by Brandi Evans
It was bad enough Carter could see her panic and her desires. Now, the boss would, too. If she’d have known the class would make her feel so exposed, she’d never have agreed to do it, money be damned.
Red.
“She’s suddenly very fidgety,” the boss said. “I’d definitely say she’s starting to panic.”
“Outstanding,” Carter said. “With an emphasis on suddenly. Behavioral changes happening suddenly signal significant changes in thoughts, emotions, interests, or intent, and sudden changes are imperative, especially to the Dom/sub relationship. Our body is constantly adapting to our surroundings, so if your sub’s having a wonderful time one second, and the next, he or she leans away from you—or in my sub’s case, becomes seriously fidgety—it’s a red flag. So, take a step back and ask yourself why. And more importantly, figure out what you can do to ease their discomfort.”
Hand still cupping her cheek, Carter took her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. He leaned into her, torso to torso, until there was no denying the thick evidence of his own lust against her lower stomach. His tongue moved against hers, draining away her desire to flee while simultaneously filling her with need, desire. Energy transference—that was what it felt like. And she kissed him back, her fingers flexing, her toes spreading and contacting the ground as she pressed more firmly into him.
Needy.
Desperate.
Submissive to his touch.
He made her want things, feel things that terrified her, and the more her emotions scared her, the more she wanted them. Wanted him. Wanted the class to disappear, so it was only them. No longer teacher and assistant, but as Dominant and submissive. He was breaking her apart, and she hated that she didn’t hate it.
Carter shifted his weight, grinding his body harder against hers as something unfamiliar tickled against her thighs.
The tails of the flogger?
Oh god…
Before she knew she was doing it, Raven kissed Carter deeper. Where would he touch her with the tails next?
Carter pulled back, and Raven instinctively leaned forward to maintain body-to-body contact for as long as her restrained position allowed. Fuck it, it wasn’t long enough.
Carter flipped his hand, palm up, and the tails of the flogger streamed downward like leather rain. He teased the tips over her left and then right arm before pressing his flogger-wielding hand against her cheek.
The heady aroma of leather filled her nostrils. She breathed the scent in like she was drowning, and it was the only thing keeping her alive.
“My sweet pet.” Carter’s voice dropped to a sultry purr. “You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re submitting to me.”
His and only his. He didn’t have to say the words exactly; his meaning was plain. A shiver chased over her, body and soul. But were his words real? Or was he manipulating her—again—for the sake of the class?
The question was ice water in her veins.
The click of something in her peripheral drew her attention, and she turned to see the Domme in the red corset looking on with a hungry glint in her eye, tapping a stiletto against the tile floor. And she wasn’t the only one with a hungry gaze. Everyone watched her as she succumbed to Carter’s touches.
Her breath stalled in her chest, and her heart slammed against her ribcage. She was too exposed. Her innermost desires were on display for everyone to see.
Red.
The word formed in her mind, and she moved her lips to say it aloud. No sound, however, came out. Carter, nonetheless, responded to her distress as if he knew every frantic thought banging around inside her head, which he probably did.
He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and then turned to the class. “I’m sorry everyone, but I’m going to have to cut class off a few minutes short. Next class, we’ll delve a bit into the limbic system, so you can better understand the mechanics of nonverbal communication. Don’t forget to pick up tonight’s handout on your way out. It goes into much more detail about the Ten Commandments of decoding nonverbal communication than I did in class, as well as the final three Commandments we didn’t get to tonight.”
Frustration heated her cheeks, and she clenched and released her fingers as everyone filed out of the room. She wanted to follow them out, run past them, out of the club and never look back.
As soon as the room was empty, and the door closed behind the last person, Carter turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
Like he didn’t already know.
“Let me go.” Raven kicked at her restraints. “I need to get some air.”
“Stop lying and try again.” Index finger and thumb to her chin, he tilted her head so she was looking at him. “You were enjoying my touch, and then, suddenly, something freaked you out. What was it?”
She shook her head. She felt like he was rooting around in her goddamn brain. What was it he said about nonverbal communication. It alerts but doesn’t give the why? Well, she sure wasn’t about to tell him. He had enough ammunition on her already.
“Damn it, Carter. Don’t be an asshole. Just let me go.”
He crossed his arms and crooked his head to the side. “Not a chance, pet.”
Carter studied Raven. She didn’t want him to let her go. He’d bet his badge and his flogger on it. One moment, she’d been his sweet, succulent, little sub, and the next, total freak out queen.
What exactly had spooked her?
He’d get her figured out, but he would need to be careful about it. She’d mouthed her safeword, but she hadn’t said it out loud, which gave him a little bit of wiggle room. Not a lot, but he’d take the risk. Getting a deeper insight into the woman before him was worth the risk; however, the moment she did say her safeword, he’d shut it down. Immediately.
“What spooked you, Raven? And answer honestly. You know I’ll be able to tell if you don’t.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me? Well, pet, that can certainly be arranged.”
She shot daggers at him, her brow furrowed and her eyebrows drew closer together. And those incredible lips… a thousand expletives played over them. Why was that so goddamned sexy?
“Just tell me the truth, pet, and I’ll let you go.”
“Stop fucking calling me that! It’s demeaning.”
Biting back a chuckle, he stepped into her, arms still crossed, stopping only when a paper’s width separated them. “You didn’t seem bothered in the least, a few moments ago, when I said you were so beautiful when submitting to me. My pet.”
A shiver played over her and drew goosebumps in their wake. She wasn’t the least bit offended. She practically devoured his words like she was starving for affection.
He froze. Could she be this starved for affection? He’d seen a similar phenomenon more than once in children of abusive parents and in battered spouses.
He filed the tidbit away. He’d play with it later. Right now, he’d rather play with her.
Starting at a curl of black-gray ink at her wrist, he traced the tip of his middle finger over the interwoven flowers forming a sexy sleeve. The inked pattern extended just below her elbow, where it stopped abruptly with a finite line, only to begin again above her elbow, the two sections mirrored each other beautifully.
“Being with you, Raven, brings out the Dom in me. I can’t help it, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“I don’t want an apology, Carter. I just want you to let me go.”
“No, you don’t.” He pressed his index and middle finger to the pounding vein in her neck, her pulse roaring. “You got a rush tonight. Admit it.”
Total silence on her part.
“All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll strip you naked right here. I’ll tie you down, and trace every line of every tattoo on your body, first with my fingertips and then with my tongue. And I won’t stop until you’re shivering and begging me to fuck you into next week.”
“No, you won’t.” Her words were soft and flat with a baseline of determined disbelief. “And now tha
t class is over, please stop saying it. You were just trying to fuck with my head, and you succeeded, okay. Is that what you want to hear? You fucked with my head, and I almost fell for your manipulation. There! Happy now?”
Paydirt.
So, she thought his actions were complete manipulations. He understood why she felt this, but it was an idea he needed to squash fast.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, “you thought I was only saying those things because of the class?”
“Well, weren’t you?” Challenge resonated in her voice. “Everything I felt or did, you turned into a teachable moment.”
“Yes, I did,” he said simply. “Reading subs was the whole reason for the class, but that doesn’t make what I said to you untrue. I’m perfectly capable of teaching and being turned on by the way you respond to me.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why not?” He drew his index finger along her neck in the way he’d learned she liked.
“Because.”
“Because?” He shook his head. “That’s not an appropriate answer for anyone over the age of four.”
She rolled her eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Carter.”
“That either. Well, minus the F-bomb.” He replaced his fingertips with his lips, trailing barely-there kisses over the same area he’d teased thoroughly before. “You’re a strong, sexy, independent woman. What’s not to like, Raven?”
She shook her head, unbelieving. “Since you restrained me, your actions have been one manipulation after the other.”
“Manipulation’s too strong of a word. You were simply acting in a manner that corresponds to the stimuli I created, and yes, I provided the stimuli specifically to create those responses. That’s hardly manipulation.”
“That’s textbook manipulation, asshole!”
Frustrated, he shook his head. How did he get this across to her?
“I’m a good Dom. I know how to draw pleasure from my subs. I pride myself on my ability to read body language and apply the appropriate amount of physical or emotional stimulation to drive my subs wild.” He stepped in so they were front to front, bodies pressing together, and buried both hands in her wild hair. “Is it so unfathomable I could be learning what turns you on while also turning those reactions into teachable moments?”
She shook her head, but her gaze zeroed in on his lips. The contradicting actions spoke to the war raging inside her. Given her history with her mom, Raven likely had severe trust issues which spanned a lifetime. Breaking through them would be a challenge. But was it a challenge he wanted to undertake?
He didn’t do relationships. He had sex. Life was simpler that way. He liked to blame his hectic job for the reason he was a perpetual bachelor, and it was sort of true. The life of a cop didn’t come with a nine-to-five consistency. But it was just an excuse. His job didn’t have a damn thing to do with anything.
Emily did.
Breaking down Raven’s walls could have the unintended consequences of breaking down his walls in the process, and he needed those walls intact. They held back more grief and guilt than he could manage; that was why he’d locked them up in the first place. If those bricks started to crack, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive the avalanche of black emotions. Yet, even as he told himself to back away, he leaned in and took Raven’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss.
Only when he felt considerably drunk on her did he pull back. “I want you, Raven. I want you naked at my fingertips. I want to know exactly what it takes to get you off.” He took her lips again, a bit harder. “I want to know what you sound like when you come. Are you a screamer? Do you go mute? Does your nose wrinkle? I want to know everything.”
“Please stop, Carter.” Her shaky breath betrayed her breaking emotions. “Please. I can’t…”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “Let me go, Carter. Red. Red.”
The use of her safeword snapped him to attention, and on instinct, he stepped back and put space between them. Her eyelids were clenched together, and her head flapped back and forth as if trying to shake something lose. A bad memory? Or more likely, a lifetime’s worth of them. Her mind and body were battling for dominance, and her mind, armed with a lifetime of knowledge to use against her, was winning.
He released the latches holding her, and she sprinted for the door.
“This isn’t over, Raven,” he called after her.
She stopped just short of making her escape—but said nothing.
He fought the urge to go to her. “Something sparked between us tonight, and I intend to see where it goes.”
She shook her head and ran.
Why again had she stopped smoking?
Crouched against the brick wall in the alley behind Restrained Fantasies and Ravenous, Raven rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. She tried frantically to get her emotions back under control but failed miserably.
What in the holy name of Saint FuckItAll had happened in that classroom?
No, dungeon, she reminded herself.
She’d been tied up in a BDSM dungeon. Willingly, yes, but goddamn it, she hadn’t expected to like it so much. Her day had been one rollercoaster ride after another, and she was starting to feel nauseous. How was she supposed to go back into the club and face all those Doms now? How was she supposed to face her boss?
How was she supposed to face Carter?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She balled her hands into fists, barely able to control the frustration inside her. If she had a cigarette, it’d go a long way to alleviate her desire to punch the concrete.
Why did life seem to hate her so much?
Apparently, her mother wasn’t the only Malek woman capable of ruining Raven’s life.
Carter made it so easy to forget herself, her shitty situation, even shittier mother, and for one peaceful moment, she thought maybe, just maybe, he could be someone she could fall for if…
If…
Always with the if’s.
If she’d had a decent childhood, then maybe…
If her mom would enter rehab, then maybe…
If her mother hadn’t taken Raven’s dream and crushed it beneath her Prada knockoff heels, then maybe…
She could conjure more ‘if-thens’ than an anxiety wizard. Too bad she couldn’t make them disappear as quickly.
She lifted her left arm and waited for the face of her watch to light up, 7:46. Her shift started soon. No way she’d be able to pull herself together in time to—
Her watch vibrated, as did the phone tucked in her back pocket. She rechecked her watch. And with one call, her night when from shitty to swimming-in-the-sewer shitty.
SGT Bishops.
The Dallas police officer, and one of Raven’s high school friends, called so often, Raven had had to add the officer to her contact list. Looking to the dark Dallas sky, Raven pushed to her feet, dug her cell free, and clicked on.
“What’d she do this time?” As if the officer were calling for any other reason than Raven’s fucking mother.
“Luckily, nothing too bad,” the other woman answered. “Public intoxication outside a bar, but I’ve convinced the captain to release her without pressing charges.”
At least, it wasn’t drug-related, so that was something. Her mom was likely one drug bust away from going to prison for a long, long time—say nothing for the shit the woman had pulled this morning at the bank.
“Thanks for calling, Gayle.”
“It’s no big. I’m just glad I was here when they brought her in.”
“Me too.” Which was true. Raven might be playing jump rope with the line between having to love the woman who gave birth to her and hating her, but she didn’t want her mom going back to prison, which she would if Raven went to the authorities about what had happened at the bank.
“Do you want to come pick her up?” the officer asked. “Or do you want me to drop her off at her place, or yours, on my way home?”
“Neither.” Raven steeled her shoulders
and her emotions. “Let her rot for the night in the drunk tank, and when she dries out, she can find her own way home.”
Carter navigated his way through the inner workings of Restrained Fantasies and made his way to the bar.
To Raven.
And it’d been, what, fifteen minutes since she’d run from him in the dungeon?
He tried not to think about it too much as he stepped around the Domme in the deep blue catsuit and reached the bar, only for his heart to sink. Raven wasn’t there. The club’s backup bartender, Master Maddox Westbrook, was taking up the slack. He filled in on nights when Raven couldn’t make it.
Master Maddox, aside from being the man who’d introduced Carter to Restrained Fantasies, was Carter’s partner on the force.
Carter was about to reverse course and seek Raven out when Maddox waved at him and motioned him over. “What can I get ya?”
Raven’s location would be nice. But Carter bit his tongue. “I’ll take a house draft.”
Maddox chuckled. “What? No Caipirinha. Wait, is my ass not as nice as Raven’s? That cuts me deeply, my friend.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Carter grabbed a pretzel from the nearly empty bowl beside him and chucked it at his friend. With dirty blond hair always on the verge of being too long, Maddox was tall, a tad lanky, but well-muscled, and he never had trouble finding subs to play with when he was on the prowl. “I’m sure your ass appeals to some. Just not me.”
Grinning, Maddox wagged his eyebrows as he grabbed a mug from the freezer and made Carter’s order.
A few moments later, Maddox returned with both the drink and the scanner which kept count of every member’s drink consumption. Club policy stated patrons were only allowed two alcoholic beverages per night. The goal was to keep people on the front side of sober; safe, sane and consensual could get a little hazy when people were hammered.
“You’re looking more contemplative than usual, my friend,” Maddox said. “What happened since I saw you last?”
“Nothing. Just a bit tired.” Carter released the clasp on his leather cuff and flipped a portion of the leather aside so his member card could show through a plastic panel. He didn’t like carrying a wallet when he wore his leathers.
