Reclaimed in Ecstasy

by Nina Pierce

  “Are you really ready for this?”

  “Being a submissive to a bunch of green-horned Doms for a training weekend is a walk in the park. There isn’t enough pain in the world that will allow any of them into my heart. Trust me on that one, Ethan.”

  * * * *

  Derek Thomas sat in a shadowed corner of Paradise Cove’s fetish club, trying to come to his senses. He wondered if the subtle strobe lights pulsing in rhythm with the driving beat of the music were making it hard for him to gather his thoughts. Perhaps it was the miles of nearly naked flesh wrapped in yards of soft leather strutting through the club that made it difficult to rethink his decision. He doubted it. Those were things he could easily ignore.

  As he toyed with the moisture beaded on the highball glass in front of him, a beautiful woman brushed a little too close to his booth. Dressed only in thigh high boots and decorative chains, the submissive shot him a pleading glance. It was that look, that need that stirred something deep within him, short-circuiting his rational thoughts.

  He didn’t want to feel it.

  Didn’t want to acknowledge the longing those sidelong glances invited.

  He’d convinced himself he’d buried the need months ago—right next to his career.

  Derek dismissed her, as he’d done with a half-dozen other men and women over the last hour, with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Still, his cock stirred. Memories shot heat and adrenaline through his blood.

  Despite the casual T-shirt and black jeans he’d chosen to wear, a Dom couldn’t hide in a place like this. He wasn’t sure why he thought it possible. He was trying to convince himself he didn’t want the attention. Didn’t want the burning itch deep in his soul that clamored to take a willing submissive wandering the club down to one of the playrooms and satisfy them both. But that sort of activity had screwed with his life.

  Then why the hell had he accepted the invitation?

  “Derek, my man.”

  A hand came down hard on his shoulder.

  “Ethan Jacobs.” He stood, shaking the man’s hand and pulling him into a bear hug. It had been months since he’d last seen his good friend on a visit to a private club in Boston. “The recent slump in the economy doesn’t seem to be affecting your business any.” Derek swept his hand toward the bustling activity of the club.

  Ethan slid into the booth across from him. “People are always looking for something they can probably find in their own backyard.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “But who am I to talk? I have the ultimate playground in my backyard.” He signaled to a passing submissive, ordering a couple of cold drinks. “So, when’d you get in?”

  “Late this afternoon. I got caught up with a project proposal at the office and couldn’t fly out as early as I’d hoped.”

  “How’s that going anyway?”

  “It’s not a good time to be starting a business. Even Boston has its limits to the number of architects it can support. But I’m holding my own. I can still put gas in the Harley and beer in the fridge.”

  “Glad to see you have your priorities straight.” Ethan laughed.

  “Not really. I’m here instead of working this weekend.”

  “Friends tell me you’ve been working too hard. Nobody’s seen you around XTC in Boston for a couple of months. It’s been over a year since you’ve been here. There’s always time for pleasure, my friend.”

  “Leaving my father’s firm and going out on my own was a big decision.”

  “Rumor has it, it wasn’t all your decision.”

  Ouch. “You’ve never been subtle, Ethan.” He’d wondered if the fetish pipeline had filtered news of his downfall south to Key West. He suspected Ethan knew every gory detail of the cluster fuck that had gotten his ass fired. “And no, it wasn’t my decision.” Derek let out a derisive laugh before draining the last of the tepid tonic water.

  “Any chance your father will welcome you back into the firm?”

  “My father barely tolerates me at the Sunday dinners my mother insists on having once a month. There’s no way in hell he’d let his depraved son walk back into the design offices of Thomas, Milford and Kern and take a chance at sullying his pristine reputation.” Derek added air quotes. His father’s architect firm had had its fair share of crooked dealings over the years, but Derek had simply turned the other way. “Besides, I’m not sure it wasn’t time to spread my wings.”

  A woman delivered their drinks.

  Without a word, she knelt next to Ethan. She wasn’t as young as many who had silently propositioned Derek earlier. It wasn’t so much her physical appearance, though he could see the determined line of her full lips and the proud set of her jaw, but the serenity of her submissive posture that communicated a mature confidence.

  Derek envied her peace and self-acceptance. Something he’d definitely lost in the heat of stupidity and rash arrogance.

  With her eyes cast down to the floor, her long lashes made soft half-moons on her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but wonder at the color of her eyes. Blonde hair flowed over her shoulders to skim the middle of her back and caress the soft swell of her breasts. Even in the muted light, he could see the tight buds of her nipples pressing against the black leather of her dress. He followed the line of the material, admiring the way it hugged her shapely curves. It flared enticingly around her ass, making Derek question whether there was anything beneath it, caressing her sensitive flesh.

  Ethan cleared his throat, drawing Derek’s attention back to him. A knowing smile lit the manager’s face, but he made no comment about Derek’s frank interest in his sub. “I was pleased you accepted my invitation this weekend.”

  “I thought it was time to test the waters, so to speak. In a community as small as ours, I wasn’t sure how welcomed I’d be after…” Derek didn’t really want to rehash his humiliation in earshot of the gorgeous blonde. “Anyway, this is a make-or-break weekend for me. I’m all in and going for broke.”

  “That’s what I was hoping to hear,” Ethan said. “I’d hoped a little push from a good friend would be all you’d need to find your way back to the scene. And here you are.”

  “And here I am. But I’m becoming more convinced this was a bad idea.” His gaze flicked to the submissive who hadn’t moved, her breathing slow and steady, measuring her patience. Damn, he’d never been with someone so well trained. His cock jumped again at the thought of watching someone push her to the limits of her training.

  “Seems to me, if we’re going to throw around clichés, that it’s time to climb back on the horse that threw you.”

  Derek’s gaze flew back to Ethan, panic hammering in his chest. “I figured I had until tomorrow to work myself into the idea of walking into a dungeon again.”

  “No need to wait until then.” Ethan reached down and toyed with the pendant hanging from the gold collar at the woman’s throat. “Sara, would you be interested in joining Master Derek downstairs in my private playroom?”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Derek didn’t know how to respond. “Ethan. The timing. This isn’t—”

  Ethan leaned in, stopping him with a hard stare. “Actually, I think this is a perfect time.”

  Chapter Two

  Ethan had said the Doms this weekend would be green, but the stiff way Derek moved through the club and down the stairs made Sara wonder if he had any idea what he’d just agreed to. The man had mentioned a dungeon, but the nervous energy buffeting her led Sara to believe that perhaps the man beside her had never dominated a submissive on his own.

  Testing her theory, she boldly looked directly at his silhouette. “Master Ethan said we should use his private room down there on the left.” She pointed and moved a half step ahead of him. She hadn’t baited a Dom in a long while and she was feeling just foolhardy enough to test this kid’s mettle. The boyish face and youthful curls brushing his collar marked him as some college kid probably experimenting.

  The man’s heavy boots pounded along the tile floor of
the lower hall, the steady cadence never changing. “You’re well trained, Sara. You know better than to look at me that way. And I’m sure as hell not going to put up with you trying to top me.”

  “Top you?”

  He stopped abruptly, and Sara forced herself to take three more steps before casually turning and offering him a lackadaisical arch of her brow. Despite how hard she pushed, the man held tight to his control. His eyes narrowed, raking over her face with disapproval. Biceps bulged as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to acquiesce.

  Great, a pissing match.

  She’d see what kind of stuff he was made of and make this man prove his worth. Squaring her shoulders, Sara met the annoyance sparking in his eyes, mutely challenging the obedience he demanded.

  “I’m not sure what you thought you understood from my conversation with Master Ethan.” The power of his deep, even tone shivered down her spine as he closed the distance between them. “But understand this now—for the next hour or two, I am your Master. You will obey me. You will treat me with the respect I deserve or you will be punished.” His full mouth twisted in an arrogant smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her tummy. “Which means you’ll turn those beautiful blue eyes to the floor. And unless I ask you a direct question or you’re screaming your safe word, you will keep those pouty lips of yours sealed shut.” He leaned in close, her strangled pants mingling with his heated breath. “Have I made myself clear, Sara?”

  The rational part of her brain screamed to obey, but it was the sarcastic hellion begging for attention who currently had control. Ignoring both logic and the heavy pounding of her heart, Sara lifted her chin in defiance. “Perfectly.”

  “You want to play it that way? Fine. Game on.” Grabbing Sara by the elbow, Derek marched her down the hall, ignoring the two Doms, glistening with sweat, guiding a dazed sub out of one of the rooms. He pulled her to a stop in front of Ethan’s private dungeon and looked up into the camera monitoring the hall. His determined expression curled heatedly in her gut, sending hot jets of adrenaline through her blood.

  “Do you enter this room of your own free will as my submissive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you understand this room is monitored by cameras to protect both of us? And that the use of a safe word will halt all play immediately without repercussions or questions?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is your safe word, Sara?”

  “Attila the Hun.”

  The smile he flashed held no mirth. “That’s a mindset, not a safe word.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  He leaned close, overwhelming her senses with the spicy scent of him. “Keep it up, Sara,” he whispered, his breath feathering heat across her cheek. “Punishing you for your defiance will be entirely my pleasure.”

  He straightened and she saw for the first time a true Dominant behind the shy veneer. Confidence ticked along his jaw, straining the cords of his neck. His pecs and biceps jumped with the barely contained energy of his determination.

  “Nevertheless, I don’t like it,” he said. “Your safe word is much too difficult to say. I can’t trust you’ll make yourself understood if we get to that point.”

  “I have no intention of saying it.”

  The wicked smile curved his mouth once again and he nodded his head. “You may regret throwing down that challenge.”

  She shrugged as Derek pushed open the heavy door to reveal a well-equipped room meant for pleasure—and pain. Various pieces of bondage equipment lined the wall on her right. The other side was filled with instruments meant to subdue even the most headstrong slave.

  Inhaling deeply, Sara filled her lungs with the seductive aromas of leather and sexual musk, overlaid with the lemon scent of disinfectant. Her nipples tightened in anticipation, sending frissons of desire straight down her core. The door shut behind her with a quiet click, tightening the hungry knots of need pulsing at the apex of her thighs.

  “Bend over that spanking bench in the corner,” Derek said as he removed his dark T-shirt and carelessly threw it over a bondage chair. “We’ll start your punishment there.”

  Testing the limits of Derek’s patience, she met his steely gaze. “I prefer to be flogged.”

  “I’m not amused by your impudence, Sara.” His voice filled with the danger she’d seen in the hall. She froze in place as he stalked toward her, the push and pull of bronzed skin over sinewy muscle barely containing the power he had every intention of using on her. Derek stopped in front of her, his chest pressed against her breasts, his breath the only thing separating his lips from hers. “I won’t be topped by a submissive. You won’t like it if you continue to push me.”

  “Yes, but I—”

  With the speed of a feral cat attacking his prey, Derek spun her around and pinned her to the wall. The solid planes of his chest pressed hard against her back, he trapped both her wrists between their bodies in the steel grip of his hand. Power sluiced off him in waves that buffeted her and stole her breath. Adrenaline and desire heated her blood, kicking her heart rate up several notches.

  This was what her body craved.

  What she needed more than her next breath—his insistence she give up everything for his pleasure.

  She hadn’t trusted anyone enough since Marc’s death to give in to the dark desires swirling around her. But as Derek pressed his thigh between her legs, she couldn’t stop her back from arching and rubbing her swollen sex against his jeans.

  “No, Sara. In here, there are no decisions for you.” He swept the hair from her cheek, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice carrying a controlled authority that strummed the chords of her desire. “I am your Master. This is about what I want. You are my toy. To use as I choose.” His teeth dug into the soft flesh at the base of her neck, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips.

  The pain was exquisite, flaming the sparks of hot desire jolting over her nerves. Sara stiffened against his weight, the first tremors of pleasure quivering over her muscles.

  “But first, there is the matter of your punishment for your behavior in the hall.”

  And just like that, as quickly as he’d held her down, he released her and stepped away. She groaned at the loss of security his body’s heat and weight had offered her.

  “The bench.” He tilted his head toward the black padded piece of furniture on the other side of the room. “Now.” His voice was deep and rich as aged whiskey, forcing her body to obey.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her. Derek’s heavy gaze followed her every move, hunger darkening his eyes to the deep green of the forest. The swollen folds of her sex clenched, dampening her thighs. Her nipples strained against the soft bodice of her dress as if seeking the attention her Master was giving her ass.

  “Stop. Take off your dress for me.” He swallowed hard, the first sign of weakness since taking control from her. “Slowly.”

  Yes, control me so I don’t have to think.

  She turned back to face him, her eyes submissively aimed at the floor. With nervous fingers, she pulled the front zipper down her torso, the tight leather parting and exposing the creamy swell of her breasts. Emboldened by Derek’s sharp intake of air, she pulled it slowly over her belly, each rasp of the zipper exposing more alabaster flesh. Cool air kissed her skin as the butter-soft material parted and gooseflesh rose, tingling along her sensitive nerves.

  With exquisite leisure, offering Derek time to enjoy the visual display, Sara slid the narrow strip of leather off her shoulder, completely exposing her left breast, the areola and nipple tightening to a sensitive bud. Her breath sawed from her lungs as she slid the other side down, her breasts now fully exposed for his visual pleasure. The dress caught on the flare of her hips, the leather clinging to her skin. She hooked her thumbs under the material and rolled her ass, pushing until the dress dropped and pooled at her feet.

  Completely naked, save for the garter around her waist, holding up the black thigh-high
s peeking out of her boots, Sara reached to undo the clasps.

  “Just the dress.”

  He said nothing more, and only years of training kept her eyes cast at his feet. She couldn’t see him, but every shuddering breath he took quivered over her skin as if his fingers traced hot trails along her flesh.

  At this moment, she couldn’t remember why she hadn’t believed in Derek’s ability to command her. Power pulsed around them. Energy vibrated along her nerves and heated the thick air, making her skin flush. With only his presence, he’d immersed her in the hypnotic push and pull of his domination.

  “Beautiful.”

  And just like that, the simple word echoed off the walls, shattering the magic.

  “So beautiful.”

  The voice, no longer Derek’s, was a faded memory come to back to haunt her. A cold rush of fear slid down her spine, pulling her back from the tenuous edge of trust. Derek’s heavy biker boots moved toward her, and it took all her willpower not to cower from the memories his compliment had conjured.

  Mentally, Sara shook herself, trying to reorient in the here and now.

  She could do this.

  She’d done it in Chicago and she could do it here with Derek. The fact was she wanted to submit to him, if only to prove she was stronger than the past. A past that was currently crashing down around her and eroding away the wall of confidence she’d erected. She was suffocating in doubt, unable to completely fill her lungs.

  “So very beautiful and all mine.”

  Cold bands of memory continued to snake around her chest, making it hard to catch her breath. Though a warm hand curled around her breast, it was the chill of history that gripped her, pulling her back into a nightmare she’d barely escaped.

  Sara’s back went rigid, even as Derek molded himself around her body.

  He spoke softly against the shell of her ear. “You are mine, Sara.”

  Her supple body stiffened beneath his hand. The muscles of her neck strained against his touch. Air puffed from her lungs in short bursts that buffeted his neck.