Authors: Skylar Kade
Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuckbeans. Maybe if she didn’t turn around, she wouldn’t have to see him. He’d just go away, like a nightmare or those good dreams you wake up to and forget for just a moment aren’t really yours.
“Keilor, good to see you back, man.” Mike nodded over Tovia’s shoulder. She buried her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn’t actually take her advice and abandon her. “I take it you’re tapping me out.”
An expectant pause from behind her lay heavy as lead manacles. With a sympathetic look, Mike shrugged and scooted off the couch. Tovia rose to follow him, fully intending to snag a cab from the main road a couple blocks away, anything to escape the walls closing in around her.
“Not so fast, firebird.”
Keilor’s nickname for her curled around her heart and started melting it. The first time they played—the first time she’d ever set foot in Apogee, or any kink club for that matter—he’d settled on that appellation for her. Said it was because of her flame-red hair, fiery temper, and the way she burned up under his hands. Not so fitting a name now.
She ignored him and tried to scoot between a miniature palm and the other end of the couch, since he was blocking the most direct exit. Between one breath and the next, she was hauled against a hot, broad chest, her feet swept off the floor. The last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself for the second time that night, so she didn’t claw at him or call out, though every cell screamed to do that very thing.
He was such a caveman. Had been the first night they’d met, trampling past her barriers and taking what he wanted—but no more than she was secretly willing to give. How he’d seen so deep into her, she had no idea. Maybe he had some freaky sixth sense. Should have been doing magic shows on the strip instead of heading Parthenon, the hottest, fanciest restaurant to hit the strip in years. It had brought all the high rollers to Hellena Casino, and their tips to her wallet.
Keilor took the seat vacated by Mike, but instead of setting her on the couch next to him, he snugged her against his chest, her long legs draped over his right arm, his left cradling her back. There wasn’t a way to gracefully escape.
If she were being honest—and hadn’t that been one of her promises to Sammy, being more honest, at least with herself?—she didn’t really want to. Keilor felt too good, which had been exactly the problem the first time. A twenty-minute session under some man’s talented flogger, she could reconcile. That way, they were using each other. It was safe. She wasn’t vulnerable.
His thumb stroked against the sensitive skin behind her knee and she ruthlessly suppressed a shiver even as she soaked in his body heat, convinced she’d never get warm again once he left.
“That was the ugliest scene I’ve ever witnessed.”
She flinched, despite his gentle tone. “It wasn’t Mike’s fault.”
He cleared his throat and waited. Her stomach churned. It looked like the farce would continue. “
Master
Mike. It wasn’t his fault.”
Another pause, then he continued the gentle thumb torture on her leg. “I know.” Tovia buried her face against Keilor’s neck. Even that was a better alternative than facing the harsh judgment of the club at the moment. He stroked fingers through her hair, then tugged until she had no choice but to look up at him.
His face hit her like a fist to the stomach. Even after seeing him in her dreams every night for a month, she was still awed by him. Dark brows framed laughing hazel eyes, now serious, which led to a nose that would have looked oversized on anyone else, with its reset-bone bump. It just gave him character. More laugh lines around his mouth, and the beginnings of a goatee. That was new. It was the only hair on his head.
She’d never been attracted to bald men, but Keilor was so sexy that even his bare skull turned her on. She knew it was by choice. She’d worked a little Google-Fu after their first scene together and found recent pictures of him with a full head of thick, brown hair.
Warning bells went off, but they were drowned out by his voice.
“I’m sure
Master
Mike will be tickled to learn he has such a steadfast champion.”
Waves of subtle lemony air drifted over her, as they always did in his presence. Or they did during their one scene together. She hadn’t been able to serve a Lemontini since without her panties getting wet.
Tovia sighed at his teasing even as the little hint of jealousy in his voice made her stomach jump. She shouldn’t react, but her body betrayed her so easily. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Laughter rumbled her bones at every point of contact with his body. “I’m an elite member. I’m here all the time.”
“Not since we—” She bit off the rest of her sentence before she could dig herself in further and tried again to wriggle from his lap.
“Silly girl.” His words gentled, soothed. One rough hand slid up and down her arm. Damnit, she should not like that. “I was in Greece. The owner of the Hellena sent me over there to sample food and wine vendors. I assumed you knew.”
Now he’d think she was pining after him. Just because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him didn’t mean she missed him. Or wanted a repeat that lasted all night.
No, because that would be ridiculous. Douglas women didn’t
need
men. It was practically the family motto.
To keep things light, she teased him back, ignoring the way her skin heated beneath his touch. “Oooh, poor thing. That must have been such a hardship.” A smile even teased at the corner of her lips despite her efforts to remain unaffected by his presence. When was the last time she smiled at a man who wasn’t tipping her for drinks?
Keilor stared down at her. “Actually, it was.”
Oh boy.
She wasn’t touching the wealth of subtleties in those words. Not going down that path.
Keilor lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Butterflies hatched in her chest, then died when he said, “You look tired.”
She scowled. “Well if that isn’t what every woman wants to hear from an attractive—” Her jaw clunked shut around the foot in her mouth.
He nipped her forefinger, zinging arousal to all her naughty bits, then stole her breath when he kissed her nose, her cheek. “Do you get a freckle every time you sass a Dom?”
An indelicate snort escaped her. “Sure. The freckles are a little-known Dominant Warning System saying ‘steer clear of the angry redhead!’”
Yes
, she thought,
hold dear to your sarcasm
. It was her current chastity belt of choice, and that was swiftly crumbling at the edges.
“Good. Less competition.” His lips drifted to her neck, where he pressed kisses to random patches of skin still exposed around the edges of the blanket.
Oh shit. She clutched the soft brown cover around her, remembering what she wore beneath—absolutely nothing aside from her short shorts. Like flipping a switch, her nipples hardened and her pussy clenched. He could so easily expose her. Not that she hadn’t been naked in the club every weekend, but it was different now, with Keilor watching her.
Dangerous.
“What…what are you doing?” His exploratory kisses had turned into sizzling nips to her collarbone.
“Counting your freckles.” He tugged at the blanket, playing momentary tug of war with her until he stopped fighting and simply went around the mountain. His hand slithered beneath her shield to scald her stomach, then higher. When the back of his hand brushed across her nipple, she moaned. “I need a baseline count. Scientific study and all of that.”
“Uh…rain check?” she squeaked, begging for and fearing his arousing touch. He’d turned her into a blubbering idiot without effort.
Though it wasn’t all bad. The knots in her shoulders, courtesy of carrying around drink trays all night, had melted away. The ever-present tangle of worry in her chest, courtesy of her mother, had also vanished.
This
was what she’d sought in the club. Why couldn’t she get it from a Dominant who was less…appealing? A few flogs, a little pain, a quick aftercare cuddle, and she should have been on her way to Zen living.
Instead, she was perched against a very hard body, with his very hard erection making itself known, with not even her wits as defense. No, he’d torn through her barriers like they were party streamers.
Maybe she was more desperate than she’d thought. That had to be it, because no man had even tempted her to give herself over to him. The accumulated stress had worn her down. One more night with him would do the trick.
It had to.
“No rain check.” His thumb flicked across her nipple and she surged up, begging for more contact. “You can make it up to me tonight. Let me play you again. I haven’t been with anyone since our night together, and I’m itching to let loose.” He let his hand drift lower, using it to part her legs before he stroked across her core. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”
She was going to deny him, with her mother’s warnings about men and love echoing in her ears, but she took another close look at him and just couldn’t do it. Though he smiled, it was ragged at the edges. He looked so weary yet hopeful, holding his breath while he waited for her answer.
One night couldn’t hurt anything. She wouldn’t deny him, not when she’d benefit from it too.
“Yes.”
Before she could take a breath, she was in his arms and halfway to the bondage bar he’d used last time. It looked like a pull-up bar, but it adjusted in height and brought so much more pleasure than the gym ever could.
“Wrap your hands around the bar and don’t move. You can close your eyes though.”
He’d remembered. Warm fuzzies suffused her chest. Restraints made her claustrophobic. Out of control.
“What is our one rule, Tovia?”
Before they’d played the first time, Keilor had explained safewords, asked about her limits, and made her agree to his only hard and fast requirement. “Honesty, Sir.”
“Yes. To the exclusion of everything else, even when it’s ugly, because we need to trust each other.”
Trust.
She wouldn’t go that far, not yet, but she did believe he would be truthful with her.
In the mirror, she watched his tall form walk across the dim room and fetch his rolling duffel bag from the storage cabinets at the opposite corner. Leather on flesh, yelps and screams set the scene and she tried to filter it all out. Nothing but Keilor would help her shed this anxiety.
And if she was going to get through the next week, she’d need the boost this night could give her.
Keilor fiddled with the sound system until dark, sexy dubstep piped through the speakers. Then he stalked back over to her, intent plain in his face.
Her eyes snapped shut, not wanting to see the possessive way Keilor looked over her body. Or the tender smile he wore, the one that crinkled his eyes at the corners. This was strictly business. It had to be. Romantic entanglements didn’t lead anywhere good.
Thinking about her parents’ divorce was a serious mood killer. She boxed it up and packed it away, easy after a decade of practice, instead focusing on the ominous boot steps nearing her corner. She sensed Keilor, recognized his gait. A shiver worked up her spine in anticipation. Once she cut away at everything else and just focused on the scene, the sensation, she knew she’d be fine.
From behind, Keilor admired Tovia’s hourglass figure. No, not admired. Worshipped. She was taller than many women he’d played with, her cheek coming to rest high on his chest. He still stood taller than her, but didn’t need to bend in half to kiss her. He bet he’d be able to fuck her up against a wall pretty easily too. The view of her half-naked body had sent blood rushing to his cock, but that thought brought him to painful hardness.
Two floggers in hand, he stalked back to her, watching goose bumps spread across her skin as the air around her shifted. He caught eyes with Samantha. He’d known the pixieish submissive for years, and would be eternally grateful she brought Tovia to Apogee last month.
The first time he’d seen her, he’d
known
. Like his father told him would happen, part of him reared up and staked its claim on the unknown beauty who’d been peeking around the club, fascinated and awed and a little intimidated. He’d waited until their eyes locked, searched her face for the spark of recognition that she felt it too.
Nada. Definitely wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Keilor wondered if something had gone haywire in his brain, but his identical reaction tonight disproved that theory.
While in Greece, he’d resolved to seeing if “love at second sight” would be his lucky charm. Though interested, Tovia hadn’t been bitch-slapped by love like he had. If anything, she was shying further away from it.
Branson men didn’t run from love, though. His father had taught him better. He’d have to show Tovia just what she was missing, and tonight was his second chance to do it. No fucking up now.
The kiss he pressed to Tovia’s exposed neck made her gasp. Fiery strands of her hair tumbled out of a ponytail holder and tickled his face as he pressed hot open-mouthed kiss on her nape. This time she moaned, the uncensored sound reaching out to stroke his erection.
Warring with the instinct to claim her—too fast, too soon for his skittish firebird—he hung the floggers from the hooks against the wall, then returned to her side. The milky white of her skin almost glowed in the dim room and made his heart pound in time with the driving music. Their first night together he’d watched her hips sway to the dubstep rhythm before he’d played her. That image, and many more, had kept him warm during his long trip to Greece.
Tovia was naked except for a very brief pair of tight, black shorts. They accented the bubble of her ass and her long legs. All he wanted was to pull her off the bondage bar and take her upstairs to the private suite he kept. All of the four founders, and a handful of the elite members, had rooms at Apogee, though the others made far better use of theirs. Tovia was the first woman in a long time he wanted for more than just a scene.
In the mirror, he could see her eyes scrunched closed, her teeth biting into her full, pale lips. He’d gotten such a brief taste of her during their one time together and he’d craved more since then, like an addict going cold turkey after a lifetime of fixes. All the things he wanted to do to her…and he’d set them all aside for that very reason. He prided himself on his control, as a man and a Dominant, and he would not budge on this. Not when his resistance would lead to a greater high for both of them.