Finding Their Balance (16 page)

The woman beside him teetered back a step. Craning their necks, the pair in front shuffled aside.

“You intend to strike a potential partner as your opening statement?” On a curving arc, Henry approached the gap in the front row. “You do realize identifying as submissive does not make them your property.”

Choice did. An offer, an acceptance, and a more explicit set of relationship rights and responsibilities than she’d ever considered, let alone written in a contract. Surprisingly, pleasingly efficient. Henry didn’t mouth platitudes. When he promised to meet her needs and address her concerns, he meant every word.

“Does to me.” Shark-boy shrugged. “Open strong, and it won’t get any wrong ideas about what it’s good for.” He laughed, low and ugly. “Which had better be deep-throating my dick, or the first slap won’t be the last.”

Among his classmates, headshakes traveled like an airborne contagion. Rolling her eyes, a blue-tagged female dominant in the first row mouthed, “asshole.”

About right, except an asshole held a ton more appeal.

“If you gratify yourself without meeting your partners’ needs, you’ll quickly find yourself with a dwindling supply of players for your games.” Despite Henry’s nonthreatening posture, his clipped censure came through in his tone. “If you truly desire to master someone else, you must first master yourself.”

“If I truly”—shark-boy sneered—“desired to master someone else, I’d pick up a whip and show them their place.”

With a clenched fist, Jay tapped his thigh. Jaw tense, he leveled his gaze.

She drifted closer, narrowing the distance between them to inches.

Shark-boy feinted with quintessential bully swagger, the eye-widening, shoulder-twitching provocation that always ended with
and two for flinching.

“I see.” In one casual sidestep, Henry blocked the man’s line of sight to Jay. “And when they object? When their safeword rings in your ears?”

Silence draped the classroom. Not a rustle of clothing, not the squeak of a shoe interrupted. If echoes sounded, Henry and Jay had them locked behind steel facades.

“Safewords are for pussies.” Shark-boy dripped, thick and oily, his disdain so much sludge tracked in on his fancy shoes. “Pathetic sluts who can’t please a real master.”

She slipped her hand over Jay’s knuckles. Unfurling tense fingers, he entwined them with hers.

“Safewords are required. They form the first rule of safety.” As Henry tucked his hands behind his back, his finger-wiggle greeting put a smile on Jay’s face and a heel-toe rock in his stance. “This club’s rules are based on the safe, sane, consensual ethos as both a moral imperative and a liability issue.”

The club banned extreme forms of play— unpredictable games likely to lead to injury, like breath play, and dangerous risks to the property, like fire play. Attending the sub class and listening to Henry and Emma had taught her that along with the rules against professional—paid—sessions since the club structured itself as a nonprofit social group. Like the way her dad belonged to the Elks lodge. Except with sex.

“My slaves’ first rule is no safewording.” Shark-boy kicked a cushion aside and rested his hands on his hips, elbows out. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”

“You won’t be moved from that belief?” Neutral, deceptive calm meant Henry had already determined this conversation’s end, and a punk attempt at intimidation sure as hell would lose.

“From the only real fun?” The moron laughed like he’d won a prize. “I make them scared and begging for it, until they don’t know what’s coming and can’t stop it.”

A sea of expectant faces looked to their master. Smiling for Jay, she nudged his head. He kissed her temple, the brush of his hair little-boy sweet and the strength of his clasp grown-man strong. They didn’t need to wonder what Henry would say.

“This class is not for you. Nor is this club.” Henry extended his arm toward the door. “You’re free to go.”

“You can’t throw—”

“The color of your name tag tells me you’re a guest. A probationary member sponsored by another, perhaps? You have no privileges. You admit you would not abide by the club’s code of conduct, and you have disrespected your instructor and your fellow students.”

A slight head tilt from Henry morphed Daniel from placid doorpost to buffalo scenting a threat to the herd. “Let’s go, buddy. Master Henry says you’re out, then you’re out.”

“Your name and photo will be marked in the club’s database. I recommend you don’t attempt to return.”

“No, wait.” The shark turned guppy, fending off Daniel with a wild swipe. “I was promised a full membership.”

“Were you?” Eyes lighting with curious satisfaction, Henry almost smiled. “That won’t be happening. Be certain to give your”—frost coated his voice—“benefactor—”

Red heat swept from the guppy’s blond hairline to his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“—my regards. It’s a shame you learned nothing, but I suppose your head is stuffed too full of his diatribes to admit any knowledge.”

Not a random shark—a friend of Cal’s stirring up trouble. Trying to intimidate Jay, maybe, but Jay had eyes only for Henry just now.

Daniel marched the malcontent out with a solid grip on his upper arm.

Turning his back, Henry zeroed in on his submissives. His low hum rumbled as he neared them and nuzzled her cheek. “Your trust gives me all the power I need.” For Jay, he delivered a bruising kiss, fast but rough. “And all of the exquisite service I could ever desire.”

He swiveled in place before a crowd filled with nodding heads and envious smiles. “As we’ve disposed of the unpleasantness, let’s consider a more enticing thought. How might we deliver a session that satisfies our desires and encourages our partners to return again and again—and to tell all of their friends?”

* * * *

As Jay scooped up their gear after class, she reached for a bag. “You want a hand?”

“Naw, I got them.” Duffels dangling over each shoulder, he pecked her cheek. “I’ll load the car so we’re ready when Henry’s done with the just-one-more-question-sir crowd.” He trotted for the door.

“A moment, please, my boy.” Henry, his voice carrying across the salon, stood in a knot of class attendees. “You and Alice may take those to a changing room. I’ll be along to instruct you shortly.”

As Henry resumed his conversation with the three stragglers, Jay bounced on his toes and nodded toward the hall.

She scurried over. If Henry had booked club playtime for Jay’s birthday, he hadn’t said a word to her. “You know what that’s about?”

“Not a clue.” He snaked through clusters of doms and subs making tentative overtures near the second-floor reception desk. “But good things come in threes. Like you, me, and Henry.” Smirking, he ducked into the first open changing room and slung the bags on a padded bench. “Last night scored a hundred out of ten on the best-fantasies-ever chart, and class with Commander Henry stoked the fire, so the universe owes us a third.” He crossed his fingers in a crazy configuration. “I’m pulling for sucking Henry’s cock all afternoon.”

Gaze straying to the duffels, she nodded. “Good choice.” Henry hadn’t opened the black one with the purple stripe during class. “Don’t need toys for that.” Cool and metallic, the zipper glinted against her finger. “So what’s in the extra bag?”

“An excellent question.” Henry shut the door behind him.

She twirled in guilty fascination. Wasn’t touching. Nope, not her.

“If the two of you will strip down to your undergarments, we’ll find out.” He closed in on Jay and tugged him with fingers slipped between his buttonholes. “Let me help you with these.”

Kicking off her shoes, Alice shucked her sundress with a swift yank.

“Folded, please.” Henry roamed Jay’s chest under the guise of unbuttoning his shirt. With firm strokes, he cued up Jay’s whimpers like a needle hitting vinyl.

She halved the dress three times and laid the neat square beside the bags. Henry had worked Jay’s shirt partway down his back, bunching cloth at the elbows.

“Arms straight.” Long fingers curled with strength over tight muscle, Henry squeezed Jay’s biceps.

Desire pulsed between her legs.

“You must let your shirt go if Alice is to fold it for you.”

Shirt. Right. Take Jay’s shirt. Sneak a deep breath of mingled maleness, except Henry noticed because he always noticed. He met her gaze with a slight smile and soft eyes, a sweet bed of deep green moss.

Squirming between them, Jay moaned. The rasp-and-tick of his belt opening followed. She drew his shirt clear and stepped back to fold.

“You are every inch my beautiful boy today, Jay.” Henry slipped the belt free and let the pants
flump
to the floor. “What a lovely pair you and Alice made for our class.” He splayed one hand in the small of Jay’s back and eliminated the gap between them. With the other, he gripped the fine hairs at Jay’s nape in a white-knuckled hold. “I’m proud to claim you for my own.” Growling and demanding, he conquered Jay with a harsh, nipping kiss.

Boneless in surrender, Jay issued muffled whimpers hurtling her into their sexual currents. The changing rooms weren’t for playing. Clanging knowledge couldn’t erase her desire to witness an infraction. A tiny breach. Except nothing on Henry or Jay met the definition of tiny.

Henry pulled free.

Jay, gasping, dropped to his knees and pressed his face to Henry’s distended dress slacks. “Please.” Eyes closed, mouth open, he dragged his cheek along Henry’s erection. “Please, Henry.”

“My good, good boy. Do you understand how exquisite you are on your knees? What a delicious temptation?” With hypnotic repetition, Henry combed through Jay’s messy black hair. “When we arrive home, I’ll allow you to show me. Not before.”

Jay shuddered. “Thank you, Henry.”

Home. Upstairs might not be in their future. But why the undressing—

“Your fingers are twitching, Alice.” Henry tipped his head toward the bench. “Go on and open the bag. We’ve a schedule to keep.”

The zipper flew with a satisfying zing. Inside—casual shorts, t-shirts and sneakers. Athletic-style gear. Sets for her and Jay, and even dress-down khakis and a short-sleeve polo for Henry. “Are we—”

“Save your questions, please.” Henry beckoned her over and kissed her. “We haven’t finished celebrating someone’s birthday.”

Something sporty and designed for Jay-fun. Biking? Hiking? Climbing? Kayaking?

Henry let them dress themselves, chivvied them downstairs, and retrieved their phones from the desk. Instead of pocketing his as usual, he listened while Jay hauled the duffels. More astonishing, he placed a call while Jay loaded the trunk.

“Yes, thank you for checking. They can run long.” Henry stood tall and blank-faced, offering no clues. “Quite well, I think. Time will tell.” The polo shirt gave him a rakish, informal air. “We’re still on for one?” He opened the back door and gestured them into the car. “Lovely. We’ll see you there.”

The door latched. Henry approached the driver’s door. She and Jay paused in mid-seat-belt pull.

“Biking tour on the Emerald Necklace.”

“Sailing cruise in Boston Harbor.”

“Sailing? But you like biking.”

“Henry likes sailing.” How Jay to imagine Henry’s likes before his own, even for his birthday surprise. “And he put on boat shoes.”

The door opened, and speculation ceased. Seat belts clicked. Boat shoes. Damn. When had Jay become the more observant one?

Henry guided the car through crawling Saturday traffic in the Back Bay and slipped into a rare empty parking space. “Wait here. I’ll be a moment.”

She peeked down the block of brownstones converted into small shops. “Restaurant.”

“Lunch for on the boat.”

“Or to stow on a bike’s gear rack.”

“Boat.” Bouncing his knee against the door, Jay stuck his tongue out. “When I’m right, you’re gonna be mad you didn’t guess it first.”

“Bike.” She bumped his leg. “When I’m right, you’ll crown me queen of the guesses.” Eyes trained on the front stoop five doors down, she crowed at Henry’s reappearance. “It’s a cooler.” Too big for a bike rack. “Maybe you’re right about the boat.”

Jay shrugged, affected nonchalance in his too-cool-for-school smirk. “I’ve got the birthday magic.”

Cooler deposited in the trunk, Henry drove across the Charles with smooth, silent precision. Not heading toward the harbor, but in the wrong direction for the fenway, too. Where the hell was he taking them?

* * * *

They left the car in a lot edging toward capacity at a park spilling over with Saturday-in-June enthusiasm. Shouts, laughter, and barking dogs flowed from soccer fields and baseball diamonds.

With the cooler in his arms and a bag over his shoulder, Jay swung toward the sights like a puppy sniffing out a new home. Henry led them past napping babies, cranky toddlers, and children running full-tilt. Teens using sports as cover for flirting and adults using sports for foreplay. The whole place vibrated at Jay’s frequency.

They’d passed half a hundred decent patches of grass for a picnic, but Henry kept to the blacktopped path cutting through it all. Trees arched above them. Beyond the tunnel of shade, a woman leapt from red-hued asphalt. The
smack
of a bouncing ball sounded as she came down, curls bobbing in a close-cut cap around her face.

Last week’s tea. Claudia. A day out with other submissives.

“Basketball.” Her murmur and Jay’s shout hit the air as one.

“Just so.” Stepping off the path, Henry angled toward a man reclining under a tree. “Tell me, did either of you successfully guess?”

Jay’s hair flew as he shook his head. “Not even close.” Damn happy about being wrong, though, with his boyish grin and messy mop.

“Does ‘starts with B’ count as matching the category?” She shot Henry an inquiring eyebrow and a sly smile. “Because I said biking.”

“And if it does?” He swerved, intercepting her and leaning in. “What prize does my sweet girl hope to receive?”

“Not just me.” If prizes were forthcoming, she’d go halfsies without complaint. “Jay said boating.” Sailing, but close enough. “That’s a ‘b’ word, too.”

“Is that so?” Losing his flirty undertone, Henry extended his arm. “Would you like a prize, Jay?”