Damaged Goods (2 page)

“Oh.” Riley’s voice fairly dripped with disappointment. Despite her very unconventional relationship, she still was a traditional girl and felt Brice should settle down. “You know, there is this lovely girl at the center that I’ve been getting really close to. She just started about eight months ago and she’s so cute and sweet and hmphh.” This time Cade’s hand saved Brice.

“No, Ry,” he said. “No matchmaking. This is my favorite cousin, and I won’t have him terrified that every time he comes around you’ll have a woman waiting to pounce.”

“Thanks for the offer.” Brice smiled. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for the fairy-tale ending to my bachelorhood.”

“Seriously, Brice,” Cade said, obviously not wanting to leave him on his own in the condition he was in. “Why don’t you join us? If not tonight, then soon. It’s been several months since we last had the pleasure, and I think you’re right, Riley
does
need a spanking.”

The air around the table got heavy with silence while Cade stared at Riley, Trevor looked to Brice, and Brice and Riley locked gazes. Brice knew that the three of them were a solid unbreakable unit, and the lines there were clearly drawn. They were, however, definitely of the BDSM lifestyle, and part of that lifestyle included exhibition. He also knew that he was the only person the men trusted enough to indulge in that with. Every time they offered it left him humbled and aroused. Although the club had a special section just for BDSM, his cousin and Trevor rarely took Riley there. They preferred to keep her to themselves.

As a waitress set a plate of mouthwatering food in front of him, Brice considered their offer.

He seldom got to indulge that part of himself. Quick cheap thrills were not the environment for BDSM play because, contrary to popular belief, it was all about trust. Nobody trusted someone they’d only hooked up with for an hour.

However, as he ate his dinner and caught up on family news, he thought tonight he was going to get everything he could out of that one hour and hope it would be enough.

Chapter Three

Brice strode out past the bar and headed for the dance floor as soon as he entered the club. It was packed tight with people pressing in all around him. Like a laser, he focused on a curvy blonde at the edge of the dancers. She was barely clothed in a halter-top that draped in the front and was only held together in the back by two small gold chains. What passed for her skirt flashed the smooth, round cheeks of her ass every time she moved. For what he had in mind, she was perfect.

The music was a primal beat that fueled the fever raging in his blood. He pushed past one couple dancing so close it was hard to tell whose limbs were whose. He stumbled when another couple backed into him. He shoved the man back without taking his eyes off his target. Then a slender redhead drifted in and out of his line of sight.

He’d always been a sucker for red hair, and it never even registered to him that he’d automatically changed directions as soon as he saw her. Brice was like a cat on the hunt and new, more tempting prey had been sighted. He closed in like the predator he was. A smile of unabashed delight spread across his face when she left the dance floor and headed for the club’s private playrooms.

Two beefy bodyguards stood on either side of the entrance. They nodded politely to Brice’s target, and she passed into the darkened hallway without slowing. A man with a shaved and tattooed head tried to pass next and was stopped by the guard on the left. Brice didn’t wait to see the outcome, just nodded to the other guard and walked right in.

The playrooms in the club were a whole different world from the club. Brice often thought that if the club were a body, the playrooms would be its heart. In the playrooms people were stripped down to the basic primal animal. No pretense, no façade, no fronts. Everyone here came for sex, unapologetically seeking what the body craved. Whether Dom, sub, voyeur or anything in between, this was the place where that part of someone thrived.

The chaos and noise from the dance area faded to a distant hum as he neared the lounge. In this section, the music was low and instrumental. The seating here was primarily sofas and deep, overstuffed chairs. There was a long mahogany bar along the back wall and behind it, instead of the traditional display of bottles, there was a display of a different sort.

A woman was tied standing spread-eagle on a rotating platform. She was blindfolded and naked. There were red marks from a recent flogging on her breasts and thighs. Brice guessed she must have taken her flogging well, because her Dom was currently kneeling between her legs, eating her to a screaming climax. As it peaked, the small crowd at the bar gave murmurs of encouragement and cheers, obviously appreciating the show.

Brice paid them little attention, his focus still on his target. She headed straight for the main desk, and he hung back to see what she would check in as. In this section of the club, safety was king, and it was members-only. Every person who joined had to pass a strict screening that included background checks, a psych evaluation and a clean medical screening, the last of which had to be renewed every three months.

The check-in area looked a lot like a coat check you’d find in most any high-end restaurant. In a way, it was. Subs and Doms alike turned in all personal items there to be picked up when they left. What was different about this coat check was when you traded in your belongings you got either a collar or an armband instead of a ticket stub. Doms got armbands, subs got a collar.

Brice relaxed and leaned against the doorframe while he waited as the slender redhead traded in her sparkling gold bag. He couldn’t have been more thrilled when the young woman behind the counter handed back a collar.

“Why is this one yellow?” he heard her ask.

“Because you’re not a first timer anymore,” Brice answered from where he stood. She jumped and turned to him, and Brice got a look at her from the front for the first time.

She had eyes that seemed to swallow up her heart-shaped face. They were as green as spring grass, and Brice took a moment to admire their beauty before he went on. Her features were delicate, with a small nose, high cheekbones and a slight dimple in her slightly rounded chin. She had a luscious mouth that was painted a glossy peach, and he wanted nothing more than to take a bite. He’d already noticed that she was taller than average and slender, and now he saw that although slim, she was not lacking in curves.

“The red collar is only for a sub’s first three visits. I take it this is your fourth visit?” He didn’t need her nod or the, “Yes it is, Master Brice” from Candy, the check-in girl, to let him know he was right. It was all there in her expression.

He kept his eyes on her as he stepped forward and walked behind the counter. A quick look at the collar clutched in her hands assured him she wasn’t already taken. A claimed sub had cuffs attached to her collar, or at least a chain. This one had neither. With a nod to Candy conveying she should keep an eye on the sub for him, he went to stow his things and get his band.

He wasn’t gone for a minute, but he was still impressed that she hadn’t moved at all while waiting. It boded well for what he had in mind. Her eyes fixated on the black band he now had on his bicep as he rounded the counter and approached her.

“Eyes down, sub,” he said as he took the collar from her fingers and clasped it on her slender neck. When she instinctively tried to step back and didn’t lower her eyes, he gathered the hair at her nape and held tight. He applied stronger and stronger pressure until she gave a small gasp and arched into his grip. “I know you are new, but even with only three nights here, you would have been taught the basics.” He watched her for signs of reluctance or discomfort as she struggled to obey him.

What he saw was a strong, independent young woman who was having trouble coming to terms with the submissive side of her nature. Her pupils were dilated, there was a flush in her cheeks and her lips were parted and moist. All signs that she was aroused by what was happening. She also had her fists clenched and her eyebrows wrinkled in a frown. That showed him that she was not quite comfortable with the knowledge that this was exciting her.

It was just the combination of emotions that a Dom found irresistible. At least a Dom like him. Here was a woman who had a whole world of discovery ahead of her. The thought of all the firsts that she had yet to experience was a heady rush.

“You know,” he said in a mild voice, “there are Doms out there who like subs already trained and broken in. Subs who know the rules and will bend and yield to their Will readily and easily.” He smiled and tightened his grip on her hair. “I am not that kind of Dom.”

Terryn gulped and tried not to squeak. This guy was seriously hot. He had to be over six feet, with dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and a great face. It was classic, she thought, and so beautifully male it made her think of men like Cary Grant and Rock Hudson, back when tall, dark and handsome was really tall and dark and handsome.

Here he was, movie-star perfect, and he was a Master. A Master who had her by the hair. Terryn wondered if maybe she was home in bed, because this had to be a dream.

“Um.” Terryn wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak or not, but she risked it. “I have had some training.” He quirked an eyebrow at her in an expression that spoke volumes, and she finally lowered her eyes and added, “Sir. Um, Master?” Something in her chest warmed when he chuckled and released her hair.

“Come with me, little sub, and you can tell me just what kind of training you’ve had so far.” He turned and walked toward the lounge area.

She risked a quick look at Candy, who’d been very helpful and nice on her previous visits. Candy gave her a smile and thumbs-up that Terryn decided was approval of the Dom. Then she hurried after him, with eyes down. She only lowered them as far as it took to watch the way the muscles in his rear moved and flexed as he walked. The man had one fine rearview.

“Sub.” Terryn jumped in surprise when he spoke over his shoulder, “Eyes on the floor.”

With a guilty blush that she felt staining her cheeks, she peeked up to see him watching her through one of the mirrors on the wall. “Oops,” she said, and this time lowered her eyes all the way and followed him to a deep burgundy chair.

The chair was plush and inviting and looked big enough to hold a family of four…until he sat in it. All of a sudden, there wasn’t enough room for her. He was solidly built, and he sat sprawled in the middle of the chair with his legs stretched out. The position left only inches on either side of him to spare.

Terryn took a deep breath. This is what she wanted. This is what she was looking for. She’d been reading about the D/s lifestyle for months, and now it was happening. She took a deep breath, wrestled her inner feminist to the ground and knelt at his feet.

It was harder than she thought it would be. That inner feminist was screeching at her to get up off the floor, she wasn’t a dog, and the harder she tried to ignore that voice, the louder it got. But she stayed. She remembered her reading and her first couple visits and spread her knees wide, then brought her hands to rest, palms up on her thighs.

Her Dom didn’t say a word as she knelt there. She was keeping her eyes down, so she could not see his face, but she knew he was watching her. She felt it. As she concentrated on that, on his attention, that voice eventually faded until she couldn’t hear it anymore. She became solely focused outside herself and whether or not he was pleased.

Just when she was going to risk a look, she felt his hand on her hair. He stroked softly along the curls and then he gathered them up and off to one shoulder. His fingers lightly caressed her neck above the collar, then he traced circles over the shell of her ear. Goose bumps chased up and down her back as he continued a tickling path along her check with those blunt, calloused fingertips.

“Is this the first time you’ve knelt at a Dom’s feet?” His voice caused more goose bumps, and Terryn could only nod as she waited for what would happen next. “We’ve only just met, and I have to assume this is your first unescorted visit here. I would never dream of asking you to trust me this soon. But you’ve read the rules and you’ve been through the orientation. You can also look around and see the bodyguards that are here for your protection. Trust that. Trust what you’ve learned so far and we will stay to the open play areas so you can be assured that the club will keep you safe.” He gave her a couple moments to think about that, and the rest of the tension left her.

“You make a pretty picture there at my feet. Pretty enough that I’m the envy of every Dom here tonight. But we need to talk, and I find that talking is better done face-to-face. Come up here.” She started to get to her feet, but before she could move, his hands scooped under her arms and he lifted her into his lap as though she weighed less than nothing.

After she was settled with her bottom on the seat on one side of him and her legs on the other, he draped his arms around her waist and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Terryn.” She kept her eyes down. Only now she did it because she was too embarrassed to look him in the face. Terryn hadn’t sat in a man’s lap since her last visit to Santa.

“Terryn,” he said. “Lovely. How did you discover that you were a submissive?”

Talk about getting right to the point
, she thought. “Um. Well. I never have really enjoyed being with men, really,” she said, and then stumbled to a halt when she realized how that sounded. “I’m not gay. I mean, I like boys. Um, guys. I mean, men. I like men. But, urgh.” With a groan of pure humiliation, she buried her face in her hands and wished fervently that she could slide back onto the floor and then slink away. His chuckle and the warm hand rubbing soothing circles on her back did little to ease her mortification. “This wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice soft and smooth in her ear. “How was it supposed to be?”

“I’ve been fantasizing about this moment for months. I’ve pictured myself with my first real Dom a million different ways, and in those dreams I never stammer like an idiot.” With another groan, she crumpled up further and brought her knees up.