Sparks & Slapshots

Prologue

Skye

The leather feels alien in my hands. Not the familiar sweat-stiffened feel of hockey gloves, but something colder and heavy with intent.

I stand in the middle of the room, my eyes flicking toward the nightstand that holds cuffs, floggers, and blindfolds.

My heart isn’t pounding; it feels like a trapped bird caged by my ribs.

Breathe. Center yourself.

But my center is gone.

The ice I know is a flat, predictable plane with rules. This room is all shadows, and the most terrifying thing kneels three feet away from me.

Alisha.

She’s a vision of perfect, pale submission on the dark rug with her blonde hair spilling over her bare back. The black straps of her lingerie are a scream of trust in this room. Her skin is so fair it almost seems luminous, a blank canvas waiting for a mark. My mark.

This is new to both of us, and I am taking all the right steps to familiarize myself with the title I’ve wanted for so long.

Domme.

My palms are damp, but I curl them into fists.

I need to get a grip and wear this title.

That’s why I’m dressed in a black, tailored suit.

Sharp and unforgiving against the muscles of my legs.

Riding just above my waistline is a sleeveless vest the color of a dark bruise.

A deep plum so dark it’s almost black, clinging to my defined shoulders and chest. The contrast against my dark, espresso skin is bold and intentional.

The dark fabric doesn’t blend; it frames, making the tone of my arms and the column of my throat seem to glow.

My hair, normally a heavy fall of black waves, is pulled back in a knot at the nape of my neck, a few strands escaping to brush my jawline. Every part of this ensemble has a purpose, and I plan to put it all to good use.

If I can just stop stumbling over my own fucking thoughts.

Alisha shifts her weight onto her heels, the sound deafening in the silence. Then, she gets to her feet and walks toward me, her submissive character only lasting a few minutes.

“When you enter my condo, you will remain silent. You will bring your signed contract with the terms you agree to and give yourself over to me. Do you understand?”

“Kinky, babe.”

The whole conversation replays in my mind. Two simple lines of understanding between us. But it still doesn’t feel complete.

I’m still shocked that she signed off on everything. There wasn’t a single thing she didn’t agree to, even the things I wouldn’t do.

“Are you sure about this? You literally checked everything on the contract,” I tell her, feeling her grinding on the leg of my black suit before I even begin to explore her body.

“It’s signed and on the table,” she whispers as her eyes linger on my lips.

“But did you actually look at what you’re agreeing to?” I take a deliberate step back, but she closes the distance between us again.

“It’s on the table,” she repeats in a purred tone, running her tongue up my neck.

I place a firm hand on her chest and take a step back. “I need your verbal consent when agreeing to my terms.” My voice is calm but demanding. “What happens in this room isn’t exactly your standard missionary style, Alisha.”

She takes a step toward me again. “I agree.” Her chin dips toward her exposed chest, but her eyes lock with mine, and I can’t wait to dig into her. She’s curvy in all the right places. Perfection in the black lace thong and garter stockings she chose for tonight.

Alisha and I have been together for a little over a year. She has been with me since shortly after my Aunt Keisha’s health began going downhill, and she was by my side when I was named captain of the hockey team here in Boston.

She is the first person I feel I could truly enjoy a BDSM lifestyle with. If this goes well, there are so many new things I want to do. So many desires I’ve fantasized about behind closed doors that I’ve never been able to bring forward and put into action.

Dominating a female body and using it for pleasure. Hearing her scream my name as the pain pushes her through an orgasm. Watching my hands dance over the marks on her skin to remind her I was there.

I’ve never been open about the things I want in the bedroom for fear of scaring women away. But with Alisha, she always gets a little wild when her inhibitions are down, like when she is drinking, and I think maybe there’s something inside her that would enjoy a mix of pain and pleasure.

I’m hoping her inner plaything shows itself today because I don’t see the same side of her when she’s sober. And I gave her strict rules not to consume a drop of alcohol before coming here.

She said she had signed the contract and checked every box on the form, which tells me she either has no boundaries or she read nothing on that piece of paper.

I fear it’s the latter, but she has a point; I can’t prove otherwise.

I’m sure she’ll be fine with whatever we do, but verbal consent helps me feel more confident.

“What do I do first?” Her voice is silky and sexy.

My lips quirk. It’s time to put my nervousness aside and own this. This is something I’ve wanted for a while, and I’m not holding back. Not when the opportunity is right in front of me, wearing nothing but lace.

“Don’t talk,” I order, falling into the role. “Not unless you’re given permission.”

She smirks but follows instructions.

“Good girl.”

Her head tips back, and it’s at this moment that I learn she enjoys praise.

Noted.

That part was on the form that she claims to have read. Maybe she read it after all.

“Take off my belt.”

Alisha struts in my direction, kneels before me, and undoes the leather belt from my trousers.

Her eyes raise to mine for further instruction, and I give her an appreciative grin.

“Tie it around your neck.”

She listens, and holy shit, my insides are on fire.

Once it’s secured, I grab the excess leather that’s dangling over her breasts and tug on the improvised lead.

My finger dips to her chin, tipping it upward so our eyes meet before claiming her mouth with mine.

She groans, and her hands move up to touch me, but I take a step back and glance at her.

“Don’t touch me without permission.”

She nods and sits like a well-trained dog.

Like the perfect submissive.

I love this way more than I should.

“Remove my pants.”

The feeling of my zipper inching downward has me wanting to rip my pants off myself, but the point of tonight’s session is to test my patience just as much as I test hers. Unfortunately, it seems she’s playing the same game.

She hooks her fingers through the belt loops and tugs so my pants begin to slide off my hips and toward the floor.

“No panties,” she notes in a flirty tone, but clamps a hand over her mouth when she realizes she broke a rule.

“Struggling to listen is more brat than submissive,” I reprimand. I never thought I’d like the brat trait. Turns out I was right.

Her eyes don’t leave mine, and I’m not sure if she did it on purpose to see what happens or if she is still surprised to see me naked beneath my pants.

Seems I still have the upper hand in this game.

I point toward the bed. “All fours.”

She nods and gets to her feet, walking toward the bed and climbing on top, facing the headboard.

“When you don’t listen, you get punished.”

Her back forms a graceful, sloping line that dips into a curve before rising into the full, pale mounds of her exposed ass. I run my hand over her skin, and when I hear her exhale, I swat her backside.

She shrieks at the sensation, and I love the sound so much that I spank her again. Alisha adjusts her position, but I land one last strike. She dodges by rolling and exposing her side. I don’t comprehend her movements in time to stop myself, landing the swat on her arm.

The room goes silent as she freezes. Then, it’s like her entire persona changes in the blink of an eye.

“Ouch!” She grabs the blushing part of her arm and squeezes like it’s an open wound.

Her voice sends me into a whole new frenzy, ready to punish her for breaking the rules. “Don’t spea—”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she interrupts my order, climbing off the bed. “You actually hit me.”

My stomach drops. We’re no longer in character, and I’m realizing she’s actually mad that I spanked her. That my swat missed her ass and landed on her arm.

“It was a spank, Alisha.” I narrow my eyes at her and toy with the paddle in my hands. “For not listening.”

“No, Skye,” she barks. “That’s fucking weird.” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. As if I kidnapped and brought her here against her will.

“You signed the contract,” I snap. “You literally checked off every box, Lish.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps back.

My eyebrows dart up as I stare at her. “What?”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes.

What the fuck is happening here? Is she really going to act like she didn’t agree to this? Like I’m doing this to hurt her?

I take a step forward to comfort her, hold her, whatever it takes to get her to calm down. She looks physically shaken, and now I feel awful for wanting to experiment with her.

This was a mistake.

“I’m sorry, Alisha.” My voice is almost a whisper. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I notice the shine around her makeup. She’s crying.

“Nobody would want to be treated like this, Skye,” she says through clenched teeth. “Nobody wants to be degraded like that. You physically hit me. You left a mark on me!”

My breath catches in my throat. “Alisha, you signed the document. If you didn’t want me to do those things, you shouldn’t have said it was okay.”

“I didn’t read it,” she admits with a shout, her arms dropping by her sides like she’s about to throw a tantrum. “You’re going to regret hurting me, Skye. You’re going to regret fucking hitting me.”

“Alisha,” I breathe, the panic in my chest rising. I never should have done this. I never should have opened up to anyone about the things I wanted to try. Vanilla sex is just as good. I should have stuck with that. “Let’s talk about this. Let’s figure this out and go back to the beginning.”

I walk back to my trousers that are lying in the middle of the floor and start pulling them up over my hips. When I turn back to talk to her, she’s gone.

Before I can do anything else, the door to my condo slams shut.

Alisha left. And I have no idea what the fuck to do.