by Jane Henry
What the hell has come over me?
I’m thankful the shower running drowns out the sound of my crying.
I pick up the phone and text Diana.
We need to talk.
Babe, you ok?
I think so. Can you talk?
Of course. At Verge?
I exhale. Somewhere else?
Books and Cups?
A club member, Marla, has a bookstore with a coffee shop close to Verge.
Yes. Perfect.
Do you need to ask Zack first?
I pause, take a deep breath, clench my teeth and then reply.
No.
I pay the Uber driver and walk with purpose to the coffee shop where Diana’s waiting for me when my phone buzzes. I look at the screen, not surprised it’s Zack, though I half-expected him to call me earlier than this. After I showered, I told him I was going to meet her. He frowned but nodded, then he let me go. I actually caught myself looking over my shoulder for him, wondering if he’d follow me. It was unusual for him to allow me to go without any argument.
Frowning, I ignore the little voice in my head that tells me to stop acting like a baby. I’m doing the opposite, actually. I need to do this for me. To prove that I can.
When I reach the bookstore, I push open the door and smile at Marla. “Hey, Beatrice,” she calls out from behind the counter. I wave, and she looks behind me as if expecting to see someone else.
For Christ’s sake. It takes me a minute to realize she’s looking for Zack.
“No Zack today?” she asks curiously.
I shake my head and grit my teeth. “No, not today.”
“I’m just surprised. He’s been following you everywhere you go, watching you so closely after those things happened. It’s weird seeing you alone. I just—”
“I’m fine,” I say with a forced smile.
“Right,” comes a voice behind me. I look over my shoulder to see Diana standing behind me with a friendly smile for Marla, but knowledge in her eyes. She knows I’m bluffing. I am so not fine. Why the hell did I agree to coffee? I need something a helluva lot stronger than that.
“You girls going to the club tonight?” Marla asks, as she fills our coffee orders.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I have to see if Zack is free. I think I’d like to, but I’m not sure.”
“I’m on my way there in a little bit,” Diana says, taking her mug from Marla. “I’m doing some paperwork with Tobias before we open later.”
I like that she says we, and grin to myself. We carry our mugs over to a small, circular table in the back of the store, and slide into chairs. “Who knew my best friend would become part owner of a BDSM club?” I say with a laugh. “Happy wedding, babe. Here’s some engraved nipple clamps.”
She snorts. “Who’d have thought the most independent woman I know would be found crawling on her knees to a Dom and getting her ass spanked in public?” She takes a sip of coffee and wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“You heard about that?”
She snorts. “Uh, yeah.”
Jesus.
“Why don’t you say that a little louder,” I snap, putting the mug up to my lips and taking a sip so I have an excuse not to talk.
Diana blinks up at me in surprise, her brows raising, before she nods slowly. “Spill, Bea.”
I shrug. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure I actually want to tell her anything. But I reached out to her for a reason, and we don’t hold shit back from each other.
“I told Zack I don’t want rules anymore.” Now that I’ve said it, it doesn’t sound so bad.
She whistles and puts her mug back down. “Reallly.”
I wave off a hand. “It’s a not a big deal. Listen, different people like different things. You know? There is nothing wrong with wanting to just scene. For wanting not to… you know. Do other things. I mean, seriously, most people just want to scene.”
“Right. Of course,” she agrees, leaning back and folding her hands in her lap. I look at her large, hazel eyes, and my nose tingles. There’s nothing but compassion in her eyes, but she knows me so well, it hurts to be sitting in front of her split open like this. “I’d never judge a dynamic or relationship. There are lots of people who just want to scene, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Just like there are lots of people who don’t even want to scene. You know. People like vanilla, too.”
I hear a gagging noise and look up to see Marla’s face twisted at us as she puts a box of books on the ground near us. “Vanilla,” she huffs. “Utterly tasteless.” But she winks and walks away, giving us space.
“And just because someone wants to scene and doesn’t want a 24/7 dynamic… I mean hell, girl, I help run a BDSM Club. I know all kinds of walks of life and I do not judge. But you’re not most people.”
I take another sip of coffee and wish it was hotter than this. Weirdly, I want it to hurt, scald me when I drink it. I won’t look at her, but I listen, even though her words cut me because I think she may be onto something.
“You need more than scening, Bea. You’re happiest when Zack is totally in control. We’ve talked about this. You love when he holds you accountable. You know this.”
Do I?
“Maybe I’ve outgrown it,” I say with a shrug. Her eyes go dark at that and she purses her lips. “Listen,” I say, trying to dig myself out of this hole, “I’m not talking about you, okay? So don’t take it that way. I’m talking about me.”
Her expression doesn’t change as she takes a sip of coffee.
“What?” I ask, sipping my own coffee to quell my anger. I want to smack her. I love her, but she has the most annoying habit of always being right.
Grrr.
“You know what,” she says, her eyes twinkling like stars at dusk, hinting at humor but warning of impending nightfall. “Sure, people outgrow things. But I know you too well. I know that you’re just using that as an excuse to deflect the real reason.”
“Shut up.” Her eyes shutter at the barb in my voice and she calmly places her mug down and folds her hand in her lap. Diana used to have a temper that matched mine, but as Tobias’ long-term sub, she’s learned to calm herself down, and her implacable face makes me even angrier. “Stop judging me.”
“I’m not judging you.”
I feel like a bitch for snapping at my best friend, but I can’t stop the waves of emotion that are crashing inside me. I want to cry and scream and rip things apart. I say nothing because I don’t trust myself to talk. If I open my mouth, I’ll lose my shit. And I’m trying to be the person that doesn’t lose her shit, so spilling my guts now would sorta be counterintuitive.
“I’m just stating facts, babe,” Diana says. She shakes her head and her eyes gentle as she leans on the table on her elbows, leaning into me. “You’re the one who made me go to Tobias when we were in a rocky place and I didn’t believe that it was worth fighting for. You were the one who helped me see that it was worth fighting for. And because I love you, I need to do this for you now, to help you see beyond your own… your own…”
“Stupidity?” I snap, my temper barely in check.
“No, Bea,” she says softly. “Stubbornness. Honey, this isn’t about stupid or smart or anything like that.” Her voice lowers, teeming with emotion when she speaks, so softly I can barely hear her. “This is about fear. It’s about facing our fears. I was afraid to go back to Tobias and make this work because I was afraid he’d reject me like all the other losers I’d dated, and it was fear that made me say oh hell no.”
The lump dissolves in my throat and I don’t even realize I’m crying until Diana reaches in her bag and hands me a tissue. But like the good friend that she is, she doesn’t stop talking but pushes through, telling me what I need to hear. “That’s the beauty of submission, Beatrice. It’s why the relationships that work are stronger faster. The connection is deeper. You face the fears that everyone faces, but it’s amped up to ten, and when you face the fear with someone you trust, you draw closer.�
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Aw, fuck my life. Honest to God, why do the people I love most always have to be right?
I don’t say anything but swipe at my tears, unable to stop the vision of me on my knees at Verge in front of Zack. He’s holding a pair of metal clamps in his hand, and I’m shaking with anticipation. I know it’s going to hurt. But it’s standing on the precipice of fear before he reels me back into him that makes it so damn hot. It’s facing fear and pain but trusting him not to take it too far. I blink back tears as Diana presses on.
“That’s what love is, Beatrice. Every day I put my son on that bus and trust that he’s in good hands, and a little part of me dies every time. Knowing that he’s under someone else’s care and not mine and trusting that they’ll take good care of him. This is what love is about.” Her voice teems with emotion as she continues. “We don’t know what will happen from one minute to the next but hell, we’re doing it anyway. It could break us.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “And sometimes, it does. But sometimes? We need to be broken so we can be put back together again.”
I wipe away the tears that keep flowing. “God, I love you, you bitch,” I mutter, which makes her laugh out loud and toss a wadded-up napkin at me.
“Jesus, I think I need to start serving alcohol in here,” Marla says. “Irish cream in your coffee, ladies?” She’s standing far enough she hasn’t heard what we’ve said, but close enough that she can see us both wiping at our eyes.
“Tobias would spank her pert little ass,” I say, needing to get back on firm footing.
“And Zack would spank your pert little ass,” Diana says.
Marla’s gaze grows wistful, but she simply smiles. “Lucky girls,” she says with feeling, before she turns and walks away.
Lucky girl.
Am I?
“Babe, I gotta go,” Diana says, looking at her phone. “I told Tobias I’d meet him in fifteen minutes. Walk with me to Verge?”
I nod, and we tidy up our table, say good-bye to Marla, and head to Verge, which is only a few blocks away. It feels weird not telling Zack where I’m going or when, but I’m embracing this now. This is my freedom, what I want and need and I’m not taking it back now. I listened to what Diana said, but I have to let it simmer a bit. It feels weird, like I’ve been walking on a tightrope with nets below and now I’m going it alone, balancing myself mid-air with no safeties in place.
You want this, I tell myself. This is what you want.
I blink in the bright light of an autumn afternoon and notice someone watching me from across the street. At first, I don’t really give it much thought. I mean, the streets of New York are crowded with people. But when the man staring at me quickly looks away, then speaks into his phone, something in my belly clenches. This is… weird. Am I beginning to see ghosts like Zack does?
My phone rings and when I look at the number, I see it’s Zack.
I silence it and walk with Diana. I’ll call him later, when I’m good and ready.
Chapter 14
I’ve called her twice and she isn’t returning my calls. What the actual fuck is going on? I can tell by my tracking app on my phone that she’s left the bookstore, then why won’t she pick up? This morning, I had no idea where her fit came from, and I’m still not sure what I think about it. I’m a fucking dom.
But is she a sub?
She flourishes under our kink at the club, and it’s hot as hell. I love her even when she makes me half-crazy. She doesn’t want the serious side of things? Hell, I have to respect that. I can’t do anything but admire that about her. But where did this come from? Where does this leave us?
I yank open the entryway door to Verge enter the key code. No one’s at the door yet since it isn’t opened, but Tobias is here, and I need to get my shit together before I see her. I stalk through the main entrance and head to Tobias’s office, but before I get there, I hear two familiar voices in the lobby.
“I have no idea, but it’s likely in my head. And you know what? I don’t need to tell him every little thing that’s going on. If Carter wants to call me, he can call me.”
A chill goes down my spine. It’s Beatrice talking to Diana.
Who the fuck is Carter?
I come around the corner and the two of them blink up in surprise at me. I nod. “Diana. Beatrice, I didn’t expect to see you here. But then again, you didn’t tell me where you were going, so I wouldn’t know.”
She crosses her arms on her chest, and despite the pink that colors her cheeks and the way her eyes flash at me, she’s hot as hell. Jesus, she’s maybe even sexier all mad like this. I want to fist her hair and draw that head back, make her mouth part open in surprise, and then claim that mouth with mine before I spank her ass for going off the fucking rails like this. The dom in me itches to tame this willful, headstrong girl.
“I came to see Diana. I needed to talk with her. And since she was on her way here to see Tobias, I came with her.”
Hands on my hips, I turn to Diana. “Came to see Tobias? Let me ask you something. Did you leave without telling him where you were going? Show up here unannounced?”
Diana’s eyes look pained as she glances from me to Beatrice, and when she speaks her voice is gentle. “No, Zack. But Tobias is my long-term Dominant and soon-to-be-husband. We have rules, and I like it that way.”
God, I’m a dick for dragging her into this. I know she’s right.
“Hey, man,” Tobias says from the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Beatrice speaks up. “We have an issue we’re dealing with, Tobias,” she says, effectively asking him to butt out.
Tobias looks with surprise from me to Beatrice. “I see. Well, why don’t you two head to the private rooms? No one’s coming here for a while, give you some space to sort this out?”
And then I remember what she said this morning.
When we’re at Verge, she’s mine.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I say, crossing the room and taking Beatrice by the hand. She tries to pull away, but I hold fast and slip my hand to her wrist instead, a firmer grip. “You said at Verge, you were my sub,” I say low in her ear.
“Yes,” she grits out, teeth clenched. “I did, didn’t I?”
I look at her and see more than anger in the pretty blue eyes that flash at me like a storming sea. I can’t read her look, though, but I feel her tension. On a normal day, a sound spanking would knock down that wall she’s holding up between us. But today is not a normal day.
“Will you safeword?” I ask her, challenging her. If we walk through those doors, her ass is mine, and she knows it. Yeah, she could safeword in there, and I’d have to listen, but there’s more than a scene going on here. It isn’t always smart to scene when you’re pissed at your—sub, or whatever she is. Girlfriend? Jesus, some would say fiancée. But we need to talk, and privacy is the answer.
“I’m not safewording, sir,” she says through clenched teeth. “Unless you think you can’t handle me?”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “You want to bait me, doll? How do you think that’ll end up for you?”
She doesn’t answer, which is frankly answer enough for me. I lead her through the entryway door into the club proper, past the bar, past the demo rooms and dungeon, and straight to the private rooms. Silence descends on us like dark velvet, nearly oppressive, the vacant bar and community areas underscoring that the two of us are alone.
I don’t even know why she’s so pissed at me, but she agreed to submit to me when we’re at Verge. Maybe she didn’t plan on seeing me today, but I feel like shit’s spiraling out of control. She’s given me the green light to dom her here so, hell, I’m stupid not to take advantage of that. When we get to the room, I open the door, push her over the threshold, then shut it behind me.
“Strip.”
She turns around to face me and opens her mouth. I stand in front of the doorway, arms crossed on my chest, eyes narrowing on her. I watch as she weighs her options. She can do what I say. S
he can defy me and push me to make her obey, which is sometimes part of the scene here, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that. Or she can safeword, and end this.
End what?
Us. Fucking everything. I don’t even know how to do this shit without the power exchange. How do I care for a woman who doesn’t submit to me? Telling me I can’t dom her is like telling me to drive with my eyes closed.
Yeah, no. If this is no for her, then… Jesus. It’s a no for us.
I watch as she makes the conscious decision, her fingers grasping the edge of her white top, jaw clenched. Her hands freeze, and her eyes meet mine. “And if I tell you no?”
“Tell me no, or safeword?”
She swallows. To some this is a game, but hell, nothing’s ever been so real between us.
“I’m not fucking safewording,” she says, her voice cracking as tears dampen her eyes, and at that I’ve had it.
She may not know what she needs but hell, I do.
“And you’re not fucking defying me.” The game ends now.
I reach for the buckle of my belt and unfasten it, my eyes on her. She swallows and stands her ground, not moving, but when I yank it through the loops of my pants, she flinches. Beatrice has been on the receiving end of a caning, a lexan paddle, and a stout whip. She can take pain. She doesn’t flinch because of the knowledge her ass is about to be whipped. There’s more to this and hell, I’m drawing this out like poison from a wound.
For a strapping I’d normally have her bend over the bed or a spanking bench, but I know she’s in no mood to do what she’s told.
Doubling the belt over in my hand and holding the buckle, I step over to where she stands and take her by the arm.
“Ow,” she says. It’s almost cute how she protests against what we both know she needs.
“Ow? I’m not hurting you.” She’ll be saying ow before I’m done.
She yanks away from me, trying to pull her arm out of my grip but I’m prepared for the fight and tighten the hold I have, stepping up my pace.
“Why are you doing this?” she whines. “God, Zack. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Yeah, that’s what I’d call a last-ditch effort. I sit on the edge of the bed, spin her out, then yank her straight across my lap. I don’t even bother to bare her. This isn’t about sex. Not yet.
