Take Me, Sir

by M. S. Parker

  With a snort, I glanced over as a woman stopped by to check on our drinks. I put my order in before answering, “No. I didn't meet a guy.” Mentally, I added, I wish.

  I’d hooked up with a couple men off and on over the past year, but none of them had been worth more than one night. A part of me wanted what Krissy and Carrie had, but it wasn't as easy for me as it was for them.

  I wasn't exactly blaming myself for my single state, but I had certain...quirks that made it hard for anything long-term. Club Privé, ideally, should've made it easier, but in reality, it hadn’t.

  There were plenty of good-looking guys – and hell, I wasn’t so shallow that the man had to be a ten. Other things mattered besides washboard abs and a face that looked like he’d been carved by the very hands of Michelangelo. I did want somebody I was physically attracted to, but somebody who made me laugh and somebody who got me did a hell of a lot more than a pretty face.

  And that was where everything got fucked up.

  Club Privé was a sex club, and one that catered to the bdsm lifestyle. Except most of the guys who came here already had it in their head what they wanted from a sub, and I didn't fit that role. Oh, I might've looked the part, but there weren't a lot of men who had what it took to dominate a switch. And that's what I was.

  Some of the time, I loved being in control in the bedroom, but there a lot of times I needed something else. It freed something inside me, gave me a place where I could just let go and know that I'd be taken care of. But it'd been way too long since I’d had that.

  The men who saw that I could also dominate took it as a challenge, something to work out of me, especially the men who got off on humiliation as a way to top their partner. I didn't judge the ones who were into that, but it wasn't my kink. Sub or Dom, I enjoyed the control part of things. A little rough play wasn't bad, but the whole punishment / humiliation part of things wasn't what I wanted.

  So, more often than not, I ended up on top. And while that did speak to my control-freak side, it didn't do that much for the part of me who wanted to be taken care of.

  Feeling the watchful eyes of my friends, I glanced up and smiled a little ruefully. “No. No guy. I wish that was my surprise.” I gave a lusty sigh. “Man, do I ever wish.”

  “But there is a surprise?” Leslie asked.

  “Well...” I drew the word out, not bothering to fight my grin. “Yes. Usually, you two are the ones with all the good news and stuff, but it's my turn.”

  Across the glossy surface of the big, round table, Krissy and DeVon shared a secretive little smile. Or at least, Krissy had a secretive smile on her face when she looked over at him. He smiled back at her, but he just looked laid back and relaxed as he traced his fingers over the skin of her arm.

  Reaching for my wineglass, I asked, “All right, you two. What's going on?”

  “No, no, no. You have news. I want to hear your news.” Krissy shook her head emphatically, her eyes sparkling.

  I glanced at DeVon. Maybe he wasn’t grinning the way she was, but his dark brown eyes had a glint to them, and there was definitely something different in the looks he was giving her. I was used to him looking at her like he couldn’t wait to find somewhere private he could do some seriously naughty things to her, but these looks were different. Gentle, awed.

  I glanced over at Carrie and she shrugged. “Beats me. She's been all giggly ever since she got here, and she won't say anything. Now spill your news before I have to beat it out of you.”

  Gavin nuzzled Carrie's neck. “Can we watch?” He winked at me, a playful gesture that had absolutely no heat to it.

  Carrie elbowed him sharply and he kissed her cheek. I would've suggested they get a room, but they probably would've done exactly that and disappeared for the rest of the night.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I'll spill.” I may have sounded like they were twisting my arm, but I knew my friends didn't believe it for a minute. I allowed myself another dramatic pause. “As of today, I'm unemployed.”

  All five of them exchanged glances that ranged from worried to confused.

  Unsurprisingly, it was Krissy who spoke first. “Okay. I don't get it. You look happy. Having a job is a good thing, right?”

  “It is.” I smiled and continued, “Technically, I guess you could say I'm only temporarily unemployed. First thing Monday, I'm starting my new job as an assistant district attorney.”

  They stared at me for a moment as they processed the news, and then the women erupted. Krissy practically climbed over DeVon to get out of the booth while Carrie wrapped me up in a tight hug. Leslie was next, her squeal loud enough to make the nearest table stare at us. I didn't care though. As Krissy joined in the group hug, I closed my eyes and sighed.

  I might not have had a fantastic guy, but I was getting ready to start my dream job and I had great friends. Life was good.

  “I think her bladder has shrunk down to the size of a peanut,” Carrie said as she scrolled through her iPad, showing me pictures of some of the places she and Gavin were planning on going for their honeymoon.

  Krissy had been looking at pictures with the rest of us, but now she was in the bathroom for the third time.

  I studied the serene, blue-green waters on the screen before glancing up at Carrie. “I’m dying of envy, you know.”

  “Take a vacation and go. You don’t need a guy to go on vacation,” Carrie said.

  “But they do make some things more fun,” Leslie put in with a wicked grin. “You could pick one up over there in a heartbeat. Get your brains fucked out. You probably need it.” She nudged me with her elbow, green eyes shining.

  Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “It'll be a little bit before I get a decent vacation. Starting a new job, remember?”

  “Doesn't mean you can't pick up a hottie to have some fun with right here,” Leslie said. She tossed her red curls over her shoulder and surveyed the prospects again.

  Across from us, DeVon caught my attention by getting to his feet. Even if that hadn't been a clue, I would've known by the way his face softened that Krissy was coming back from the bathroom.

  As she took her seat next to him, I glanced at her. “That’s like your third trip to powder your nose, honey.”

  “A girl must always look her best,” she said primly. She gestured to the tablet. “Carrie still teasing us with her honeymoon plans?”

  “It's not teasing,” Carrie huffed. “It’s sharing.”

  “Teasing, sharing. It's all the same thing,” Krissy made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

  “If you want to go on a fantastic trip with your man, nobody's stopping you.” Carrie waved loftily in DeVon’s direction.

  “No, travel is something we won't be doing for a while.” Krissy looked up at the man sitting next to her and stroked her hand across his arm. He gave her a slight nod. “As a matter of fact, in a few months we won't even be able to travel out here much.”

  DeVon slid his arm around her shoulders and leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

  I frowned as I looked at Leslie and Carrie who looked as lost as I was. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  It seemed like a stupid question. Krissy looked fine. She was smiling, her face glowing. And it wasn't like she was drunk or anything. I glanced at her glass. All Krissy had sipped on all night was water...

  “Son of a bitch. You're pregnant.” The words popped out without me realizing that I was planning on saying them.

  “Seriously?” Leslie asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Take a look.” I pointed at Krissy's glass. “No alcohol. Three bathroom trips in just a couple hours. Travel restrictions. And the two of them have been practically purring over something all night.”

  Carrie, Gavin and Leslie looked at Krissy and DeVon. The matching smiles on their faces confirmed everything I was saying. Leslie squealed again as we all moved to hug our friends.

  Babies and marriages and new jobs. It seemed like my little group of friends and I were all moving towa
rd new chapters in our lives, and I was more than ready to see what the future held.

  Chapter Two

  Dena

  Krissy and DeVon had left nearly half an hour ago. They were leaving in the morning so they could stop over in Chicago to tell Krissy's family the good news. Leslie had been on the prowl for a while, but seemed to be setting her sights on one dark-haired man who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her attention. Carrie and Gavin were dancing somewhere, although he did occasionally have to stop to deal with business. She didn't seem to mind though. She seemed more at home here than she ever had at Webster & Steinberg.

  Swaying on the dance floor, I contemplated my own prospects for the night. I hadn't spent time and money on the sexy little black number I was currently wearing just to hang out and watch my friends. With my petite build, I had to be careful I didn't pick things that made me look twelve, and I'd chosen this dress specifically because it didn't. Matched with a pair of four inch heels, I knew I looked good. Now I just had to find someone worth the effort that had gone into looking like this.

  I'd already declined several offers when a sleek, chiseled guy approached me, his hands coming out to grasp my hips sure and confident. The way he moved would've given me high hopes if I hadn't already done this song and dance a hundred times before. At least it felt that way.

  Lazily, I spun around on the floor, putting my back to his chest, enjoying the feel of his body moving against mine. It was a trick of mine, a way to gauge if I wanted to do anything more than share a dance with him. If he got all grabby then and there, then it would end here. There was a fine line between sensual and out-and-out groping.

  He dipped his head and skimmed his lips along my bare shoulder.

  I felt disconnected.

  That didn’t bode well.

  His palm stroked up my side and I caught his wrist. Too bad.

  “A little shy?” he murmured in my ear, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “I prefer to think of myself as selective.”

  He chuckled, and I felt a warm puff of air against my ear. It didn't feel erotic. The gut instinct I relied on as both an attorney and a New Yorker told me this wasn't the right guy.

  Still, I kept my movements easy as I swiveled around to look at him. I needed to see how he'd take me not melting in his arms.

  He gave me a slow, sage nod as if his approval was somehow necessary. “I like that. Picky. You just need the right man to take you. Make you obedient. Break you until you're the perfect little submissive slave.”

  Was he serious? Any lust I'd been feeling vanished. Lip curling, I came to a stop in the middle of the dance floor.

  “Break me?” I said. At that exact moment, the music fell into one of those odd lulls – the DJ switching to a different song, or an electrical issue – and those two words hung in the air.

  I didn’t normally care to be the center of attention unless I was addressing the court, but at that moment, I was too pissed off to care. As he took a step toward me, still smiling that smug smile, I let my disdain show through. The music started again, but the attention was still on me.

  “Break me?” I said again. I hated men like this, the ones who gave the entire lifestyle a bad name. “Is that what you think this is about? Either you’re new, or you never had a decent teacher, so let me give you some advice. Being a Dom has nothing to do with breaking anybody. Submission is all about willingly giving up control to someone you trust. Not someone who broke you.”

  His face bled to an ugly shade of red and he took another step toward me.

  Suddenly, a large body stepped between me and the idiot. A glance up told me that it was one of the regulars, a Dom who was easily six and a half feet tall and built like a brick wall.

  “I think you need to leave the lady alone,” he said, towering over the much smaller man.

  The wannabe Dom gave me a scathing look around the man between us before storming off. For a few seconds, the tension held, but then it was gone and everyone went back to what they'd been doing.

  I thanked the man who helped me and smiled as I watched him walk away. A tall, muscular man was waiting and the two shared a sweet embrace that made something in my chest ache. It seemed like everyone but me could find what they needed.

  Twenty minutes and a glass and a half of wine later, Gavin found me brooding at the bar. “I showed that asshole to the door.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “You didn't need to kick him out for me.” Picking up my glass of wine, I swirled it around before meeting his gaze.

  “It wasn't just for you. It was for everyone here. And for me.”

  Gavin leaned back against the bar, resting on his elbows. Not for the first time, I thought of how lucky Carrie was to have found him.

  He continued, “Apparently, he was here on a guest VIP pass, trying the package out. After you shut him down, he came stomping up to me and got in my face, wanting to know why the subs weren't better trained.” Amusement danced in his deep blue eyes. “Dena, why aren’t you better trained?”

  I chuckled, and then asked, “Was Carrie around when he asked that?”

  “Yeah, she was.” He grinned at me.

  I burst out laughing, my melancholy mood gone. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I thought that would make you smile.”

  Someone called his name and he headed off, but I wasn't left alone long. When somebody settled down next to me, I glanced over, a dismissal already forming on my lips. I’d already decided I wasn’t up to messing around tonight.

  But then I met a pair of soft blue eyes and something stayed my tongue.

  “Hello.”

  The man's gaze fell away for a brief moment, and then he looked at me and smiled.

  “I enjoyed your show on the dance floor.”

  “That wasn't meant to be a show.” I gave him a wry smile before taking another sip of wine.

  “I figured as much.” He quickly brushed his fingers across the back of my hand before pulling away, his eyes dropping for another moment. “Are you looking for company tonight?”

  I took my time deliberating the question. This guy wasn't exactly what I'd been planning on, but no one had been lately. Besides, he looked like he might be fun.

  Private rooms at Club Privé were nothing short of amazing to begin with. As a VIP member and one of Carrie's best friends, I had access to the best of the best.

  In this case, it involved a room where I could stretch myself out on a king-size bed, while the sub who'd approached me knelt between my thighs and went to work on me like there was nothing else he would rather do than lick me straight into orgasm.

  And he was damn good at it too.

  After he'd brought me to a second climax, he paused, his cheek on my thigh as his breath came in rough, ragged gasps. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked down my body to meet Jack's blue eyes.

  “Would you like another?” He licked his lips, clearly having enjoyed himself as much as I had.

  I did, actually, because the first two had been wonderful, but what I really wanted was his cock. Absently, I tried to remember the last time I’d been the one on my knees, a man's hands fisted tightly in my hair while he thrust his cock past my lips, deep into my mouth until I couldn’t take him deeper – and then he had me take just a little more.

  I could've gone down on Jack, felt the weight of him on my tongue, but it wouldn't have been the same. There was a term, 'topping from the bottom' that could've worked, where I was technically still dominating the sub, but performing various things that one would normally consider to be the function of a sub.

  It wasn't the actions I wanted though. I wanted the loss of control. But since I couldn't have that, I'd have him.

  Sitting up, I fisted a hand in Jack's dark hair. He made a small sound in the back of his throat.

  “I think what I want right now is for you to get on the bench over there.”

  “What do you plan to do to me?” Jack asked, voice ragged.

  The exc
itement in his voice was palpable, and something monstrously close to envy burned inside me. Pushing my initial plan aside, I didn't answer him. “I changed my mind. Kneel down in front of the bench. Facing it.”

  His long, lean body flushed as he moved to do as I said. His cock was hard and he hadn't even touched it. I knew he was waiting for me to tell him it was okay, but we weren't there yet. Since I'd brought him up here, I'd agreed, even if it had been silently, to take care of his needs. That's what a good Dom did, made sure their sub was taken care of.

  As he knelt down in front of the bench, I moved to the wall with its display of various tools and toys. Upon using one, it would be added to my account and I could either take it home, or they'd keep it for me for the next time. I took my time and found a crop that was both functional and elegant.

  What could I say? I was a girl who liked having pretty toys.

  Testing it against my hand, I glanced over to find him staring at me in the mirror.

  The naked heat and raw desire in his eyes fired that part of me that did enjoy the domination side of things, and I turned, walking lazily over to him. Pressing the end of the crop to his neck, I nudged him forward.

  “Bend over.”

  After he complied, I took a moment to admire the designs tattooed across his skin. I traced them with the tip of the crop and watched goosebumps break out across his skin. When he was practically shivering in anticipation, I lifted the crop then brought it down across his muscled ass. He tensed, a harsh noise escaping him.

  I knew that sound. It wasn't one of pain, but rather the sound that someone made when pain had been relieved. My gut clenched and I pushed aside my own desire for that same relief.

  I brought the crop down again, this time on his right flank.

  Another tight sound escaped him followed by a shudder.

  I settled into a pattern that alternated from side to side, working up and down from his buttocks to a few inches above his knees, staying away from the joints where it could cause damage.