Command (Changing Roles Book 1)

by Ellie Masters

  “Takedown play.” Her gaze shifted below my belt, and she sucked in a breath. “That’s what you’re into?”

  Had I just received a flicker of interest from the Mistress of Pain? Clearly, I must’ve imagined it. But wait. Was she thinking about taking me down, or the other way around? I hated Dommes. Never quite knew what they were thinking. It was important to feel her out carefully. The way she’d responded earlier had me convinced there were more layers to Kate Summers than she let on.

  “Only with the right woman.” I waited for some clue as to her potential interest.

  She didn’t respond.

  I hated that I couldn’t read her at all.

  What would it be like with a strong woman? Lithe and muscular. Her training in self-defense, as well as what the Police Department had taught her, would make taking her challenging. She wouldn’t just fight. She would test the mettle of my dominance. Now that would be exciting.

  I grew even more rigid, thinking about tossing her to the ground and fighting her for supremacy. I would love her struggle and cherish her even more when she caved in to my superior force.

  Her voice came soft and hesitant, almost as if she hoped I didn’t have an answer to give. “If you know where that part of the video was filmed, you need to tell the police.”

  Her refusal to meet my eyes had me walking over to her. I placed a finger under her chin, lifting it to force her to look at me. She wasn’t shying away from me as an act of submission. Tiny tremors of her lips revealed how that video still affected her. Pushing her to continue with the case was wrong of me.

  I could be such an ass.

  To apologize, I pulled her to me, and this time she didn’t push me away.

  “Help the police or don’t,” I said. “At least I’m doing what I can. The only way into the Edge is through a Master. You can do what the police cannot, go where they cannot. What are you afraid of?” My dick ached, thinking about having her under my control, even if only under the pretense of this case. When I held her in my arms, she felt like she belonged there. Never had I realized how empty my arms had been before.

  Lizzy died with terror on her lips. I would never get that image out of my head. If Kate didn’t take this case, I didn’t know what I’d do. Lizzy’s murderers needed to pay. If Kate thought she could find clues at the Edge, she needed to go there. Thomas would never allow a Domme on Edge grounds. The only way onto his property was at the end of a leash, and I had every intention of being the Master holding the other end. All I had to do was convince her to let me.

  “You could come as my submissive.”

  Fear swam in her eyes the moment I mentioned submissive.

  I stroked her hair, trying to calm her down. “Come on. It makes sense.”

  Her body stiffened, and I had no choice but to release her, immediately regretting letting her out of my arms.

  “I know those woods but not the place where she died. That building isn’t at the Edge.”

  Whatever I was saying seemed to have captured her attention. I could practically see her processing my words, but then she crossed her arms and stiffened her spine.

  “The police will need to search the buildings themselves.” A defiant tone saturated her words.

  I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or me.

  “True, but they’ll need search warrants, which takes time. As a private investigator, you aren’t hampered by police procedure. And you have a way in.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Through you?”

  “Yes, through me.”

  “As your submissive?” Her left eyebrow lifted, and challenge laced her tone.

  I would gladly accept the challenge to master this incredibly strong woman. She had endured much with the loss of her career yet still fought to keep criminals off the street. A weaker person would have given up. I needed her to bring that passion to solving Lizzy’s murder. What had happened to Lizzy was unconscionable.

  Leaning in close, I determined to make Kate see reason.

  Her eyes rounded when I wrapped a finger around a strand of her long, auburn hair.

  “Someone hurt you, and that video reminded you of it. Don’t run from this case because of it. You don’t have to always be strong, Kate.” I let the hair strand go and swept my finger along her jawline. She trembled at my touch. “Sometimes, it’s okay to let others be strong for you.”

  The pulse in her neck jumped, and her breathing became erratic. Her nervousness leaped across the distance between us as did her defense.

  “Don’t presume to know me, Jake Davenport.”

  My lips hovered a breath away from hers. I could have closed the distance right then, but to make this work, she needed to come to me. I prayed I’d read her right. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll leave right now.”

  Her eyes flicked down, and her tongue slid over her lower lip.

  I inhaled her scent, burning it into my memory. Such an intoxicating fragrance. It would take every trick I had to conquer her, but I was up for the challenge. I gently kissed her lips. It wasn’t the passionate, claiming kiss I desired, but there was a strategy behind my actions.

  Her mouth parted on a sigh, and this time, she leaned into me, her warm lips gliding against mine.

  I pulled back, denying her my touch long enough to emphasize my point. “I will take you, and together we’ll find out who did this. You and me.”

  She tilted her head, mouth parting. My fingers dug into her skin, my grip firming while I lowered my lips to hers. Her initial stiffening was something I anticipated, but I powered through her resistance. I’d grown used to a woman’s need to resist and fight, to feel the strength of a man’s desire. I knew where the boundaries were and exactly how far I could push.

  Everything between Kate and me intensified in the first few seconds of that kiss. Her resistance strengthened, and her palm pressed against my chest. She pushed me away, but I parted her lips with my tongue and sought entrance to the mysteries of her mouth, delving in for the sweet pleasure of her taste.

  For a moment, I worried she wouldn’t give in, but then her fingers curled on the fabric of my shirt. Our kiss deepened. I allowed our tongues to intertwine, moving my hand to her nape to better control her head. Then she was pulling me toward her.

  After a moment, I paused and breathed out my deepest desire, a wish for the future. “Who knows, you may even enjoy it.”

  Her shoulders bristled. “Excuse me?”

  And just like that, our kiss fizzled and died. I tried pulling her back to me, but she shoved me away.

  A hellcat stared up at me. “I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, but I’m no submissive.”

  She was wrong about that, but we’d get around to defining roles later. “But to solve this case, you’ll need to become one. It’s the only way.”

  “Pretend to be your submissive, or be your submissive? Which one is it, Jake Davenport? Because I don’t want you to get confused.”

  She was back to using my full name again, making me cringe with the sharp-cutting tone of her words, but I couldn’t help the smirk tilting the corners of my mouth.

  “Darling, there was enough heat in that kiss that we won’t need to pretend.”

  “You’re an arrogant ass.”

  I got shoved hard this time.

  “The door is that way. It’s time for you to leave.”

  I was fine with that. I had my kiss, and with it the first tremulous signs of her surrender.

  Chapter Nine

  Kate

  With Jake’s departure, I headed to my office to unwind with a little single-tail practice. The focus required with the whip was just what I needed to set my head straight. I couldn’t whip Jake’s ass for that kiss, but I could take out my frustrations on the spinning metal targets.

  The squeaky drawer sent shivers down my spine when I opened it. The moment my hand curved around the leather whip handle, the rapid beating of my heart slowed. I closed my eyes and shook out the
leather fall, listening to the rasping of the tail as it snaked across the floor. Setting my gaze on the steel targets hanging from the drop ceiling, I stretched out my shoulders. Imagining Jake strung out before me, I lifted the handle overhead and let the monotony of cracking the whip carry me away.

  Of all the members at Stripes, why did Jake Davenport have to find that recording? My PTSD sure picked the worst time to flare. Sometimes life sucked. Bad crap had happened to me. I’d already dealt with it, picked myself up, dusted off the shit, and moved on.

  So why had all the memories returned? And for them to come back front and center with Jake Davenport watching… Talk about falling to pieces in front of the wrong someone.

  My arm whipped back, and the tip sailed through the air. Crack! Ping! A perfect strike.

  Holy crap, that man could kiss. I touched my lips, where even now the press of his mouth lingered. I’d wanted to collapse into his arms and let him hold me. I almost had, until he’d blurted out that crap about going to the Edge under his control.

  Me a submissive?

  Did he really think that would happen with my reputation? Seriously, just last night he’d been asking if I wanted to become a mentor and teach some of Stripes’ dominants introductory classes in managing their submissives. I didn’t get where his mind was headed.

  He held me as if I were a submissive. Talked to me like I was one. Kissed me…like I belonged to him.

  And what did I do? I loved every bit of it. Perfect. He knew it too.

  Crack. Ping. Crack. Ping. Crack! Ping!

  Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes.

  I’d been weak, helpless, and clingy. Not the strong woman I needed him to see.

  No, I’d been vulnerable, and I’d wanted him to hold me. Gah! I wanted to poke my eyes out. So damn embarrassing.

  All my credibility, lost in the space of a moment. Pissed off didn’t even come close to describing the surge of emotions swirling in my mind. I’d lost it in the worst possible way. I couldn’t even control where my gaze traveled, and he’d caught me eyeing his cock. The man had an impressive bulge hiding in those pants, and he’d definitely been aroused. That was not the only place my gaze had wandered. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his lips, which is probably why he thought he could kiss me. Hot and scalding, his lips had pressed to mine in the most electrifying way. I’d wanted more, leaning into that kiss like a cat in heat.

  Crack. Ping. Crack. Ping. Crack! Ping!

  My arm fell to my side, lungs heaving with the exertion of the last volley of strikes.

  Stop. Stop. Stop! I had to stop thinking about him. I was a Domme, not a goddamn submissive.

  I was a miserable fake.

  People thought I had a gift, but I had them all fooled.

  Mistress of Pain?

  I used pain as personal therapy. If any of them really knew why I came to Stripes, or what I got out of it, they’d know the crazy I lived with every day. My particular brand of therapy worked fine until I had to stop. Which was the Westmorelands’ fault. Now they had the audacity to invade my life with their daughter’s case.

  If I didn’t get my head screwed on straight, a laundry list of symptoms would follow. I punctuated each with a crack of the whip: Avoidance. Inattention. Detachment.

  The supersonic tip of the whip rang the steel as I hit my target dead center.

  I’d been down this road before. Such a struggle to come back. If I didn’t focus on something else, that’s exactly where I’d find myself again. A blubbering mess of incoherency in the no-man’s-land of PTSD.

  Balance had to be restored, or the flashbacks might not stop. Oblivion would suck me under. Last night I’d failed to concentrate on a man’s surrender. Now the need for pain rushed in my veins. I had no choice but to silence it in the only way I knew how.

  Whip practice failed to quiet the riot in my head. I needed the screams of a man. No, I needed Jake Davenport to watch me dominate a man. Maybe then he would leave me alone. Because if he came at me with those lips of his, or held me in his arms again, I didn’t know what would happen.

  I walked back to my desk, whip trailing behind me, and set my talisman on the desk. A few quick taps and I had Samson, the night manager of Stripes, on the phone. An edgy scene is exactly what I needed, and I knew just the submissive to give it to me. Bryce had once made an unusual request years ago, something I’d refused. We’d crossed paths last night when he offered to provide aftercare for Tyler.

  I asked Samson to check if Bryce had signed in for the night and pass on my request.

  On my way to Stripes after a quick stop home, Bryce’s text came through. Yes, Mistress. I would be honored to serve.

  My heartbeat sped upon reading Bryce’s words. We would travel deep tonight. Jake Davenport could kiss my leather-clad Mistress ass if he thought I was a submissive who needed his hugs. I’d show him my hard edges and send a message about how submissive I was not.

  Although I wasn’t certain who needed the message more: him or me.

  An hour later, the club surrounded me with its primal rhythms of sex, sweat, and pain. The beat of my heart thumped with anticipation. My suit of armor, white leather, shielded my vulnerabilities, allowing the Mistress of Pain to take her rightful place.

  I went in search of Bryce, power thrumming in my veins, fingers itching to take control and show Jake who was boss.

  Bryce leaned against the bar, sipping a glass of water. He was a few years younger than me, late twenties, with an innocent face. It was a lie, though. That light spattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose hid a wonderful deviancy. He wore a black G-string and a collar around his neck.

  I glided up behind him and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Bryce.” My voice caressed the currents of the air and raised goose bumps on his flesh. “I’m here for you.”

  His entire body stiffened, fingers clenching on the glass. A hoarse, “Mistress…” came back to me. “I was honored to receive your message. What is your wish?”

  “I need your pain.” My fingers skimmed his arm, running over the smooth muscles.

  “How much?”

  Bryce had played with me before. He knew the depths I could go. “All of it. Can you follow me?”

  He turned to face me. His hazel eyes blinked once, then lowered with deference. “I would follow you anywhere, Mistress Kate. I still desire those piercings. A Jacob’s ladder down my cock. Would you take me there?”

  His desire for piercings stretched back years, but fear of the pain had always stayed his hand. I’d learned the technique at a piercing parlor as part of my general education but had never gone through with this particular fantasy for Bryce.

  I hadn’t been ready, and with his reservations, had always refused his requests. Then my career was diverted from detective to bottom-feeder, and I’d dropped out of the scene.

  I could think of nothing better to frame my mind back into dominant mode. To get him to where he would accept the piercings, I would have to take him to a point of great pain. It was edgy, deep. Perfect. Exactly what I needed. Quality time with a willing masochist.

  My belly fluttered a little, thinking about the piercings. The technique was simple. First, the antiseptic protocol: betadine to clean, alcohol to remove the betadine. The needle insertions, not too deep. That could cause complications. Just grip a thin bite of skin.

  I rolled my shoulders back. I’d be careful. Do a safety check. It would be fine. Bryce wanted this. I saw desire in his eyes.

  We talked a bit about what he wanted. I needed to gauge his true intent. The rest of the scene we negotiated, going over what he would and wouldn’t allow. I reasserted control with each gentle touch and whisper. The modulations of my voice drew him to me and bound him under my spell.

  I needed to follow the path to fight fear and pain, both his and mine. My hands wouldn’t slip. I could slide needles through a man’s cock.

  His gaze darted to mine. The pupils expanded, obliterating the soft hazel of his eyes. Then h
e lowered his gaze to the floor. “Mistress.” He pulled in a ragged breath.

  We had drawn a crowd. Excited whispers floated around the bar, moving above the background rhythm of the sensual beat of the music. Those around us pointed and pressed their heads together, talking about our planned scene. Energy swirled around us, and Bryce fed off the crowd as I knew he would.

  “I want your pain,” I said. “Do you understand?”

  The best thing about Bryce, the reason I chose him, was that he found release in the emotional meltdown that only came at the end of physically demanding scenes, transforming pain into some of the most intense full-body orgasms I’d ever seen. It was a high I couldn’t wait to deliver because of the journey we would both take. I wasn’t sure if the ladder piercing would interfere with his ability to release.

  His eyes dilated, and his cock hardened, standing at attention. “I will give it to you, Mistress. I am yours.” He knelt at my feet, lowering his head to the floor.

  I loved his devotion, but my heart hitched at the display. I’d been so close to a similar one hours before in my office. Only, in my mind, I’d been the one on my knees. Thoughts of Jake turned my stomach in knots.

  “Go to Samson,” I said. “Tell him you agree. He’ll have questions for you and a consent form to sign.” Bryce would need to sign a consent for the body modifications before I would be allowed to touch him.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Bryce left to seek out Samson, leaving me standing at the bar.

  Mandy wandered through the crowd with a strawberry-blonde wig swept high on her head. Red-latex leggings crawled up her legs, and a black corset was cinched tight around her waist.

  “Good evening, Mandy.”

  “Good evening to you. Word is out you plan on a piercing scene.” A hint of challenge threaded through the casualness of her tone.

  I flicked my head and bounced a little on my toes. Energy surged in my veins as I planned how I wanted the scene to progress. “I am.”