Before I know it, I’m up looking through my closet for an appropriate outfit. I sort through tons of leggings, T-shirts, and baggy jeans before I come to the conclusion that I have nothing to wear to an event such as the one I want to attend tonight. The only nice outfit I have is the midnight blue dress I wore to Coral and Liam’s wedding a few months ago. It’s a nice bodycon dress that hugs all of my curves to perfection. Needless to say, I wasn’t the one who picked it out as my fashion sense is more on par with asking myself which pair of leggings is most comfortable to sit around and write in for the day. Poor choice in fashion aside, I decide to go with the dress, but I definitely need some new shoes. All I have are flats and that’s not going to work. I would ask Coral to go with me, but I don’t plan on telling her where I’m going tonight. I check the clock on my laptop to see its five after eight, which means I have less than an hour to shower, get dressed, and head to a shoe store before it closes at nine o’clock.
“Ouch!” I yell, tripping over another pile of clothes that lay next to my bed. I lose my balance and my hip makes contact with the side of my dresser. I rub the tender spot and grumble to myself on how I need to be more organized. I walk into the bathroom to shower, apply the little bit of makeup I‘m capable of applying successfully, get dressed, and head to the shoe store before it closes.
****
Jeremy
“You made it!” Maritza, another fling of mine, calls out as I enter the VIP section of Club Paradise.
Normally, this club wouldn’t be my type of scene. It’s for newbies and those who want to pretend they’re in “the life.” I don’t pretend shit. But I’d just landed back in Dallas a few hours ago after having to fire our designer for dragging his ass. So now I need something to help me relax. I knew a few of my old flames would be here, so why not give it a whirl? Maybe I could persuade a couple of them to join me back at the hotel for the rest of the night. Hopefully, that’ll prevent me from dreaming about the woman I promised myself I’d stay away from.
“What you got for me?” I look over at the ebony beauty with brown eyes and dark skin so smooth it looks like it’s glowing. Her skin’s got nothing on LaTasha’s, though.
“It’s been a long time, sir,” Maritza purrs in a way that used to get my cock’s attention. Tonight I don’t feel much for the woman in front of me. I find myself comparing the sharp planes of her petite figure to the rounded curves of another woman.
“Yes, it has,” I respond.
“Would you like a drink, sir?” Maritza questions, falling back into her submissive role as she always does in my presence.
I nod. “You know what I like,” I tell her before sitting on the large round sofa that’s especially for VIP’s.
“Here you are, sir.” Maritza returns with my scotch on the rocks.
“Thank you,” I say as she scoots in next to me on the sofa.
She’s wearing a tight leather dress that’s so short that it barely covers her ass. I half wonder how she was able to make it from the car into the club without giving everyone a peep show. I shrug internally, remembering she is no longer my submissive so she is free to wear whatever she likes. I feel her hand wrap around my upper arm just as Stephanie walks up to us.
She smiles widely. “So you decided to join us after all. I wasn’t sure this scene was interesting enough for you,” she comments.
“I’m here.” I shrug, looking her up and down. I take it her tight leather skirt, off the shoulder, shimmering top and thigh high leather boots. “Sit down.” I motion for her to take a seat on the side of me opposite Maritza.
“This should be an interesting night.” She giggles, looking over at Maritza.
The two women nod at one another. I look between them, contemplating bringing both of them back to my place for the night, before looking out and surveilling the rest of the club. Most women are dressed in either leather skirts or dresses, and the men are rocking leather pants, some in leather vests. The only leather I’m wearing tonight are the cuffs I usually wear out. Otherwise, I’m dressed in a white button up and a pair of tailored dress pants. I can tell most of the men here are pretending to be Doms looking for a sub for the evening. A lot of these men couldn’t be trusted in a real Dom role. I secretly hope none of the women here fall for the bullshit act they’re putting on. An unskilled and unlearned Dom can be dangerous.
The strobe lights make it difficult to make out faces, but I am able to make out a few I recognize. I raise my glass at a couple of subs I know before taking a sip. I let the liquid burn its way down my throat as I sit back, cross my right ankle over my left knee, and throw my arm atop the back of the couch, making myself more comfortable. Stephanie, still seated on my right takes this as a signal to squeeze in closer to me. Although it wasn’t my intention to have my personal space invaded, I don’t move her away. I need the distraction. I smirk at Maritza to my left when I feel her fingers run through my somewhat long hair.
I continue surveying the patrons at the club when the backside of a woman catches my eye. My heart rate quickens slightly, my body telling me what my mind is still trying to figure out. “The hell?” I question, under my breath, waiting for the woman to turn around so I can confirm her identity. The dim lighting in the club make the dress she’s wearing appear black, but I know it’s navy blue. It stops just above her knees and holds the twists and turns of her luscious body the way I want my hands to. I manage to hold myself together until I see a male patron eyeing her like a piece of meat. I don’t give a shit that I too am salivating over her like she’s a perfectly seared, medium-well sirloin. That’s between me, my cock, and that damn dress she’s wearing.
“Would you like another one?”
I completely ignore the question coming from my left as I continue to scope out the scene ahead of me.
“I’ll get you another.”
My brain registers Maritza’s comment, but I make no outward indication of it. I’m too busy trying to tamp down the rising heat in my stomach from seeing her in that dress again. I let my eyes travel down the length of her five-foot-four frame. “Fuck,” I whisper when I see the four inch, black, spiked heels on her feet. My eyelids lower a fraction of an inch when I notice her unsteadiness in those heels as she walks toward the bar. Her awkwardness in those shoes makes me want her even more. Still, I use every bit of resolve I’ve built over the years to remain in my seat. That is, until some wanna-be Dom moves in behind her, feeling on her ass prior to even saying anything to her. That’s mistake number one. You never touch without permission. As soon as I see the uncomfortable look on her face as she turns her head, I’m out of my seat.
****
Tasha
Maybe this was a mistake, I think as feel a stranger’s hand on my ass. I immediately grab for my purse, which contains the mace I carry with me all the time. I turn to the offender behind me, uncomfortable yet ready to use my mace in this club if need be.
“Excuse me, Miss,” says a man who is about two inches taller than me in these heels. He’s got brown eyes and dark blond hair and he’s giving me a hard glare with his hand still on my waist.
I push out of his embrace, but instead of freeing myself, I stumble a bit because I’m not used to wearing heels. This encourages Mr. Stranger Danger to grip one side of my waist and my opposite arm with his other hand to steady me. He also pulls himself in closer.
“Look a bit unsteady in those heels,” he says, looking down at my new shoes—shoes I now regret ever buying.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” I say, keeping my face neutral.
“You definitely are fine. Your Dom let you out of the house in those shoes? He should be shot or better yet, dumped for me,” he says, licking his lips.
I can feel the bile as it begins to creep up my throat. I may not know everything about this lifestyle, but my instincts and research alerts me that this dude is some type of fake Dom. He’s someone who’s watched one too many pornos featuring ropes and floggers and now thinks he’s an expert.
“Why don’t you try it?” I hear behind Mr. Stranger Danger and I look over his shoulder.
My breath catches. I can’t believe he is here. Even in the darkened club, I can make out those green eyes with a fire blazing behind them; the usual toothpick tucked into the right side of his mouth.
“Try what?” Mr. Stranger Danger, startled, turns from me. He looks Jeremy over, sizing him up.
“Dumping her Dom,” Jeremy says, placing his hands in his pants pockets. I get the feeling it’s a move meant to maintain his control. “You told her she should dump her Dom for you. But any real fucking Dom would know never to approach a sub to undermine their Dom. By the way, take your fucking hands off of her,” he asserts, stepping closer to the man.
Thankfully, Mr. Stranger Danger’s hands immediately drop from my waist and arm. A sense of relief floods my bloodstream and I take a step back. Jeremy looks me over carefully, from head to toe. Then pins the fake Dom with his glare.
“It’s your lucky night. I’m going to give you some advice since it’s clear you have no clue what you’re doing. First, don’t ever try to undermine another Dom’s territory. Secondly, if you ever touch her again without permission, the very last thing I’ll be doing is talking. We clear?”
Jeremy’s hands are still in his pockets. His demeanor suggests that he could be having a regular conversation with the guy, but it’s his eyes. They tell the real story. In this moment, I realize that the eyes are truly the windows to the soul. According to Jeremy’s window, his soul is saying he is not the one to mess with. Mr. Stranger Danger must also pick up on the message. He tosses up his hands in a surrendering motion.
“Hey, man, I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t. You can go now,” Jeremy returns.
I’m pretty sure Mr. Stranger Danger nearly sprains an ankle trying to move quickly out of Jeremy’s line of vision. I watch as he disappears into the crowd, hoping he doesn’t try that same act on some other woman. I turn back to Jeremy, embarrassed but wanting to thank him for getting rid of that guy before I had to pull out my mace. “Thank—”
“Let’s go,” Jeremy demands, staring straight ahead at the exit. My apology is cut short as he grips my arm and pulls me toward the door. His grip isn’t overly restraining, but it’s tight enough for me to know he’s serious.
“Go? Wait. What?” I ask, trying to keep up with his long strides. However, I find it difficult to do in my new heels. I tug at my arm, trying to free myself. I don’t know what he thinks this is, but I don’t appreciate being manhandled. I open my mouth to tell him exactly this, but his words cut me off.
“Where are your keys?” he asks, still not looking at me.
We make it past the entrance door.
“Wait!” I say, finally pulling away from his grasp. “Where are we going?”
“We aren’t going anywhere. You’re going home,” he says coolly.
“But—”
“But nothing… You have no idea about this lifestyle. You saw that creep in there? He’s far from the only one willing try to get over on a naïve newcomer.”
“How do you know I’m a newcomer?” I question, feeling insulted. Yes, it’s true, but he didn’t have to pull my card like that.
He simply frowns as he looks me over. Then he turns his eyes on me as if he has answered my question. “Let’s go. Where’s your car?” He grips my arm again, pulling me toward the parking lot.
Despite my embarrassment of his obvious dismissal, I feel my heartbeat quicken from the warmth of his hand against my skin. I peer out of the corner of my eye to see if he feels what I‘m feeling, but I only see the hard set of his jaw as he scans the parking lot for my silver Corolla. When he spots it, he picks up his pace toward the car.
“Take out your keys,” he requests once we reach my car.
I squint at his staunch dismissal of me. “I’m not ready to leave. Answer my question. How do you know I’m a newcomer?” I become satisfied by the look of surprise on his face by my act of boldness.
His eyes scan over me from head to toe. “I just know,” he half growls and a half whispers.
I shiver at the glazed, intense look in his eyes, which have darkened slightly.
“Then show me.” I surprise my own self with that comment. I don’t know what the heck just came over me, but I know that the only interest I have in this lifestyle is the man standing in front of me. And I’m tired of denying my attraction to him. I need something in my life to change or get me excited since my writing has sucked as of late.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Show me.”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, hand still gripping my arm. “You don’t even know what the hell you’re asking.” He lowers his forehead to mine, running his finger along my jawline.
My eyelids flutter shut due to his touch on my skin. I swallow, licking my lips. “Y-you’re right, I don’t. But I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
“LaTasha,” his voice is strained.
“If you’re too scared to teach me…” Holy shit! I have zero idea where my boldness is coming from, but I know being this close to him makes me want more.
“You don’t need someone like me. I’m not an easy or traditional lover. I don’t do candy and roses and shit. Do you get what I’m saying?” he pauses.
I simply stare at him, growing more intrigued.
“I do paddles, nipple clamps, and floggers. Red marks and bruises turn me on,” he’s damn near growling, his finger stroking down the side of my neck. “I’m not scared to teach you. I’m scared of breaking you,” he admits.
Why does that admission warrant a gush of wetness in my panties?
“I’ve been through worse. I haven’t broken yet,” I purr.
Jeremy’s jaw tightens. He’s struggling with something. He pulls back and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up to look at him. His lips are so close to mine, I’m too tempted to reach up and press my lips to them. But I won’t go that far.
He’s glaring into my eyes, searching for something. “Meet me at Al Biernat’s next Friday night. I’ll give you some time to think about it. I’m no half-ass Dom, LaTasha. If you want this with me, there’s no half-stepping allowed. I will demand everything of you,” he warns.
Why do his words both frighten and excite me at the same damn time?
“Seven o’clock sharp. I don’t tolerate tardiness,” he informs, releasing his grip on me.
I mourn the loss of his touch just that quickly. “O-okay, Al Biernat’s next Friday, seven o’clock.”
“I’ll have my security escort you home. Get in your car.”
There’s a slight tremor in my hands as I dig through my bag for my keys. When I find them, I open the car door and hear a car pull up behind us. Jeremy looks over and nods toward whoever’s in the dark car with tinted windows.
“They’ll call me to let me know you got home safely.”
I don’t even comment about not needing someone to follow me home. I simply nod and get in. Jeremy pushes my door closed and watches me as I start my car and pull off. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, I can feel his gaze on my car. I shiver at the thought of him watching me.
Chapter Four
Tasha
I sigh, rubbing my temples in frustration. It’s been a few days since my encounter with Jeremy at the club, and if I thought going out that night would help my writer’s block, I was sorely mistaken. If anything, it has only gotten worse. At least before, I was writing something. It may have been crap, but at least I was writing. But since that night, all I can think about are those damn green eyes. They hold so many questions, intentions, and mysteries. All I want to know is what’s behind them. Jesus! I sound like a sap. That’s not my usual MO. Most of the time, I’m actually repelled by men I don’t know that well. That’s so not the case with this man.
I’m also feeling anxious about my lunch date wi
th Coral and Stacey this afternoon. Stacey got in last night, but she’s staying in the hotel where her conference is being held. She, Coral, and I are having lunch today here at the house. To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. I feel the urge to cook, which usually happens whenever I’m nervous. Since it’s extremely early, I figure I’ll prepare breakfast before everyone at the main house wakes up. A few minutes later, I use my key to enter the dark kitchen of the main house, turning on lights as I move toward the refrigerator. I’m in the mood to make a big meal, so I begin pulling out eggs and flour to prepare blueberry waffles. They are Laura’s favorite.
“Another big breakfast today, huh?”
“Shit!” I’m startled, turning to Liam. I had been so enthralled in meal prepping, I hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen behind me.
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I toss him a half smile. “Don’t be sorry. I probably shouldn’t be wandering around someone else’s house without being cognizant of my surroundings.”
At that Liam frowns. “This is your home too. You should know that by now.”
I nod. “I know. I just meant that my home is the guest house and this…” I say waving around, gesturing to the main house. “This is where you, Coral, and Laura live,” I explain, avoiding eye contact because his eyes look so much like Jeremy’s.
“You know this is your home. Every part of this property,” he says reassuringly, pulling out a stool from the counter and sitting.
“Thank you,” I say before moving to the sink to wash my hands to begin cooking. “Is Coral still asleep?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.
Liam gives me a warm smile, nodding. “Mmmhum… She rarely wakes before seven these days, which is late for her.” He laughs.
“Don’t I know it? She used to call me at five in the morning, sounding like she’d been up for hours already.” I got many 5am calls from my sister when she was out trying to save the world.
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