Take Me, Sir

  “All right,” I said. “Tomorrow night, I'll take you to the club.”

  And hope that her brother didn't beat the shit out of me for it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kyndall

  When I left Dean's hotel room, I doubted I'd see him again unless we happened to be invited to the same place, and it'd be easy enough to avoid each other there. It didn't matter how much I'd enjoyed having sex with him, he'd crossed a line, sticking his nose into my business.

  I'd never imagined that he'd show up at my apartment a few hours later and apologize. He hadn't struck me as the sort who'd apologized very often, but he'd been sincere. I'd seen that much in his eyes.

  And then he'd asked me out on a date. Said he wanted to see if there could be more to us than only sex. He'd looked almost as surprised to be saying it as I'd been to hear it. I still wasn't entirely sure what'd prompted me to say that I'd go...if he took me to the sex club where he and his friends went.

  Friends that included my brother.

  I'd said that I wanted more than a taste of his world, and that was the truth, but I was still shocked at his request. The rush I'd gotten, having him in charge, had been heady, almost as much as knowing that he'd stop with just a single word from me. For the first time, I understood the appeal of a Dom / Sub relationship, and I wanted to know more.

  Going to a club that I knew my brother and his wife were members of, however, wasn't the best idea, and I knew it. That was the part I hadn't thought through. Or maybe I had. Maybe a part of me wanted to see how serious Dean was about this relationship he said he wanted. A good way to prove that was to go in public together.

  A better way was to see if Dean would be willing to take me somewhere my brother could see us together and know what we were doing. It was a risk, especially since neither of us knew if this thing between us was worth the possibility of making things more tense between Dalton and me. But Dean seemed to think it was worth the risk, and so did I, which was why I was standing in front of my mirror right now, wondering if what I was wearing was appropriate for going to dinner and then going to a sex club.

  A laugh bubbled up inside me, but it was more from nerves than anything else. I was confident in how I looked, and I'd put myself into unfamiliar situations all the time. Hell, I'd walked into a poker game with men a decade older than me, and it hadn't phased me. Now, though, I was going somewhere that all of my brains and abilities couldn't help me.

  Damn if I was going to let Dean see any of that though.

  I'd chosen one of the few dresses I'd bought for going out, and while it wasn't anything fancy, it showed off all my assets in the best possible way.

  Well, the best possible without me being in lingerie or naked. I didn't care what kind of club we were going to, I wasn't into public displays of indecency. Exhibitionism definitely wasn't one of my things. I might not know exactly all of what I'd like, but that was one I'd set some limits on.

  There was a knock at the door, so I took a deep breath and picked up my purse. I'd asked for him to do this, and I wasn't going to back out now, even if it meant I didn't eat much at dinner.

  By the time we arrived at the club, I was glad I'd managed to eat at least a little because I'd also had two glasses of merlot, and while I wanted to be loose, I didn't want to be too buzzed. Dean and my conversation at the restaurant had been light, the sort of things any couple on a first date might've talked about. It felt a little strange to be talking so plainly, to hold hands, after the two of us had already spent quite a bit of time in bed together, but not nearly as strange as it felt to walk through a heavy set of doors and not know what to expect on the other side.

  My initial impression was that it was fairly normal. Club music played, a little more sensual and less techno than the clubs I'd been to in the past, but not a jarring difference. The first few people who walked past looked pretty normal too. No leather or chains...

  Until another couple passed by wearing nothing but leather and chains, and the fabric covering only the barest of essentials.

  Dean released my hand, moving his to the small of my back. His fingers brushed against the bare skin, tracing trails of fire that made me shiver. He leaned a little closer and put his lips against my ear.

  “You all right, love?”

  I nodded. I could do this. I wanted to do this.

  Suddenly, I felt him tense, and I knew things were going to get seriously awkward. I followed his line of sight and let out a small sigh of relief when I saw Cross and Hanna coming toward us. I could tell the moment they recognized me because their eyes widened, and they both tried to act like they weren't sneaking looks at each other, and failing.

  “Kyndall, right?” Cross said as he held out a hand.

  “Hi.” I shook his hand, then Hanna's. When I had kids, I could only hope I got my figure back as quickly as she was regaining hers. “You look amazing.”

  She smiled, increasing the resemblance to her sister. “Juliette mentioned you'd decided to stay in LA.” Her eyes flicked over to Dean, and I knew she was wondering if he was the reason why.

  “I'd been thinking about moving back to the West Coast after graduation and decided LA was a better fit than farther north,” I explained.

  “I completely understand that,” she said. “Sometimes we just need to get away from all the expectations and pressure, no matter how much we love our family.”

  “Exactly.”

  I'd forgotten about Juliette telling me how she and Hanna both had felt the need to get away from the town in Ohio where they'd grown up. Juliette had come out west first, with Hanna following last year. I gave her a harder look, wondering if she was just young-looking or if we were closer in age than I'd originally thought. After all, marriage and a child didn't always mean older.

  “Speaking of family...” Cross said, his gaze moving across the crowd.

  Dean's hand shifted, and for a moment, I thought he was going to move away from me. Then it settled again, his thumb making circles against my spine, as if he was silently apologizing for the hesitation.

  Dalton and Juliette stepped through the crowd a moment later, and the expression on my brother's face said Dean hadn't earned any brownie points for bringing me here tonight.

  Too fucking bad.

  “Dalton, Juliette, good to see you both.” Dean's tone was overly polite.

  Dalton made an annoyed sound as he scowled at the floor. Juliette, however, smiled at both of us. They didn't seem to be fighting, at least. While I appreciated her support, I didn't want my problems with Dalton to become an issue in their relationship.

  “What do you think, Kyndall?” She gestured around us, then spoke to her sister and Cross, “It's her first time in a club like this.”

  I flushed, and Hanna gave me a sympathetic look.

  “It can be a little overwhelming at first,” she said. “Just relax and have fun.”

  “Dean will take care of you.” There was a warning in Juliette's voice that said if he didn't, he'd have to answer to her.

  Hanna leaned close and put her hand on my shoulder. “I'm fairly new to all of this, too, so if you ever need to talk, I'm here.”

  Dalton took a step toward me, but Juliette's grip on his hand held him back. She looked at me as she spoke, “We're going to check out a VIP room.”

  “And we're going to dance,” Cross said as he wrapped his arm around Hanna's waist.

  The other couples moved off, and I felt some of the tension go out of Dean. Without a word, he used the hand on my back to steer me through the crowd over to an elegant flight of carpeted stairs. He angled himself behind me as we went up the stairs, as if he didn't want anyone catching a glimpse of what was under my skirt.

  “We're going to watch tonight,” he said as we reached the second floor and he fell into step next to me again. It was a bit quieter up here, and definitely less crowded.

  “Watch?” I frowned. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but watching hadn't been it.

 
“Trust me,” he said with a hint of a smile.

  A beautiful redhead came toward us, her gaze sliding over Dean with clear lust in her eyes. Before I could be annoyed, she looked at me the same way.

  “Are you two wanting to play?” Her voice was husky. “I can be as good, or as bad, as you like.”

  The smile Dean gave her was kind, but not sexual. “Thank you, but no.”

  “If you change your mind,” she looked at me, “come find me. We could have a lot of fun.”

  She sauntered away, and Dean started walking again, as if these were the sorts of conversations people had every day. I followed him over to a small, shadowed alcove. A sort of chaise sat there, turned so that we could have a clear view of the stage below, but no one up here could see us unless they came right over. He sat down, stretching one leg along the back of the chair while the other foot stayed on the floor.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the spot between his legs.

  I did, flushing as I leaned back against him. “Do you know her?”

  “Know who?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  His breath was hot against my ear, making me shiver. “The redhead,” I said.

  “No, but I've seen her perform.”

  “Perform?”

  I felt him smile as his arms tightened around me. The music changed slightly, and I heard murmurs coming up from below.

  “See the stage down there?”

  I nodded.

  “Just watch, love. This is the best way for you to see what my world has to offer...and if you want to be a part of it.”

  I heard a hint of vulnerability in his voice, so I half-turned so that I could see his face. “I've liked the parts I've seen so far.”

  He didn't look completely convinced as he lifted his chin toward the stage. “Then see more.”

  For a moment, I wasn't sure what he wanted me to see, but then I saw three people walking up onto the platform, two women and a man. One woman was blonde, the other had darker hair, but they both had the same slender build, made all the more obvious by their outfits. Matching red bras and panties, and heels so high that I wondered how they could walk.

  The man wore a pair of leather pants and a sheer sort of shirt that showed the tattoos he had underneath. I saw the glint of something I thought might be a piercing, but I was too far away to tell for certain.

  As I watched, chains descended from the ceiling to where the two women stood at center stage. They stayed still, heads bowed, as he fastened leather restraints around their wrists. The chains retracted then until the women's arms were extended out and up.

  “Legs apart.” The man's voice was harsh, and the women immediately obeyed without raising their heads. “Don't come until I give you permission.”

  “Yes, Master,” they said in unison.

  “Don't make a sound. Don't move.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Are they both his...Subs?” I asked Dean.

  “They are,” he answered. “I've seen them perform before. The blonde is a total Submissive, but the brunette is a switch.”

  “A switch?”

  “She can be both dominant and submissive,” he explained. “And in that relationship, she dominates the blonde, but only when their Master tells her to.”

  I made a sound of acknowledgment, filing away the information for future reference. On stage, the man was standing between the two women, his hands between their spread legs. I didn't need to be close to them to know what his fingers were doing, even if the women's faces were impassive, as if they didn't really feel his touch.

  “How can they stay so still?” I asked, pressing my thighs together. Arousal thrummed there, and I was only watching. I didn't understand how they could not feel anything.

  “Training.” Dean's fingers slid across my stomach, then up to caress the undersides of my breasts. “Lots and lots of training.”

  “So they don't feel it?”

  “I'm sure they feel it,” he said. “But they've trained their bodies to obey their Master above what they feel.”

  I couldn't imagine having Dean's fingers inside me, stroking the most intimate parts of me, and not making a sound, not moving. “How?”

  Dean's lips brushed my ear. “Reward and punishment.”

  Something low inside me clenched tight, and I took a moment to think of how those three words shouldn't have had that particular effect. My voice shook slightly. “How does that work, exactly?”

  He kissed the side of my neck. “Simply put, when a Dom gives his Sub a command and he or she obeys, there's a reward. When they refuse or are unable, then there's a punishment.”

  Again, that primal, heated twisting.

  “What are the rewards?”

  His fingers brushed over my nipples. “It can vary from relationship to relationship, but I've always been partial to pleasure for rewards and denial for punishment.” He nipped at my throat. “Though pain can sometimes work wonders too.”

  The words punishment and pain should've sent me running.

  But they didn't.

  What they did was make me wonder about all those wonderful words.

  Punishment.

  Pain.

  Pleasure.

  I didn't care about what Dalton thought. Being here hadn't changed anything for me. If anything, it'd solidified my decision.

  I wanted this.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dean

  I was being pulled in half a dozen directions, and the only thing that I knew for certain was that I wanted Kyndall more than ever.

  Dalton was pissed at me even though I could tell that Juliette had been working on him about Kyndall and me. If he didn't come around, I could lose his friendship for good, and it could seriously mess up things between him and Kyndall. But she seemed to be willing to risk it, so I wasn't going to complain.

  As for her, she was getting what she wanted: more than a taste of my world.

  Any of which could send her running at any time.

  For her relationship with Dalton, I knew I should want her to go. For me, however, I couldn't quite bring myself to wish for it. More than anything I'd ever wanted, I wanted her to see this part of my life and accept it. In the past, I'd always separated my encounters with women into vanilla and not. Since they were never anything more than sex or the occasional social event, it was easy to not care if a particular woman was inclined to enjoy certain aspects of my sexual preferences.

  With Kyndall, I cared about what she thought, about how all of this made her feel. As I wrapped my arms around her waist and waited to see how she'd respond to the show, I knew I'd be willing to compromise on sex if it meant keeping her. I still wasn't entirely sure what that meant, or even if this thing between us could translate into something other than what it currently was, but I was going to try to make it work.

  I'd never been the sort of man who was afraid of commitment or had issues with the idea of a long-term relationship. I'd simply never met a woman who made me think of things that way. Always, in the past, when I made plans for the future, it was only me. Now, I thought of things like taking a trip back to London with Kyndall so she could meet my parents or taking her into consideration when I thought of buying a permanent place here in LA.

  The women on stage came simultaneously, their cries carrying well above the sounds of the crowd and the music. I barely registered any of that though. My full attention was on the woman in my arms, on her ragged breathing, the flush spreading across her smooth skin.

  “What's he doing now?”

  Kyndall's quiet question made me turn my eyes toward the stage. The Dom was moving behind the women, and the crop he now carried told me what he had planned.

  “He's going to use the crop on them,” I said, watching Kyndall out of the corner of my eye.

  “Use it?”

  I nodded, kissing her shoulder. “People who enjoy giving or receiving pain often use floggers, crops, whips, and hands when it comes to certain kinds of pain.
It all depends on the pair. Or the group, in some cases.”

  She flinched as the Dom brought the crop down with a sharp crack on the blonde's ass. The Sub whimpered, but it was a clear sound of pleasure.

  “Why so many options?”

  “Each one feels different,” I answered as I traced my fingers across her collarbone and along her neckline. She shivered as my fingers caressed the tops of her breasts. “In a way, BDSM is about two things: control and sensation. They manifest in so many ways that one may not always see their true nature, but the use of, say, a crop, produces a certain sensation.”

  “Pain.”

  Three cracks in quick succession, one more for the blonde, and then two for the brunette. The Dom then circled around to the front.

  “Sometimes,” I said. I ran my fingers through her hair. “Each person has their own threshold for pain, their own way of interpreting pain.”

  “What do you...oh.”

  Her question had been interrupted by the Dom using the crop on the blonde's breast, the tip striking the lace-covered nipple with practiced precision. The blonde gasped, arching her back toward the Dom.

  “You know how a bite can hurt and feel good at the same time?” I nipped at her earlobe, and she nodded. “It's the same principle.”

  The brunette cried out when the crop came down on her breast.

  “How do you know what feels good?”

  I slid my hands over her breasts, loving the weight of them against my palms. “Practice.”

  She stood so suddenly that I thought she'd had enough, but the moment my eyes met hers, I knew that wasn't the case.

  “Your place or mine?”

  “Are you certain this is what you want?” I asked as I opened the door to my suite.

  She walked past me, stopped, and turned. With her gaze firmly on me, she slipped the straps of her dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. The black lace panties and bra she wore covered just enough to tease.