Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play (16 page)

“No,” V agreed. “There’s not. There’s also nothing wrong with wanting to make people happy or for following a need to please others. It’s all exactly right if it makes you content. But you need to be aware of how those tendencies can translate in the BDSM lifestyle. I think you already have, which is why you’re asking.” She paused again in the way that had Liv’s stomach sinking. “But are you ready to dig into it deeper? That’s something only you can decide.”

Why had she started this conversation? Oh yeah, because she really liked—loved—it when Noah got dominant and a bit rough with her during sex.

She closed her eyes and let her head hang down so it pulled on the muscles along the back of her neck. Knowing he was a Dom marked her clearly as the submissive in their relationship, and that description wasn’t sitting so well with her. She didn’t want to be weak. But then, she had never thought of Holden as anything but strong and confident.

“We can stop beating around the damn bush,” she grumbled, eyes still closed, voice biting. “We both know he’s the Dom, which makes me the submissive if anything like that goes on.”

“Like what?”

“Your stuff.” Liv waved her hand at her sister. “Whatever you and Holden do that you never wanted to share with me. That stuff.”

“If you can’t say it, you probably shouldn’t be doing it.”

“Oh, kiss off.” Liv vaulted out of the chair and avoided Vanessa’s reach by diving around the counter to glare at her. “BDSM. Whips, chips, chains and dips. Spank me, Master, and tie me up, too. That stuff,” she snarled at her sister, irrationally hoping it stung. “I’m not a child.”

Vanessa studied her across the island, her expression schooled into her Ice Queen mold that irritated Liv even more. “Why are you so mad?”

V’s soft curiosity sucked the irrational stupid out of her. She was acting like the defensive child she declared she wasn’t. What was wrong with her? She sank onto the counter, her head landing on her folded arms, and hid—another move of the immature. Great.

“It’s been a crazy, long, exhausting, emotional week since the accident,” V said, her voice more understanding than Liv deserved. “Now might not be the best time to explore whatever submissive tendencies you might have in a sexual relationship.”

And didn’t that sound like the mature adult thing to do? “I know.” Her words came out muffled beneath her arms. “Yet now is when that sexual relationship is happening. And I don’t want to avoid that.” She sniffed, not sure where the moisture was coming from. “He kind of needs me right now—not that he’d admit that—and I don’t want to walk away from something that could be great if it’s not all wrong.”

Vanessa’s soft laughter lifted some of the pressure that was holding Liv down. “Why does that make sense when it shouldn’t?”

“Because you’re the rare person who’s able to understand Liv Logic.”

The barstool creaked then scraped against the floor before V’s heels clicked over the hardwood. “Come with me.”

Liv peeked at her sister to see her standing by the hall. “Where?”

“I want to show you something downstairs.”

“Did you get a bigger TV?” Liv pushed herself up and followed her sister, determined to lose the lousy attitude. “Because the one you already have would work great in the media room at the center.”

“What media room?” V shot a confused look over her shoulder.

“Exactly,” Liv said triumphantly as she bounded down the stairs.

Vanessa’s long hair swayed down her back when she shook her head. She led them around the large pool table positioned behind the comfy sectional and the television they were just discussing. She stopped at a door Liv had always assumed was storage.

“Hey,” Liv piped up. “Do you have extra furniture or stuff in there that you want to donate? You know the center can use some old couches or chairs in the lounge room.”

“Liv...”

And there was the warning tone she was used to ignoring. “Vanessa,” she mimicked right back, exactly like she did with Noah. Neither of the Doms could intimidate her with that drawn-out note.

V dropped her head against the door then did it again, the soft knocks sounding hollow. “He’s going to have his hands full with you.”

“Why thank you. I like my boob size, too,” she said, giving her girls a squeeze.

V unlocked the door without looking back, but Liv caught a soft snort before her sister swung the door open. The click of her heels sounded before she flicked on a light and disappeared around the corner.

Liv took a whole two, maybe three, steps through the doorway before she froze. “Holy shi...” She let the curse drift off, a habit from working around kids all day, and her mind caught up with what she was seeing. After her little tour at The Den, there was no mistaking what the room was. “You have a Dungeon in your basement.” The statement sounded like an accusation when it really wasn’t, but she was too stunned to counter it.

“We call it a playroom,” V responded stiffly.

Liv scanned the room, from the innocent-looking bed with a white duvet in the far corner past the pommel horse and stripper pole to the benches and cabinets lining the other wall, and the reality of this very secret part of her sister’s life hit her. Knowing it in theoretical terms was different than seeing it spread out before her.

V was exposing this private, vulnerable side of herself to help Liv.

One look at the stiff lift of V’s chin that matched the straight back and thin lips, and Liv was across the room, throwing her arms around her sister a second later. V oomphed in surprise and stumbled back, but Liv held on and kept them both upright.

“Thank you,” she said, not letting go. “Thank you for letting me in, for trusting me and showing me this.” Her eyelids fluttered rapidly but they couldn’t keep back the emotions that were choking her. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper again before her voice cracked and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

V held on tight. She didn’t say anything, and Liv didn’t need her to. The hug was enough. Actually, the act of unlocking the door had been enough. The hug was bonus material.

Liv sniffed and eventually let her sister go to wipe at her eyes. “Sorry about that,” she said, looking for a tissue.

Vanessa was already moving to a box on the small dresser next to the entry. She swiped one out and blew her own nose before bringing the box back to Liv. They both broke into wide grins as Liv plucked a tissue free.

Behind red eyes and runny noses in a room filled with equipment that would never be appropriate in her youth center, they’d bridged a gap that had separated them since that morning fifteen years ago when Liv saw her sister stumble into the house, disheveled, shaking and lost. V had always been there for her, but after that high school incident, her sister had perfected the art of keeping everyone out. Even Liv.

She sucked in a deep breath and studied the room once again before grabbing V’s hand and dragging her over to the bed. She kicked off her shoes and scrambled across the mattress until she was leaning against the wall looking out over the room.

“Come here.” She patted the space next to her, and for a moment she thought V was going to refuse. Then her sister’s shoes clattered to the tile floor and she hitched her skirt up so she could climb up and settle in next to Liv.

“So tell me,” Liv said after she leaned her head against her sister’s. “How did you get into this?” She motioned toward the room.

V coughed before giving Liv a shove that had no heat behind it. “It’s fairly straightforward.”

“Good, because we don’t have time for complicated.”

The two of them had been through a lot together. Their absent, odd parents and upbringing had kept them close, but V’s roofie-rape in high school had drawn them together and also driven a huge wedge between them that they’d maneuvered around for years. This right here was a second chance. She’d never felt closer to her sister and there was no way she was letting it go.

V squeezed her hand. “You’re right, so I’ll keep it short.” She took a breath. “During all the free counseling sessions I exploited in college, someone in a group session brought it up as a way that she got beyond her past. We talked afterward, she took me to a leather club and the rest clicked into place. I’d finally found where I fit, and no one judged me for it.”

“You know I never would,” Liv whispered.

“I couldn’t risk it. I told you that.”

She had, and Liv let it go. It didn’t matter now. “Can I ask you something else I’ve always wondered about?”

“What is it?”

“Why sports?” She started to shift to see her sister’s face, but V stiffened and Liv stopped. “Okay.” She held on tighter to V’s hand and went on. “After what those football players did to you and all the torment the jocks put you through your senior year, why did you end up representing and defending male athletes? I never understood that.”

“Power,” V said instantly. “Initially. It was a big FU to the group of men who’d hurt me. To have the representation of what I hated coming to me for my help was an amazing rush. I always did—do—my job to help them, but every dumb act was a reminder of exactly how below me the arrogant, conceited assholes who’d hurt me were.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “Then I worked with the nice ones, the humble ones, the ones who just wanted to play their game and be good at what they do. It reminded me that a few assholes didn’t represent an entire group even if I couldn’t let the resentment go. By then I’d proven how good I was at my job. I’m a rare female in a male-dominated profession, and I love the power it gives me. I’ve earned their respect.” She shrugged, her free hand loosening from its fisted hold. “And you know how much I’ve always loved sports. I refused to let those boys steal that love from me, too. That was in my control, and I wasn’t giving it up.”

Her hand fisted again, and Liv squeezed the one she held. Vanessa had just revealed more to Liv with that simple explanation than she’d ever done. So many unanswered questions fell into place, but it also opened up some new ones.

“If you like the power so much, how do respect any of us who don’t want it?” It might be a roundabout way to ask the question, but V followed it.

“But you hold it all, Liv.” It was V’s turn to squeeze her hand. There was a smile in her voice when she continued. “That’s what you’ve never understood and why I love you so much. You hold all the power over me. It’s what most people never get. The submissives have the true power in any BDSM relationship.”

“What?” Liv jerked back, her head banging against the wall. “Ouch. How?”

V chuckled and patted Liv’s hand. “I’d do just about anything for you. You know that, right?”

“It goes both ways, you know?”

“The same goes for Holden,” V said. “I’d do anything for him. I love him that much and I cherish all that he gives me. He could say no.” V shifted and finally met Liv’s eyes with a grave intensity that turned her eyes to dark pools. “He has the power to refuse anything I ask of him. He knows I’ll listen. His trust is both humbling and empowering. I can only do what he’ll allow, but by giving him what he wants, I get more back. It’s an exchange of power that always, always goes both ways, no matter how it looks.”

Liv tried to absorb that. The concept was simple, really, but it was different from the appearance of absolute zero power the submissive had. She was the one who’d insisted she could say no, but it hadn’t sunk in that it was a form of power instead of just an out. “And outside of this room? What then? Where does the power exchange end?”

V brushed her thumb over Liv’s cheek, taking the escaped tear with it. “That’s the thing I’ve learned, Liv. In a good relationship, with or without BDSM in it, it never really does or should. We’ve had crap examples of that in our family, but it should always be a give-and-take.” She wiped her wet thumb on the duvet cover and sat back against the wall. “In BDSM, the dynamic varies too much to give a single answer. Holden is my submissive, always. That said, have you ever noticed anything that would lead you to think that?”

“No,” Liv answered immediately. She didn’t have to think about that at all.

“Exactly.” V smiled. It was a soft expression that warmed her face and removed the edges. “That’s how we work. The mutual respect is always there. I know what he needs, and it’s not to be demeaned or bossed around all the time.”

Understanding was growing within Liv. There’d been nothing disrespectful about what Noah had done to her. The blowjob had been controlled and dominant and about his taking what he wanted, but never once had she felt used. She knew what that was like. College had taught her a few lessons she hadn’t wanted to learn but wouldn’t forget.

“Will you be mad at me?”

V lurched forward, mouth gaping. “For what?”

“If I...” Liv wet her lips, searching for the words that were right there but not. “If I...do this—” she waved a hand at the room, “—with Noah?” She couldn’t say the word
submit
to her strong sister without feeling inferior.

V grabbed both of Liv’s hands and kept them in her solid grip. “If by this, you mean submitting to Noah, then no, Liv, I would never be mad at you if it’s what you want.”

“Even though you’re a Domme?”

“What does that have to do with it?” V frowned. “You are not me.”

“I’m not,” Liv agreed. “I’ve never been as strong as you.”

“Bullshit. You go after what you want and get it without pissing people off. People love you. That is your strength and power.” V leaned in until Liv met her gaze. “What scares me is how much you’re willing to give. You care so much about others you’ll make personal sacrifices to help them.”

“You’re scared for me?”

“All the damn time,” V insisted.

Another concept Liv had never considered. “I had no idea.”

V’s soft laugh was nothing more than a brief humph of sound. “If Noah is the kind of Dom—man—I suspect him to be, then he’ll be scared for you, too.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll care. He’ll know you and be concerned for your health and safety and everything you’re willing to give to anyone you deem worthy.”

“I can take care of myself,” she insisted, the defensiveness creeping back. She tugged her hands from V and tucked them under her arms. “I don’t need a keeper or someone to dictate my life.”