Chapter 29
Skye
Today, I'm meeting Gage at Club Red for the first time since my mom's funeral. I need this because Club Red has always been my safe place. As I pull into the parking lot, I get a text from Gage.
Gage: Going to be a few minutes late, had a meeting run over. Head to the bar, and I'll meet you there.
Me: Ok. Drive safe.
It feels strange walking into Club Red without the heaviness of grief sitting quite so close.
It's still there, humming low in my bones, but I can breathe, just a little.
I haven't been back since the funeral, since everything in my life tilted off its axis.
But this place is safe and familiar. It's where I found myself, and right now, I need to remember who I am.
The low hum of music wraps around me the moment I step inside. While the scent of leather, musk, and spice curling through the air is like a welcome home. The lighting is dim, warm, sensual. I drift toward the bar, where Jax is wiping down the counter.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he says with a grin, tossing the rag aside.
I smile for the first time in what feels like forever. "Hey, Jax. It's been a minute."
He leans on the bar, studying me. "You doing okay?"
I nod. "Getting there. Just needed to be here tonight."
"Well, I’m glad to see you. Want your usual?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
He slides the drink across the bar, and I take a sip, letting the flavors settle me. We talk for a while, catching up on life at the club, the new members, and some juicy gossip. For a little while, it feels like old times.
"Did you hear about Mistress Lila and Master Dean?" Jax asks, eyebrows wiggling.
"No. What happened?"
"Caught them going at it in one of the private rooms after accidentally setting off a fire alarm."
I laugh, the sound surprising me. "You're kidding."
"Wish I was. Security had to fish them out. Naked, and still trying to argue who was topping who."
"That sounds about right," I say with a chuckle. "Anyone new I should avoid?"
He leans in with a mock whisper. "That new guy, Marcus? Thinks being a Dom means barking orders like he's in the military."
I wince. "Yikes. Doms who haven't learned the difference between control and respect are the worst."
"Exactly. You were always good filtering those guys out."
"Only because I had great teachers," I say, smiling softly.
Then a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
"Skye?"
I turn and see Dante. Tall, confident, and as polished as ever in his dark, tailored suit. He slips onto the stool beside me like no time has passed at all.
"Dante," I say with a laugh, genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here tonight?"
"Checkin' in on my favorite troublemaker," he says with a wink. "Jax said ye were back. Figured I'd pop by an' say hi"
We fall into easy conversation, reminiscing about when I first joined and how lost I was.
He helped me navigate the rules, the people, and the entire lifestyle.
He's the one who taught me the difference between submission and weakness, and the one who stood up for me when someone tried to take advantage.
"I heard about yer mam," he says quietly and rests a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry."
"Thanks," I whisper. "It's been a lot."
"Yer lookin' good. Strong."
"Trying."
His smile softens. "Ye don't have ta try. Ye just are."
A pair of strong arms suddenly wraps around my waist from behind and Dante removes his hand from my arm. I recognize the scent before I even see his face. Gage.
"Hey," he says against my ear, his voice low and possessive.
I turn and smile. "You made it!"
His eyes flick to Dante, who's watching us with a curious glint in his eyes. Gage doesn't let go. If anything, his grip tightens.
"Dante," he says flatly.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. " Relax, will ya? I’m only catchin’ up with an old friend."
Gage doesn't respond, his gaze locked on mine.
"I’m heading out," Dante says, standing. He claps Gage on the shoulder. " Ye’ve a good one there. Mind her well. "
"I do," Gage says, still watching him leave.
We don't speak as we walk back to his room. The air carries a weight, not sharp like tension, but something heavier. We step inside, and he closes the door, then turns to me.
"I know he set us up but how did you to meet?"
Leaning against the door, I study Gage's face. There's something in his expression I can't quite read, not jealousy exactly, but something territorial.
"Dante was my mentor when I first joined the club," I say. "He taught me the ropes, literally and figuratively. Made sure I knew how to protect myself, how to recognize red flags. He protected me and still sponsors my membership I’ve told you this."
Gage's jaw ticks. "So, he was your Dom."
"Yes, but he never touched me in the way you are thinking. He made sure no one else did either until I knew what I was doing. He's always had my back."
"I don't like how he looks at you," Gage says, moving closer. His fingers trace along my jawline, tilting my face up to his. "Like he knows parts of you I don't."
I swallow, feeling the heat of his touch spread through me. "He knows the old me. The me before grief. Before you."
Gage's eyes darken. "And who are you now, Skye?"
"I'm still figuring that out," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I know I'm yours."
He exhales hard, some of the tension bleeding out. "Still. Seeing you with him... it did something to me."
Slowly, I step toward him, unbuttoning his shirt and removing it. My voice softer now. "You think I'd ever let someone else touch me? After you? After everything we've been through?"
He doesn't answer.
I guide him to the bed and give him a gentle push until he sits. Then, slowly, I climb into his lap, straddling him, kissing the corner of his mouth.
"Trust goes both ways," I whisper.
He starts to say something, but I press my finger to his lips. "Let me."
I move behind him, find the cuffs he keeps in the drawer, and gently secure his wrists to the headboard. He allows it at first, his body taut with curiosity. But the second the cuffs click into place, his eyes flash.
"Skye."
"What? You don't trust me?"
"That's not it."
"Then what is it?" I ask, climbing over him again. "Because if we don't have trust, we have nothing."
He tugs against the cuffs. "It's not about trust. It's about control."
"Exactly. And you're not the only one who gets to have it."
I see the battle in his eyes. The Dom in him fighting against the vulnerability of this moment. For someone like Gage, relinquishing control isn't just uncomfortable, it's foreign territory.
"I need you to see me," I tell him. "Not just as someone you protect or command. But as someone who chooses to submit to you. There's power in that choice."
His chest rises and falls with each breath. "I've never been on this side."
"I know." I smile, leaning in to press my lips against his neck. "That's why it matters."
He stills, then slowly nods. "Fine. Show me."
I smile against his skin, savoring this small victory. "Safe word?"
"Red," he says, voice tight.
"Good boy."
His eyes narrow at that, but I see the flicker of heat in them too. This is new ground for both of us.
I take my time undressing, letting him watch as each piece of clothing falls away. His gaze follows my every movement, hungry and restrained. When I'm naked, I stand before him, letting him look his fill.
"This is what submission feels like," I tell him. "Being seen. Being vulnerable. Trusting someone else with your pleasure."
I climb back onto the bed, straddling him again, feeling the rough denim of his jeans against my bare skin. He strains against the cuffs, muscles flexing.
"Skye," he warns.
"Patience." I trace my fingers down his chest, watching him shiver under my touch. "You're always so in control. Always taking care of everyone else. When's the last time someone took care of you?"
He doesn't answer, but I see vulnerability flicker across his face.
I lean down and kiss him slowly, deeply, swallowing his groan. When I pull back, his pupils are blown wide.
"I want to worship you," I whisper against his lips. "The way you worship me."
Working my way down his body with my mouth, I press kisses to his collarbone, his chest, and the ridged muscles of his stomach. He's tense beneath me, fighting the urge to take control, to flip our positions and pin me beneath him.
When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I glance up at him. His eyes are burning, jaw clenched tight.
"Color?" I ask softly.
He hesitates, then exhales. "Green."
With deliberate slowness, I unbutton his jeans, drawing down the zipper tooth by tooth. His breath hitches as I pull the denim down his legs, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs, the outline of his arousal evident.
"You're beautiful like this," I tell him, running my hands along his thighs.
"I'm not beautiful," he growls. "I'm…"
"Shhh." I place my finger against his lips again. "My turn to decide what you are."
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, freeing him. His cock springs up, hard and ready. I wrap my hand around him, feeling him pulse beneath my touch. His head falls back against the headboard with a soft thud.
"This is what it feels like," I murmur, stroking him slowly. "To want to please someone so badly it hurts. To need their approval, their pleasure, more than your own."
His hips buck involuntarily into my hand. "Skye," he groans, my name a prayer on his lips.
I lower my head, taking him into my mouth, and his whole body jerks. The cuffs rattle against the headboard as he instinctively pulls against them. Taking my time, I savor the way he tastes and the sounds he makes when I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock.
"Fuck," he hisses, muscles straining.
I pull back, replacing my mouth with my hand again. "You want to touch me, don't you?" I ask, pumping him slowly.
"Yes," he breathes, voice strained.
"Tell me what you want."