by Cari Quinn
“Careful, pet.”
“I would advise the same to you, Sir. One might get the mistaken impression that you’re a self-important alphahole rather than a respected Dom.” Her mother wouldn’t be pleased with her language, but Madeline’s smile held as she pictured her father cheering her on. “I respect your concern for your brother, but you’ve overstepped.”
“You think so?” Dean stroked his smooth jaw with his finger and thumb, then nodded slowly. “We shall see if you still believe that tonight. Come to the club, Madeline. I can almost guarantee you’ll reconsider.”
She agreed, careful to hide how much it bothered her that Tim had put off seeing her so he could go to a BDSM club and…and what, exactly? Play with a Domme? She remained in the hall for a few minutes after Dean went into the locker room with the large containers he’d taken from her, and tried to see Tim groveling to a statuesque woman who’d exude more power than Madeline could ever imagine possessing. Bound, crying out in ecstasy as a sleek goddess in leather toyed with him, using all the erotic tools Madeline enjoyed having used on her.
What if Dean was right? What if the needs they’d explored before they’d even known one another were the very thing that kept their relationship from going any further? She didn’t want Tim to change for her. She didn’t want him to change at all.
But she didn’t know him that well, did she? She refused to lie to herself and pretend the idea of his submitting to anyone didn’t bother her.
And that was what Dean was counting on. She schooled her features as the door opened to reveal Tim’s smiling face. “Hello, beautiful. You coming in? I couldn’t keep the savages away from the food.”
She smiled back, took his hand, and followed him into the locker room, laughing when she spotted White tearing into a sandwich packed with pulled pork, his eyes closed in pure bliss. There wasn’t much talk going on because most of the men were chowing down around him.
The players moved as she approached the table, quickly finishing their mouthfuls and thanking her before digging into the last two containers full of macaroni and potato salads. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and took out two soft buns to make herself and Tim some sandwiches before there was nothing left to make them with. Across the room, Dean watched her over a coffee mug, something in his gaze wary.
Tim’s brother seemed like a bit of a jerk, but she had a feeling he was simply looking out for Tim. Which she could understand to a point. She chatted with Tim about her last flight, about the game, never giving him a hint of where her mind was at. Until she figured things out for herself, she’d simply enjoy being near Tim. For now, that had to be enough.
Too soon, it was time for her to go. She packed up the Tupperware, pausing for a moment before White could slip away to call him over. He grinned when she gently nudged his chin to the side to study the worst of the bruises on his jaw.
“You’ve healed up nicely.” She patted his cheek lightly, laughing at the way he ducked his head. “You staying out of trouble?”
“Yes, Miss Madeline. Ain’t got in a fight all week.”
“That’s good.” She lowered her voice and leaned close. “Don’t take it too easy on the other teams though. I don’t want Tim thinking I made you soft, and you know I’ll take the blame.”
White nodded, his expression grave. “No, ma’am. You won’t see me going soft. Coach just said if I’m gonna get hurt and sit in the box, it better be for a good reason.”
“I agree.” She glanced over at Tim, who had his coat on for some reason. Had he managed to get out of practice with the team?
His lips curved as he stepped up beside White and squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “It’s been snowing pretty heavily for the past hour. Would you come help me clean off Miss Madeline’s car?”
Not only did White enthusiastically agree to help Tim, but a few of the other players got changed and joined them. Madeline was a little worried that they’d get a hard time for not being out on the ice with the rest of the team, but Tim told her not to worry. He seemed more concerned about the fact that she’d parked two blocks away than anything.
“I’m going to arrange to get you a spot in the Forum parking with us. This is ridiculous,” Tim said as he used the snow brush to clear her windshield while his players shoveled away the pile blocking the driver’s side door with gray snow from the mini-plow. “But you don’t have to worry about feeding the whole team every time you come down.”
“We’re grateful for any leftovers you bring, though!” White shouted out before growling at Kral who’d dumped snow on his head. “Hey!”
“It’s snow, White. Get it, Snow Wh—” Kral sputtered as Perron tossed a fistful of loose powder in his face.
Madeline bit back a laugh and frowned at Kral as he dried his face with his sleeve. “If you don’t behave, you won’t get any more of the food I bring. I happen to enjoy cooking, and I’ve been craving a nice pot roast with mashed potatoes. I couldn’t possibly eat it all by my lonesome.” She winked at White when he grinned. Then slipped up to Tim to kiss his cheek. “Really, it’s my pleasure. But I would love a spot to park inside. You have no idea how much I appreciate you all doing this for me. I’ve had enough of shoveling snow today.”
“I’m sure the boys will agree we’ll do anything to make sure you want to come back.” Tim set the snow brush down on the hood of her car and pulled her into his arms. His lips were cool and moist from the snowflakes still falling steadily over and around them, but heated readily against hers. Firm and sweet, his kiss erased all her doubts. He looked into her eyes as he held her, not suspecting a thing. Because she’d given him no reason to.
And she wouldn’t. She stuffed her hands into the front pocket of his jeans and rested her head against his chest. “I’ll be back, Tim. Don’t you worry.”
By the time she got home, everything Dean had told her, all her concerns, were carefully filed away in the back of her mind. Dean had told her where the club was. He probably expected her to walk in, take one look at Tim on his knees, and walk right back out, ending things for good.
She couldn’t say for sure how she’d react, but she wouldn’t set herself up for failure. She left her habitually submissive outfits in her closet and chose something a little more neutral. Because that’s how she had to approach this situation.
Without judgment, simply seeing the man she was falling for. And she was falling for him, hard and fast, which scared her more than anything she might see.
Because she had a feeling it wouldn’t change a thing.
Chapter Four
Tim stood tall, more exposed than he’d been at the club for a long time. Considering this “club” was actually a private bimonthly gathering in a warehouse typically used for boat storage, wearing nothing besides a pair of snug, black boxer briefs had him fighting hard not to shiver as the Domme in the one-piece leather bodysuit paced in front of him. And the five other male subs vying for her attention.
She was an older woman, experienced, and well-respected in the local scene. Her hair had gone completely white years ago and she didn’t bother coloring it. Which suited the sharp angles of her face and her olive skin tone. Her eyes were a startling emerald green that cut through her subs like diamond blades, leaving them with no question as to what she expected of them. Tim had spoken to her at a few gatherings last summer and found her to be intelligent and easygoing. A very nice woman.
But a very tough Domme.
There were large metal heaters set up all around the warehouse, but a draft still found its way into the large space, making the candles on the tables near the three large fridges flicker. No alcohol was served at this particular event since it wasn’t set up for socializing. There was no mistaking what everyone was here for. But Silverfalls—as the mature Domme preferred to be called—hadn’t been certain about Tim’s place in the lineup.
“Find yourself a gentle Domme, Tim. You’re not a masochist.”
Tim had smiled at her before dropping his g
aze. “I could be, if it pleases you, Mistress.”
She laughed, but cut it short as she latched onto the back of his neck and hissed, “You’re not a stupid boy. You know I’ll give you exactly what you need. Get in line.”
She left him waiting for a while with the others as she strolled back and forth, observing them with detached interest. He’d seen her in action before and knew she was waiting for the weakest of them to slip up. The punishment would be swift and make the remaining men reconsider if they were absolutely certain they wanted to play that close to the edge.
From the corner of his eye, Tim could already see one man shifting his weight impatiently. The heavy scent of sweat hovered on the cool breeze from the man next to Tim. Silverfalls continued pacing.
Around them, sounds of play had begun. The buzzing of powerful vibrators. Light slaps on a bare ass. The whoosh of a flogger teasing flesh. Marylyn Manson’s “User Friendly” began playing, just loud enough to add to the ambience without drowning out the erotic noise.
“Mistress?” The man at the other end of the line, all done up in straps and sporting a yellow latex thong, cleared his throat. “May I—”
Silverfalls strode up to the man and caught him by the jaw before pressing a long red nail to his lips. “Shh.”
Tim’s pulse pounded hard. He’d figured that man would be the one who failed, but there was no way to guess what Silverfalls would consider breaking her rules. Speaking apparently wasn’t a deal breaker. The Domme looked over at him, one brow arched. He faced forward.
She resumed pacing.
Looking wasn’t allowed, but wasn’t a fail.
“Tim?” A familiar voice. His eyes widened as he spotted Madeline near the entrance, moving away from the metal racks where everyone hung their coats on the provided hangers.
He had to fight not to go to her when he saw Dean cross the room to intercept her. Dean had that look in his eyes, the one he gave to subs who didn’t respect the code of conduct at the club.
Those subs never lasted here long.
“Have you found something more interesting than me to hold your attention, boy?” Silverfalls stopped in front of him, blocking his view of Madeline. “Am I boring you?”
“No, Mistress.” Tim clenched his fist, every single muscle in his body aching to move around the Domme, to go to Madeline. He’d wanted one last night to say goodbye to this side of himself. But now, he couldn’t even remember why it had been so important. He couldn’t bear Madeline thinking he wanted to be with another woman. All his depraved urges were insignificant. He shook his head. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have come to you—I can’t do this.”
Tapping a finger on her lips, Silverfalls glanced over her shoulder. When her gaze returned to him, her smile was positively evil. “Are you saying ‘red,’ Tim?”
His jaw hardened. He’d gone into the scene with clear limits. No blood, no scat, no sex. She hadn’t gone past any of those limits. Calling red seemed…weak.
It wouldn’t be if a sub said it to you.
But he wasn’t a sub.
You’re not a Dom either.
Which was exactly why he wasn’t good enough for Madeline. Not yet.
“What are you trying to prove to her, boy?” Silverfalls ran a nail down his bare chest. Goosebumps rose on his flesh, but it felt wrong. The Domme closed the distance between them. Her lips grazed his. “Tell me.”
“Red.” The word left his mouth before his brain fully registered that he was done. He wasn’t sure what that meant for him. Would he leave the lifestyle completely? Go to Madeline and tell her he could live without dominance or submission and still make her happy?
Damn it, he couldn’t say for sure, but he did know he wasn’t taking another step without knowing she was with him.
Dismissing him, Silverfalls turned, revealing Madeline who stood a respectful distance from the scene. The Domme let out a soft laugh. “You, my dear, are a very lucky woman. He would have suffered under my hands, and I suspect he’d have taken it all for you.”
“I’m not sure I understand why, Mistress.” Madeline folded her arms over her chest, the crimson corset she wore pushing her creamy breasts high, her feet shoulder-width apart in black fuck-me heels. She was mouthwatering, her short leather skirt showing off her curvy thighs, but she didn’t come off as either a Domme or a sub. She was feminine, strong and vulnerable and absolutely perfect. And not very happy with him. But she spoke quietly to Silverfalls. “I apologize for intruding on your scene.”
“No need. I imagine you were surprised to see your man waiting on me.” Silverfalls chuckled. “Make him pay, honey. You’ll feel better.”
The Domme returned to her lineup of men. Madeline turned and headed toward the coat racks.
Tim hurried to catch up with her. And to explain.
“I thought I could do it. One night and this would be behind me. I could focus on your needs and—”
She spun around and smacked his chest. “My needs? How in the world do you know what I need? You assume I’m a sub because I responded to your brother pulling the big tough alpha male routine?”
“Aren’t you?” He’d been wrong. He wanted to be wrong. If either of them had to do without, it would be him.
“I am, but right now I’m tempted to strap you to the nearest cross and beat you! She could have hurt you, and then what? I was supposed to be grateful that you’d taken a beating so you could erase a huge part of the man I lo—” She growled when his lips curved. “Don’t you dare look all pleased. I’m very close to hating you right now.”
“Let me say it first then.” He bit back a laugh as he caught her wrist before she could smack him. “I love you. But I was stupid and I’m sorry. Feel free to beat me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She crossed her arms behind his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I’ll do it.”
His nostrils flared as her eyes dilated. Not once during the scene with Silverfalls had he been even remotely aroused, but now? Hell, he was fully erect and wanted nothing more than to kneel for Madeline. She’d be magnificent with a whip in her hands…but no. She’d never played with a whip. Not wielding one anyway. Actually, he had no idea how experienced she really was.
He’d managed to make a real mess of things.
Only, he hadn’t expected her to show up here. How had she known to where to find him?
“You’re thinking hard and I can guess why. Your brother ratted you out, Tim. And I’m glad he did. I should thank him.” She lowered her hands, swiveling on her heels to walk away from him yet again.
The cold seeping into the warehouse slithered over him as he quickly trailed Madeline to a lounge type setup at the far end of the room. Three large leather sofas on a gray shag rug surrounded a sturdy wood coffee table. Two naked subs were entwined on the table, both collared, making out for the amusement of the handful of Doms in suits, watching them. Dean glanced up as Madeline approached.
Tim’s brother snorted as he stood. “I take it you decided not to take my advice.”
“You’re a smart man, Dean. But I’m glad you asked me to come here. Tim wanted to shut down one side of himself. I won’t allow it.” She placed her hands on her hips. “But I’ve found something I want to explore.”
Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, shooting Tim a curious look before returning his focus to Madeline. “I’m listening.”
Madeline inclined her head. “Good. I won’t attempt a whip without proper training—which I’d like you to give me—but maybe a flogger? I want to hurt him, but not so much that he’s useless to the team.”
What? Tim wet his lips with his tongue. Tried to project a big “hell no” through some magical sibling bond.
Which he either didn’t have with his brother, or Dean dismissed because he was a twisted fuck. His brother stood and grabbed his large leather toy bag. “I misjudged you, sweetheart. And I’d be more than happy to teach you how to hurt him.” Dean finally met Tim’s eyes. And somewhere in there was the
boy who’d melted Tim’s favorite G.I. Joe with a magnifying glass when Tim had broken his drumsticks. The same boy who’d grown into a man Tim could call on his worst days and simply listen if that was all Tim needed, or throw a few punches if all went to hell.
Sometimes his worst enemy. Always his best friend.
He trusted Madeline. And yeah, Dean too. Kinda. He could count on leaving the club alive. In one piece.
But not much else if Dean had anything to say about it.
* * *
What in the world am I doing?
Madeline stared at the back of Dean’s head, the weight of the leash in her hand feeling so very…not wrong, but off. Tim hadn’t knelt, or groveled, when she’d taken the collar from his brother—a collar that didn’t mean much according to Dean—and placed it around his neck. If Tim had behaved overly submissively, she would have stopped, but she still saw him as the man she wanted. The man she’d fight for.
The leash tugged as they reached an area with only a chair and a big metal bucket. She swallowed hard and looked back at Tim. His lips were pressed together and he was glaring at his brother.
Dean just laughed. “This isn’t my scene, brother. No mind fucking. I’m here as a mentor, that’s all. And even that is pushing my comfort limits, so don’t start freaking out or I’ll have Silverfalls teach her the ropes.”
“You’re an asshole. You know I hate this setup.” Tim moved closer to her and she reached back to take his hand. His palm was damp. He’d done exactly the kind of scene he and Dean were discussing. And she had a feeling it hadn’t gone well.
I may have to kill your brother, love. She gave Dean a hard look, sure her thoughts were projected when his smirk disappeared. “You won’t push his limits in this scene. Unless I’m wrong, I’m in control now.”
Tim straightened at her side. She could sense his support and something more. He was proud of her. Which gave her the strength she needed to face a Dom she’d usually surrender to.
