Claim

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I am. My goal was to get you off, blur the lines for you so that you didn’t know where the knife-edge of pain ended and pleasure began. If I did that, then yes, I consider the evening a success.”

  His motions slow, he drew away from her and said, “One last decision.”

  “Sir?”

  “The nipple clamps. How would you like them removed?”

  Realizing what he was asking, she hurriedly said, “I’m not as brave as B.”

  “You’re sure?”

  The idea of anyone getting near the clamps with a single tail scared her. “Positive.”

  “Next time, then.”

  Next time? As tempting as the offer was, she couldn’t allow this to happen again.

  He knelt and unfastened each of her ankles, taking time to rub the skin to bring the circulation back. “Slowly,” he coached.

  Now that the adrenaline had dissipated, she was aware of cramping in her muscles, and the clamps were starting to irritate her.

  After he had released her ankles and removed the leather strips, she drew her legs together, wincing as she did. “I may need to enroll in some yoga lessons.”

  “A hot bath once you get home,” he suggested.

  Since most Doms attached her to a St. Andrew’s cross, her body wasn’t usually subjected to these kinds of demands. “An ice pack and an ibuprofen is more like it,” she said.

  “Last chance on the clamps.”

  “I’m not that brave,” she repeated.

  “Pity.” He held one of her breasts. “Ready?”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  Without waiting for a response, he opened the alligator’s teeth. Before the blood could rush in, he sucked on the tip until she exhaled. The man was smart, and he managed to make the whole thing much less unpleasant.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” She almost told him that she’d suggest that technique to future Doms, but stopped herself in time. No doubt he wouldn’t appreciate it.

  After he’d taken off the second clamp, he said, “Now I’m sorry I didn’t put one on your clit.”

  She pressed her thighs together. “I’m not!”

  He laughed. Then he zipped up her top and adjusted it.

  “You make a damn good ladies’ maid.”

  “All part of the service,” he said as he set about releasing her wrists from the overhead restraints. Then he removed the carabiners and cuffs.

  Once free, she crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her biceps.

  “Are you able to balance okay?”

  “I feel a little lightheaded,” she admitted. “But I’m good.”

  He scooped her from the ground and strode away from the apparatus and over to a nearby couch.

  “I’m fine,” she protested.

  “I’m sure you are,” he agreed, ignoring her.

  Despite her words, she turned toward him, and relaxed against his chest. She didn’t remember ever doing that with a man before. Mackenzie shoved aside the inner voice that cautioned that she shouldn’t be doing it now.

  She inhaled his scent, some sort of spice, overlaid by arousal.

  On so many levels, he spelled danger.

  He placed her on the couch and left her long enough to grab a bottle of water from his implement stand.

  “Thank you.” She accepted the bottle that he had uncapped.

  Mackenzie didn’t expect him to sit next to her, but he did. He pulled her close and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I really am fine,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “I don’t snuggle,” she insisted.

  “You do now.”

  “I’d be better if you left me alone.”

  “Would you?”

  “You seem unconcerned.”

  “Supremely.”

  She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. Her strength was no match for his. She’d noticed his biceps and the strength of his forearms. He had to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds. A hundred muscled, testosterone-laced pounds, she corrected herself.

  “Give in.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion, she knew. Arguing would lead to a struggle, and he would make sure his will prevailed.

  With a deep exhalation, she complied.

  She didn’t know how he managed it, but he made her feel as if they were the only two people in the place. The music still thumped, but she was aware of the reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear.

  His arms around her kept the chill at bay.

  And other people stayed away from their corner. She saw other couples, a few threesomes, even some singles, but they were in the distance, absorbed with their own experiences.

  “You impressed me,” he murmured near her ear. “I meant what I said, we were a good team.”

  After a few minutes, she sat up and moved away from him. He plucked the water bottle from her hand, put it on the floor then dragged her over his lap.

  “What are you doing?” she almost shrieked, struggling to turn herself back over.

  “Seeing my handiwork,” he replied. “Or, rather, admiring it.”

  He put a leg over hers to imprison her then skimmed the outline of his marks.

  “Satisfied?” she demanded.

  “Very much.”

  The approval laced through the words made her momentarily forget how to breathe.

  He turned her back over.

  “You could warn me next time.”

  “You would have said no.”

  Since he was probably right, she kept her mouth shut as he moved her off his lap.

  “Stay there.”

  When she opened her mouth, he raised a hand to halt her words. “Please?” he asked.

  “Well, if you used manners all the time, I’d be more likely—”

  “Don’t even,” he interrupted. “You only obey when it seems like it’s in your best interest. And since you know I’ll throw you over my shoulder if you don’t do as you’re told…”

  “You win.”

  He nodded.

  She watched as he went back to the square. He packed all of his implements into a white carrying bag then sprayed and wiped down the equipment. Often Doms had their sub clean up the stations, so she appreciated that he let her rest while he did it.

  Heat flashed through her when he picked up her ruined panties and tossed them in the bag.

  When he returned, he offered his hand to help her stand.

  Surprising her again, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. That small act seemed more intimate than anything else they’d done. And it bothered her more than anything else had.

  To cover the fact that he’d discombobulated her, she straightened her skirt and tugged on the hem to make sure she was covered.

  “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” She smiled, but let it fade when he scowled. “If my friends are gone, I can catch a cab.”

  “Meet me by the front door. I want to let Alma know I’ll be back.”

  Argument over. Could he be any more confounding? “Fine,” she said in a way that indicated it was anything but.

  She looked around for her friends. Cathy was busy with another sub, this time a woman. Lulu and Bella had apparently already left.

  She saw Kanisha, who confirmed that they were gone. “Bella said she’d call you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. Nice job with Bella, by the way.”

  “I liked your friend.” She grinned. “Virgins are the best. They never forget their first.”

  Probably true, she mused. She would have agreed entirely, until tonight, until being with someone as perceptive as Kennedy.

  Not wanting to disturb Cathy, Mackenzie headed for the front to claim her coat. She was shrugging into it when Kennedy returned. He had donned a leather bomber jacket. The sight of him in it made her knees weak.

  What was it about this man? How could everything he did make him more exciting?

  “I’ll bring the car around.”

/>   “I can walk, Sir.”

  “Suit yourself.” He opened the club door.

  Big, fat snowflakes were battering the ground, driven by wind. Because it was still autumn, they had a lot of moisture, and the ground was wet. Her shoes would get soaked, maybe ruined. And her toes would freeze.

  She was willing to bet he’d known about the weather. “Do you mind if I reconsider?”

  “I love a woman who will admit when she’s wrong.”

  He took the heat from the words by swiping a wayward lock of hair back from her cheekbone.

  Within a few minutes, she heard a car horn honk. She dashed out, and he was standing there, with her door open. A limo wouldn’t have provided better service.

  She slipped into the luxury sedan’s interior and sighed. He’d turned on the heater and the electric seats. This was a much better option than the taxi she’d planned to take.

  He closed her door then brushed away errant white flakes from his clothing before sliding in beside her.

  “My house is in Cambridge.” She gave him the full address, and he programmed it into the car’s navigation system.

  He turned on the windshield wipers and shifted into drive.

  “I appreciate this.”

  “It wouldn’t be right to beat you then leave you.” He looked over at her while they were stopped at a traffic light.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have a driver.” She puzzled it out. “Or, wait. Is it about being in control?”

  “Sometimes I use a service.”

  She looked at him. “Really?” In the darkness, she couldn’t quite read his expression.

  “On rare occasions,” he admitted. “I find driving helps me clear my head. Since I have to concentrate on what I’m doing, my subconscious works on problems. When I have a chauffeur, I tend to talk on the phone, extending my business day.”

  She nodded.

  “I need a break. It keeps me sharper.”

  “Is that also what BDSM is about for you?”

  He’d turned on a satellite radio station, and she heard the barest strains of a jazz song. After being at The Hub, this was a startling change. She didn’t go home with men after they’d scened, and she’d never dated anyone she went to a club with. Everything about the evening—Kennedy, and especially the drive—seemed surreal.

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way,” he said.

  Enough time had elapsed that she’d thought he might not answer.

  Then he continued, “It is, though. When I entered the scene with you, you were the only thing I was thinking about. Your reactions, what you might enjoy next, how to push you right to the first syllable of porcupine, but without tempting you to say the whole word. That’s focus, not an accident. Then there was your little challenge about your orgasms.”

  She crossed her legs.

  “But it’s part of who I am. So in that case, it’s more than an escape. It feeds an essential part of me.”

  She was curious enough to turn to face him. “The need to be in control?

  “Not quite. It’s more than that.”

  “How can there be more than that?”

  “Elemental way that the universe works.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “Two halves of a whole. There’s something in a submissive that yearns for domination.”

  She squirmed.

  “No matter how accomplished she is, how smart, how capable, how talented, how independent, when she’s surrendered to her Dom, completion happens.”

  “Not all subs are women. Not all Doms are male.”

  “I was talking about you, Zee. Us. Don’t intentionally misconstrue what I say.”

  To cover her discomfort, she shifted. “Are you an amateur psychologist?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” he countered, rather than arguing. “You wanted tonight, craved it. Me.”

  “It’s a wonder your ego fits inside this vehicle.”

  After checking the rearview mirror, he pulled off the road and into a parking lot. He flipped on the interior light and looked at her.

  Bravado deserted her.

  “My ego’s big enough that I’m not riled by what you said.” He kept his voice low, modulated.

  She would have known how to deal with him better if he had raised his voice, shown some anger. That she knew how to meet. She could take it and use the combined energy to drive a much-needed wedge between them. He had so much control that she might have thought that her words hadn’t bothered him, except for the frost she saw in his green eyes.

  “You’re annoyed that I see you,” he went on. “The real you. The one you try to hide. The one some people have no idea exists.”

  Because he was right, she scooted away. The high sides on the seats didn’t allow her to go as far away as she wanted to. And she was regretting that she hadn’t called a taxi.

  “I didn’t let you hide. I took off your panties, I beat you, I ate your pussy, clamped your nipples. And then I really terrified you, didn’t I? I carried you. I held you. You didn’t want the aftercare, going as far as to tell me you don’t snuggle. You only accepted it because I forced your compliance. Some men actually believe you when you tell them that. But do you know what I think?”

  She brought her chin up.

  Without waiting for a response, he continued, “I think you keep a shell around you. It looks thick to the rest of the world, but that’s the trick. You cultivate that image so no one will know how fragile it really is. No one will realize you’re vulnerable, that you don’t want to be hurt, that you are afraid to trust.”

  A chill slithered across her nape. “I’m not that deep,” she lied.

  “Yeah, Mackenzie. You are.”

  That first night, he’d read her perfectly, seeing the hurt and anger that she’d buried beneath a smile. He’d taken care of her then too, sweeping her onto the dance floor, leading perfectly, making sure she didn’t miss a step. He’d even told her to smile, then turned her in a circle near her soon-to-be-ex so that Brian could see her radiance.

  Kennedy Aldrich saw a lot. Too much.

  “If you decide to demolish the shell, to take a chance, to take a risk, call me.” He pulled out a business card from a holder in the glove box. “It has my personal cell phone number on it.”

  She hesitated for a moment. Not accepting would be rude, but she also had no plan to ever call him.

  He raised his eyebrows and flicked the corner. Swallowing her objection, she took it, crumpling the paper a bit as she stuffed it into her coat pocket.

  Without another word, he took his foot off the brake then headed for the drive-through window of her favorite coffee shop. He ordered a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Seemed like an odd choice for him.

  When the barista handed it over, Kennedy gave it to her. “Drink up,” he said as he merged back into traffic. “It will help settle you.”

  “I—”

  “Humor me. You burned a lot of calories during our scene.”

  She took a sip then nearly sighed as the whipped cream and rich chocolate melded on her tongue. Yeah. The man knew what she needed.

  “I enjoyed our evening,” he said.

  So had she. To avoid answering, she finished her hot chocolate.

  When he double-parked in front of her house, she reached for the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  He got out and came around to help her through the slush. She considered protesting, but he would ignore her anyway.

  Once she had the front door open, he unzipped his jacket and offered something to her.

  “Take it.”

  “What is it?” Then she realized. The paddle. “Wait. It’s yours.”

  “Oh no. It’s definitely yours.”

  “I—”

  “Really,” he interrupted.

  She took the handle. “In that case, thanks.” She expected him to touch her, to kiss her, to say something. But he gave her a little salute then headed back to the car.

  She watched
him drive away.

  He never looked over his shoulder, never acknowledged her.

  When his tail lights faded into the distance, she closed the door and looked at the paddle, for the first time seeing the word etched into the leather.

  Brat.

  Dropping the wicked implement, she kicked off her shoes then shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the banister before dashing up the polished wooden stairs to the master bedroom. She grabbed a handheld mirror from beneath the bathroom cabinet. Then she hiked up the back of her skirt and positioned herself so that she could see her ass in the vanity mirror.

  The outline was faint, but distinct. Brat was emblazoned into her buttocks. No wonder he’d wanted to see his handiwork. “Damn him.”

  He’d tied her up in knots, and with his paddle, he’d managed to have the last word.

  She let her shoulders drop. When she’d headed for The Hub this evening, she’d wanted a fun scene that met her ever-present need for kink. Instead, Kennedy Aldrich had tied her in emotional knots, challenging her physically, but also making her question herself. When he’d snuggled her, she’d relaxed into him. And for a moment, while she’d let herself, she’d enjoyed it, him, the scent of him, the strength of him.

  She dropped the mirror onto the countertop then stripped off her clothing and turned on the shower full blast, needing to clear her head as well as work out the kinks in her body. The ones he’d created in her mind would be more difficult to erase.

  When steam puffed over the glass door, Mackenzie entered the shower and stood beneath the spray until the hot water turned cold, then she went to bed, snuggling beneath a thick blanket. As she tossed and turned, thumping her pillow, trying to get comfortable, she told herself she wouldn’t dream of him. Not only that, but she wouldn’t think about him ever again. She most certainly wouldn’t ever contact him. He was in the past. A memory. A distraction.

  She’d go back to The Hub in the future and scene with someone far less complicated.

  She actually might have been able to accomplish all that if she’d ever been able to fall asleep for more than an hour at a time. Cramped muscles made it difficult to move, and her clit throbbed. Then there were the dreams she’d sworn she wouldn’t have. No, that wasn’t exactly correct, she realized, these were closer to fantasies.

  A traitorous part of her wondered what sex with him would be like. The harder she tried to shove away the question, the more it persisted until she gave up, threw back the blankets and got up, feeling restless.