by Laura Kaye
Here she was, a basket case the first time she’d seen him after two years.
“I had a panic attack,” she said. Story of her life. Lately. She freaking hated it, which was why she’d come tonight. She’d had to at least try to move past everything that’d happened.
That eyebrow arched a little higher. He shifted her on his lap so that he could lean over her, his totally lickable face coming closer. The position made her utterly aware of the fact that she was draped over, and now, sorta under him, too. “And?”
Swallowing hard, she wet her lips with her tongue, and her stomach gave a flutter when Master Quinton’s gaze temporarily tracked the movement. “And…I’m sorta…scared of the dark.” Understatement of the century, right there.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then all at once his eyebrows cranked down and his face was a mask of confusion. Frowning, he glanced back toward the dark room’s door, the obvious question so clear on his face. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m so fucked. Sir.”
He scratched his chin. “There’s, like, a whole story you need to be telling me here.”
Cassia huffed out a breath, and gave the most rote description that she could muster. “I was in an accident. I got trapped in a cave collapse during a research expedition. It took about twenty-four hours for all my light sources to die. After that, I was in the dark.”
“Jesus,” Master Quinton bit out. “How long was ‘after that’?”
An uncontrollable shudder racked through Cassia’s body. “Three more days.” Four days trapped, three in utter pitch blackness. Her Walkie-talkie had been damaged in the cave-in, and her cell had no service underground, of course. So all she’d been able to do was wait for someone to notice her team hadn’t returned on schedule and send help. On top of it all, she’d been alone with the bats and the bugs and all manner of things she couldn’t see, because the cave-in had separated her from her two teammates, and she hadn’t known if they’d survived. She hadn’t known if she was going to survive, either. Turned out, they hadn’t. She’d been the lucky one.
Not that it always felt that way, not when Cassia could no longer do the job she’d trained for and loved. And especially not when she felt stuck and scared and trapped. Still.
Master Quinton raked a hand through his short brown hair, hair that had that casually messy look others paid for and she suspected was all natural with him. “I’m…I’m sorry that happened to you.” He heaved a breath and tilted his head. “Can I ask what you were doing in a cave? Is it too hard to talk about?”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, appreciating the concern. “I’m a geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey. Or, at least, I was. A geologist too afraid to, you know, enter the earth isn’t exactly…” Her words trailing off, she shrugged.
Cassia still worked for the USGS, just not doing the thing she most knew and loved, which was investigating the earth science of the planet’s caves. In the wake of the accident—and her new fears—she’d been transferred from the headquarters in Virginia to the Chesapeake Bay Water Science Center here in Baltimore.
“Damn.” He stroked her hair again, and it was such sweetness. She remembered that about him, how he could be sweet and playful and funny, too. Cassia found it endearing. And sexy. “So, given all that, why did you go into the dark room?”
“I was hoping…I don’t know. I thought maybe if I could connect the darkness to something else—to, um, sex—that…maybe…” She sighed. “It was stupid.”
Master Quinton’s head tilted and he stared at her like he was looking inside her mind. “Actually, I think it could be genius. Except you jumped right into the deep end of the pool. Without knowing how to swim. Or wearing a life vest.”
“Well, I’ll never know now, I guess.” Because no way could she try that room again. Not when she hadn’t made it even five minutes. And for most of those she thought she was going to explode out of her skin, the urge to flee or scream or cry had been so strong.
“Are you in therapy for all this?” he asked.
Cassia pushed the blanket off her arms and scrubbed her hands over her face. What therapy hadn’t she tried? Hell, she’d even given hypnosis a try. “I was. For a long time. Nothing worked. Or, at least, not enough.” Which was why she slept with a light on. And hadn’t seen a movie at a theater in more than two years, because you never knew when the screen might go all the way dark. And used the flashlight on her cell phone so much that she carried two extra portable charging devices with her to recharge it. It all felt so ridiculous. But she couldn’t help the terrifying associations that her mind had made with the dark.
A big, warm hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling it away from her face. Master Quinton stared at the ribbons on her wrist cuff, the ones that indicated what a submissive was or wasn’t willing to do. “Why don’t you have a phobia ribbon on here?” he asked, a dark cloud rolling in over his expression.
Oh. Oh, shit. “Because…because…”
“I want you on your knees. Now.”
The command sent her heart into her throat. Cassia moved as quickly as she could, pushing off of him and going to the floor. Apparently, she was even more fucked than she thought, but she forced herself to concentrate on getting into position—knees spread, hands on her thighs, back straight, head down—and holding it as he rose in front of her.
“Head. Up,” he said.
Cassia lifted her gaze.
His eyes absolutely blazed down at her. After being wrapped in the blanket—and in him—the air felt cool against all the skin her little dress bared. She nearly vibrated in anticipation. “Do you understand that BDSM is based on trust, and that without complete honesty and full disclosure, that trust cannot be had?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. Oh, damn. She hadn’t meant to lie, exactly, she’d just been determined to beat this thing. And how could she do that if no one would help her try? Still, guilt slinked through her belly at the thought of how her behavior might’ve affected the Dom she’d gone in the dark room with. She hadn’t meant to deceive or put anyone else in a bad situation, but she also hadn’t been fair to him, had she?
“And do you understand that when there isn’t trust, people get hurt, physically, emotionally, or both?” He nearly glared, and it was kinda intimidating, but also strangely hot. This wasn’t a side of Master Quinton she’d seen before, but it was clear by the hardening of her nipples and goosebumps racing over her skin that she didn’t dislike it.
“Yes, Sir, I do.”
He crossed his arms, and the muscles of his biceps, bared by the black tank top he wore, bulged deliciously.
That man gave some seriously good arm porn. Focus, Cass. Right.
“And do you realize that in failing to request a phobia ribbon and in entering the dark room when you knew you had a fear of the darkness, you represented yourself as being willing to do something which you, in fact, are not willing to do?”
“Yet,” she said without thinking.
“What did you say?” He crouched in front of her, those eyes darker now. Dark and intense. It was the kind of look a Dom gave you when you deserved to be punished.
Cassia almost wished he would. Emotion whipped up inside her. Frustration. Despair. And fear, too, which stirred up some anger, for good measure. “Yet, Sir,” she bit out, her voice trembling from the sudden whirlwind inside her. “I understand I didn’t handle this right. I thought…I just thought about it all wrong. But I wasn’t trying to deceive, I was trying to force my brain to give up this fucking ridiculous and irrational fear because…because I hate it! I hate being such a damn coward all the time! I’m…I’m stuck, and I just want to…get unstuck…and live again!” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, nor had she intended to cry. But she felt tears swimming in her eyes, threatening to fall.
Master Quinton caught a bit of the wetness with his big thumbs, and then he cupped her face in one hand. “Dude. You’re kind of a badass, and you don’t even know it.”
She rolled her eyes. “More like a dumbass.”
He bit back a smile, even as he arched a brow. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“Um.”
“There’s only one right answer, little one.”
“Yes, Sir.” Cass’s shoulders fell.
He nodded. “Do it again and I will find fun and varied ways to punish you. Fun for me. Got it?”
Now she was the one biting back a smile, because that almost tempted her to do it. All of which was amazing given how awful she’d been feeling just a moment before. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, I have to ask. Why didn’t you come to me with all this? Or one of the other Masters?”
“Oh, uh…” She swallowed as her thoughts raced. “Well, first, because I figured you were maybe pissed at me for not showing up that night. And second, because if you’re still into the sensory deprivation scenes you used to be into, I’m the last person you’d want to play with. Now.”
His eyes narrowed. “You deciding for me what I want?”
Cassia gasped. She couldn’t stop screwing up tonight, could she? “No, Sir. It’s just that. You like to play with senses, or at least you used to, and I’m terrified of one of mine. So, I just thought—”
“That’s part of your problem. You’re thinking too much.” Rising again, he turned away. And then he paced.
She had about a million questions on the tip of her tongue, but she held them, because he’d put her on her knees to prove a point. There were rules to follow. And right now, that included her keeping her mouth shut. It was one of the things she loved about being a submissive—surrendering to another person’s will could be so damn…freeing. And she needed some freedom from her own mind just then.
Finally, Master Quinton came to sit on the couch in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands laced in front of him. “Maybe I could help you.”
“You…want to help me?” Cassia asked, hope and fear and anticipation and excitement flooding through her.
“Yeah. I mean, I have some thoughts. And I’d need to know a lot more to come up with a plan,” he said. “And, of course, it’d all be no-strings-attached—”
“No strings attached?” Cassia asked, trying out the words and deciding they made a lot of sense. After everything she’d been through, she needed to get comfortable with herself. And the last thing she needed was the complication of trying to build something with someone else when she was still trying to rebuild herself—and not even sure it was possible.
“I just mean, I wouldn’t expect anything more from you outside of our arrangement. And vice versa. Though, obviously, if you don’t want me—”
“I do. Want you. Your help, I mean. I want it. Sir.” Cass slammed her lips together to cut off the stream of nonsense she couldn’t help. She was just so stunned.
Master Quinton chuckled. “Uh huh.”
She chuckled, too. “And no strings attached…I think that makes the most sense for me. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Not with all of this going on.”
“Okay, good,” he said. “I’m not either. So we’re on the same page. But there’s one more thing I need to know.”
“Anything,” Cassia said. Never in a million years had she thought this would happen. She’d just assumed playing with Master Quinton wasn’t even a possibility, not after everything.
“Why’d you stand me up the last time we made plans to play? And why didn’t you ever get in touch after?” Master Quinton’s expression was neutral, carefully neutral, she thought, but she could’ve sworn something flashed behind his eyes. Hurt? Anger? Cass hated that he might’ve felt either. In truth, she’d thought about letting him know what’d happened, but she’d been messed up for a long time, and by the time she was more herself, she’d been sure Master Quinton had written her off.
“I’m truly sorry about all that,” Cassia said, willing him to believe her. “I never meant to flake on you. I’d made that date with you as my own personal celebration from returning from the research trip.”
His eyes went wide. “Wait. Are you saying…”
“Yes, Sir. The day I was finally rescued from the cave was the day I was supposed to be here. With you.”
Chapter Three
Quinton hoped he wasn’t about to make a huge-ass mistake.
After talking to Cassia for several more hours the night they’d reconnected, he’d spent the past week reading, making plans, talking on the phone with Cassia, and getting a handle on her interests and limits. He’d bounced ideas off of Masters Griffin and Kyler, the two Blasphemy Masters with whom he was closest. He’d sought the advice of Master Alex, who worked as a psychiatrist. And he’d even reached out to Master Hale, the one of the twelve of them who owned the biggest share of Blasphemy. For reasons none of them fully understood, he didn’t play as much anymore, but Quinton figured he’d owed it to the man to keep him in the loop.
And tonight was the night. Quinton’s first scene with Cassia.
Truth be told, he was a little nervous. But he was also really freaking excited. Because if what they did worked, a woman was going to get back the life she wanted, and he’d have played a role in that. Christ, a part of him still couldn’t believe what Cassia had been through—or that it explained why she’d not shown up for their scene two years before. In his mind, he heard Jack Nicholson from A Few Good Men saying, Don’t I feel like the fucking asshole? Because back then, Quinton had been pissed. And here she’d been hurt. And while she hadn’t followed up after the fact, neither had he. So, yeah, on some level he had been the fucking asshole.
But hopefully, he’d make up for that now. And, in the process, they were going to push things to some extremes that had his blood pulsing with anticipation.
But, first, baby steps.
Surveying the room he’d set up over the years specifically for sensory deprivation scenes, Quinton made sure—again—that he had everything ready that he might need. And then he went to find Cassia.
She was already waiting for him at the bar. Fifteen minutes early. He liked that. He liked it a lot. Not just the eagerness, but the demonstration that he could count on her to be in this with him.
Quinton came up behind where she was seated on one of the high chairs at the ornate bar and spent just a moment appreciating the beautiful, bare expanse of her back in the sheer black dress. Dress might’ve been too formal a word for it, actually. Which made him appreciate it even more. Leaning in, he spoke close to her ear. “It’s good to see you, Cassia.”
She gave a little gasp and shivered, and when she turned to him, she was smiling. Her gaze wandered over his shoulders and chest before settling on his face. “It’s good to see you too, Master Quinton.”
He leaned in closer. “Is it now?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, a hint of shyness in her expression as she offered him her wrist. “I rectified this, and I apologize for the error in my judgement, again.”
Pleased to see the black-and-red phobia ribbon on her cuff, Quinton smiled and held out a hand. “Very good. And your apology is accepted, little one. Now, come with me.”
Nodding, she grasped his hand and slipped off the stool. Hand in hand, they made their way through the lighter Tuesday-night crowd on the main club floor. Instead of heading toward the hall of themed rooms, Quinton guided Cassia to a stairwell that led downstairs, where just two playrooms were located—the dungeon and the sensory room, both of which were completely soundproofed.
He led her inside the largely utilitarian-looking room with its concrete floor and gray sound-proofing on the walls and locked them in. “We’re going to talk a little first,” he said, leading her to a leather couch at the side of the room. He sat first and peered up at her. “I want you in my lap, Cassia.”
She lowered herself slowly, carefully.
Quinton hauled her against him. Her chest to his. His face close. Her ass against his cock. “I want to feel you.”
A beautiful pink fi
ltered into her cheeks. “Yes, Sir.”
They’d gone over some of what he wanted to discuss by email, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be sure. “What are your safewords?”
“Green for go or I’m good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop the scene,” she said.
“I need you to use them, Cassia, and use them honestly. We’re going to start slow, and what we’re trying to do here is going to take some time. We’re essentially trying to retrain your senses. Right now, you’re blinded by fear in the darkness. I’m going to blind you with pleasure.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That…that sounds good.”
Quinton chuckled, loving how game she was for all this. And respecting the hell out of her for it, too. Without getting too specific, he’d talked about some of the things he thought might have a chance at doing just thought, so he knew just how far she was willing to go.
And it was pretty damn far. His kinda girl.
“Yes, it does.” Slowly, he pressed a finger to her lips. Instinctively, she kissed it, but he wanted more. “Suck it. Make it wet.”
On a quick intake of breath, she did exactly what he said—opened her mouth and sucked in his finger to the middle knuckle. Her tongue bathed his skin, sending blood to his cock. But this wasn’t about him. Not tonight.
When he was satisfied with her response, he withdrew, and drew the wet, shiny point of his finger down her neck to the thin strap of her dress. From there, he traced the loose, low neckline of the dress. Down over the mound of one breast, and back up over the swell of the other. Until he was at her mouth once more. “Again,” he said, watching her mouth oval around his finger. His finger traced her breasts again, pulling the fabric down more in the process. “Close your eyes and silently count. When you reach ten, you may open them.”
