Hero (3 page)

“I’d like to read one of your books,” I said. If she wasn’t a sub, I was curious to see how she got into the mindset of a submissive character.

She blushed and looked away. “You don’t have to do that. I doubt it’s your kind of book.”

“Romance isn’t my typical genre, but I do like to read. Do you write under your real name or a pen name?”

“A pen name. But really, you don’t have to read my books.”

“What’s your pen name?”

She hesitated.

“Tell me,” I prompted, my voice turning slightly stern.

“Alanna Granger.” Her eyes cut away from mine, and she spoke the name like a shy admission.

Without thinking, I reached out and caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger, redirecting her gaze to mine. “Why are you blushing? You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” she said, but the declaration came out low and breathy.

“Then tell me why you won’t look me in the eye right now.” Her lashes lowered. I tilted her face up further. “No. Look at me. Tell me why you’re embarrassed.”

“I’ve never had a real Dom read one of my books before,” she said in a rush. “Well, not anyone I know personally. You might think it’s silly.”

“I won’t. I respect that you’ve done your research, even though you aren’t in the lifestyle. I do enjoy reading, and I’d like to read one of your books. I’m going to download one when I get home.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to.”

“I… okay. Thanks.”

I smiled down at her, pleased with her acceptance. “Thanks for trusting me with your pen name.”

She blinked at me. “Um… You’re welcome?” It came out as a question.

A low laugh rumbled from my chest. This softer side of her was cute.

“Did I say something funny?” she asked, suspicious. But there was nothing malicious about her tone; she was feeling vulnerable. I understood that she truly was concerned about my reaction to her work. It only made me more eager to read it.

“Not at all, little one,” I assured her, the endearment coming to me easily now that she was showing the submissive side I’d only glimpsed before.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because you pleased me. I’m glad you opened up to me.”

“Oh. I’m… That’s good.”

I nodded. “It is.”

I had a sudden, strange urge to lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. But she wasn’t one of my play partners, and I suspected she wouldn’t appreciate the more intimate contact.

I realized I was still holding her chin, keeping her locked in my gaze. I’d started Topping her without meaning to. I wasn’t supposed to be dominating her. I’d told Carina I’d show Chloe around the club, and Chloe had made it clear at the outset that she wasn’t looking to hook up.

I dropped my hand from her face. She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head slightly, shaking off my influence. When her eyes met mine again, they weren’t as open as they had been moments before.

“Come on,” I urged. “I’ll show you around the rest of the club.”

She nodded her agreement and fell into step beside me. I stayed close enough to make it clear to anyone watching that she was under my care, but I didn’t touch her in any way, not even holding her hand to lead her across the busy dance floor. We wound our way through the gyrating crowd, brushing up against sweat-slicked bodies as we went. Lust was a heavy perfume in the air around us, and I focused on not letting it go to my head. I wasn’t here to indulge in my usual hedonism; Chloe was my responsibility now, and her needs were more important than my base urges.

I breathed slightly easier when we made it through the crowd and arrived at the public play space. The pulsing music was more muted in this area, reduced to a primal, erotic thrum. But lust was no less potent. Where the music was dimmed, it was replaced by the sounds of low, throaty moans and ecstatic screams, punctuated by the thud of a flogger, the smack of a hand hitting flesh, the lighter slap of a crop.

I turned my attention to the latter, taking in the scene closest to us. Jason had worked quickly; the blonde sub he’d approached less than half an hour ago was strung up before him, her naked body pulled taut. Her hands were bound above her, anchored to a heavy chain that dangled from the ceiling. A spreader bar kept her legs stretched wide so she was fully on display for anyone who cared to look.

And several people were looking. A small crowd had gathered to watch Jason land even, rapid hits across her bare ass with a crop. Her pale skin glowed red everywhere the crop had landed, and she rocked forward with a shocked squeak at a particularly hard blow to her sensitive upper thigh. The spreader bar kept her in place, and she was forced to find her balance again, remaining exactly where Jason wanted her.

“Is that Master Jason?” Chloe asked in an undertone.

I looked at her with surprise. So, it was
Master
Jason, but she had trouble calling me
Sir
? That rankled. I must have lost more composure than I’d thought. I didn’t know how to handle this non-sub who I didn’t intend to fuck.

“I know him from Dusk,” she explained, misreading my expression.

“Of course,” I allowed, as easily as I could manage. Dusk was the best BDSM club in Chicago, and they’d both mentioned it to me tonight. “You met him during your research trips.”

“Yes,” she nodded, still keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t disturb the scene. Or maybe it was something more. There was a breathy quality to her tone, and her cheeks were flushed. Although she spoke to me, her eyes remained riveted on Jason.

“Is watching this scene part of your research?” I asked drily. “You seem very interested.”

Her blush deepened, and she glanced down at the floor before her eyes snapped up to meet mine, defiant. “I’ve been thinking about writing something similar.” She shrugged, as though it was no big deal, as though she wasn’t getting hot watching Jason crop the pretty blonde sub’s ass.

If I could determine whether or not she was truly submissive, I might know how to handle myself around her. The fact that she didn’t seem to respect me as a Dom bothered me more than it probably should. She watched Jason with open interest, but her eyes were shuttered when she spoke to me. Except for the few minutes when I’d Topped her. She’d been open then, softer.

“You said you have scenes sometimes,” I said, regarding her carefully to gauge her reaction. “Have you ever been cropped before?”

She lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said the one word like a challenge. I didn’t understand her subtle defiance, and I certainly didn’t appreciate it.

Topping her had worked before. I’d try it again.

“Did you like it?” I pushed her.

“It was interesting,” she pushed back, squaring her shoulders.

“Would you like to try it again?”

Her mouth popped open for a moment before she quickly closed it again. “What do you mean?”

“I want to have a scene with you. Like this one.” I gestured toward Jason and the blonde sub. Chloe was obviously turned on by watching them. Was she simply attracted to Jason, or was she more deeply affected by the scene than she wanted to admit?

There was one way to find out. I’d dominate Chloe, and I’d make sure it was more than simply an
interesting
experience for her.

She shifted on her high heels, her eyes cutting over to Jason and then back to me. “I don’t want to have sex,” she said after a moment.

“Are they having sex?” I asked calmly. “I didn’t say I want to fuck you.” Sure, my dick might
want
to, but my head was a different matter. Chloe was a puzzle I wanted to decipher, not a pretty piece of ass I’d bury myself in for the evening. She might be gorgeous, but I’d already decided that a one-night stand with Carina’s friend was a bad idea. Even more so because she obviously didn’t want me in that way, either.

“Oh.” She looked at Jason again, her expression drawn with something between curiosity and longing. “I don’t want to do anything in public.” Her eyes remained fixed on him as she spoke.

I touched her jaw and redirected her gaze to mine. “We’re negotiating a scene,” I informed her in my deepest voice. “You will look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Even if she wasn’t a sub, Topping her definitely got her attention.

“We can go to one of the private rooms,” I told her smoothly. “We will recreate this scene. And afterward you can let me know if you find it
interesting.
”

Her dark eyes flashed, but she kept them locked on mine. “Fine.” Her defiance lingered. “I’m keeping my corset on, though.”

“
Fine
?” I repeated, trying to keep the incredulity from my tone. I’d never had a woman answer me so flippantly when I proposed a scene. “Do you want to try that again? Is that how subs address Doms in your books?”

Her will clashed with mine as she struggled with her pride. “I’d like to have a scene with you.
Sir,
” she forced out belatedly.

I fixed her with my hardest stare, letting the weight of it press down on her. Finally, her gaze slid away from mine. It was enough. For now.

She might have done her research on kink, but Chloe clearly didn’t truly understand BDSM. I’d make sure she got a taste of real submission before the night was over.

I
recognized
the fluttering in my stomach as nervousness, and I tried my best to ignore it. Why should I be nervous? It wasn’t like I hadn’t been cropped before. It had been enjoyable.

There’s nothing to worry about.

But when Dex’s large hand enveloped mine, the fluttering increased to a full-on belly quiver.

I sucked in a breath, centering myself. He was just so damn
big.
That was it. Anyone would be nervous with the hulking, half-naked man in their personal space, his muscles-on-top-of-muscles on wicked display. If he applied pressure, he could probably crush my much smaller hand with little effort.

The very idea was ridiculous. Of course one of Kennedy’s trusted agents wouldn’t break my hand. But Dex’s hold was firm, his fingers wrapping around mine with smooth confidence as he began tugging me away from the scene we’d been watching.

He’s not going to hurt me,
I reassured myself.

I suppressed a derisive snort.
Yeah, he’s just going to tie me up and whip me. That won’t hurt one bit.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said gently, reading my tension. “I’ll respect your limits.”

I looked up into his pale eyes. There was warmth in them that belied their ice blue hue. The way the lights played over his white-blond hair made him appear almost angelic. Then again, intimidating shadows pooled beneath his defined cheekbones, throwing the strong lines of his face into sharp relief. Maybe a fallen angel was a more apt comparison.

“I’m not into extreme pain,” I asserted with as much confidence as I could muster. This was just a scene, the same as any of my other hands-on research. I dictated the terms. I was fully in control of the situation. I was perfectly comfortable with physical contact under these conditions. “What Master Jason was doing works for me,” I informed him. “Nothing more hardcore than that.”

A single blond brow rose. “I’m sure I can handle you just fine.”

My stomach did a funny flip, and I lifted my chin. “I want to recreate the scene. I don’t want you to
handle me
.”

He shook his head and turned his attention toward our destination: a long corridor illuminated by low red lighting. Doors lined the right side of the hall, with one set into the very end. We passed all of them, making our way to the final door, which was slightly ajar.

“These are the private rooms,” Dex supplied. “I’m glad this one isn’t occupied.”

“Why?” I asked as he pushed the door open and escorted me across the threshold.

“I think it will suit my purposes.”

I swallowed hard as I took in the dungeon-themed room, complete with stone wall façade and chains hanging from the ceiling, along with more Medieval-looking bondage devices. The door thudded shut behind me, and I jolted, whirling to face Dex. He watched me carefully, his pale eyes studying me.

I took a step back. He mirrored my movement, remaining in my personal space, towering over me.

I took a calming breath, doing my best to disregard his sheer enormity. “I’m okay with the scenario we just watched,” I said in my most composed voice. “Hands cuffed above me, spreader bar, crop. I’ll take off my skirt, but my corset stays on.”

The corners of his lips twitched. I wasn’t sure if he was suppressing a smile or a frown. His expression was difficult to read, his strong features shifting slightly before finally settling into a determined mask.

I took another step back. He followed.

“This won’t work if you run from me,” he pointed out. “Setting up the scene will require some physical contact. Unless you want to chain yourself up and spread your legs wide for me?”

The picture he painted was ridiculous, and he knew it. He was trying to embarrass me. Maybe he wasn’t used to interacting with a confident partner, but that was his problem. This wasn’t about a power exchange; it was simply a means to learn the necessary physical sensations to describe my scene in lurid detail for my book.

“No,” I said coolly, squaring my shoulders. “You can do that part. You can touch me to set things up, but I don’t want your hands on me otherwise. No touching my sex.”

“Your
sex
? Is that what you call it?” This time, he was definitely suppressing a smile, and a mocking one at that. I didn’t appreciate it.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” I didn’t intend to engage in the kind of dirty talk I used in my books. This wasn’t meant to be a sexual experience.

“Not at all. Don’t worry. My hands won’t go anywhere near your pussy. Not even if you beg me.”

I snorted. “Somehow, I don’t see that happening.”

He smirked outright and made no further comment. Despite my attempts to maintain cool composure, it was disconcerting, to say the least. His cocky expression and crass language were doing something to me. The fluttering in my belly intensified, moving lower down in my body to heat my core.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar reaction. I’d become aroused during my scenes a few times in the course of my research. BDSM was undeniably erotic. But just because it got me hot didn’t mean I wanted to have sex with my partner. I wasn’t interested in that kind of intimacy.

Dex’s fingers closed around both my wrists, and he led me toward the center of the room. I followed, allowing the contact. I’d given him permission to touch me while setting up the scene. Besides, he was touching my wrists, for god’s sake. It wasn’t like his hands were on more intimate parts of my body. Even if his gentle grip did make my sex squeeze in time with the press of his fingers around my wrists.

We came to a stop, and I stared up at him in silence, captured in his steady blue gaze. I was so intent on trying to puzzle out the strange glint in his eyes that I didn’t realize long moments passed before he broke contact.

“Stay,” he issued the low command, his face close enough to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. My head tilted back of its own accord. Or maybe that was simply because he was so tall. I had no choice but to look up at him when he encroached on my space like this.

He released my wrists and stepped away. My body swayed toward his, as though drawn by a magnet.

“Stay,” he repeated, more firmly.

A light shiver raced across my skin as the low rumble of his voice rolled over me. I shifted back into place, remaining rooted to the spot as he crossed the room to consider the array of sex toys hanging on the far wall. He selected the items I’d requested: cuffs, a spreader bar, and a crop.

I swallowed hard when he turned back to me. He prowled, closing the distance between us at a pace that was achingly slow, yet he also seemed to reach me too fast. I wasn’t prepared for his renewed closeness. Power emanated from him, slapping up against me like a palpable force. I’d been around Doms before, but none had affected me so strongly.

I widened my stance, planting my feet as though to brace myself against the weight of his aura. His smirk returned. I fixed him with my most defiant stare. He met it steadily, his amusement evident in the arrogant curve of his full lips.

I didn’t deign to respond to it verbally. I could engage in a silent battle of wills. I recognized that he was trying to Top me. He wasn’t the first Dom to try it, but I was finding his strange mix of quiet confidence and subtle dominance difficult to resist. He wasn’t a hard-ass snapping orders at me; he kept managing to slip past my defenses.

I gathered up my resolve and maintained our eye contact, boldly meeting his gaze.

“Give me your wrists,” he commanded in that same smooth, deep voice that messed with my head and heated my insides.

I considered defying him, but that would be childish. I’d been the one to dictate the terms of the scene, and refusing him would only prove that he was affecting me more than I’d like to admit.

Wordlessly, I gave him my hands. He didn’t break his intense gaze as he secured the supple black leather cuffs around my wrists, buckling them closed with practiced ease. He was obviously an experienced Dom.

That’s good,
I tried to tell myself.
It’s good for my research.

It would have been easier to convince myself if I wasn’t so intimidated by the cool confidence with which he lifted my arms over my head and clipped them to the chain that dangled from the ceiling. He was tall enough that he easily secured my hands high above me, stretching my body. The cuffs held firm, pressing into my wrists, eliciting a sudden sense of helplessness.

My sex clenched even as a thrill of trepidation raced through me.

“Take a deep breath. You’re safe with me.”

I inhaled without thinking, complying with his low, soothing order.

“Good girl.”

Liquid heat teased between my lower lips at the gentle praise. He reached around me, his corded arms bracketing my body as his fingers found the zipper at the back of my tight leather skirt. His thumbs skimmed across the bare skin along the upper edge of the skirt, and I shuddered. The wetness between my thighs increased, making my panties damp. I’d become somewhat aroused during previous scenes. There was nothing to worry about. I was in control.

His fingers curled into the slick material, tugging it slowly down my legs. He slid down onto one knee before me, his face hovering oh-so-close as he drew level with my sex. He lingered there, shooting me a wicked grin when he caught me staring down at him with wide eyes.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My clit pulsed, and his hot breath teased through the thin black lace that barely covered me. Only my long period of ingrained celibacy kept me from rocking toward him and silently begging for him to put his mouth on me.

I didn’t want that kind of contact with any man.

I didn’t.

I heaved in a sigh when he pulled away, breaking the intense connection. The skirt pooled around my high heels, and I stepped out of it without him having to instruct me.

He remained kneeling before me and reached for the spreader bar. He closed the cuff at one end around my left ankle, drawing the leather tight around my flesh before buckling it at a more comfortable setting. The brief squeeze drew forth a renewed sense of helplessness, but this time it wasn’t accompanied by fear. Lust swirled within me, and my nipples grew tight beneath my corset. With my arms pulled taut above me, my cleavage was on lewd display, my nipples nearly peeking over the upper edge of the confining garment. The press of the steel bones against my waist only heightened my awareness that my body was bound, vulnerable to the man before me. He might be kneeling, but there was nothing subservient about his demeanor when he gripped my right ankle and eased it away from my left, gently urging me to widen my stance, steadily spreading my legs so I was open for him. Cool air caressed my labia as they parted along with my legs. My thong slipped between them, the elastic teasing as it pressed into my swollen folds.

My arousal was becoming undeniable, unbearable. It was so intense that I was hardly able to worry about the fact that my control was slipping.

He secured the second cuff around my ankle, the metal bar between the two keeping me spread wide. He took an eternity to stare up at me, studying my sex intently. His features tightened with hunger, but he kept careful distance between us.

I ached for him to touch me. The realization hit me hard. He’d told me that I might beg him for his touch, and he’d managed to make me desperate for it in a matter of minutes. The scene hadn’t even begun, yet my body thrummed with lust. The heady sensation was disconcerting, overwhelming. It threatened to sweep all reason away. I couldn’t recall ever being this turned on.

He tore his gaze from the most intimate part of my body, giving me the briefest reprieve from his powerful demeanor. Then he picked up the crop and rose to his feet. Somehow, I’d forgotten his size, and I suddenly felt very small in the shadow of his hulking frame.

He cocked his head to the side, considering me.

“How do you feel about being blindfolded?”

I drew in a shuddering breath and did my best to shrug nonchalantly, a gesture that was ruined by my bound arms. “Sure,” my voice came out in a breathy whisper that belied my attempt at cool confidence. “You can blindfold me.”

His lips firmed, and he stepped away from me to return to the wall of kinky toys. He quickly selected a strip of black cloth and came back to me.

He leaned in close and wrapped the soft material around my head. Darkness closed around me when it slipped over my eyes. He knotted it firmly, securing it in place.

“I didn’t ask for your permission.” His voice was a low rumble in my ear. “I asked how it makes you feel. Vulnerable? Aroused?”

I sucked in several shallow, rapid breaths, my breasts pressing against the inside of my corset. My peaked nipples rubbed against it, making them throb and ache.

The cool leather tongue of the crop touched the side of my neck. Sensation lit up my nerve endings, making my skin dance. I was hyper-aware of his closeness, even though he wasn’t touching me directly. The crop traced a slow line down my neck, across my collarbone, before caressing the upper swell of my breasts. I gasped as my core contracted, lust spiking.

“I asked you a question,” he prompted. “Are you aroused?”

I pressed my lips together, holding back the embarrassing admission. Something was passing between us, something unsettling in its intensity. It was as though energy was being pulled from my body, as though he claimed it for himself as I helplessly ceded it to him. I tried to resist, grasping for control.

The crop left my breasts, and the smooth leather suddenly touched my inner thigh. It trailed slowly upward, and my clit pulsed madly as it neared. He didn’t stimulate me where my body craved it most; instead, he brushed the tongue across my soaked labia.

He took away the pleasure almost as soon as he’d inflicted it, and a strangled moan of protest worked its way up my throat.

“Definitely aroused,” he said, his voice imbued with cocky satisfaction. “You might not want to admit it, but your body answered me.”

The crop touched my mouth, and the salty wetness of my lust painted my lips. He trailed the slick leather across them, making them tingle.