Pleasure's Edge (9 page)

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

She wasn’t entirely sure that was true. But Alec had his hand on the smal of her back and was guiding her through another door.

The room was large. The wal s were painted some dark color, and al around the room were lights in deep amber, purple, red.

The corners were ful of shadows, and there were people there, but she couldn’t quite see what they were doing. Al she could make out were pairs and smal groups. Looking more careful y, she saw black leather pants and vests, body harnesses, corsets in red, black, white. Col ars encircling the necks of men and women: some made of leather, some of shining metal. And naked flesh.

Here and there, against the wal s, were pieces of equipment.

She recognized the leather-covered spanking benches, made so that the person being spanked could bend over it, resting their knees on the lower padded rails. There was a pair of large standing wooden racks people used for rope bondage, a seven-foot-tal wooden X she knew was cal ed a St. Andrew’s Cross.

And even as she took in the scene before her she was acutely aware of Alec next to her, the heat of his big body, dwarfing her even though she wore her highest heels. The scent of him, that divine mixture of the forest and the sea. Alec and the scents of leather, a faint whiff of perfume, of sensuality in the room.

She was trembling al over. With nervous anticipation. With desire. And something else . . .

“You al right, Dylan?” he asked her.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He stopped, put a hand under her chin, forcing her face to him.

“Are you?”

She swal owed. “Yes. I am. I promise. This is al just . . . new to me. I’m trying to take it al in. It’s different from any place I’ve ever been.”

“Yes, it is.” He smiled at her, dropping his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Shh, just come with me.”

She did it, simply closed her mouth against al the questions whirling through her mind suddenly and fol owed him through the room. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Letting someone else handle everything, make the decisions. Except the one to be here at al , she reminded herself. That was stil up to her.

They reached the other side of the room and stopped in front of a low sofa upholstered in red leather.

“Sit down, Dylan,” Alec said, his voice low, but ful of authority.

She did it, trying not to question herself. This was why she was here: to let go, for once. To explore this.

Alec sat next to her, slipping an arm across the back of the sofa.

She could feel it brushing the back of her hair. He smel ed too damn good tonight, his scent alone making her body heat, making her dizzy.

“We’re just going to watch for a while,” he told her, his face close to hers. “I want you to relax, to take it al in, as you said. And while you watch, you are to track your breathing, keep it slow and even.

Do you understand, Dylan?”

She nodded her head, her gaze on the room, the figures writhing. She could see more now that her eyes were adjusting.

“Dylan.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

The absolute command in his voice startled her and she turned her head. Her pulse was racing, a low thrum in her veins. She wanted to argue, but his expression told her not to.

She’d never been cowed by anything or anyone in her life. But that wasn’t what this was. Something was happening to her, gears beginning to shift in her head. She didn’t understand it.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he said. “But you have to make an effort to give yourself over to it. To me.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her throat tight. She couldn’t seem to take in enough breath to speak normal y.

“There are going to be rules here. Once we get started you are not to speak unless I ask you a question, or unless there is something you absolutely must tel me. And I mean
absolutely
: only if your physical or mental wel -being is compromised. If you feel you are in real danger. Simply being a bit scared is not reason enough. I expect you to have some fear. Frankly, I wouldn’t be doing my job if you don’t, at some point.”

She looked at him, her mind emptying out at an alarming speed.

She didn’t like this distinct melting sensation in her arms and legs.

The sensation of weakness.

“Do you hear me, Dylan?”

“Yes. I hear you.”

“But?”

“But . . . I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can. I can feel it in you, Dylan. I have since the moment we met. And I am not being arrogant. I’ve spent a number of years learning to see these things.”

“I know. It’s not your abilities I’m doubting.” He put a hand on her thigh, and she felt it down to her bones, that electric tingle.

“Why do you doubt yourself?” he asked her.

His gaze was hard on hers. Solid. The blue was dark, deep, his pupils wide in the dim light.

“I’ve always considered myself to be sexual y sophisticated. I’ve had plenty of experience. I’m not . . . bragging. But . . . I thought I could handle this. That it would be easy. But now that I’m here . . .

God, I can barely admit this to you. To myself. I feel like an idiot.

And I don’t like that.”

She was real y shaking now.

“There’s no reason to feel you can’t admit to being scared or uncertain.”

“But I do. Even if this is a normal response for other people who come here for the first time. This is . . .
me
. And I don’t know if . . . I don’t think I can stay.” As she said it her heartbeat thundered, and she wanted to flee.
Needed
to. “I real y have to leave, Alec. I can’t do this.”

She got up, her knees so liquid she could barely stand.

Alec got to his feet beside her. His arm went around her and he pressed his cheek close to hers. She tried to pul away, but he held her tight.

“Dylan, calm down. You can do this. You’re fine.”

“I’m not.”

She felt like crying. But she wouldn’t do it. She would
not
cry.

“You are. You’re with me. I’l take care of everything.” When had any other man said that to her? When would she ever have trusted it if they had? But she trusted Alec, despite the fact that she hardly knew him. Despite herself. Despite her need to be in control. She couldn’t figure it out.

Maybe she didn’t need to.

“Come on, Dylan. You’re okay,” he said, his voice a low murmur.

She let him help her back onto the sofa. This time he kept his arm around her waist, holding her close to his side. And after a few moments, the scent of him, the feel of him, went to work on her. Her senses fil ed with him, and the rest of it—her fears, her need to be in charge of everything—began to fade, and desire began to take over.

“Look at what the others are doing,” he said in her ear, his breath a warm whisper on her skin. “See how beautiful they are, al of them. It doesn’t matter here what anyone looks like. What matters are the gifts of trust and energy they exchange. That’s the beautiful part. That’s what it’s al about, Dylan.” She looked directly across the room, to where a naked woman was bent over one of the spanking benches. Her blonde hair hung down around her cheeks, and the man standing next to her brushed a lock from her face, leaned in to kiss her before moving behind her and running his hands over the curve of her ass. There was tenderness in the way he touched her, even as he began to spank her.

Desire quivered between Dylan’s thighs.

Was this what she wanted?

She turned to look at Alec. His eyes were glittering. There was hunger there. But there was also absolute control.

Yes, she could trust him.

She stil wasn’t sure she could trust herself. But she was going to do this.

She swal owed the hard lump in her throat.

“Okay. Okay. Can we . . . just get started?” Alec’s face was perfectly serious. “You can always decide to stop, Dylan. That’s the beauty in this. The ultimate safety in it. It’s up to you.”

She nodded.

He smiled.

“Then we’l begin.”

Alec took her hand and felt her trembling. He didn’t want her to be afraid, not real y. But a little fear, some nervous anticipation, was a chal enge he always enjoyed. And she was so damn gorgeous like this, with her hair a wild mass of curls around her pale cheeks, her eyes enormous, glossy.

He led her to a shadowy corner of the room, to a large red leather chair with a wide seat and no arms. He set his black bag, fil ed with the implements of BDSM play—paddles, canes, floggers, cuffs—down next to it.

“What is this?” Dylan asked, looking at the chair.

“Did you want something more extreme for your first experience?” he asked her, taunting her a bit. He already knew the answer.

“I don’t know.”

Her face was absolutely serious. He could see the muscle working in her jaw. She was trying so hard to intel ectualize her way through this. She would have to learn that didn’t work in this arena. He had to take her past the wheels churning in her mind.

Had to disarm her.

“Don’t worry. I do. Now take your clothes off.”

“What?”

She actual y took a step back from him, which made him grin.

He couldn’t help it.

“Come on, Dylan. Surely you didn’t think to play ful y dressed?” There was no real surprise on her face. Only a little shock that it was happening to
her
. She was silent a moment, then, without saying a word, began to pul her shirt over her head. She kept her eyes on his, but they were no longer the usual cool gray. A storm was raging in there, despite the firm line of her mouth, the stubborn set of her shoulders, her silence. But that was part of her process.

He’d expected it from a woman who held herself so strictly in control. And it made her even more attractive to him: the battle he knew was going on inside her. Her wil ingness to do this, anyway.

He crossed his arms and waited while she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, and didn’t say a word when she handed her garments to him. He was too busy looking at her in her sheer black bra and panties, the long line of her legs in her high black heels.

The graceful branch of the plum blossoms tattooed over her right hip. The design was delicate, sinuous, like her. The blossoms were white, edged in a deep pink. So innocent-looking on a body he wanted to do very dirty things to.

Fucking gorgeous.

She lifted her chin, a smal show of defiance, and his fingers tightened around the fabric of her clothes. They smel ed like her, pure female. Stil watching her, he lifted her top to his face, inhaled deeply. Grinned when she blushed.

This woman had absolutely no idea how keenly responsive she was. But he saw it. And knew it was going to be good.

“Dylan,” he said softly, “stay right there. Just hold stil .” He hung her clothes on one of a row of hooks set into the wal and bent to open his bag of toys. Not that he planned to use any of them just yet. This was her first time at the club, and anyone new to BDSM had to be introduced at a slow pace. How slow depended on the individual, and things were going fast enough with Dylan.

But he didn’t mind seeing her squirm as he withdrew each item, placing them on the low wooden table next to the chair: a wide leather slapper made of two flat lengths of thick leather, a wooden paddle, a short riding crop, a coiled three-foot-long single-tail whip in black and white woven leather, a vampire glove, a clear Lucite cane. Some of his most wicked-looking pieces.

Her eyes were wide, the pupils enormous, but she remained stubbornly quiet. He let his gaze lower to her breasts. They were smal and firm, the rounded flesh just spil ing over the top of her bra. And through the mesh he could see her nipples. They were going hard as he watched.

Perfect breasts.

He had to ignore the erection growing between his thighs.

Concentrate.

He brought his gaze back to hers. “Come here, Dylan.” She took one wavering step forward, and paused. He wrapped a hand around her slim waist and pul ed her in. She let out a startled gasp.

“Dylan, if we are to work together you must learn to fol ow instructions. If you fight it there is no point.” Her breathing was fast and ragged. “I know. I can’t help it.”

“You wil get through this initial panic. Just do as I say. Trust me.” She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I . . . I’l do as you say. I trust you, Alec.” A hint of resistance in her voice stil . But that was fine. He’d get her past that soon enough.

Meanwhile, the heat of her body was making him a little crazy, distracting him.

Focus.

He drew her in tighter, settled into the chair and held her in his lap, his hand around her waist. Skin like fucking satin, pale and smooth. He could feel the heat of her sex through his slacks.

He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, then pushed his fingers into her hair, drew them through the curls. So soft . . .

“Just breathe, Dylan, Try to relax. Listen to my voice.” She nodded her head.

“Close your eyes.”

She did, without argument.

“I want you to focus inward. To think about each breath. Just your breath. My voice. My hand in your hair. Nothing else.” Her sex was going hotter and he knew he had her already, whether she understood that or not. And his cock was growing harder, pulsing with desire.

“Breathe in and hold it for a moment,” he told her. “Good. Now push the air out slowly. Again. And as you breathe, feel it everywhere in your body. Your lungs, your stomach, your arms and legs. And feel my hands on you.”

He stroked her bare back, up, then down again, feeling the delicate bones of her spine, her shoulder blades, the narrow column of her long, slender neck. She was built like a dancer, her body lithe and slim and toned.