Dance for Me

by Kay Elle Parker

  “We’ll just see how things progress before we plan lessons, Connie. Boadicea has a lot to consider before we even get to that stage.”

  Bodie flailed as he slipped an arm under her knees and one around her back. Still wrapped in the blanket, she couldn’t stop him from rising with her in his grasp—not that the fluffy material made a bit of difference. She imagined if he wanted to pick her up with anvils attached to her feet, he would do so. “You don’t have to carry me!”

  “I reserve the right to treat you like I would any...woman I care for,” Braun admonished. “That includes my mother, sisters, and nieces. So, shush and enjoy the ride. Just relax, Bodie. You’re completely safe, I promise.”

  “Your word?” she asked, remembering how he issued his promises.

  He inclined his head as he made the step out of the pit. “My word, little one.”

  She’d already learned how to tell when he was in his Dominant headspace, she realized, and when he was...normal? Was that the right term? Less bossy than usual? The Dominant called her little one, which didn’t creep her out as such, but it did make her feel weird. She wasn’t little, but when he called her that, it smothered her with warmth.

  His other persona called her darlin’.

  She liked that.

  “I-I...do you think I could go to the bathroom? Please?” That bottle of water had gone straight through her, and her bladder was kicking up a fuss.

  “Well, you asked so nicely, I’m sure I can arrange that.” He veered off to the left, long strides making short work of the distance. Within thirty seconds, he deposited her gently on her feet outside a door and held her until she was steady. “I’ll wait right here for you, little one.”

  Some of her usual fire began to rouse. “I’m not five, Braun. I think I can go tinkle and find my way to your office just fine.”

  His eyes narrowed and she could see the protest in them. After a moment’s pause, he seemed to consider the effect that would have, and he nodded. “All right. There won’t be any scenes when you come out—most members prefer to sit and socialize for a while before playing. If you get turned around or need anything, you know the Masters now. They’ll point you in the right direction.”

  Feeling cocky now she wasn’t snuggled up to him, she snarked. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Her startled gasp echoed between them when he grabbed her chin in a firm grasp.

  “That smart mouth of yours drives me fucking crazy,” he growled. “One day, when you’re comfortable with me and this, I’ll show you exactly what a Dom does to a mouth as sassy as yours.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Fuck it. I told myself I wouldn’t touch you, Boadicea, but you tempt me beyond imagination.”

  His head bent and, before she could squeak a protest or belt him, his mouth skimmed over hers. Once. Twice. On the third pass, he licked the seam of her lips, a silent request for entry that dampened her panties. She denied him, only for his mouth to curve in a smile.

  She swore she read his mind.

  Challenge accepted.

  His hands gripped her hips, keeping her flush against him and the rising bulge at his crotch. Again, his tongue caressed her lips, a little firmer this time, not quite insistent but definitely persuasive. When she refused him for the second time, a laugh rumbled in his chest, and he lifted her like he had in his office...only this time, when her legs hooked around his hips, the vulnerable vee between her legs rubbed tantalizing over his erection.

  Her shocked gasp gave him the opportunity he needed, and he didn’t waste it. She moaned as his tongue swept into her mouth, teasing hers into a slow, explorative dance. Her hands slid into his hair of their own volition when her mind went blank and abdicated control of her body.

  The kiss grew in strength, in passion.

  Braun shifted them so her back rapped into the wall beside the bathroom door, his hips rocking into her. Beautiful friction turned vulnerability into outrageous need; Bodie shuddered, feeling as though the flesh between her legs might spontaneously combust if he didn’t stop. All the wetness she produced wouldn’t be able to dampen this fire.

  Breath bordering on panting, she accepted the thrust of his tongue, trying valiantly to mimic the action and failing dismally. A sad sense of failure enveloped her, snapping her mind back into focus. With a whimper, she turned her head away and fought to suck in a breath.

  “Good girl, Bodie. God, I shouldn’t have done that.” He peppered kisses over her jawline, down the side of her neck. “Now I’ll think of nothing but this and get fuck all done tonight. Are you okay?”

  There was a high probability she couldn’t speak. Emotions rampaged through her like stampeding elephants, squeezing her throat tight and banding around her lungs. She managed a quick nod, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. Couldn’t afford to see the same affection in them that saturated his voice.

  It might send her to her knees.

  Bodie wriggled until Braun released her, then bolted into the bathroom before he could say anything else but her name. She shot straight into a stall and slammed the door, bolting it before sitting down heavily on the toilet. One hand pressed against the ache between her thighs, the other slapped over her swollen mouth.

  What the fuck had she just done?

  Sealed her fate, obviously. For fuck’s sake, why hadn’t she pushed him away, slapped him, done anything but capitulate? He’d have respected her wishes if she’d told him no. He was too keen on following his rules and morals to ignore a clear, concise refusal.

  Instead, she’d turned it into a game, a challenge.

  One he’d accepted.

  One he’d want to play again with higher stakes.

  Don’t be stupid. He didn’t hurt you. You enjoyed it.

  Bodie shook her head in denial, stubbornly refusing to listen to her own mind. She didn’t do things like this for a reason—several reasons. She liked being in control of her own body, her own reactions and actions, and the thought of relinquishing them scared the bejesus out of her in a way no one could understand.

  She should never have come back here. Should never have agreed to dance on that stage, to work for Braun. Should never have let him destroy the walls of her private sanctum and release the things she’d buried.

  So many should nevers, she didn’t know which was the most moronic.

  All of them.

  Fuck, what did she do now? Her hands lifted her to her head, yanked on her hair until the whirligig of thoughts slowed. Pain sharpened chaos into clarity.

  She couldn’t stay here, not tonight.

  They’d both be thinking about that fucking kiss if she did, and she wasn’t strong enough to deny him another. Not now she knew his taste, and her body was aware of how his felt in such close proximity.

  Braun was a temptation she’d never faced before, a testosterone-fueled hurricane capable of sweeping her off her feet without a protest. He could make her forget every reason she had in her vast arsenal for avoiding encounters like this.

  For avoiding men like him.

  Who was she kidding? Men plural.

  Her leg bounced erratically with nerves. Blowing out a long breath, she composed herself with no small amount of effort. Forced her hands to steady, her body to calm.

  Escaping the lion’s den without raising suspicion from the beasts was going to take a cool head and a lie she discovered didn’t sit well with her. She wanted to go to Braun, slide into his lap and her blanket, and sleep for days.

  That urge was enough to tell her she’d crossed a line. Crossed it? Hell, she’d scuffed that line out of existence and waltzed into dangerous territory without realizing the trouble she was in.

  Fucking hormonal idiot.

  Eleven years she’d managed to keep herself from falling into the trap. Eleven goddamn years where, while she wasn’t happy per se, she was somewhat content with her own company and with Liam’s. She’d refused to let herself daydream about a handsome guy, diverted any and all flirtations from interested men. Kept herself separate from t
he rat race of sex and heartbreak.

  Now look at her. Hiding in a bathroom stall, her heart pounding in slow, sick beats at the thought of forbidding herself from any further contact with her Domin—fuck! No, he wasn’t her Dominant, he wasn’t anything but her boss...and a nice guy.

  A really nice guy.

  Stifling a frustrated scream, she unlocked the stall door and stormed out to the sinks. Pretty silver taps and basins carved out of pink-flecked marble. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and scowled.

  Her face still carried remnants of her breakdown in Braun’s office. Slightly puffy and reddened eyes, ugly tear tracks on her face. A haunted expression in those eyes, she noted with disgust, and her mouth full from the kiss.

  The kiss, her brain purred. That kiss.

  Oh, fuck off, you useless hussy. There’s never going to be another, so get that through your thick head! That’s all we get so make the most of it.

  While her system pouted, Bodie straightened herself up. Washed her face, redid her ponytail, made herself presentable even as she slapped Band-Aids on the wreck of her self-control.

  Strong. Fierce. Self-assured.

  When she walked out of the bathroom five minutes later, Bodie had ruthlessly reinstated her bitchy persona. With a flick of her head to bolster her courage, she headed for the exit, cringing inwardly as she strolled past the bar. She noted Liam’s back was turned to her as he dealt with a drink order for a smartly dressed couple sitting at the bar and struggled not to hurry past. Raising alarms right now would not bode well.

  Skating past by the skin of her teeth, she slipped through the doors into the entryway and breathed a sigh of relief when Liam didn’t shout her name.

  However, she didn’t take into account the guard dog at the exit.

  Green eyes glowered at her from a darkened corner, the sign-in desk tucked back where it was hard to see. She could just make out the massive shoulders shrouded in shadows, and barely restrained herself from gulping aloud.

  Fuck, why did it have to be him?

  “Hold on there, little miss.” Atticus leaned forward, bracing tree trunk arms on the desk. Now his whole face glowered at her, not just his eyes as they caught the light. “Thought you were dancing tonight?”

  She thought fast and plucked at her top with a rueful smile. “I didn’t come dressed to dance,” she told him apologetically. “I did a practice run earlier and the lights make it too warm to perform comfortably. I’ve got some spare clothes in my car that I’m hoping will be cooler.”

  That green gaze narrowed into dark slits. The man wasn’t an idiot, she’d understood that the first time she laid eyes on him, but he wasn’t a dancer either. Shit, if Atticus got on a stage with other performers, he’d bounce them clean off their feet.

  “Hmmmm.” He ran his tongue over white teeth, then shook his shaggy head and reached into a drawer. “Get Braun to make you a permanent one of these,” he said, tossing a plastic card onto the desk. “The Masters know who you are now, as does Connie, so you won’t have a problem with that. But sometimes other Doms take a turn signing people in if Braun trusts them, and they’d be likely to refuse you entrance without a card. Makes life easier on us all for you to have one of your own.”

  She inched closer to the desk, wary of him lashing out and snagging her arm if she reached for the card. She had to pick it up; he’d be suspicious if she told him she didn’t need one.

  But then, she couldn’t not come back. The money was too good for her to quit the job—well, if she still had the damn job after tonight—because the bills, her rent, and her parents weren’t going to go away just because she wished they would.

  She was screwed from every angle.

  With lightning fast reflexes, she tried to pick the card up off the wooden surface and suffered the first wave of a panic attack when it just slid across the desk. She fumbled, meeting the Master’s unamused eyes as she hooked her nails under the edge of the plastic. It flipped in her hand and clattered back onto the wood, mocking her.

  “Bit nervy there, Boadicea,” he rumbled. “Sure a change of clothes is the only thing you’re heading to your car for?”

  Cold sweat slicked her spine. In the company of the stern man in front of her, her inner bitch quaked and slunk away, leaving her frozen. A rabbit framed in the headlights of a car could think clearer than she could at that moment. She nodded frantically.

  “Don’t like being lied to, little girl. Whether you’re submissive or not, lies will earn you a sore ass in my presence.” Atticus drawled the words, his eyes never leaving hers. “Shall we try this again or would you prefer I just spank you now and get the bullshit out of the way?”

  Her buttocks clenched as she abandoned the card and backed away. “I-I—” Shit, she should have known he wouldn’t let her sneak past with her pride intact. “I-I need to—”

  “You need to take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he interjected carefully. He held out his hand, palm up. “Come here to me, babygirl, and tell Uncle Atticus what’s gotten you all flustered in the last twenty minutes since I last saw you.”

  Her hand lifted, reaching for his without even considering rejecting his offer. The outer doors popped open and a small gathering of people huddled into the entryway; Atticus growled a curse when she snatched her traitorous hand back.

  “Bodie, wait a minute.”

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, and bolted through the door before it snicked shut. She ran like a demon across the parking lot, grateful she’d left the keys to her pile of scrap in the sun visor.

  There were a couple of other cars—a lot nicer than hers—already parked, and another set of headlights was coming up the track as she slammed into the driver’s door. She wrenched it open, panting viciously, and jumped into the seat while simultaneously yanking down the visor hard enough the keys catapulted into her face.

  The encounter with Atticus had shaken her so much she could barely manage to get the key in the ignition and start the car.

  Chapter Six

  Somewhere down the line, he’d fucked up big time.

  For a month, Boadicea had turned avoiding him into an artform. Oh, she came into the club every Friday and Saturday night as discussed, arriving ten minutes before the club opened and departing as soon as her last set on stage ended. She danced her heart out up there, so Braun couldn’t fault her for that.

  The dance pole he’d asked Loki and Atticus to install for her had gone down a treat with both club members and the dancer herself...though she hadn’t told him so to his face. The look on hers when she used it, however, spoke volumes. There was a freedom to her movements when she swung herself off the stage, spinning and twisting like a gymnast to the beat of whatever music she chose.

  Braun wasn’t pleased with her physical appearance. Heavy bags under her eyes, a gaunt cast to her cheeks that shouldn’t be there; with what he was paying her, she should be able to afford quality food. But he couldn’t get near enough to root out the cause of her condition.

  She’d found a hidey-hole somewhere, a place she dashed off to as soon as her sets finished. He couldn’t find it for love nor money. On the rare occasion he caught her in the open and moved towards her, she slipped through the busy weekend crowd as easily as a snake in the grass, lost within seconds.

  Clever little minx was playing the same game with the other Dominants as well. He knew for a fact Atticus had tried several times to snag her on her way in, just as Loki did when she left, but she always timed it so she used members as cover.

  She wouldn’t go near Jasper, was putting a strain on her newly-reformed friendship with Liam by ignoring his calls and texts, but Connie had told Braun she’d seen the “nervous little mouse” as she called her, loitering near the Mistress a few times. Something had always scared her off before she gathered the courage to speak to Connie.

  Maybe there was hope yet.

  Braun had considered hunting her down at home, was sorely tempted to
do so, but it seemed like an infringement of her privacy. He didn’t want to force her to listen to him in her own home, but goddamn her, she was pushing him that way.

  Michael and Kathleen’s party had been a spectacular success, but it only served to remind Braun what he was missing. He wanted what his friends had—the dynamic, the comfort and excitement of being so in tune with his submissive he could read her body better than a book, the years of building trust and love until the bond between them became more durable than a steel cable.

  He’d spent that night sulking, much to his disgust, and staying clear of barn one because he couldn’t bear to sit at the bar and watch Bodie dance. Toward the end of the night, he’d gone to catch her last set despite his determination to keep away, and parked himself in the wings.

  The look in her eyes had been part terror and part longing before she’d almost thrown herself off the stage in her haste to escape.

  What the fuck he’d done he didn’t know, but he assumed it had something to do with the kiss that had blown his fucking head off and tainted his senses for a week.

  Tonight, the whole sorry saga was coming to a motherfucking end before he did something drastic like kidnap her.

  Atticus had already pulled him up twice for being short and snappy with members, which was completely unlike him. Braun’s reputation for being patient, friendly, and approachable was widespread throughout the community.

  He checked the time and nodded at Atticus who was standing in the entryway. The giant tipped his head in acknowledgement, then placed himself across the doors, feet akimbo and his arms bulging where they folded across his chest.

  Members could still come in, but Bodie’s escape route was well and truly blocked. Braun knew she wouldn’t dare cross into barns two and three, not when scenes were in full swing. She was still far too uneasy with even the tame flogging and fucking scenes which occurred in here.

  Over by the stage, Connie lifted her hand to signal she was ready. The Mistress had donned herself in a form-fitting red satin bustier and matching leggings. She wore a pair of tame two-inch heels in the same rich red for the occasion, claiming she could chase down a frightened subbie in them, no problem.