by Julia Sykes
I crossed my arms over my chest, but he just raised an imperious eyebrow. “Or you could take off your skirt if you prefer. I’d love to get a proper look at your ass.” He rolled his eyes when I didn’t drop my aggressive stance. “I’ll turn around, if that makes you feel better. If you take off your shirt and face the cross, I won’t see anything but your back.”
His expression told me that he considered this a rather large – and ridiculous – concession. My other outfits I had worn to Decadence had revealed far more cleavage than my modest white bra would. I had gone with a “sexy schoolteacher” look tonight. Well, I had gone with a “I don’t have time to change after work, so I’ll just undo a few buttons and let my pinstriped pencil skirt do the rest” look. It was positively modest compared to my corset and PVC skirt.
It was my turn to sigh. “Fine.”
I stared him directly in the eye as I reached for the top button of my long-sleeved white shirt. No way was I going to ask him to turn his back. That was the coward’s way out. This was my op, and I was going to do what I had to in order to succeed, damn it. I would win Derek Carter’s trust, and if that meant baring my midsection to him, that would be fine. Hell, I wasn’t shy about Clayton and Smith seeing me in a sports bra. I would barely be showing Carter more skin than that.
As soon as Derek’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed, I realized just how different this was. Before I could stop myself, my gaze slid away from his, finding a spot on the floor just beside the toe of his boot.
My fingers resumed their fine trembling as I continued to work on my buttons. By the time the shirt parted and I slid it back over my shoulders, the tremor raced over the rest of my skin. I knew it wasn’t the result of the cool air on my flesh, because my body felt almost uncomfortably hot. I could feel Derek’s stare burning into me.
When the shirt dropped to the floor, a low growl escaped him. It was a sound of savage, primal sexual interest. I shuddered. I wasn’t even half-naked, but I felt stripped completely bare before him. The knowledge that he liked what he saw stoked the heat within me.
“Face the cross.” Derek’s voice was somehow richer, deeper than it had been before. I peeked up at him through my lashes to find his molten gold eyes sliding over me.
My body moved to obey his command, my mind going oddly blank for once. There were no thoughts of resistance, annoyance, or resentment. The heat of his gaze seemed to have scorched all thoughts from my brain. My entire focus narrowed to him. Nothing else existed. Not my pride or my uncertainty. Not even my op.
In that moment, I wasn’t an FBI agent, and he wasn’t my mark. I was a woman responding to the alpha male, overcome by the ancient imperative for submission that burned within me. When I turned, the heat of him at my back awoke a delicious ping of fear at the perceived threat behind me. The fact that I didn’t dare move to challenge him made my core pulse. I didn’t fear his violence; I simply knew that resistance would do no good. I had willingly surrendered to him, and there was no escape now.
His hot breath tickled across my neck. “I’m going to touch you now, Sharon. I’m going to restrain you. I’m not going to harm you, and I won’t violate your trust. Tell me you understand that.”
Calm washed over me, and the lingering tension in my muscles eased. I had my safe words. Derek would honor them. I could trust him.
“I understand.” My voice was low and breathy. I barely recognized it as my own.
“You will address me as ‘Sir’ when we’re together like this.” His deeply-spoken words held their own husky edge. This was what he craved: control. It was an essential part of him. He needed my submission. The knowledge awoke an answering desire in me to give him what he needed.
“I understand, Sir,” I corrected. My ingrained deference to authority figures allowed the title to roll easily off my tongue. I was subordinate to Derek in this, so it was only natural to address him with proper respect.
“Good girl.” His finger traced a firm line down my spine, from the base of my skull to the upper edge of my bra. “You’re so beautiful, Sharon. Especially when you’re like this; relaxed, content, giving. Trusting. You don’t have to fight this part of yourself.”
I shuddered under his touch and his praise. My mind chose to skim over the implications of his last remark, focusing instead on the pleasure elicited by his warm approval.
His hands curled under my upper arms, moving slowly upward to lift them. I compliantly allowed him to progress toward my own hands. When he reached my wrists, my arms were stretched above me, mirroring the V of the cross. Derek laced his fingers through mine and pressed my palms against the cool black metal.
“Stay.” The single word traced around the shell of my ear before sinking into me.
I obeyed, maintaining the position he had placed me in while his hands moved to my right wrist. Supple leather encircled it, and the silvery buckle clinked softly as he secured me with the cuff.
The sensation of having my arms tied down, of being made vulnerable, made the fighter within me spark back to life. I stiffened, but Derek anticipated my reaction. His hand closed firmly around my free wrist, holding it in place against the cross. I tugged against him and the cuff as panic began to tease at the edges of my mind.
Derek nipped at my earlobe, and the small shot of pain called me back from my fear.
“No,” he commanded. “Stay here with me. Don’t fight me. I won’t hurt you. You have your safe words. Tell me you will use them if you need to.”
I took a deep breath, centering myself. Derek wouldn’t hurt me.
“I will,” I promised softly.
His teeth closed around my lobe more sharply this time, a clear reprimand. “Address me properly.”
“I will, Sir,” I gasped as the little ping of pain mingled with an answering flash of pleasure.
In reward, his tongue traced the edge of my ear, easing the little burn left by his teeth. My head dropped back on his shoulder in response, welcoming more.
His amused chuckle rumbled over my skin. “So beautiful,” he repeated.
Something that sounded strangely like a whimper rolled up my throat. Men had spoken those words to me before, but they had never had such a visceral effect. On the lips of other men, they were a superficial observation. Derek wasn’t just talking about my face or my body. He was looking at the core of me, at my true self, and he was pleased by what he saw.
I didn’t fight when he secured my left wrist.
I was acutely aware of the cool air that closed behind me when he moved away. Unease stirred back to life when I heard the drawer opening. I tried to crane my head back to see what he was doing, but my mass of dark curls blocked my vision. With my hands bound, I had no means of brushing it back from my face.
“Eyes forward.” His order cracked though the room, and my head snapped back so that I was staring at the dark red wall once again.
Suddenly, something soft brushed across my upper back. I jolted at the sudden contact, but a moment later, I eased into the pleasurable sensation.
“Good girl. Relax. Trust me.”
Calloused fingers trailed across my nape as he swept my hair over my shoulders, and I shivered. Somehow, I had fallen into him. My awareness of his nearness, of his desires, of his pleasure, had become my whole world. I did trust him. And that didn’t scare me the way it should.
The soft, foreign object followed the path of his touch.
“This is a deerskin flogger,” he explained softly. “We’ll start slow and work our way up. I’m interested to see how much pain you can take. There will be pain, but there won’t be harm. I’m going to push you. And you’ll accept what I give you, because you trust me. You trust me, don’t you, Sharon?”
“I trust you, Sir.” It was barely more than a whisper, but the hoarseness of my voice wasn’t a result of fear. I craved to give him what he wanted, what he so obviously needed. And I craved his trust as well. I would earn it by giving him this.
I barely had time to registe
r the heavy whoosh of the flogger cutting through the air before the falls hit my shoulders with a dull thud. I blew out a hard breath at the impact, but it didn’t hurt. Not really. Another hit came before I could analyze the sensation, and warmth bloomed on my back. It wasn’t at all unpleasant.
More blows came in rapid succession, falling across each of my shoulders in turn to form an X pattern across my upper back. My skin glowed with heat, and each hit seemed to thrum through my entire body. The vibration found its way from my back to my nipples, making them peak to hard buds, before travelling lower to make my clit pulse.
The flogger stung across my back, the hit falling differently somehow. I gasped and arched forward, my body moving away from the pain.
“Stay still.”
Before the order even left his lips, I shifted back into position, offering my enflamed flesh to him. The bite of burning pain had flared in my sex as well as across my skin, and I craved more. My head bowed, my body going deliciously light and relaxed.
“That’s perfect, Sharon. You’re perfect.”
Another stinging blow raked across my tender skin as the sweet words washed over me, and I moaned my pleasure. The hit of pain and his approval sent hot sparks dancing through me. They worked their way into my mind, multiplying with each fall of the flogger.
Soon, my body sagged against the cross. The way the restraints bit into my wrists only heightened my state of bliss. I found perfect release under Derek’s unique brand of pain, and I felt lighter than ever. A sense of weightlessness filled me like soft illumination that started in my chest before slowly bleeding outward to shine out of every inch of my glowing skin.
I didn’t even notice when the hits stopped and my wrists were freed from the cuffs. I floated, enfolded in warmth. My cheek pressed against something hard, and an intoxicating scent enveloped me. I snuggled closer, drawing in the smell of pine and soap and musk.
“You did so well.” His dark honey voice dripped across my skin, and my eyes opened to find him smiling down at me. There was no arrogance or teasing in the tilt of his lips, only pure, masculine satisfaction. His eyes were hooded with his own sense of blissed-out languor.
Something hard pressed insistently against my ass.
His cock.
For an instant, my own pleasure spiked at the knowledge of his arousal, but seconds later it was chased away by budding panic.
I was cradled in Derek’s arms, positioned across his lap where he lay on the bed, his back propped up against the pillows. My torso rested against his chest, and my fingers were splayed across his stomach. His defined abs rippled beneath his thin black t-shirt with every heavy breath he took.
I was cuddled in the arms of my mark. I had made myself completely vulnerable to him, despite all my determination to hold my own in his presence. And the insistent throbbing between my legs told me I liked being vulnerable to him.
It took effort to press my hands against his hard chest in a vain effort to distance myself from him. His arms tightened around me, and he shot me a reproving look. The displeasure in his eyes almost made me crumble.
God, where was my head? His delicious heat seemed to have melted my brain as well as my insides.
“Let me go,” I demanded shakily.
“No,” he calmly refused. “You hit subspace, and I’m not going to let you drop. This is aftercare. You will accept it.”
Subspace? Aftercare?
Derek sighed, recognizing my confusion. “Subspace is a place submissives reach when they completely let go. It’s the ultimate high for a sub.” He gave me a little squeeze, obviously unwilling to put a millimeter of space between us. “Doms can get a high as well. I found my own Topspace.” His fingers brushed across my cheekbone. “You’re a beautiful submissive, Sharon.”
My pleasure at his approval was quickly doused by fear.
Natural submissive. No no no!
Everything was going to shit. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to lose myself around my mark. I was strong, independent. I didn’t want to be a submissive.
My sudden hatred for the blissful high I had just enjoyed made tears burn at the corners of my eyes. Derek frowned and tapped the center of my forehead.
“Stop it. Stop thinking. You’re going to drop. I won’t allow that.” His hand rubbed my back in a soothing motion, and the slight pain it elicited from my abused flesh nearly made my high return.
“No!” My protest was panicked. I might have been ashamed of my evident weakness, but all I could focus on was my fear of losing myself again. “I don’t want this.” I remembered my safe word. “Red. Red.”
Derek released me instantly, and I scrambled away from him. I turned my back on him, frantically searching for my shirt. My hands shook so violently that I could barely button it. Only when my body was covered did I turn back to Derek. He was on his feet, and his entire body was taut with his disapproval, but he kept several feet of space between us.
“This is a mistake, Sharon. Let me help you. Let me hold you.” His tone was almost beseeching.
“I told you I don’t want you to touch me,” I said through gritted teeth.
Derek scowled. “You did,” he allowed. “But it’s a Dom’s responsibility to care for his sub after an intense scene. If you want to learn to be a Domme, you have to respect that. You can’t just leave a vulnerable sub cold. She’ll drop. That’s what you’re doing right now.”
His fingers curled at his sides as he restrained himself from reaching for me. He was torn between his promise to respect my wishes and his desire to care for me.
No. It wasn’t just desire. It was need. The turmoil in his eyes let me know that he needed to hold me just as badly as I needed to be held.
I took another step back from him before my body could betray me. I took a deep breath.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I understand what you’re saying. I understand the need for aftercare.”
“Then why won’t you let me give it to you?” He growled out in his frustration.
“I… I just can’t,” I told him, my voice wavering. “I’ll be all right. Reed’s here with me tonight. He’ll make sure I’m okay before he drops me off at my apartment.” I was babbling, saying anything that would get me safely away from him.
I had said the wrong thing. Derek’s face darkened to a thunderhead.
“Reed didn’t scene with you.” He spat out my partner’s name like a curse. “This is my responsibility.”
I heard the words he didn’t say: This is my right.
Derek didn’t like the idea of anyone else comforting me, of anyone else holding me.
“It won’t be like that,” I said quickly. “I’ll just talk to him. I promise.”
I inwardly cursed myself for sounding so defensive. If I wanted to get away from him and talk to my friend, that was none of Derek’s damn business. He didn’t have any claim over me.
That knowledge didn’t stop me from feeling like shit at his disapproving scowl.
“Fine,” he bit out. He jerked his chin toward the door. “Go to him.”
I couldn’t leave it like this. He wouldn’t speak to me again, much less train with me.
I reached for him, my fingers trembling. My hand tentatively closed around his. I didn’t breathe until his fist eased beneath my touch, his palm turning to press against mine.
“I’m okay. Really,” I assured him. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”
His expression hardened at my request. My eyes instantly dropped in the wake of his glare.
He blew out a long sigh, and his fingers curled beneath my chin, lifting my eyes up to his. The lines of his face were resigned. “Of course you can, Sharon. I’m not going to kick you out of my club just because you used a safe word.”
I swallowed hard. “And you’ll… You’ll still work with me?” My voice was small, diminished by my fear of his response.
His large hand cupped my cheek. “Yes, Sharon. I’ll keep working with you.”
Relief practicall
y ripped through me. “Thank you.”
I had barely managed to avoid wrecking my op. Reluctantly, I stepped out of Derek’s reach.
Dangerous.
The thought was directed at myself, not at him.
Chapter 7
“What did he do to you?” Reed’s expression was almost a match for Derek’s fury of only a few minutes before. He slammed the car door, the sound echoing the sharpness of his tone.
I shut the passenger side door more gently. “Nothing. I’m fine, Reed.”
At least my voice didn’t tremble. My fingers were doing quite enough of that. I balled them into fists to hide their shaking. Reed glared at them. I wasn’t fooling him.
Despite his anger, Reed’s movements were smooth and controlled as he pulled away from Decadence. But not even the bright lights of the city could cut through the dark pools of his eyes. “Tell me what he did.”
I sighed heavily to dispel the embarrassment that pooled within me. “He flogged me, okay?”
“What?” Reed’s disbelieving ire bubbled out of him. “He knows you have exactly zero experience with BDSM, and he fucking flogged you so hard you’re crying? I swear to god-”
“Stop it, Reed. Just stop.” I meant to snap, but it was the desperation in my voice that made him reign in his anger. “He only moved on to impact play because I wouldn’t let him touch me.”
“He tried to touch you?” The question came out on a growl.
“Not like that.” I threw up my hands in exasperation. I didn’t want to discuss my concerns about my submissive nature with Reed. Not tonight. “I didn’t want him to touch me at all. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Reed broke his gaze from the road, cutting his eyes to the side to study me briefly.
“You like it,” he said after a moment. “You like being with a Dominant.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact.
“Damn it, Miller! I don’t want to talk about this. I told you. I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie, Sharon.” It was a sharp reprimand, and I shrank back into my seat. God, what had happened to my backbone?
