  So many ways to answer that question. “Yes. I’m fine.” She looked around then shifted her purse on her shoulder and dug out the keys to her rental car. “I’m in the parking garage.” She nodded to the structure across the street. The keys bit into her palm as she forced herself to meet his eyes again. “Thank you for talking with me today.”

  “Anytime.”

  His smooth reply had her hesitating. “Do you do this with all of your submissives?”

  “No, Quinn.” He reached out and tucked her wind-blown hair behind her ear, th
e touch distracting her from the impact of hearing her name on his lips. “I’ve never done this for any client.”

  “Oh.” And she didn’t know where to go with that, so she decided it was time to run. “I’ll see you tonight.” She walked away as casually as she could while really wanting to sprint to her car. Only years of practice kept her from wobbling on her heels. She allowed herself to look back once she’d crossed the street. He stood where she’d left him, watching her with a purpose that should’ve scared her. But the hitch of her heart wasn’t from fear.

  This man, Dom, virtual stranger was getting to her. She’d already opened up to him more than she’d allowed herself to do with any other man. But that was okay. He couldn’t expose her, and the only thing he seemed to want from her was her submission.

  Defining if her submission was something she was giving as part of a character or as herself was far more terrifying than the Dom could ever be.

  Chapter Eight

  Everything was set. The room was arranged exactly as Marcus wanted it. The tools lay on the cart, positioned within reach of the bench, each one selected with care just for her. The lights were dimmed, the towels and water stocked.

  Now he only needed Quinn.

  Shit. That didn’t sound right. Not even in his head.

  Marcus stomped out of the room but stalled when he hit the hallway. He didn’t want to go down to the main floor. The hour was early, but the sounds of the Dungeon drifted up the stairs in the usual array of cracks, moans and pleas. They didn’t entice him at all.

  Using the employee stairwell, he headed to the security office. Rock was where he always was, manning the plethora of screens and keeping watch over everything that happened at the club. His head snapped up when Marcus entered the room, his expression flaccid. The man never gave away a thought.

  “Hey, Rock,” Marcus said, his smile genuine. They’d both worked at The Den since it opened and now they were both partners in the business. “Anything exciting happening tonight?”

  Rock arched a brow. “No.”

  Always a man of limited words, Rock rarely said more than what was required. Marcus didn’t mind. He hadn’t come here for the stimulating conversation.

  He went to the wall of monitors and browsed over each one. The main floor was starting to fill up. People tended to start earlier on Thursday night. There were three exhibition shows going on in various rooms, but only two of the private rooms were occupied.

  “Do you ever get tired of watching all of this shit?” He turned to face Rock, truly curious about the man’s answer.

  “Nope.” Rock clicked something on his monitor before switching over to another screen. “It’s my job.”

  “Sure. But don’t you ever want out of this room?” Marcus glanced at the bland confines of the room then at the displays of various forms of sex taking place on the screens. “To get out and actually play?”

  “Not my thing.”

  Marcus knew that. After six years of working at The Den, the man would’ve played by now if it interested him. He still couldn’t stop himself from pushing. Ribbing Rock was all part of the fun. How far could he go before the man cracked?

  So far, he’d never found that point.

  “Bullshit.” Marcus propped himself against the counter and studied his friend. “You practically spew dominance. You’d be a hell of a top.”

  “You’ve said that before. My answer hasn’t changed.”

  Right. Rock’s business was his own. He took private to a whole different level. “You’re always here though. When do you have time for a private life?”

  Rock turned around and crossed his beefy arms over his chest. Not only did he scream Dom, military was right there too. His hair was buzzed short, his body in peak condition. His only flaw was a long scar that cut down the left side of his face from brow to jaw, but he never spoke of how he’d gotten it. “How’s the kitten doing?”

  Marcus smiled at the tactical maneuver. “Good one.”

  “The little pussy giving you problems?”

  The man actually smirked before he turned back to his computer. It was probably a good thing too. Hearing another man call Quinn pussy spiked Marcus’s temper faster than he’d expected. No one got to call her that except him. Coming from Rock, it sounded derogatory and offensive.

  He straightened, his hands fisted. “Her name’s Quinn.”

  “Know that.”

  Marcus waited for more, but nothing came. Of course. “I think you need your own pussy.”

  Rock rolled over to the other bank of screens and clicked a few keys. “They cause too many problems. Then again, you should know.”

  This had been so helpful. Marcus stalked to the door but pulled up short when it swung open.

  “Marcus,” Jake said. “I was looking for you.”

  “Why?” Already on edge, Marcus went directly into defensive mode.

  Jake shut the door and glanced over at Rock, who was ignoring them both. “I thought I’d check on how things were going with Quinn. Any problems?”

  Rock snorted. Marcus shot a glare at the man, but it was pointless, since his back was to them. “It’s fine.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes before a slow smile formed on his lips. “All right.” He glanced at the floor and wiped a hand over his mouth, but the swallowed chuckle was still heard.

  Now that did it. Marcus clenched his jaw and gritted out, “What?”

  “Nothing,” Jake answered around a grin. “You’re just a little touchy about something that’s fine.”

  “Oh, go to hell.” Marcus glared at Jake and sent an equal one to Rock. “Both of you.”

  “See?” Jake said. “Touchy.”

  Marcus had to force himself to remember that although he was now a partner in the club, Jake was a majority owner. He’d first met the other Dom at a club when he’d been in college and the man had become a mentor to Marcus, taking the time to teach him the ins and outs of the leather scene. He’d also been the one to hire Marcus when The Den opened.

  “How are the new living arrangements?” he asked, gratified when the smirk dropped from Jake’s face. “Everything hunky dory over there at Cali’s?”

  Jake sniffed. “They’re fine.” He shook his head. “Hell, who am I kidding? I haven’t lived with anyone in twenty years. It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

  “See,” Rock spoke up. “Problems.”

  They both stared at the man’s back, but neither of them jumped in to contradict him.

  “I got some new leather in if you want to check it out,” Jake said as a topic change.

  “Cool.” Where Jake built equipment, Marcus dabbled in making his own whips and floggers. There was an extra power in knowing he created the tools that inflicted the pain on his submissives. There was also a unique science to creating each one to provide different results when used. “I’ll take a look tomorrow.”

  “It’s in my workroom.”

  Jake moved over to Rock, and Marcus made his escape. He checked the clock. Quinn wouldn’t arrive for another thirty minutes. Time was ticking by way too slowly. The entire afternoon had dragged. Distractions like unpacking the loft hadn’t worked and his standard workout at the gym had failed to eat up the afternoon like it normally did. Not when his thoughts kept returning to her.

  Meeting Quinn outside the club had been insanity. Yet it’d been incredible. She’d dropped her role and he’d seen the real Quinn Andrews. He’d caught glimpses of her in their nights here, but not the full-on, walls-down person who was the true her.

  She’d been surprisingly tenacious, yet gentle too. And that submission she was pretending was a role, oh yeah. That was all Quinn. His little kitten wanted him to take control. Sexually, at least. Based on some of the things she’s said, she already had enough people controlling her life.

  He could certainly do that. In fact, he was aching to. It stunk of all kinds of problems, just like Rock had said. Didn’t matter.

  Tonight he was going to test Quinn, push her an
d see how the submissive in her truly responded.

  Chapter Nine

  Quinn slowly undressed. Each hook down the front of the corset jerked open with trembling fingers. Your Master wants you naked. The command from the Dom who’d shown her to the room echoed in her head.

  Naked. She could refuse. It was in her right. Yet another hook popped free and the garment fell into her hands. The large breath she inhaled still seemed constricted. It wasn’t the nudity that made her nervous. The film sets eliminated any shyness she might have had about exposing her body. She’d have to be naked on film for her upcoming part, and everyone from wardrobe to makeup on her other jobs had seen her without clothes at some point.

  She set the corset on the small table by the door and slipped out of her heels before sliding her skirt and thong off. Naked. She shivered and goose bumps covered her arms, despite the warmth of the room. Her heart raced and she tried to focus on something besides what was coming.

  And that was as successful as it’d been all afternoon. She’d been playing at a sub before. Tonight, she was going to be one. For real.

  The attempts at convincing herself that this was still just a part had fallen flat. She’d exposed too much that afternoon and there was no way to get it back without running. She had reason to, and no one would question her too much since she’d spent some time here. Claiming she’d learned enough would be believed by everyone. Everyone but her.

  Tonight was about her. For her.

  She went to the middle of the room and sunk to her knees.

  It was the same room he’d put her in the first night. Only this time, in addition to the large bed was a spanking bench. The object seemed to taunt her with its obvious intent. Marcus had said he was going to strap her to it. Maybe she was insane to stay.

  She sat back on her heels and spread her knees.

  There was rolling cart placed to the side of the bench. An array of BDSM tools and toys were laid across the top. The majority were instruments for inflicting pain. She recognized each one now, thanks to Marcus’s tutelage. Her knowledge didn’t calm her. At all.