by Evelyn Adams
Both men waited and my stumbling brain finally caught up. This is where I told him I was sorry. I’d lost my mind for a moment but we wouldn’t be having a session. Instead, I heard the address to my studio come out of my mouth a second before Jensen handed me into the back of the car, sliding in after.
I STILL COULDN’T quite believe Alexandra had agreed to my proposition, but the car headed across town toward the address she’d given. Either it was her studio or she’d worked up some kind of switch—unlikely given how quickly she’d told the driver where to go, but not impossible.
I should be furious and I was, but my emotions were frustratingly more complicated than that. The imposter Dom trainer with a PhD in gender studies had me so twisted up; I’d let my feelings get in the way of my work. I could try to convince myself it was all because of what happened at Bacchus and the danger I thought Dr. Smithson presented, but the way my body thrummed to life sitting in the backseat next to her told a different story. I wanted her submission—given willingly—in a way I hadn’t since before Julie left.
Hell, maybe it was longer than that. Watching the way her breath hitched every time my thigh brushed hers and the pretty pink flush to her cheeks, I couldn’t remember wanting anyone more. The fact that I was almost positive she was a closet submissive who didn’t know it and I was going to be the one to show her only made the prospect that much more delicious. I couldn’t wait to make her beg and then be the one to give her everything she needed. I had to keep reminding myself that she wasn’t an ordinary hookup, and I had a more important agenda than making her come so many times she forgot her own name.
The car pulled up in front of the address she’d given the driver and Alexandra scooted to the edge of her seat, ready to spring from the car. The building looked clean, well-maintained, and surprisingly modern for its location just outside the Quarter. I exited the car first, catching and holding her hand as she climbed out after me. I could feel the energy practically vibrating off her. She was like a bird ready to take off, and I had a sudden image of her bound, naked and tied open for me while I figured out how to help her fly.
I had to get my shit together. Letting my imagination run wild wouldn’t get me what I wanted—Dr. Smithson to realize she was playing with powers she didn’t understand and to make a career change before someone got hurt. Shaking my head, I watched her punch in a code, automatically cataloguing the numbers in my head. It was one of the coping mechanisms I’d come up with working my way through law school. Numbers were still a thousand times easier than letters, which only mattered if the lawyer thing didn’t work out and I had to turn to a life of crime. Reading might be a challenge for me, but I had the kind of memory that made counting cards and memorizing numbers as easy as breathing. She opened the door, giving me a nervous glance over her shoulder before entering.
With its dark wood trim and architectural details, the interior of the building felt more in keeping with the city but none of that in and of itself was remarkable. The only thing that caught my attention was the surprising lack of security. Aside from having to know the code to enter the building, there wasn’t anything to stop any psycho she might pick up from making his way at least as far as the elevator. Thinking of her bringing someone she didn’t know to this space set my teeth on edge.
“You bring clients here? To this building? By yourself?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.
“We already covered that during the deposition, Counselor. The kind of work I do requires a certain amount of privacy and discretion.” As she spoke, her shoulders shifted and the blushing woman from the car was gone, replaced by someone sure of herself and her work. The woman was a fucking chameleon.
“I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long.” My thoughts ran to images from reality crime scenes, and I had to clench my fists to keep from shaking some sense into her or pulling her into me to shelter against my body. The urge to protect her was becoming much too frequent and damned inconvenient.
She shot me a look that screamed Oh please before getting into the elevator and pushing the button for the second floor. Every step we took away from the world outside made it that much clearer what kind of risks she was taking. Unacceptable risks.
“I’ve lived in this city since I graduated from school. I’m not stupid and I’m not naïve.”
I snorted in disbelief and she turned the full force of her dark eyes on me.
“Listen, you patronizing asshole. I screen my clients thoroughly and I hire security for the first session, longer if I get any hint that I need it. You don’t care more about my safety than I do. I’m taking a bigger chance bringing you here than I’ve ever taken with a client. They’ve all been harmless.”
I hated her answer. She was playing with fire and didn’t realize it, but I loved that she recognized I was dangerous. Not to her physical safety. I’d never take things further than she wanted to go. But I had every intention of pushing her outside her comfort zone and challenging every belief she held about herself. Before we were done with each other, she’d know Doms and submissives were real and she’d know exactly which side of the line we each stood on.
Pushing aside thoughts of her slack-ass security system to revisit later, I placed my hand on the small of her back, partly because I knew my touch unnerved her and maybe even more significant, simply because I wanted to touch her. To feel the curve of her waist and the heat of her body through the thin silk of her blouse. She hurried through the open doors, obvious—if unsuccessful—in her desire to step away from my touch.
A solid wooden door stood opposite the elevator. The intertwined script initials GS were the only indication of what went on inside. Alexandra punched in another code, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. We jostled for a few moments, each of us insisting the other enter first. I finally walked into the room, content to give her the illusion of control, at least for a few minutes.
The room was stark but beautiful, with ebony wood floors and cool white walls. The lack of decoration added importance to the few pieces in the room. Alexandra had the image down pat. It would have made a better set for my client’s movie than the cheesy dungeon they’d used to shoot. Ex-client, I reminded myself. A wooden St. Andrew’s Cross took up the prominent spot in the room, flanked on one side by a huge, elaborately carved armoire and a padded leather horse on the other. The cuffs on the cross were Velcro, but the metal rings at the base of the horse were welded in place. The idea of her binding her wrists and ankles, making herself helpless in front of some stranger, made me want to thrash her myself. My thoughts must have shown on my face—another clear sign of how twisted up she had me—because she opened a drawer on the armoire and pulled out a pair of cuffs.
“I always use my own cuffs. Quick release,” she said, holding them out so I could see the button that opened them without a key.
It was smart, if inadequate, but it also meant she’d never really felt helpless. At least not in this room. The irony of wanting her safe and in control and helpless at the same time hit me like a punch to the gut, but I’d have to sort out my feelings later. Dr. Smithson and I had work to do first.
She set the cuffs back in the drawer and when she turned around to face me, she’d changed again, sliding into what I assumed was her Lexi persona. It was the same way she’d looked when we met outside the judge’s chambers—the guise of a sex kitten with the demeanor of a Dominatrix. She might be playing a game she didn’t believe in, but she had some skill. Too bad it was all in the wrong direction and dangerous enough that someone could get hurt.
“This is where I hold my sessions,” she said, motioning to the room around her. “Under regular circumstances, we’d have a consultation, and I’d know what you wanted to work on before we started, but since you’re an unusual case, we’ll have to play this a bit by ear.”
She stalked toward me, putting a little extra swing into her hips and closing the distance between us. Keeping her gaze locked on mine, she let her hand rest on my arm and leaned in close enough for me
to smell the heady floral scent she wore.
“Normally, I’d have had you submit a doctor’s report and sign a non-disclosure agreement before you saw the inside of this room, but I think we know things about each other that we’d both rather not be made public, so I’m comfortable proceeding.” She laced the word comfortable with enough sexual energy to make it feel like it meant something much more than okay. “I charge two hundred dollars for the consultation and two thousand dollars for the first session. Since this is an unorthodox situation, I’ll waive the consultation fee. You can PayPal Lexi at the Gentleman’s Submissive dot com. It’s spelled the way you say it.”
She pursed her gorgeous fuckable lips and blinked up at me. That’s why she was so calm. She didn’t expect me to go through with it. She must have assumed when it came time to pay up, I’d walk and let her off the hook. Grinning, I pulled my phone from my pocket and made quick work of sending the payment. In a few seconds, her phone chimed, I assume announcing the money’s arrival. She grabbed the phone from her bag and glanced at the screen, a wrinkle forming in the center of her forehead.
“Are we set?” I asked, feeling like the fucking Big Bad Wolf watching Red make her way through the forest.
I saw her swallow and then nod. “What would you like to work on? Since you say you’re already a Dom, you have to give me some idea where you’d like to start.” She said the word Dom with the same intonation I imagined she’d use to describe someone from Mars.
My anger at her and her business practices had morphed into something darker. More intriguing. I was going to enjoy every minute of this.
“How much time do we have?” I asked, running through possibilities in my head. Hell, I’d drop another two grand if I had to to teach Dr. Smithson what she didn’t understand.
“Sessions usually run for two to three hours, depending on what a client wants to work on.”
“I see the obvious choices.” I motioned to the cross and the bench. “Why don’t you show me what you have in your toy box?”
She nodded, the press of her lips into a thin line the only sign she was uncomfortable. Opening the wooden doors, she revealed an impressive array of floggers, paddles, and crops. Most of it was what you’d expect to find at a typical adult toy store—nothing as hard as a cane or whip, thank fuck. There were shelves holding a variety of vibrators, dildos, and plugs and two smaller drawers. I scanned the cabinet, keeping part of my attention on her so I could gage her reaction as I looked at each item. She didn’t blink when I studied the floggers but I saw her suck in a breath when I moved closer to the items on the shelves. When I nodded toward the drawers, her pulse kicked up enough I could see it beat against the delicate skin of her throat.
“Open them please,” I asked, deliberately keeping my hands behind my back. When I finally reached for something, I wanted the added visual impact.
She slid open the top drawer, revealing her trick cuffs and a few blindfolds I was fairly certain she’d be able to see through. She paused for a moment with her hand resting on the drawer below. Inhaling, she opened the drawer and took a step away from it and me. Interesting. A modest selection of clamps and intimate jewelry lay nestled on a red velvet pad. With the delicate chains and beads, it looked much tamer than the clover clamps and weighted clips routinely used at the club, but either she’d had a bad experience with it or she wanted to try it. With the way she ran away from who she was, I could only guess. It didn’t matter. We were a long way from nipple clamps.
“May I?” I asked, not bothering to hide my grin when her cheeks flushed.
She nodded without speaking and I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a soft leather flogger. When I turned back to face her, I caught her staring at my hand wrapped around the braided leather handle. I took a step toward her, watching her struggle to keep from backing up.
“Is this what you normally wear for a session?”
“No.” She broke down and took a step back, but when she met my eyes again, she’d clearly found her footing. While I watched, she made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, letting the silk fall open to reveal an almost demure white bra and inch after inch of creamy skin.
I could tell she was used to taking her clothes off and used to the effect her body had on men. It was a sacrifice, but I kept my gaze on her face, ignoring the delicious lace-covered breasts I wanted covered with just my hands or my mouth. She shrugged out of the blouse and walked to the horse, draping the ivory silk over the leather before turning back to face me. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she reached behind her, arching her back to emphasize her fucking perfect tits. A moment later, the pencil skirt dropped to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a few scraps of lace and the fuck-me heels that I wanted to feel digging into my ass as I took her up against the wall. She dropped into a crouch that would have done a pole dancer proud, snagged her skirt and turned her back to me, ostensibly so she could drape her skirt over the horse, but more, I was sure, so I got a good look at her thong.
“Normally, I let the client choose the color,” she said, adjusting the thin strip of lace riding low on her hips as she glanced over her shoulder at me. “But these are unusual circumstances.”
She reached up to pull the pins from her hair and let it cascade down her back in a wave. She shook it out before sectioning it and made quick work of braiding it into a long, thick plait. Taking a band she’d snagged from somewhere, she bound the end of her ponytail. I tightened my grip on the flogger so I wouldn’t reach out to wrap her dark hair around my fist.
Alexandra Smithson clearly knew how to wield sex for power, and she was damned good at it. I didn’t have any doubt that she intended to use every move she made to put me deeper under her spell. She might be mostly naked, but she wasn’t vulnerable. She worked her body like a weapon, one I imagined slayed most men. Good thing I wasn’t most men.
Before she turned around to face me, she unclasped her bra and tossed it carelessly over the horse with the rest of her clothes. Calling on every trick I’d learned over the years in the courtroom and out, I schooled my face and watched her pivot on the toes of her fuck-me heels. The look on her face said she clearly expected to have the upper hand, and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
Running the soft leather tails of the flogger through my fingers, I dropped my gaze to her feet and worked my way up every inch of her glorious body. I took long enough to drink in my fill and make her just uncomfortable enough to subtly shift her weight from one foot to the other. I wouldn’t have picked up on it if I hadn’t been watching her so closely. By the time my eyes met hers, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with her. By the time we finished, she’d be begging for me to touch her.
In two strides, I closed the distance between us. Her breath hitched, making her fucking fantastic tits move and for a second, her gaze darted to the flogger in my hand. Then she licked her lips, feigning a bravado I was sure she didn’t feel.
“What are your limits, Alexandra?”
Her gaze met mine and I saw a flash of uncertainty shining in her eyes.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
I shook my head, not bothering to hide my judgment. She was a child playing a very dangerous game. If she insisted on acting like a child, I had no problem treating her like one.
“Are your clients allowed to mark you or touch you with anything other than the toys? What kind of intimate contact do you allow and where?” Considering the array of goodies in her wardrobe and her reaction to them, I had a pretty good idea what she was willing to do, but I loved watching her blush when I asked the question.
“It depends,” she said, her voice cracking. “If it’s necessary for a session, then yes.” She swallowed hard, but her gaze met mine and I could tell she wouldn’t back down.
I gave her my best cocky grin, getting off on the shift in power.
“It’s necessary, kitten.”
FUCK. I’D STOOD IN FRONT of Erik Jensen wearing nothing but a G-string a
nd heels and he hadn’t so much as blinked. With the exception of that long look that ran over my body like a caress, he’d barely glanced at me.
It’s not that I’m vain. I have an extra ten pounds to lose and areas on my body that I hate, just like every other woman. But one of the things I’ve learned running the Gentleman’s Submissive and getting naked in front of men was that they don’t care. Like at all. Put a pair of halfway decent naked breasts in front of them and most of them have trouble remembering their own names. They’re lost, making the visual equivalent of gimme hands. A few extra pounds or cottage cheese thighs don’t hit the radar. They truly don’t care.
I’ve gotten very comfortable with my body, not because I thought I looked so great. Simply because I realized the naked one has the power. I might be flashing my tits but the guy in the suit is the one suffering from lack of blood to the brain. At least that had been the case for every man except Erik fucking Jensen.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here. I never intended for things to go so far. I figured I’d give him the price, demand twice my normal payment and watch him scurry away. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that he’d actually cough up the money, but even after that, I should’ve been able to handle things. Strip off my clothes, watch the counselor’s brain go soft while the rest of him got hard and wait out our time.
Except it wasn’t his brain that turned to mush; it was mine every time I caught a glimpse of his wrist resting against the handle of the damn flogger, looking as comfortable with it in his hand as if he’d used it every day. And now he was talking about touching me and limits and calling me kitten, and I didn’t know what to hope for. The only thing I knew for sure was that he was different than any other client I’d ever worked with.
“Stand still,” he said, pinning me with his much too-perceptive gaze.
I’d used every trick I could think of to project a confidence I didn’t feel, but I didn’t think it mattered. I had a feeling Jensen could see through every mask I put on. I froze, working hard to keep from fidgeting on my heels. Wearing less than a pocket square’s worth of fabric, I stood in front of him and waited. He crossed his arms over his chest, the tails of the flogger juxtaposed against the custom cut of his suit, emphasizing the businessman-turned-pirate vibe I’d gotten earlier. He was gorgeous, sexy and strong, and barely civilized and for reasons I was not willing to look at too closely, I wanted to please him. I waited for him to tell me what came next because I wanted to know.
