by Measha Stone
Gray snatched it and plopped back down on the couch, staring at him with a dark expression.
“You really haven’t talked to her? Text? Called? Emailed?” Gray asked again.
“I already said no. Stop digging. You know Dani may be right about you being a wee bit on the overprotective side.”
“I’m protective of her. Of you, I’m wondering what the fuck got in your head to destroy her like that and just let her leave. You said she was your submissive. You don’t just let her go like that. You check in on her. You make sure she’s okay.”
“You said yourself it was a dumb move, taking on a submissive who needed everything to be hush hush. I mean, she gave me a fucking list of things she wanted me to do, Gray. Does that even remotely sound like a sub?” Scott snagged his beer from the end table and nursed it. Other than diving into work during the week, the liquid Band-Aid was all that kept him in one piece.
Gray blinked. “I can’t believe you’re this stupid.”
“Hey—”
“That sounds like a submissive who’s brand new to the lifestyle. Did she know anything about kink before she stepped into Black Light?” Gray demanded, his tone hard. Why did Scott suddenly feel like he was under interrogation?
“Well, no, not exactly.”
“So, you took on a newbie, who you worked with but didn’t know too much about, and then you’re gonna sit here and tell me she’s the only one who fucked up? Did she know how serious you wanted things to get?”
“I didn’t hide how I felt. I told her.”
Gray leaned over and jammed his finger on the coffee table. “Did you tell her you didn’t want casual? Were you completely open about that? Or did you go along with her casual condition because you figured you could change her mind?”
Scott lurched forward in his seat, dropping his feet to the floor, ready to combat his best friend over his accusations. Finger poised and ready, he opened his mouth.
But nothing came.
“Fuck,” he burst out, jumping from his seat.
“Did it occur to you that maybe she was hiding the FBI thing because she really thought she might not get in? That maybe she didn’t want to face any sort of embarrassment over wanting something she couldn’t have. Just like she had to with Travis?”
“Where was this wisdom last week when you were filling my head with all your negative comments about her?” Scott shot at him, throwing his head back and covering his eyes. He’d been wallowing so damn hard all week, he hadn’t cleared away his anger long enough to see the full picture.
He’d leapt to conclusions and run with them instead of talking to her about them. Exactly the wrong thing to do.
“I just wanted you to slow down. Not push her if she wasn’t ready. You went all melodramatic on your own,” Gray pointed out, leaning back in his seat and resting his foot on his knee.
“Okay, well, I was listening to you two prattle on in here and completely burnt the steaks. Like fucking rubber.” Dani paraded into the living room, her hair tied up in two large knots on her head, and her stomach tattoo flashing as her crop top shifted as she walked. “I ordered pizza.” She shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch.
“Pizza’s fine,” Scott muttered, still contemplating his own stupidity.
“Scott.” Dani’s soft voice pulled him from the solitary torment of his mind. “Did she leave yet? Maybe there’s still time.”
“For what? To tell her I’m an idiot and drive her to the train station?”
“No. To tell her how you really feel and apologize for not listening. To tell her you want to listen now.” Dani leaned over and patted his knee. “An apologetic dom is a sexy dom.”
Scott opened one eye to peer at her. She smiled softly.
“Although, I’m not sure what Dani said is completely accurate, apologizing when you’ve been a dick is at the very least the right thing to do,” Gray added.
Scott blew out a long, delayed breath and didn’t stop until his lungs burned. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he dialed Sophie’s number.
Not needing an audience, he left his friends on the couch and headed into the kitchen, where the burnt steaks sat on the cooling frying pan. Worse than rubber.
A single ring then voice mail. Fuck. Either she’d refused his call or had him blocked.
He tried to remember when Peterson said she was leaving for the academy but nothing came to him. Drowning in your own pity makes it hard to hear things around you.
“I’m going over there,” Scott announced, shoving his phone back into his pocket and pulling his jacket from the hook near the door. He didn’t wait for their well wishes or suggestions, just took off down the stairs of Dani’s apartment building.
Speed limits were pretty much optional for him on the drive across town. Yellow lights encouraged him to hit the gas. He tried three more times to get through to her phone, hoping she was just declining and hadn’t really blocked him.
They’d had a fight. Couples fought.
That’s what he’d start with.
Then beg.
He’d beg if he needed to.
But he wouldn’t spend another night without her.
He found a spot two houses down from her building and threw the car into park before the car had a chance to actually park. Taking the stairs two at a time, he flew up them, ignoring the option of using the elevator because he didn’t have time to wait for that rickety thing.
Finally, he stood at her door.
Bracing himself on the doorframe, he took a moment to catch his breath and listen for signs of life behind the door. The television played. He heard the faint sounds of staged laughter. A comedy. She was home.
He knocked on the door, softly at first, then with a bit more vigor.
The television still played, but the sound of feet shuffling didn’t add to it.
He knocked again, harder.
Nothing.
Making a fist, he banged on the door.
The television stopped. Feet shuffled along the carpeting and locks turned on the other side of the door.
Realizing he was still holding himself up by the doorframe, he pushed off and stood fully erect. Smoothing out his jacket and swallowing back the fear of utter rejection, he waited until the door opened.
“Hi, can I help you?” A woman, either in or near her fifties, smiled at him. Wearing a well-worn flannel shirt and jeans, she pushed her glasses up her nose while watching him.
“Uh, hi. I was uh, looking for Sophie,” he said, hope quickly draining from his heart.
“Oh. You must be Scott.” The sweet brown eyes that greeted him moments before hardened. “She’s not here.”
“You’re her mom,” Scott blurted. She had the same facial features. He should have recognized her right away. “Right? She said you were coming to visit. I just need to talk with her. Can you tell her I stopped by? Or could I wait? Will she be gone long?” He sounded like a besotted sick puppy, but he didn’t give a flying fuck.
Sophie’s mother stared at him for an agonizing moment, studying him. The harshness in her features faded back to the welcoming woman she’d been at the beginning.
“I’ll tell her you were here, but she’ll be gone for five months. She left this morning for the training academy.”
He wanted the support of the door frame again. She’d left.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, yeah, please let her know when you speak with her that I stopped by. If she has time, maybe she can give me a call.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“I will.” She nodded. “I promise.” She gave him a weak smile then softly shut the door.
It was the loudest sound he’d ever heard.
Had Sophie heard that when he’d shut the door on her?
Blowing out the air from his lungs again, he shuffled to the elevator.
She’d left.
He had been too late.
Chapter 26
Damn the heat.
Sophie
wound her hair into a bun and snaked the ponytail holder around the mess of thick curls. She needed a haircut. And a wax. Definitely needed a wax.
Looking at herself in the mirror in the public restroom of Black Light, she sighed. Twenty weeks of training should have been long enough to forget the impossible.
Yet, as she stared at herself in the mirror, her cheeks tinged pink from the July heat outside and her hair frizzed from the humidity, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to the past.
But going over the list of could’ves, would’ves, and should’ves didn’t take away the simmering pain. Five months had gone by. She wouldn’t say they flew, but all the classes and drills kept her going at a pace that let her at least keep him on the outskirts of her thoughts.
But at night? When all was quiet and her mind had nowhere else to hide, it went straight to him.
Scott.
She didn’t blame him for his initial reaction. She’d been holding back a secret, and you can’t form a foundation of trust like that. Her knee-jerk response made it worse. Blocking him from her phone, getting the captain to let her take leave until she left for training, all had everything to do with avoiding him.
She’d been a coward, and by the time she stepped on campus in Quantico, Virginia, she’d put enough space between them both in geography and spiritual terms, it was too late. Maybe they could have worked things out so she could go home on the weekends to see him. If she hadn’t ruined everything so nicely.
She needed to let him go. Let the whole crazy idea of having a relationship with a dominant man free. Because it wouldn’t happen for a girl like her. She had too many control issues, too many trust issues. She was a fucking wreck. Who would want her anyway?
So why the hell was she standing in the bathroom at Black Light, tucking the stupid fucking curl back into her messy bun and rechecking her outfit?
Because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how much calmer she felt after he spanked her. Because every time she dug her nails into her palm, she wished it was his belt across her ass, or his teeth pressing into her neck.
Finally disgusted enough with her self-pity, she flung the door open and went back out to the club. Music played in the background, but the play scenes happening all around her drowned out the melody. The only beats she focused on were those of a flogger striking, a moan floating through the air. A loud grunt and a scream—orgasmic in nature.
Fuck. She’d spent too long using her own damn fingers to get herself off. Her body required more, and hearing all the temptations around her woke the desires she’d been shoving down. Her stomach growled at the smell of food being served at the bar. The sight of a glass of wine being passed to a customer made her mouth water. Wine would be amazing right now. Her nerves were frazzled, and the edge needed to be trimmed off.
But wine on an empty stomach would only make the problems worse. She’d just wait a little while longer before she indulged in some pretzels then she might be able to handle a glass.
Making that decision, she redirected her feet to bring her the edge of the play area. It had been a stupid move coming to the club. Most people came in pairs or threes, not singles. Even if a guy went stag, there was probably a good reason. Or he just wanted a quick hook-up.
Which might work in her favor. Not to fuck. She didn’t think she could handle that yet. Even after months of not feeling a man’s touch, she wasn’t ready. Not with someone else.
But a spanking. She’d kill for one of those. Something to get the electricity firing in her brain again. Wake her up out of her post almost-had-a-relationship-with-a-fucking-amazing-man haze.
She leaned over the railing of the lounge area, watching a particularly heavy scene. The woman, a thin petite blond, bent over the spanking bench, her ankles and wrists bound to the device. Her ass already bore deep-red marks Sophie could see from where she stood dozens of feet away. Though maybe the lighting made them look more menacing then they were. A man dressed in tight-fitting black leather pants and a matching vest, moved from the woman’s right side to her left, admiring his work, holding a thin cane in his hand while he talked to her.
What was he saying to her? Was he comforting her, praising her, lecturing her? If Sophie had more nerve, she’d move closer. Five months of FBI training may have readied her for the field, but it hadn’t done much to get her to relax about this club on her own.
Being so engrossed in her voyeuristic activities must have lit a sign over her head signaling her availability, because a man slid up beside her at the railing. He gave her a dark grin.
“What’s a beauty doing standing over here just watching the show instead of starring in it?” he drawled. She huffed a laugh before she could stop herself. It was cheesy, but at least he showed interest.
Clearing her throat in a cheesy attempt to hide her own rudeness, she looked up at him through her lashes. Examined his features. Powder-blue eyes, soft and comforting. Trustworthy, at least to the point she was sure he wouldn’t gut her right on the dungeon floor. There were enough dungeon monitors walking around to fill in any insecurity she might have. And Black Light wouldn’t let anyone past their doors who they had any suspicions was dangerous.
“Just watching the play,” she answered coolly. She wouldn’t bother trying to flirt. She’d just end up making a fool of herself. It had been so easy with Scott, she didn’t need to do any of that crap. He knew her for who she was and liked her for it. Like, really liked her.
And she’d fucking blown it.
So, back to blue eyes.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked. Seeing as he’d already done so, she nodded. “I’m Jason,” he said giving her a winning smile and turning his attention back to the play.
“Sophie,” she said, following his lead and keeping her eyes focused on the scene wrapping up.
“So,” he laughed, dragging his hands through the small curls of his short blond hair. “I’m no good at small talk. I’m looking for a play partner for the night. Just play, no fucking, nothing too heavy. Would you be interested?”
Way to put all the cards out on the table.
She swallowed back the rising fear and nodded.
He laughed again. “Sorry, I’m gonna need a verbal answer.”
“So, you’re a dom?” she asked.
“No, more of a top. I don’t take things outside the bedroom, like I said, just a play partner.”
Some of her trepidation slipped away. The pressure eased off. Just play. She could handle that, first time out of the gate on her own. It’s what she’d come for on Valentine’s Day, and now she could finish what she’d started that night.
A play partner.
“I’m not all that experienced. Would just a spanking be okay?” she asked.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, sounds pretty good to me. The spanking bench over there is open. Why don’t we grab it?”
She followed him out of the lounge area toward the open play space. Each step was taken on shaky legs. She hadn’t been this nervous when Scott played with her. Not even when he’d disciplined her. She’d been a bit hesitant, but each step hadn’t felt like the exact wrong thing to do.
“Do you like pain?” he asked when they reached the station. He’d brought a bag with him, and he put it on the table.
“Uhm, a little?” Her stomach rolled.
“Hmm, well, I can use a paddle if you’re okay with a that, unless you want me to use a flogger or my belt?”
He was asking her? She could just direct the whole scene if she wanted. Tell him to use the belt, no, not the belt, not unless it was Scott’s belt. Paddle. She could tell him to use the paddle, go slow, not too hard, not too low.
Another sour drop in her stomach.
“Uh, I guess paddle.” She said with a forced grin. “Do you want me to take my skirt off?” she asked, toying with the hem. She’d worn the flirty skirt only to avoid having to wear pants in the humid air. Leggings would stick to her, and jeans would just be uncomforta
ble. And she didn’t bring extra clothes this time around. It was just her.
“No, leave it like that, I’ll flip it up after I start. Panties under?” he asked with a raised brow.
Were they negotiating a used car sale? God. It had been so much easier with Scott. So much sexier. He’d taken control but never made her feel powerless.
Jason, even though he seemed to be giving her all the power here, wasn’t giving her the same comfortable mindset. She was in charge of what he would do to her. She had all the say, and it made her head swim. She’d said paddle, but maybe she should have gone with his hand.
“Yeah, I’m wearing panties.” She stepped over to the bench, lifting one knee to the first cushion. People milled around the areas. No one seemed to be watching them, but she could feel eyes on her. Burning her.
She narrowed her gaze and looked again. The lighting over the station made it harder to see the crowd of onlookers. Shaking her head, she lifted her second knee and placed her hands on the thick leather of the bench.
Of course, no one was watching. She was just nervous.
Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts against the cool leather and felt around the sides for the hand grips.
It would be over soon. She’d get her spanking. Her mind would finally settle, and she could get her head on straight.
Jason walked over to her, pressing his hand flat on her back. It felt hot and wet. Were his palms sweating?
Shaking off the thoughts, she closed her eyes to get ready for the first blow. The sooner he started, the sooner he could finish.
His other hand touched her bottom, rubbing her in large circles.
This was wrong.
Her eyes flew open, and she pushed up from the bench, once again kneeling. Jason took a step back with surprise.
“I can’t.” She shook her head and her hands and stepped off the bench.
He huffed. “What’s wrong?”
She smoothed down her skirt that had gotten twisted in her movements. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. I’m sorry, Jason. It’s literally not you.” She was babbling again.
