Black Light_Roulette Redux

by Livia Grant

  The searing heat of his touch on my shoulder almost made me dizzy with nerves. Memories washed over me, almost drowning me with the desire to be held by him once again. I missed his warm embrace and the way he could make me feel protected. It had just taken one simple and casual touch for that all to wash over me.

  “And you’ve come to play tonight?” He pointed at the roulette wheels. “Or are you just an observer?”

  I simply nodded. “I’m here to play.”

  He gave a devilish smirk. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to play together then. We were always good together.”

  Embarrassed, and not wanting to discuss just how damn good I truly believed us to be, I gestured toward the area where participants for the evening had begun to gather. “We should probably join the others. It looks like they’re getting close to starting.”

  With my cheeks on fire, I made my way toward the raised platform, taking long graceful strides with the fear I would trip over my own feet and make a fool of myself. “It was nice seeing you again, Dean. Maybe the luck of the spin will be in our favor.”

  He walked beside me and grasped me by the upper arm. “Wait. Hold on. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in almost a year, and you’re just going to walk away? What’s going on in that head of yours? You’re acting as if we’re strangers, and we’re far from that.”

  I shook his hand off me and continued on with soft and slow steps. “It’s been a long time. People change. We aren’t strangers, but…”

  “It hasn’t been so long I don’t remember. Remember us. Do you?”

  I stopped in my tracks. Leave it to this man to be blunt and straight to the point. I closed my eyes as I tried to block the failure, the hurt, the dreams broken. “Trust me,” I answered, “I remember.”

  “Do you ever think of me? Did you ever once? Do you ever wonder what could’ve been had you not chosen him?”

  Still unable to meet his gaze, I stared at the roulette wheels. It was just like Dean to put me on the spot and not hide from the truth like I had always wanted to do. And it was just like me to avoid. “I really don’t think we need to get into all that now. Not with the event starting soon. Maybe we can get a coffee or drink sometime and catch up soon.”

  Before I realized it, he was inches from me, grabbing the top of my arm, spinning me around to face him directly. His hand gripped my upper arm firmly, giving me no choice but to gaze up into the depth of the blue eyes I had so desperately been trying to avoid since seeing him.

  “Answer me. Do you ever think of me?”

  So softly I wasn’t sure if he could hear, I replied, “Yes.” Drumming up the courage I needed, I jerked free of his grip. “What do you want me to say? What is it you’re trying to get out of me? That I’m sorry? Because I am. I’m extremely sorry for more than you know. But I can’t go there tonight. I came here for fun and for a chance to see that I can pick up my pieces.” I took a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know I don’t have the right to just walk in here and act like nothing happened. I don’t expect you to be happy about it. I’m also sorry I didn’t return your calls or reach out to you. So, to answer your question on if I thought of you. Yes. All the fucking time. But I can’t exactly turn back time, now can I? So, this little chat, and going down memory lane, isn’t going to serve either of us any good.”

  Glowering, he took a step back and crossed his arms against his chest, his sharp blue eyes narrowed on me. I watched his jaw clench, just as it used to do when he was my dom. I waited for his comeback, or for a stinging reply. I steeled myself for whatever he’d deliver. I wouldn’t back down and show my true thoughts, or my true feelings. The fear of his rejection would be too much. I couldn’t handle that. I’d endured too much pain as it was. Tonight, was about fun. It was supposed to be fun. One night to help ease the pain.

  To my surprise, he didn’t act as I expected. Without another word spoken, he placed his palm on my lower back and led me the rest of the way to where the submissives were gathering in front of the stage while the warmth of his palm sizzled against my flesh.

  “Well, then let’s see where the wheel lands. Let’s see if the fates want us to be together again tonight,” he said.

  I nodded and swallowed hard wondering what the night had in store for us. He returned my nod before walking away to join the other doms waiting to be called for their turn at the wheel.

  Chapter 3

  Knowing my name was on the roulette wheel was odd. It made my decision to play at Black Light all the more real in what had only been a fantasy for what felt like ages. As I stood there, watching the wheel spin and doms I recognized, and others who were new, drop their balls in the wheel to land on submissives, I almost felt as if I were a virgin or newbie to the lifestyle waiting anxiously for the wheel to land on me. It had been a long time since I’d done anything close to this, and the reality that I would soon be engaged in a sexual act with a potential stranger terrified me. But what really was like a punch in the gut was when it was Dean’s turn to drop his ball. The thought of him playing with another woman while I was in the room nearly had me turning on my heels and running out of there. I had no claim on him anymore, and I knew that, but my mind had no control over my heart.

  As Dean dropped his ball into the spinning wheel, he looked up and made eye contact with me. As our gazes locked, I prayed the wheel would land on me, and he wouldn’t get anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else.

  Please. Please. Please.

  I held my breath… waiting the long agonizing moments it took for the wheel to slow down. Then Dean surprised me. He reached down, took hold of the wheel, and stopped it completely. Before Chase could announce where the ball had landed, Dean quickly snatched the ball, and from his movements, actually moved it, before looking up at the crowd.

  “Sorry to break the rules,” he said loudly. “But Melinda and I have an unfinished conversation to continue.”

  I was so shocked by his sudden act of defiance, that I didn’t have the ability to pay attention to everyone else’s reactions. Rules were rules—especially at Black Light—but when Chase looked at Jaxson and then Spencer, and both men gave their nod of approval, it was clear that Dean had earned the respect of the men enough to allow him to break them.

  Chase gestured for me to join them on the platform. Once I had, Emma’s hand extended with a ball for me to drop in order to decide what type of play Dean and I would be doing for the night.

  Not sure what else to do, I walked on wobbly knees up to the second wheel, which held the possible activities. Not wanting to faint, I focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. In an almost robotic fashion, I dropped the ball as I felt Dean’s eyes blaze into my very being. I didn’t want him to have anyone else, but knowing that he felt the same way I did…

  “Knife play,” Chase called out when the wheel came to a stop.

  It didn’t matter what the wheel landed on at that moment because I was still struggling with the reality of what just happened with Dean. It could have landed on water play for all I cared, so I simply nodded my acceptance and walked toward Dean who had his hand extended for me to take it.

  The spin of the wheel was complete.

  Dean and I were partners.

  Now what?

  I stood, staring, not sure what to say.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you I planned on stopping the wheel on you.”

  “It’s not playing by the rules.”

  He took a few steps toward me when I didn’t take his extended hand. “I’m not one to play by the rules.” He gave a sheepish smile. “I wanted you, and I’ve learned the hard way that you have to take what you want in life.”

  “What happened to testing the fates and seeing where we land?”

  “I don’t allow anything, or anyone, to control me,” he said again with an even bigger smile.

  “You Dom the fates. Is that it?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He took hold of my hand, and after
the final couple had been matched, Dean guided me toward the bar. Thank God. I needed a damn drink fast.

  But as we walked hand in hand like we’d always done before play in the past, memories of his smile washed over me. He still had the same dimple, and his eyes still lit up. I had grown to love the little lines that formed around the edges of his mouth and the corner of his eyes. I missed his smile. I desperately wanted to hear him laugh more than just the chuckle. I missed that sound most of all. I missed the midnight hours we would spend in the club, wrapped in each other’s arms, cloaked by the secrecy of Black Light, laughing into the late hours of the night. I held back the tears, remembering the sensual feelings as well as ones of comfort that filled that special BDSM playing field.

  “Well, I guess we better get started then. I’ve never done knife play, but since we landed on it,” I said, uncertain if playing with Dean was wise again, but not wanting to waste any more time on overthinking it.

  “No.”

  My heart stopped. I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat due to my heightened anxiety of how this night would play out. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I’m not going to just dive into a sexual play that requires complete trust and submission the way we are right now.”

  Crossing my arms across my chest, I asked, “So you don’t want to do knife play? Should we spin again?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, then why are you saying no?”

  He walked over to the bartender and ordered us drinks. I already knew he was getting us two vodka tonics with lime—which had been our drink of choice before we would play. “Not yet. We aren’t doing anything as intense as putting the edge of a blade to your throat until we ease into it.”

  “You already broke the rules once with stopping the wheel. So, are you planning on not following what we landed on too?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Leave it to Dean Casey to do everything the way he wanted to do it.

  His eyes narrowed as he seemed to study me. “I think you already know the answer to that. When it comes to you and me, only you will follow the rules. But I also think you need a reminder on how to do so. I see zero submission in the woman who used to exude it in every breath she took.”

  My face flamed. “I used to. Back when I…” I paused and realized how much I had changed. Dean was right. I wasn’t submissive. Not even a little bit.

  Dean paid for the drinks when they arrived by charging them to his account and handed mine to me, standing inches from my face. “Maybe I need to help you find that very important piece of you again. I happened to love that part of you the most.”

  His use of the word ‘love’ nearly choked me as my throat constricted and my heart pounded. “What if that part of me is lost forever?”

  “Trust me,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I know just how to help you find it.”

  With shaky hands, I brought my drink to my lips and took big swallows. At this rate, the two-drink limit wouldn’t nearly be enough to get my nerves under control. “I have no doubt you will,” I muttered more to myself than to Dean.

  “How long has it been since you’ve been submissive?” Dean asked as he led the way to one of the semi-private seating areas along the wall to the right of the bar. I remembered the area well. Both Dean and I had liked that part of the club because it had always given us a sense of privacy, yet not completely removed from the entire energy of the room, which we both had appreciated and still always wanted to be part of.

  “Depends on what you mean by submissive,” I answered honestly. Mark was far from a dom, and I was as far from his submissive as one could be, but I had still submitted to that asshole in many ways. Not necessarily good ways, but I had definitely submitted.

  “You and the senator never came here? I wondered if I just missed you guys when you did. Did you go elsewhere?”

  I shook my head as I took one of the chairs at the small table. When he joined me, I answered his question. “We didn’t go to clubs.”

  “Nothing is wrong with the privacy of your own room, I suppose. I just didn’t figure you for someone who wanted to leave the club atmosphere. I thought you enjoyed it.”

  “I did.” I swallowed hard. “I do. But Mark didn’t. He thought it was sick and perverted.”

  “Black Light?”

  “All of it. Anything to do with BDSM was twisted and wrong in his eyes. He wanted no part of it, and it definitely wasn’t allowed in our marriage.” Suddenly realizing that I was opening up doors to rooms I believed I had slammed closed, I looked into Dean’s eyes and offered a warm smile. “But he’s gone, and the last thing I want to do is talk about him now.”

  Dean nodded as he returned the smile. “All right, but the reason I had asked is that I can see you aren’t the submissive Melinda I once knew. You seem… different.” He reached out, brushed a piece of my hair away from my eye, and tucked it behind my ear. “Now I know why.”

  Oh if he had any idea. If he had any idea how different I had truly become due to Mark’s cruel and mentally abusive treatment.

  “I haven’t played or done anything since…” I paused, not sure if I truly wanted to confess and give Dean the knowledge of how inexperienced I had actually become of late.

  “Since?” He lifted an eyebrow. That familiar gesture that used to give me shivers and send me falling to my knees to serve him in whichever way he demanded. One look was all it ever took with Dean. One small raise of the eyebrow, an intensity in his blue eyes in how he watched my every move, and the ever so subtle tilt back of his raven-haired head usually melted me into a puddle of compliant goo.

  That look was all it took… in the past.

  But Dean was correct. I was not the Melinda he once knew. Being a true submissive was a learned skill, and I had checked out of that school when I agreed to marry Mark. So, though his look still gave me the familiar butterflies fluttering around in my belly, I still resisted the urge to completely be his. The need to struggle overpowered the need to surrender.

  “You haven’t played since marrying the senator?” Dean answered for me.

  I nodded and looked down at my fiddling fingers in shame. I hated admitting that I’d given up a part of me and who I was for a man—a man who didn’t deserve it. I sounded so weak and pathetic. How had I become this person? I had never been that person before.

  Dean sat quietly for several moments, never taking his eyes off of me. I could tell he was thinking. Was he regretting stopping the wheel so we would be partners? I truly thought I could be that sexy and sultry play partner I once was. When I walked over the threshold of the club, I had every intention of acting like the woman I once was and truly enjoy myself with wild abandon. But was that all unrealistic? Was I nothing but damaged goods now?

  Whore. Fat. Sick. Twisted.

  Those vicious and stabbing words of Mark’s clanged loudly in my ears. Fool. Yes, he had called me a fool many times. Was I a fool for thinking you could turn back time and have everything like it had once been?

  “I know we landed on knife play, and I still plan on doing that, but I would like to start off with a warm up if that is fine by you,” Dean said, snapping me out of my dark thoughts.

  “What kind of warm up?”

  Dean’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened. “Does it matter? We used to play without you questioning my every move. You had full trust in what I said, and what I felt was best for you and us.”

  He was right. At this point in the night, I should already be naked and kneeling at his feet, begging to have his cock in my filthy mouth. Feeling a pang of guilt for holding up the fun of the evening, I softly replied, “I didn’t realize I would be as nervous as I am. My headspace is off. I’m sorry.” I looked up at him and offered a weak smile. “Give me a minute to get my shit together. I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter 4

  I stood in the bathroom staring back at my nervous self, my fingers clutched around the paper towel I had used to dry my hands, my
gaze fixed on my quivering lip.

  I could do this.

  I wanted to do this.

  I needed to do this.

  Exiting the bathroom to return to where Dean waited, his drink in his hand and mine on the table, I noticed a padded bench that we had spent fucking and playing on often. Walking up to it and running my fingers along the sturdy structure, the memory of all that fucking and play with Dean awakened a yearning. Heat and moisture pooled between my legs, as well as the return of that familiar need to submit.

  I fucking needed it. I needed him to make me. Show me how again. I needed it.

  “Melinda.”

  I jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice.

  “What are you doing over here by yourself?” He sat down, pulling me down next to him. “Are you all right?” Grabbing my hand, he asked, “What’s going on?”

  I shrugged, wishing he would touch more than just my hand.

  Lingering moments stretched into what seemed like an eternity as we stared into each other’s eyes. As if reading my mind, he pulled me into his arms. I remained frozen, not melting into his embrace like I so desperately wanted to do. I backed away, breaking free from his touch as I stood up and turned my back to him. “I’m fine.”

  “Melinda. Look at me. Now.” My heart flipped as I looked over my shoulder at him. His legs spread slightly, his face stern, and his hand patting his lap, just like he had always used to do.

  “What are you doing?” I tried my best to seem calm. I so desperately wanted this, but couldn’t give him the benefit of knowing. For some reason I couldn’t reveal my true feelings.

  He patted his lap again. “Now, Melinda.”

  “We didn’t spin and land on spanking. We have knife play, remember?” I let out a forced laugh. “What if we get in trouble for not playing by the rules?”

  “Now.”