Comforting Touch (Touch #5)

by Cara Dee

  At that, Rio had texted me.

  I'll be there.

  Locking myself into a stall in the small dressing room next to the lobby, I remove my coat and shoes, revealing a sheer, black slave dress that hides absolutely nothing. I touch up my makeup and pull back my hair into a high, messy bun. Lastly, I attach a two-inch wide leather collar around my neck, careful not to put too much pressure on the bandage taped over my new—very real—tattoo.

  For a second, the volume of the music from inside the club rises, and I hear the door to the dressing room closing again. "Chelsea? You in here?" Kayla's voice.

  "I'm here." I muster a shaky smile at the mirror. "Just a sec." Okay. Deep breaths. I'm ready.

  Stowing away everything in my bag, I open the door and face a beaming Kayla. To match that bright smile, she's wearing a yellow baby-doll dress with enough lace to fill up a lingerie store.

  "Eeeep!" She squeals behind her hands. "So hot! Master Rio's gonna come in his pants!"

  I laugh nervously and roll my eyes.

  Next, she widens her eyes and shakes her head. "Still can't believe you got a tattoo, though."

  It's not like that. The tat isn't related to Rio—yet. If my dreams come true, it will be for him in the future. But for now, it's just my slave registry number, and I'm listed as ownerless in the database. I've been meaning to have it inked since I registered four years ago, but something always held me back. It wasn’t significant enough.

  "He hasn’t claimed me, pipsqueak," I remind her.

  "Oh, please! Since he got here like an hour ago, he's looked at the door a hundred thousand bajillion times." She scoffs while I get all warm and fuzzy. "He will claim your butt—soon. He gots to. Anyway," she says, waving a hand, "let me take your bag. Master Cooper will deliver you. Daddy said that was best, cuz the high-protocol stuff isn't his kink like it's Mark's."

  "Okay." I nod and let out another breath. Have I ever been this anxious? Christ. "Who has the leash?"

  "Master Cooper has it now." She takes my bag and moves for the door. "You ready, gawjuss?"

  Her attempts to speak with a New York accent never fail to make me grin.

  "I love you, Kayla," I chuckle.

  "I love you, toooo!" She tackles me in a hug.

  *

  The heavy bass of the industrial metal playing inside Switch thunders through my soul as I pause right outside the entrance. Lowering my gaze respectfully, I stop in front of Master Cooper and hold out the key to my collar for him.

  I don’t have to ask permission about anything when it comes to Master Cooper, but it's been a long time since I could fully sink into submission, and I do it eagerly now. Completely. Names fade away, replaced by titles.

  "Permission to speak, Sir?" I request.

  In my periphery, Kayla disappears upstairs—presumably to leave my bag in Mr. Ford's office—with Evangeline. Which leaves me with Master Cooper and Brayden, who's standing slightly behind his Dom.

  "Granted." He takes a step closer to accept the key.

  "Thank you for doing this for me. It means a lot." Understatement.

  "You're very welcome, Chelsea." His voice carries the same kind of warmth Master Rio's does. "Are you ready to be presented to Rio?"

  "Yes, Sir." I lift my chin enough for him to attach the leash to the ring at the front of my collar. Even as I keep my eyes downcast as much as possible, I see the edges of Master Cooper's mouth turn up in approval.

  "Beautiful." He gives the leash an experimental tug, causing a surge of adrenaline to rush through me. "Look at me." I obey, and he gives me a smile. "I won't tell you anything that’s not my place to divulge, but I don’t see any harm in helping a subbie in need." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Rio knows you're submissive through and through now—he knows you belong in the lifestyle. But he's been resigned for a long time, believing he wouldn't find that one girl who can find a balance between sub and slave." He pauses, making sure he has my attention. Boy, does he! "Nick told me about your new tattoo, so I have no doubt you and Rio are on the same level. Do me a solid and show him the ink quickly, okay? That oughta stop his stubbornness."

  "Understood, Sir. Thank you." I tamp down the urge to run into the club and show Master Rio the tattoo right this second. God, I want this.

  Master Cooper nods with a dip of his chin, and then motions Brayden forward. "Come here, pup." He cups the back of his sub's neck. "When we go in there, I want you to walk behind Chelsea. Remember we've worked on posture?"

  "Yes, Master."

  "Good boy. Study Chelsea." Master Cooper unlocks Brayden's own leash, maybe so he can walk behind me. "Observe how she walks and stands."

  "Yes, Master."

  I make a conscious effort to make sure my posture is perfect, but after eight years in the scene, it's one of those things that comes naturally.

  "Pssst!" Only Kayla would make herself known with a not-so-subtle pssst. I grin at the floor, spying her out of the corner of my eye. She points toward the club entrance, and I nod discreetly. After that, she and Evangeline run off again.

  Deep breaths.

  My longing grows as I watch Master Cooper lean in for a brief but passionate kiss that makes Brayden relax into him. I want that. I'm gonna do my best to get it too, with one Rio Kelly.

  Breaking away from Brayden, Master Cooper composes himself and gives me a quick here-we-go nod. Then he takes the lead, and we join the other dozen or so people who are trickling into the club. I don’t know when the first demo is supposed to start, though I'm guessing soon. The music is still loud, but a crowd has formed near the center stage.

  I spot Master Rio standing to the side with Mr. Ford, Kayla, Evangeline, Mr. Kingsley, and Gabriella. Before we reach them, Master Dante and Gretchen show up, too.

  Where's Dylan?

  It's easy to see the casual conversation flowing between a few of them. Mr. Ford is sipping on his drink, Mr. Kingsley on his beer, and Master Dante passes a bottled water to Gretchen, who kneels next to her Dom. There're chuckles, bouncing from Kayla and a beaming smile from Gabriella as Mr. Kingsley gives them lollipops, but Master Rio…he's not part of the relaxed atmosphere. Right before I lower my gaze, I catch him checking his watch.

  I can practically sense when they've seen us. The conversation comes to a halt, strangers around us lowering their voices, too.

  "Gentlemen," Master Cooper greets, a grin in his voice.

  "Well, well," Master Dante says slowly. "What've you got here, my friend?"

  "She's not for you!" Kayla blurts out. "S-Sir. Oh, crap."

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Evangeline and Gabriella giggle—even Master Dante lets out a snort of amusement—but Mr. Ford isn't amused one bit. He grabs Kayla by her arm and excuses himself to go deal with his brat.

  "But, but, but, Daddy!"

  Daring a quick peek at the men, I see Mr. Kingsley smirking, though it fades fast. Wistfulness and pain flit across his features before he schools his expression, all of which makes me really worry about Dylan. Where is he? We've texted a bit this week, but he's been busy with practice, and I've had so much work. I'll have to call him later.

  "Never a dull moment around that little girl." Master Cooper laughs, turning to Master Dante. "To answer your question, Chelsea is under my care until someone claims her. She does have a Dom in mind though, so I'm not sure you'll be able to scene with her anytime soon."

  "Shame." Master Dante would be more believable if he didn’t sound so pleased I've found someone. For being so strict and sadistic, he sure is a romantic.

  I've been lucky to have played with him and Gretchen.

  "Maybe her new Master can share her?" Gretchen speaks up hopefully from the floor.

  My gut clenches. I've thought about this for days now. If Master Rio gives me a shot, I'll…I'll try to accept it. If he's poly—or even if he "only" wants to share during scenes—I'll do my damnedest to give it a chance.

  "I sincerely doubt he will." Master Rio's voice shakes me up with i
ts rich timbre, and yearning for his statement to be true brings me forward.

  It's as good time as any, so I brush my hand against Master Cooper's lower back, to which he faces me. He cups my cheek and studies me intently, looking for something, then ends his observing with a warm smile. With a peck to my forehead, he nods firmly and hands me the end of the leash.

  My stomach does somersaults as I walk up to Master Rio and kneel before him. I dip low, my forehead nearly touching the floor, and I present the leash for him in my open palms.

  Please, please, please give me a chance.

  The low murmur of the crowd near us tells me I have an audience, but I don’t care. It's about the Dom before me, nobody else.

  After a few erratic heartbeats, Master Rio squats down in front of me and ghosts his knuckles across my cheek. It heats up under his touch. Then he lifts my chin, and I swallow hard at the intensity of his gaze.

  He has to see the vulnerability and want in mine.

  Please, please, please give me a chance.

  He curses under his breath and leans close, skimming his nose along my jaw. "You're fucking dangerous, little rebel."

  I shudder violently.

  Rising, he takes the leash and tells me to stand.

  I obey without hesitation, and I overhear Master Cooper mentioning something about my posture to Brayden again. Guess the guy's in training, huh? Head in the game. Right. I refocus on Master Rio and follow him dutifully toward the Cave. It's where all the scening stalls are, but it's also the direction of the Cinema and the Chamber, and I hope he's not going to the latter.

  Kayla told me tomorrow is Master Rio's birthday, so obviously I want to celebrate it. So there's nothing Middle Eastern or harem-like about the Chamber tonight. Instead, Kayla and I turned it into a birthday bash for Master Rio earlier this morning. The décor is still there, but so are countless balloons and garlands.

  Much to Kayla's dismay, I went with black and gold for a theme.

  "You know, pink and yellow is funner," she'd argued.

  Imagine Master Rio's face.

  He's not aiming for the Chamber, though. Thankfully. He makes a turn around the circular bar in the middle and guides me into one of the bigger stalls.

  Oh, fuck yes. A large spider web created out of thick rope is constructed on a solid, wooden frame.

  Chapter 11

  "Let's make this private." Master Rio lets the curtain fall, and then he spins to face me fully. "Christ, Chelsea." He backs me up against the web of hemp and steals my breath in a bone-crushing hug. "A simple apology would've sufficed."

  I'm too stunned to speak, but I've barely begun apologizing. And showing him. Showing him that we should give us a try.

  "Permission to speak, Sir?" Happy tears well up in my eyes, and I return the hug as tightly as I can.

  "Speak," he murmurs, kissing my neck. "Fuck. That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He palms my cheeks and claims my mouth with his. "Seeing you by my feet—indescribable."

  Desire stronger than I've ever felt swirls around me, leaving me dazed and needy as fuck. "I'm sorry for running out—"

  "You're forgiven." He breaks the kiss and lets out a low chuckle. His dark green eyes track his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. Then his gaze lifts to mine, and he shakes his head slowly. "I'm a fair man, Chelsea. You went from overhearing me telling Nick I didn’t want you here…to being fucked into my mattress and wearing my bruises—in what, a week?" I flush at his words, completely breathless. And wetter than a river. "I understand your reaction. There wasn’t enough time for you to build a trust in me, and you believed I was the one who said those things about Miranda."

  The rope digs into my back deliciously, almost as much as the relief pierces through me.

  "I saw you," I say with a small nod. "I wouldn’t have fled like that if I hadn't seen you. Well, I thought it was you. Master Dante even told me it might've been a misunderstanding, but I was so sure…"

  Master Rio inclines his head and smiles faintly. "Gabe and I look that much alike, huh?"

  I make a face. Everyone's smarter in retrospect, and I'm no different. "I was on the stairs, and I saw him in the living room, facing the patio. I noticed he looked smaller than you, but I chalked it up to me being upstairs. And his voice—it wasn’t really yours. Or his hairstyle. Ugh." I look away and bite my lip. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay, sweetheart." He rests his forehead against mine and grips my hips firmly. "So, did you have a plan for tonight, or can I take advantage of the evening since I have you alone now?"

  As badly as I want to say "Whatever you wish," I do have an agenda.

  "I want this, Sir," I admit, searching his eyes. "I think we can be great together."

  Surprise is the first thing I see. But he quickly becomes guarded—or maybe wary. "You're talking about more than a D/s arrangement where we play together every now and then."

  Hell, yes. "Yes, Sir."

  In a matter of seconds, he ages ten years in resignation and forfeit.

  He's really given up, like Master Cooper said.

  "Full disclosure," I say, ready to lay it all out there. "Ready to hear my story? You might wanna sit down." The last part was only half a joke.

  He doesn’t, though. He just stares at me.

  Very well.

  "My parents were shit." I go with bluntness, and I sure as fuck don’t plan to draw this out. "Deadbeat dad, alcoholic mom. My older brother and I were close until he started hanging out with the wrong people. He died of a drug overdose when I was twelve. He was sixteen."

  "Chelsea…" He palms my cheek, concern evident on his face.

  I shake my head. I like my life to the point where my past is merely experience, not a sob story. "It's okay," I tell him. "Anyway, I had an aunt who took me in when I couldn’t be around my folks. Strict as fuck, and I didn’t know I missed her until she was gone."

  He lifts a brow.

  "Cancer when I was fourteen," I explain. "When I messed up, she disciplined me. Sometimes with a ruler, sometimes with a time-out—like I was some kindergartener. I hated it of course, and I'm hardly an advocate for that kind of punishment on children today, but… It wasn’t the punishment. It was how swiftly the bad was over. I fucked up, I got the ruler, she forgave me, hugged me, and that was that." I take a breath and stare at my feet. "I never had to fear that she'd leave me. She doled out her chastisement and enforced a shitload of rules, but she cared. She had my best interests at heart, and I miss that structure." I lift my gaze again and meet Master Rio's expression of understanding. "She was my rock until she passed. After that, I lost it. I quit on life. I drank, did drugs, pushed away the few who tried to help me, fucked to pay rent" —I ignore the way his jaw clenches— "stole to buy food and clothes…" I trail off with a pointed look.

  He scrubs his hands down his face. "I haven't figured out how so many can know about Miranda, but no wonder you reacted the way you did." He sighs and lets his hands fall again. "You were just a child," he says quietly. "I wish I could've made things better for you."

  He doesn’t get it.

  "You did, though." I poke his chest. "I'd been on the streets on and off for two years when you cornered me in that nightclub, Rio. Master, Sir, whatever-the-fuck." I wave a hand and pretend I don’t see his mouth twist into a little smirk. "I don’t care how outta line you might think you were when you told me about caning brats who don’t obey you. I don't care." I grit my teeth, so fucking frustrated. "You gotta understand what it did to me. You were just a meal ticket; I wanted a cab ride or food or a place to stay, and I was willing to spread my legs for it. Hell," I scoff as I think back, "you were hot as fuck. Spreading my legs would've been a bonus. But you didn’t react the way all other guys had done before you." I release a breath and try to calm down. "You were rock solid. You couldn’t be budged. You told me to take care of myself because there's only one of me." His eyes soften, and it causes the fight to drain out of me. "I remember every minute of that little encounter
," I whisper. "Maybe it wasn’t very significant for you, but it fucking changed me. It woke me up."

  Rio pulls me close again and hugs me tightly. He takes a breath, and I can sense him wanting to say something, but I'm not done. I gotta get this out so I can move on.

  "Yes, what you said was the first I'd ever heard about BDSM," I mutter against his chest. "But that’s not why I looked into it. It wasn’t what you said. It was you—because of how you acted. Who you are." I tilt up my chin to look him in the eye. "I made every mistake in the book when I first got into the scene, but I knew I was on the right track. At first, it was just about structure. I wanted someone to rely on." But that was the kid in me who'd grown up in a shitty environment. Every child needs stability. "Then I learned more. I evolved and tried different things. I met new people and got lucky with a Dom who was willing to mentor me."

  I smooth out the frown creasing his brow.

  "This isn't some phase for me, Sir," I murmur. "Casual arrangements don’t satisfy me, either. My vanilla life, dreams, and goals aren't going anywhere, but when I submit, I do it fully—body, mind, soul. Even in my everyday life, I'd feel better with rules to follow and having a Master to please."

  The glimpse I got when I first met Rio a decade ago—of what my future could hold—has changed drastically with each thing I've learned. But the nature of it has remained, and after coming to California, I want it so much it hurts. Scening with him, hearing his friends speak about him, seeing his home, and the tidbits I've picked up over the years through Facebook have all contributed to a fairly clear picture of what kind of man Rio is.

  "I never stood a bloody chance against you." Rio closes his eyes and presses his lips to my forehead, lingering. "I knew it ten years ago; I know it now."

  "That’s…cryptic." I tug on his silvery gray tie, though I stay in his hold. I love being so close to him. Close enough to smell his aftershave, feel the softness of his black button-down, and hear the gentle rasp of his five-o'clock shadow against my skin whenever he kisses me.

  "I suppose it's my turn to be honest." He nuzzles my hairline and brushes his fingers along my collar. "Trust me when I say you're not the only one who recalls every minute—" He pauses and backs away, brows knit together. "What's this?" A finger ghosts over the bandage covering my ink.