Chapter 4 Kensie
KENSIE
I’m impatient, sitting in a booth at Club Wyld. I can’t seem to stop my fingers from tapping on the mahogany table, unless I’m glancing at my phone yet again, wondering if Grant has texted.
He’s not even late yet, I tell myself, but it does little to calm me. I’ve felt like this all weekend, unsettled and jumpy. Sick to my stomach, if I’m being honest.
I cancelled my Saturday plans with Gemma, claiming a migraine.
I slept in a fucking hotel all weekend, that’s how unsettled and sick and I felt.
Today I went to work and somehow managed to make it through the day without Gemma getting the truth out of me—though she’d tried, sensing something was off.
I told her that the headache was lingering, so she tried to send me home.
At which point I had promptly freaked the hell out. The last thing I wanted was to be in my apartment all day. And without work to distract me, I was pretty sure I would go insane.
Leaving work I’d given myself a pep talk—I was a grown woman. That asshole didn’t have any control over me anymore. I wasn’t going to let him run me from my home.
I’d barely made it twenty minutes in the apartment before I was texting Grant.
We never meet up on Mondays, but I don’t care. I’d been prepared to beg him to meet me tonight, but he’d agreed right away.
Thank God.
“Hello, gorgeous,” a deep voice murmurs behind me, then a kiss is being pressed to the side of my head. I go rigid for a moment before I take in the scent radiating from the man. Something spicy and masculine, familiar. Then his voice registers—Grant.
I immediately relax, even managing to fix a smile on my face before he comes around the table, taking the chair across from me. His eyes dart across my face and I wonder what he sees there.
But his grin is all hunger and excitement when he meets my eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“A good surprise, I hope?”
His grin grows wolfish. “Always, baby.”
I melt a little, just like I always do when he uses that endearment. There’s always an extra rasp to his voice when he says it. That rasp does things to my core.
“I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to do,” I say quickly, trying to ignore the way his eyes tighten.
“Getting right to it, I see,” he mutters, and I feel a momentary pang. It’s probably rude to immediately tell him how I want him to get me off. The least I can do is indulge in some small talk.
No, a desperate voice in my head says. Not tonight.
I manage a saucy grin as I shrug. “What can I say? I’m pretty excited.”
That has the intended effect of making his eyes go hot and dark.
Ever since we started this arrangement, Grant has encouraged me to be open, to communicate what I need and want from him.
That, after all, was the whole point of Jane arranging this between us.
I need to figure out how to be a confident, unapologetic sexual being.
And Grant gets off on guiding me through that.
“Every bit the Dominant,” Jane had told me with a smirk. “That man will be happy to teach you anything you want to know.”
Well, tonight I want him to teach me something a little different.
“I was thinking you could show me the dungeon in the lower level,” I say, my cheeks getting hot. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but I can tell he’s gone tense on the other side of the table.
“You want that?”
I nod quickly. He’s never taken me down there before.
Sure, we’ve experimented with some restraint and light spanking—this is primarily a BDSM club, after all.
But most of our meetings have been about fantasy.
Like the stranger in the closet role play we’d done last time.
Or the teacher/student set up he’d organized for me a few weeks before that.
Yes, Grant is always in charge. Always fully Dominant over me. Regardless of the particular fantasy, he’s always helping me to explore my submissive side.
But we’ve never crossed the line into the heavier BDSM stuff. The chains and the paddles and the rough stone walls of the dungeons downstairs.
That’s going to change tonight. It has to.
Grant studies me for a moment while my heart pounds. Say yes. Please say yes.
“I’m all for taking things in that direction,” he finally says, and I feel a jolt of triumph. “But—”
I want to cry. No buts! Not tonight, please.
“I think maybe we should build up to the dungeon,” he goes on. “We could start in one of the private rooms, try a few toys, see if you’d like to be restrained. We can explore on your own timeline.”
That sounds so tame I want to scream. I don’t want to explore. My timeline is right fucking now. The last thing I need tonight is careful and restrained.
“I really want to try the dungeon,” I say, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I’ve been fantasizing about it for weeks.”
His eyebrows pop up. “You didn’t mention that.”
I shrug. “I felt shy. But I had a dream about it and I can’t get it out of my head.” It’s not a complete lie—I had dreamed about him taking me down there, but it’s not like I’ve been dying to try it out. Not until tonight, at least.
I let my fingers wrap around his wrist. “I want to try. I know I can trust you to stop if I’m not into it.”
His eyes go soft and I feel a little bit guilty.
I’m manipulating him right now. Saying the things I know he wants to hear so I can get what I want.
He told me once his favorite thing about being with subs at the club was the trust they put in him.
The kinky stuff was great, but having a sub trust him enough to give herself up to him fully was what really did it for him.
But I don’t let myself feel too bad. I need this, need him, tonight. I’m not sure what I’ll do if he says no.
“Okay,” he says, his soft voice like velvet. “God knows I’d love to see you chained up on a St. Andrew’s cross.”
A whole-body shiver runs through me, and his smile grows. “You promise you’ll tell me the second it feels like too much?”
It won’t feel like too much. I’m more worried that it won’t be enough.
“I’ll use my safe word,” I tell him, knowing it’s what he needs to hear.
“Good girl.”
He motions with his hand for one of the club hosts, murmuring something in the man’s ear when he joins us at the table.
“There’s a dungeon open,” the host says. “Is there anything you’d like me to prepare, specifically?”
Grant’s eyes are hungry as they land on my face. “No. I think we’ll have a fantastic time exploring all the amenities ourselves.”
The dungeon is like no room I’ve seen in the club.
I’d peeked in once, when Jane gave me a tour my first night here, but I’d been too overwhelmed by everything to really take it in.
After all, we’d just walked by a room where a woman was being fucked by some kind of machine. While a crowd of people watched.
I try to take it in now. Rough stone walls and dim sconces set the scene.
There are some flickering candles on a few of the surfaces and shadows in every corner.
An entire wall is taken up with a massive stone fireplace, while two roughly hewn wooden cabinets fill another.
There are a few pieces of equipment, but I get distracted by the chains hanging from the walls before I can identify them.
Everything in the space looks dim and harsh and a little frightening.
“Too cold?” Grant asks, and I realize I’m trembling, with fear or excitement, I’m not sure.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“I’ll light a fire,” he says, winking. “Adds to the ambience.”
I don’t really think the place needs more ambience, but I don’t argue. Especially not when the man rolls up his shirt sleeves and starts arranging the wood in the stone hearth. God, he’s so fucking sexy.
This is exactly what I needed tonight.
Once he’s done, he comes back to me. He walks around me a few times, looking me over like I’m a sports car he’s thinking of buying. I shudder, feeling so very objectified in this moment, and loving it.
“This is going to be fun,” he murmurs, running a finger over my throat. But then he comes to stand in front of me and something in his face shifts. He looks worried.
Grant peers into my eyes, and I have to fight not to flinch away. To keep my expression even.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.” I manage a smile, batting my eyelashes. “Excited to get started, of course.”
He doesn’t say anything, just studies my face for far longer than I’m comfortable with.
My stomach starts to feel tight. What if he refuses to play tonight?
What if he sends me home, desperate and unsatisfied?
I don’t think I can handle that. I’d have to go back to the lounge, see if I could find someone else to—
The very thought of seeking out another Dom makes the clenching in my stomach ten times more painful. I don’t want some stranger. I want Grant.
And that should probably scare me more than it does. The last thing I want is to get attached to him. This is supposed to be physical, nothing else.
It’s just because he knows what you like, I tell myself. You’re just comfortable with him. Of course, it would suck to try and start over with a stranger.
But the ache in my chest feels like it might be a lot more than that.
Thank fuck I don’t have to worry about it. After what feels like an endless appraisal, Grant nods his head, taking a step back.
“Dress off. Underwear and bra, too. Leave the shoes on and kneel in the center of the room.
Immediately my body floods with warmth, relief rushing through me. He’s going to make it better.
I hurry to follow his instructions, acutely aware of the sounds of him opening and closing drawers in the cabinet behind me. I shiver a little as I slide my panties down, wondering what tools and toys and he might be gathering. The possibilities are endless.
My heart is pounding as I take the position he directed. A moment later he joins me, running a hand over my bowed head. “Good girl. You look beautiful like this. So submissive for me.”
“Thank you, sir.”