His to Love (Titans Quarter Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Thank you, Milady.”

  “We’d like to use a private room,” Trevor said.

  The words sent tiny shockwaves through Shelby. The private rooms were upstairs, and nudity was permitted. The club’s safe word was always honored, and scenes were monitored. But the distance from the dungeon meant the players had much more intimacy.

  “I’ll have Trinity arrange one,” Aviana replied.

  “With your indulgence, I’d like to spend a few minutes here with Shelby first.”

  “No more than fifteen. We need to reset the area.”

  “Of course, Milady.”

  There was respect in Master Trevor’s tone, but also finality. For him, the conversation was over.

  The spiky heels from Mistress Aviana’s boots clicked against the wooden floor as she left.

  The sudden silence, the realization that they were alone and that for the next seven days she was his submissive, made Shelby’s pulse echo in her ears.

  “Before I take you upstairs, there are a few things I want to know about you.”

  Commanding, broad and beautiful, he loomed over her.

  “Tell me about your relationship with Master David.”

  “We’re friends, and there’s never been anything more. We’ve never slept together or scened together. He’s part of the group I went to college with. I’ve only been here a few times, and mostly it’s for special events. Theme nights, in particular. I’ve never come by myself.”

  “Go on.”

  “Really? You want to hear all this.”

  His silence was unnerving. He’d told her what to do, and he’d meant it. “Anyway, we—my group of friends—make an evening out it. Dinner. Then we sometimes go to breakfast before heading home.” Shelby paused to drink in a breath. He continued to wait. “I guess I’m trying to say that David looks out for me.” And he’d represented her during her divorce. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve done some work at his law center.”

  “Have you?”

  “When possible, he likes to use mediators. It can sometimes resolve things quicker and less expensively than going to court.”

  “That’s what you do?”

  “Yes. I wish I could volunteer more time.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “Volunteer?”

  “Maybe you didn’t know. Almost none of his clients can afford to pay him, which is why he’s in a ridiculous amount of personal debt. The building he’s in is old and crumbling. He puts in sixty-hour weeks and works harder than anyone I’ve ever known. He’s… I don’t know. Feels a personal obligation to be a savior. Most often, he’s the last hope for most of his clients.” Realizing she’d gone on too long, said too much, she exhaled. “What I’m trying to say is that I know how much winning the bet meant to him.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty and your honesty.” Master Trevor crouched in front of her, then tipped back his rakishly perched hat. “So tell me this, my bold little sub. Would you have agreed to go home with any Dom who’d been prepared to make that kind of wager?”

  “No,” she admitted with some reluctance. “No, Sir.”

  He placed his finger beneath her chin, compelling her to look at him.

  “Then it’s personal?”

  He was relentless in his quest for answers. She didn’t have the courage to tell him the truth…that she was incredibly attracted to him or that she’d fantasized about him a thousand times. Frantically she searched for a safe answer. “You have a reputation as a Dominant who is demanding but fair.”

  “That’s probably an accurate assessment.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “But that’s hardly enough to put your life in my hands for a week.”

  His words sent a shiver through her. That was exactly what she was doing. “I’ve seen you play.”

  “Have you? Often?”

  Every chance she had. “You seem confident. I don’t know, maybe in tune with the women you play with.” Focused and relentless. Swoonworthy. “I don’t have much experience. Although I’m guessing you might have figured that out.”

  “The way you squirmed while David and I were playing the game? Your impatient sighs?”

  He’d been studying her that closely?

  “The way your gaze strayed all over the room?” He cracked a smile, transforming his features, taking any sting out of his words, and devastating her all over again.

  He dragged a chair over. Not surprising her, he sat, but left her kneeling helplessly before him. “Tell me what you’ve done, what you’d like to repeat. What you’d rather not do again.”

  Because it made the conversation easier, she glanced down at his boots. Even though they appeared to be hand-tooled, they were marred, scratched by the years. The dark color of his jeans had faded slightly, meaning the denim had broken in, and now it hugged his strong thighs.

  When she met his gaze again, she realized he’d never looked away from her. “Most times, I end up watching rather than participating.”

  “Are you a voyeur?”

  “No. It’s the dynamic that keeps me watching. There’s a formality, isn’t there? Or there can be.” The elegance by which you exert your control. “The surrender.” Sometimes even passion. She sighed. “Does this make any sense?”

  “Anything you have to say, I want to hear. Keep going.”

  “The best way I can explain it is that there’s a psychological dimension to BDSM play that I’ve never experienced. Fiona and Hannah—my friends—talk about it. Turning control over to someone else.”

  “I’m honored that you’d choose me.”

  Time stretched and twisted into a vortex of possibility. “I’m scared.” She paused. “Nervous, a little. And…” Oh God, she was going to blurt it out. “But I don’t know why you want me when you can play with anyone here.”

  “Woman, once I saw you, I had no other choice. I’m attracted to everything about you.” His quick smile softened him and calmed her fears. “Even your misbehavior.”

  In that moment, nothing existed but him. He was her whole world.

  After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “You’ve played privately?”

  “No. Just here at the club.”

  “Impact play, then, I take it?”

  “I’ve tried a paddle and a flogger.” She paused, debating whether or not to go on. “I haven’t told anyone else this…”

  “You’re safe with me. I appreciate your trust.”

  She lifted each knee in turn, fidgeting from mental, rather than physical, discomfort. “You asked what I didn’t like. One Top used a tawse on me. It hurt like hell, and I didn’t enjoy it.” While she struggled to express herself, Trevor remained quiet. He steepled his index fingers and regarded her in a way that told her he’d wait forever if that was what she needed. Shelby sipped from the cup of courage he offered. “It comes back to the psychological implications that I was talking about. I was being daring, and I expected something wonderful. But it was awful. Then it was over. I was in some pain the next day. You know, as if you’ve worked out too hard. And I had bruises that lasted for days. Instead of pleasure that I’d had before, I was disappointed.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m rambling.”

  “Not at all. Did you have any aftercare?”

  “He had someone else waiting for his attention, so I thanked him for the scene, then went and changed. I went out to eat with Fiona and Master Andrew before driving home.” She’d been unable to fall asleep, even after a long soak in a hot bathtub. “I haven’t played since.”

  “You haven’t…? At all?”

  “No.”

  “Did you talk to anyone? The friends you mentioned?”

  She shook her head. “I’m hoping that wasn’t a typical experience. So I want to give it one more chance.”

  “You really are bold.”

  “Am I?” The gruff praise woven in his voice sent her pulse into a frenzy. She wanted more and more of it, even if she pretended nonchalance. “Maybe I just want to find out if it can be as good as so
me people insist it can be. I’ve heard of subspace. In fact, I’ve seen people who seem lost in a scene.”

  “Once again, I’m honored you chose me. Thank you.” He stood and extended a hand toward her.

  After fighting back the sudden knot of nerves in her tummy, she reached for him.

  Chapter Two

  When Shelby slid her palm against his, the electricity of her trust—hot and powerful—arced through Trevor.

  She blinked up at him, and she took in a sharp breath. Did the connection rock her as much as it did him?

  Jesus.

  What the ever-living fuck was happening here?

  Life had taught him to be cool and calculating. He didn’t make ridiculous wagers. And he never allowed his dick to do his thinking for him.

  But from the second Shelby had awkwardly knelt near the table, he hungered for her.

  It wasn’t a maybe. It was a driving, consuming need.

  She’d been fidgety, and not nearly close enough for him to touch her, even though he’d wanted to. He’d known he could reassure her lacing his fingers in her hair or simply caressing her shoulders.

  As the evening progressed, he caught the beautiful wannabe sub looking at him. There was innocence in her wide green eyes, captivating him, grabbing him by the jugular, refusing to let go. That—maybe—he could have ignored.

  But when her beautiful lips parted slightly, he imagined her beneath him, her hands pinned above her head. Her surrender to his demands would be total and oh so damn sweet.

  For the first time in his life, he shoved aside his rules—about women, submissives, money—just to spend some time with her.

  And now, she was his. For one week.

  Trevor helped her up. She was so damn small, lighting up his protective synapses. “Do you want me to call you Shelby?”

  “Yes.”

  With a small grin, he cocked his head.

  “I mean…” She cleared her throat. “Shelby is fine, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Is it a scene name?” For numerous reasons, protecting their identities, or because it gave them more mental or emotional freedom, some people selected alter identities for their time at the club.

  She shook her head. “No. Shelby Maria Virginia Salazar, if you want to be formal.” Then she smiled, dazzling him. “My parents couldn’t decide which grandmother’s name to use as my middle name, so they selected both.”

  “Wise choice, I’m sure.” He took a moment to drink her in and savor the way her thick dark hair flowed down her back. Though he appreciated her very sexy outfit and soft pink leather boots with spiky heels, it was her feminine curves and slightly open mouth that crashed testosterone through his bloodstream. It had been months—years—since he’d had such a raw reaction to a woman. “I’d like to look at you.” With reluctance that surprised him, he released her. “Will you turn for me, please?”

  She did, exposing her bottom to him. When she faced him again, her eyes were downcast, as if uncertain of his reaction.

  “You’re captivating, Shelby Salazar.”

  “I’m…” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He waited.

  Without prompting, but with vulnerability making her tremble, she met his gaze. “Being looked at makes me a little uncomfortable. I want to be bold, but then I can’t seem to make myself take the actions.”

  With the way she watched, rather than participated, he should have guessed that. Suddenly he was glad he’d asked for a private room. “I hope that after we’ve played together, you’ll be able to see yourself the way I see you.”

  “I… Maybe. Sir.” Her half smile was forced and perhaps disbelieving.

  That, he hoped to change. “If you’re ready, I’d like to get you upstairs.”

  “Uhm… Yes. Of course, Sir.” Her voice wobbled.

  “We’ll need to collect my toy bag from the coat check.” Because he wanted everyone to know she was his, he offered his elbow.

  After blinking away her obvious surprise, she accepted.

  They emerged from the makeshift room into the thunderous noise of the main dungeon.

  This evening, there was a lasso competition, with squealing, giggling submissives as the target. A mechanical bronco situated among large crash pads was the dungeon’s main feature.

  Shelby stopped and pointed. “My friend is next in line.”

  “Would you like to watch?”

  “Really? You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  They joined the circle of spectators. “That’s your friend? Master Andrew’s new submissive?”

  “You know him?”

  He leaned in close to hear her over the thumping music.

  “Wait.” She held up a hand. “Of course. You probably know most of the people here.”

  Trevor knew that Andrew was besotted with the woman. Over drinks at the club’s bar one night, he’d confessed to wanting to collar her. So far, Fiona had resisted the idea, much to Andrew’s utter frustration.

  Until tonight, Trevor hadn’t been tempted to claim that kind of responsibility.

  Shelby moved in closer to him to watch while Andrew accompanied Fiona toward the contraption.

  The operator gave directions, and then Andrew assisted Fiona into position, and she tucked her hand beneath the strap.

  In response to something Andrew said, she scooted forward.

  After Fiona nodded, Andrew stepped aside, and the operator turned on the machine.

  People cheered as she threw her free arm in the air to counterbalance the bronc’s rocking and spinning.

  One of Fiona’s breasts, the nipple covered with a sparkling pasty, slipped out of her bra cup.

  “Yee-haw!” a man shouted.

  Fiona held on for a few more seconds before being tossed unceremoniously into the air. She landed on the thick crash pad with an oomph and a giggle. Before she could stand, Andrew was there to help.

  “Eighteen seconds!” the operator called. “Well done!”

  While blocking her from view, Master Andrew adjusted her top to safely tuck away her breast.

  The next sub climbed aboard the piece of metal, and Shelby rose up on her tiptoes to talk to him. “That looks like fun,” she said.

  “Maybe you should try.”

  She looked at the bronco, then back at him. “I’m not sure I have enough courage. And the whole thing with being the center of attention.”

  Now that she’d mentioned it, he was intrigued by the idea of watching her shift her weight as the operator turned up the speed on the ride, making her writhe and twist.

  Fiona, face flushed and grinning widely, pointed toward them. When Master Andrew nodded his permission, she made a beeline toward them.

  “You did great!” Shelby said.

  “It was a total blast.” Fiona grinned. “Except for the chafing on my inner thighs.”

  “Good thing you’re a masochist, pet,” Andrew commented as he joined them.

  “Yes, Sir.” She giggled.

  Trevor shook the other man’s hand.

  “Have you met my…” He paused and cleared his throat. “Fiona?”

  “A pleasure,” Trevor said.

  She offered a cute little curtsy to go with her big smile. No wonder his friend was intrigued by her.

  “We saw David and heard what happened. With the card game.” Fiona ignored both men in favor of focusing on Shelby. “You look like you’re okay with this. Are you?”

  “A bit nervous.” Her voice wasn’t as unsteady as earlier. “But, yes.”

  “Meet me for brunch tomorrow?” Fiona squeezed Shelby’s hand. “I want to hear all about it. Like, everything.”

  Shelby looked up at him. And he liked that she’d consulted him. “Perhaps next Sunday might be better?” he suggested.

  She flushed. “Uh…yes. I’ll be with Master Trevor this week.”

  “You can’t be serious! I thought it was just for tonight!” Fiona’s mouth opened into a wide O. “Da
vid didn’t tell us that. Rat bastard. How dare he do that to you? A whole week?”

  “Why don’t you visit us?” Trevor suggested to defuse Fiona’s growing ferocity. “Tuesday? Wednesday? After work? Evening cocktails on my pontoon boat?”

  “Really?” Fiona blinked. “That sounds awesome.” Then she hesitated for a moment. “Would you like to go also?” she asked Andrew.

  Andrew nodded.

  “Bring a swimsuit if you’d like to jump in the pool or the lake,” Trevor suggested.

  After settling on Wednesday night at six, he lightly touched Shelby’s spine. “If you’ll excuse us?”

  She shuddered, something he wouldn’t have known if his fingers weren’t on her bare skin.

  Fiona gave her a quick hug and whispered something into her ear.

  “I promise,” Shelby said as the hug ended.

  Andrew and Fiona remained where they were, watching as the next volunteer walked toward the innocent-looking mechanical horse.

  “Thank you for inviting them out. That was really nice of you,” Shelby said when they neared the coat check. “I know it will make Fiona feel better too.”

  Shelby’s happiness was worth anything to him.

  After picking up his play bag, they made their way to the second floor where they checked in with the dungeon monitor standing behind a podium.

  “You’re in number six, Master Trevor. Mistress Aviana scheduled you for an hour.”

  Which wouldn’t be nearly long enough. “Thank you.”

  Trevor guided Shelby toward the end of the hallway. When they reached the correct room, he closed the door behind them. The sudden silence wrapped them like a cocoon.

  While he placed his bag on the metal side table, Shelby wandered to the middle of the floor and folded her arms around herself. When he turned toward her, she cast a nervous glance at the spanking bench, then back at him.

  The sturdy piece had a tall, thin center beam and two other beams, one on each side, so her knees would be supported. Red vinyl covered the horse, and it was artfully decorated with two dozen metal rings. There was no limit to the ways he could secure her.