Chapter Eight #2
Her wavy brown hair is swept up into a loose twist, exposing her slender neck and that dusting of freckles I know rests just above her cleavage.
She’s dressed in a simple but elegant slip dress, the deep amethyst fabric draping over her curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination.
The dress settles around her feet in a pool of slippery satin, with one slit up her left leg exposing her soft skin to mid-thigh.
From here, I can’t make out a panty line, and the thought of her bare beneath that dress is torture.
I’ve wanted to make her mine since the moment I first laid eyes on Sutton Hart, and now she’s here, in my world, ripe for the claiming.
If only it were that easy.
If only her presence here wasn’t a deliberate act of warfare. It’s too easy to forget that part, too tempting to allow myself to get swept up in the fact that she’s here. The prospect of Sutton Hart on her knees, in full submission, makes my mouth water.
Sutton’s presence here is the worst temptation, the most difficult test… because I’ve wanted her for so damn long, and now she seems almost within my grasp.
It’s too good to be true.
Isn’t it?
As I debate my fate, my adversary decides to wander.
And I am helpless against the urge to follow.
I need to know why she’s here, what she wants. And, most importantly, what it will take to keep her from exposing this aspect of my life and blowing up my entire world.
My jaw clenches as I move through the room, ignoring anyone who tries to get my attention.
I’m never overtly friendly as Dominus, but now even less so.
I’m on guard, under threat. I don’t have time to woo the prospective new clients when one of them might be here to collect intel she can leverage me with.
I’ll leave that to the other Dominants in attendance.
She slips down a quiet hallway and I quickly follow, closing the distance between us in three long strides. She pauses near a doorway and I wait on bated breath for her to feel my presence.
The seconds tick by, slowly counting down until this woman brings my world crumbling down around me.
To our right is an off-limits bedroom, reserved for club business only tonight.
Leading Sutton into this room would be wrong.
Even as the owner of the home, club rules stand during club-hosted events.
I cannot bring a prospect into a members-only space.
My gaze flicks to the closed door to the restroom.
I need to get her alone. I can’t risk anyone overhearing us and discovering my true identity—or worse, realizing that the integrity of our exclusive and very private club has been breached.
There are rules for a reason and I cannot break them.
Even if seeing her here has me spinning out of control on the inside, the outside is still Dominus, masked Dominant and high-clearance member of The Rabbit Hole. I cannot jeopardize that, no matter who stands before me.
The door to the bathroom opens and Sutton tenses, shrinking against the wall like she wants to become one with the flocked velvet wallpaper.
A couple strides out, not even noticing us as they head down the opposite hallway.
After a quick beat, Sutton hurries forward, disappearing into the bathroom—
And I lunge after her, slipping in behind her before I’ve had a chance to realize what a mistake I’m making.
She gasps as I close and lock the door, then she presses against the opposite wall, watching me like a hawk.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, my voice distorted by the modulator within my mask.
Sutton jumps, startled by the rough, robotic sound of my words, then she bows her head. “I’m sorry.” She gulps. “Is there another restroom I could use?”
Frowning, I clarify, “No, I mean you shouldn’t be here, in my home.”
Her eyes widen as my words sink in, then her shoulders droop. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sir.”
My cock jumps at the words, the submissive tone of her voice, the way she lowers her head in deference. Has she… has she been to a kink club before?
No. That would be too good to be true. And the way she called me sir has my hackles up.
Is she mocking me?
I pull in a deep breath, struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing with my own goddamn eyes.
I can’t seem to rectify the woman I know with the submissive standing before me.
If she knows it’s me behind this mask, she might be struggling with the very same affliction.
There are dual versions of the man she knows, and until now, I’ve managed to keep this one hidden from the general public.
Sutton swallows, the sound audible in the cramped space. The soft glow from the cluster of lit candles decorating the surface of the bathroom counter gives me the perfect view of her slender throat as it bobs.
“What are you doing here?”
Her mouth opens on a response, but then it closes and she frowns. “I don’t…” She purses her lips for a beat, then asks, “In the bathroom?”
I grunt. Is she fucking with me? “No, what are you doing at a club event? How did you get in?”
“I was invited?”
“Is that a question?”
She huffs. “No,” she says, the sound bordering on a growl. “I was invited.”
My eyes flick back and forth between hers, searching for some semblance of intent in her eyes, but I come up short. I don’t understand. “What do you want?”
“I…” Her brows furrow above her delicate lace mask. “I’m observing,” she finally says, and my breath catches.
Even though I knew why she was here, a small, foolish part of me hoped it wasn’t true. But if she’s observing, it’s very likely I was right. Sutton is here to gather intel against me. Or worse.
Dread settles into my bones.
“Observing,” I repeat, the word sounding like water over gravel, thanks to my mask.
“I don’t have to participate, do I?”
Her question catches me off guard. “What?”
“I was told… um… that I don’t have to participate if I’m not ready, but… is this room off limits? Am I”—she pauses to look around the room, eyes widening slightly—“in a scene?” She whispers that last part as if the words are foreign to her.
“This is a bathroom,” I state slowly.
She chews on the inside of her cheek, using her knuckle to push her cheek in, and I narrow my eyes. I can’t recall a time that I’ve ever seen this woman nervous.
Watching her, I consider whatever the fuck is going on. If she’s here for a fight, she’s certainly playing the role of clueless submissive well.
Oscar-worthy acting.
We stand in silence for a few long moments while I assess the situation.
Was I wrong about her? Has she not come to ruin me?
Is this… could she actually be here, in my home, completely by coincidence?
Finally, I decide to play along. “Do you want to participate?”
She drops her hand to her side and her eyes widen behind her mask. “Oh, um…” She tugs that bottom lip between her teeth and I curl my hands into fists to keep from reaching up and tugging it free. “Maybe…?”
Her answer nearly robs me of breath.
Pulling myself together, I ask, “What do you have in mind?” even though I’m pretty sure the other shoe is about to drop right on my head. She’ll scream Gotcha!, then snap a bunch of pictures of me and quickly hand them over to the Bleacher Report tipline.
She spends some time chewing on her cheek again and I grunt. “Stop that.” Before I can stop myself, I reach for her hand and pull it away from her cheek, then drop it like she’s burned me.
Close the fuck enough—we don’t physically engage with clients here without explicit consent.
She’s made a mess out of me.
“May I touch you?” I ask, the question spilling from my lips before I can think better of it.
Shit. Fuck.
What am I doing?
She gives the subtlest of nods, but even though her approval makes my pulse kick up, that’s not enough.
“We use words here, Su—” I catch myself before saying her name, squeezing my eyes shut as confusion and desire war within me. “So,” I quickly correct, “that no one is confused. Consent must always be verbally given.”
“Who are you?” she asks without looking up at me. There’s a slight tremor in her shoulders each time she draws in a breath. I can’t tell if it’s trepidation or anticipation. “I mean, what do I call you?”
Oh, she’s good. Really playing it up.
“Here, I am to be addressed as Dominus.”
“Dominus,” she repeats, my name so soft on her lips I nearly miss it.
“Or Sir.” I swallow past the thickness in my throat. I can’t tell if I’m coming or going, and no one has thrown me off my game like this in… well, ever.
At least, no time that I can quickly recall.
After a moment, she nods, head still bowed in effortless submission. “Y-yes, Sir,” she whispers.
I blink, staring down at her in frozen surprise because she’s simply responding to my name and preferred way to be addressed, right? She couldn’t possibly be giving me permission to touch her after all these years of pushing me away.
Desire builds low in my groin.
My palms itch to mark her.
My cock begs to claim.
But she wants to blow up my world. I have to remember that. She’s not here to kneel at my feet; she’s here to knock me off of them.
I wonder what it took Sutton to convince herself to come here, to step onto my turf with the intention to ruin me. Is she having second thoughts? Now that she’s here, in my world, is her bravado slipping away? I grind my teeth, torn between wanting to scream at her for crossing this line…
And wanting to show her what I can offer her if she’d only give in to the attraction between us, the unmatched chemistry.
Sutton Hart makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.
“Am I safe here?” she whispers.
Safer than anywhere else in the world. “Look at me.”
She lifts her head and the hesitant look in those eyes knocks the wind from my lungs. It takes me a moment to be able to respond. “Yes, you are safe here. You are safe with me.”
She gives the subtlest of nods. “Then please touch me,” she whispers, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Fuck me, I’m a weak man.