Jenna's Consent (23 page)

She wasn’t one to cower.

Not to any man, for any reason.

But she sure as hell thought about adding a disclaimer to
that feeling as Nick strode up to her.

She’d barely made it into the room and he was there looming
over her.

Her eyes stayed glued to his even when every molecule in her
body was screaming for her to bow her head and kneel.

Begging forgiveness was coming in a close second.

They stared at each other and she didn’t want to be the
first one to speak. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission” kept rolling
through her head. She kept trying to shoo it back but it nipped at her heels
repeatedly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you safe word?”

“Excuse me? Why would you want me to safe word with you?
Isn’t that counterproductive to our thirty-day agreement?”

“Don’t be dense and don’t play stupid with me.”

“Then maybe you should be a bit plainer with your questions
and stop leaving them so broad.”

“Why didn’t you safe word with
Ian
?” He bit out his
name and she jumped a tiny bit.

Oscar approached, oblivious to the dark stare Nick flashed
him. “You okay?”

He pulled her into his side, hugging her close and ignoring
Nick, who snarled at him at least twice.

“Fine. Ish.”

He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head.

“Really, I’m good. No need to worry.”

He squeezed her again. “We’ll talk later.” He glared at Nick
when he walked away.

“Seems you have another male admirer.”

“Yes and he’s a huge threat too since he’s gay.” She wanted to
roll her eyes but somehow managed to keep it from happening.

He crossed his arms, giving her a glimpse of exactly what
his opponents used to face when he fought professionally.

He was intimidating and big, and sexy as all hell. Her knees
flexed, trying to kneel. She straightened to her full height and clenched her
fists at her sides, trying to focus.

“So. Ian. Makes your choice of safe word all that much more
interesting, don’t you think?”

She remained silent, assuming she would just get in more
trouble if she opened her mouth to agree or refute anything at this point.

“You could have warned me.”

Her upper lip twitched and he squinted at her. “Warned you
about what, Nick? How was I to know he was here? How could I possibly have
known it?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you could have given me a
heads-up you were still fucked-up over some dude.”

“Who the hell said I was fucked-up over him?” She put her
hands on her hips and stared him down.

“The camera in your prep room with audio sure as shit didn’t
lie.”

Jenna paced away, huffing out a breath, and then stomped
back. “You had no right to listen to that conversation. No right.”

“I. Beg. To. Differ.” He glanced at her collar and back up.

Her fingers automatically went to it. It already felt as if
it were a piece of her and she forgot it was still on. Maybe it wasn’t as much
a piece of her as she thought it was.

“We never agreed to exclusivity.”

“No, but you agreed to be my sub for a month. By my
rudimentary calculations, I still own you for…” He craned his head and acted as
if he were counting. “Twenty-seven days, two hours, and handful of minutes.”

“Only in a scene,” she threw back at him, even when she
didn’t really mean it.

“Wow. Never figured you’d be one that I needed to get to
sign a contract. I thought words were enough. Did you ever tell me there were
limitations on your actual submission?”

She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off and
told her, “A simple yes or no will do.”

“No, Sir,” came out from gritted teeth and she tried to
relax her hands.

“Better. You’ve earned one hell of a punishment.”

“What the hell for…Sir?” She was just taunting him then.
Knew it. Enjoyed it.

“How about opening those pretty legs to some other guy while
wearing my goddamn collar?”

“We already established we aren’t exclusive.”

“That was out of your mouth not mine.”

What the hell?

He’d just gotten done saying the exact opposite to Chris and
Jared. He plowed forward because apparently there was no reverse for this
conversation. “The least you could have done was discuss it with me. How would
you have felt if you’d had to watch me on camera fucking Skye?”

“I wouldn’t have watched it. Couldn’t have.”

She tried to hide her reaction but he saw it all.

Anger, jealousy, hurt.

He hoped that was a good sign.

Then she scowled. That expression didn’t bode well. “And I
didn’t fuck him that night. Not downstairs, in the prep area or at my place.”
Something made her eyes widen for just a second but whatever thought crossed
her mind she locked it down just as quickly. “Not like I haven’t fucked him
before. You were there the last time. You brought him into this relationship
from the start.”

“My choices, not yours. It’s different and you know it.”

She paused, then nodded, knowing she was overstepping her
bounds by a long shot. “I’m sorry, Nick. Okay? I fucked up and I know it.”

Something loosened in his chest and he shook it off. “Do you
love him?”

“I…uhh…don’t know. Everything’s so jumbled in my head now. I
don’t want to love him anymore if that makes it any better. Easier? Whatever.”

She looked scared, vulnerable. He had the urge to comfort
her and that pissed him off.

“Tonight. Stage. Nine p.m. Don’t disappoint me.”

He left.

Didn’t look back at her or any of the other people in the
room.

He couldn’t talk to them right then or he’d go nuts.

Padded cell.

White coat.

The whole nine yards.

It was seriously the closest thing to running he’d done in
years. The tightness in his chest felt the same as the past too.

Fuck that.

He didn’t need anybody. Especially not a girl to make him
feel like that. Off balance. Pussy-whipped. Might as well start making dollies
and get a microscopic dog named Schnookums to carry in his man-purse.

He wouldn’t go down the same way his dad did.

He’d walk away first.

He could leave at any time.

Maybe after he said that a few more thousand times he’d
believe it.

The main stage room was nearly filled when Nick arrived. The
gossip train apparently made it around to each and every member of the club.

Whatever.

This was between him and Jenna.

He thought about making the punishment private but her error
in judgment happened in public, so she needed to make amends in somewhat of the
same setting.

Catching sight of Ian had him barely suppressing the urge to
bare his teeth.

He’d discussed the situation with Chris and Jared again,
trying to get Ian fired for being an asshole but apparently that wasn’t a
fire-able offense.

Dammit.

Nick had felt like a damn tattler. He’d stormed out, knowing
he wasn’t handling any of the situation well. He couldn’t wait to have Jenna
all to himself in his playroom later to reestablish exactly who owned her.

Ian snatched his arm. “Don’t you dare fucking hurt her.”

Nick ripped his arm away, stepping quite inside the other
man’s personal bubble. “You don’t have jack to say about this.”

“It’s about me, so I’d say I sure as shit do.”

“It could have been anybody.” Nick gave him a once-over,
hoping he felt like a bug on a windshield. “You’re nothing special and I’ll be
damned if you think you can walk in here and take her from me.”

“If it was that easy to take her, then she really wasn’t all
that much yours to start with. Wouldn’t you say, friend?”

For pissing matches, Nick would’ve called theirs a draw but
he wasn’t finished.

“Feel good fucking someone else’s property?”

“Did Jenna say that?”

Nick smirked, curling his lip at him. “Not in so many words
but I know what was in her face earlier. Whatever she did, she felt guilty
about. She broke our agreement and my trust in her. Now she’s got to earn it
back.”

“She has nothing to earn back from you. You shared her
already. With. Me. So I’d say she has nothing else to feel guilty about.”

Nick clenched his jaw, relaxing his balled fist. Knocking
out a fellow employee probably didn’t sit real high on the gold star chart. “I
told you her safe word before I shared her with you the other night. Make you
feel like a big man knowing you’re still in her head? Well, don’t worry. It
won’t be after tonight. If this is some kind of sick game, I will destroy you.”

“Bring it on.”

“Name the place. Any place and I’ll be there. Just make sure
you have your health insurance up to date.”

Nick had learned earlier while talking to the twins that Ian
was an ex-vice cop from Chicago. Those cops had to be ruthless. Some of them
were gutter-style fighters with no rules, depending on where they were
stationed and who they had to fit in with.

Pretty evenly matched, he thought and couldn’t wait to hand
him his ass.

Nick glared at him, watching as Jenna walked up in his
peripheral vision.

“My sub’s waiting for me. If that collar’s around her neck,
don’t so much as breathe in her direction.”

One side of Ian’s mouth tilted up into a sneer. “Have you
seen her mask? The one she ties in?”

Nick glanced at her, knowing exactly the mask he spoke of
but wanting to see her reaction to his words. She looked worried and Nick
wanted to howl but he said nothing.

Ian added, “When you’re up there, ask her about it. Then
we’ll see who she wants touching her.” He stalked off, blending into the crowd.

Nick glanced around and everybody else stood around
whistling, acting as if they didn’t hear every word they’d just exchanged.
Amazing how many sets of eyes hit the floor.

He crowded Jenna, noticing she brought her rope bag.

Good.

“On the stage, dump your bag in the middle and get the mask
on.” She opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Not a word right now. On the
stage and lock the frame down when it’s up.”

“Yes, Sir,” softly reached him and he wanted to melt. That
just made him more pissed.

She threw him for a loop—sometimes several times in the same
minute—and he was sick and tired of feeling so fucking wishy-washy all the
time.

He dogged her all the way to the stairs and let her take
them as he stepped over to the stage controls.

Jackson met him there and Skye was with him but talking to
another couple.

“What do you need?”

“There’s a custom A-frame built inside the stage. I need it
up to its full height.”

Jackson manipulated controls until the metal on the top of
the frame appeared from the middle of the stage. As soon as the suspension ring
came into view he paused.

He knew enough about rope to know exactly what kind of scene
was about to play out.

“Need a spotter?”

“She’s a fucking self-rigger.”

Jackson struck stupid was a sight to see. “How’d we miss
that?” He manipulated the controls again and the frame continued to grow.

Skye turned to them and piped up, “What did you say? What
kind of rigger?”

“Self-rigger. She can suspend herself in rope.”

“Duh. She’s been doing that for years. Even before Ian. It’s
kind of how they met. Sort of.” She turned her attention to Ian across the
room, staring daggers at him. “Douche.”

“Are you fucking joking? You knew and didn’t tell us?”

“Again, duh. That’s her business. Get off your high horses,
gentlemen. I’m sure you’ve been completely transparent about all of your kinks
too right? Open book, no secrets to be had?”

He remained silent, staring her down then glanced at Jenna.
She already had her mask on, as she locked down the frame.

Skye hardly even blinked when he focused on her again.
“That’s what I thought, Casanova.”

She didn’t even shiver in fear—at all.

Maybe he was losing his edge.

“She’s my best friend. If you hurt her…” she jabbed him in
the chest to get his attention but left the rest of the threat open-ended.

He looked at her and she grinned, baring her teeth. “I know
people.”

The impression that she was not joking struck him as odd.

Sometimes he thought she came from money and other times she
reminded him of a street fighter he knew years ago. Someone used to relying on
their fists to survive.

“Back off, Skye. You really don’t want to mess with him
right now.”

Skye narrowed her eyes at him one last time, then took her
hand back.

Jackson gestured to the stage. “Looks like she’s got it all
locked down. You need anything else, we’ll be here.”

He nodded once then picked up his toy bag from where he’d
stashed it on the far side of the stage steps.

He stomped up the stairs and the general chatter filling the
room seconds before evaporated. He dumped his bag next to hers and made a
beeline for her. To her credit, she didn’t back up but her eyes looked
especially wide since that was about all he could see above the leather
covering her lower face.

With a handful of her hair he yanked her head back, exposing
the mask to the bright lights above the stage. The raised band of the leather
he’d noticed before was actually a modified collar. “And you wear his fucking
collar when you tie?”

“Yes-s, Sir.”

Fingers twitched to snatch it off her. For half a heartbeat
he thought about leaving her there and walking away for good but his feet
wouldn’t move. “That’s earned a second punishment.”

“Should I pick a new safe word, Sir?”

His fist tightened in her hair and she flinched in pain.

“Oh no, by all means you should keep it. ’Cause if I’m
topping you and you even mumble his name I’ll never touch you again.
Understood?”

Her muffled whimper reached him through his fog of anger.

“Yes, Sir.”

“The first part of the punishment is rope is no longer a
hard limit. You lost your ability to claim it when you weren’t honest about it
in the beginning.” He went to his bag and took out the only actual toy he’d
brought with him.

A sadistick.

It looked like a very slender metal cane and was rather
unassuming in length and weight. Most people who hadn’t experienced it,
dismissed it as nothing more than a tiny prop. Those who had already met with
the business end knew to fear it above most other toys. Out of the corner of
his eye, Jenna backed up a step.

Smart girl.

He grabbed three hanks of jute, tucking the handle of the
sadistick into the back pocket of his pants.

“Face the crowd.”

She swiveled slightly, doing as she was told.

He dropped two of his rope coils on the ground, crowding her
feet with them. A tiny whine reached his ears and the rest of the crowd
disappeared.

He tucked his finger into the end of the rope and tossed the
rest of it away from him. It flew, reminding him how much he relished the
possibility of tying Jenna.

Putting his rope on her was going to be the capper to a very
shitty day.

He moved behind her, running the jute up and down her arm as
he moved.

A vague idea of what he wanted to do with her, to her,
flowed through his mind throughout the day. Standing next to her, moving behind
her the plan washed over him. Blood rushed to cock, filling it. For her.

Her arms hung loose by her sides, waiting for him, calling
to him to bind as he pleased.

Moving her wrists, he lifted them both behind her back and
rested them one on top of the other. “Leave them there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her voice was soft and maybe a little bit scared.

Adrenaline raced through his system, calling to him, urging
him to tie.

He wrapped the jute tightly around her chest, securing it
beneath her breasts. Then he bound her upper chest, crisscrossing between her
breasts and across her back. The rope became his outlet for his frustration,
for his attraction, for his need for her.

Not a word was spoken as he tied her in a chest harness but
he said more than he’d said to anyone in years.

He gave of himself and took from her in return. The energy
exchange in their first rope together made him want to fucking roar.

Purposefully, he left her wrists and arms free and took a
moment to lower them to her sides again, stepping in front of her.

Her eyes were closed. Her head slightly tilted to one side
and he imagined a soft smile on her face but couldn’t see it behind the mask.
She looked as if she’d fallen from a kinky heaven.

His kind of place.

He brushed hair off her forehead so it didn’t cover part of
her face. He wanted to hold her, fuck her and use her until she couldn’t stand
any longer. He stood a bit taller, remembering the reason they stood there.

As if another man’s collar wasn’t a reminder enough. Dormant
or not, it made no difference.

“On your knees.”

It took her a few seconds of concentration but she slowly
lowered herself to the ground.

“So pretty on your knees for me,” he snarled from above her
and he walked in a circle around her, touching her shoulder, her hair.

He fisted it and she jerked while he angled her back on her
haunches. “Legs out from underneath you.”

She moved her legs, unfolding them from beneath her body. He
released the grip he had on her raven locks, moving the rope on the floor in
front of her between her legs.

“Two futomomos with a Y-knot at the top of the right one to
suspend by. No mistakes or you’ll be retying it until it meets my standards.”

She glanced up at him, the challenge clear in her eyes.

Her fingers slid across the rope as if she were acquainting
herself with a new lover. The way she tossed the rope out and tied a single
column tie around her left ankle, wrapping her folded leg from her thigh toward
her knee. It reminded him of a rigger he’d met overseas several times. Nick’d
taken several classes from him over the years when they were in the same space.

When she finished, she moved to her right leg, reversing the
tie for the other side, matching the spacing of the wraps. Equal tightness on both,
perfect hitches along the sides.

Even as she tied the Y-knot at the top, there was nothing he
could complain about. Nothing that he could fault her for. Utterly magnificent.

“Tie it again.”

Her fingers faltered on the jute as she paused in her last tie.
She looked up at him, confused.

“Each knot is perfect. Precise. Exact. Take it all off.”

She stared at him, clearly not understanding.

“I’m waiting.”

It didn’t take her much time to remove it all and he didn’t
even have to ask her to re-bundle the rope. She did that on her own as well,
crossing her legs in front of her, placing the rope in beside her shins. The
way she lined them up was impeccable.

The care she showed for the rope was just what he expected,
almost reverent. But she was so focused on perfection she lost the meaning of
the tie itself.

She was knowledgeable. Her technique flawless, better than
his he could admit but he wanted her to tie for him.

There was a difference and he intended to get what he
wanted.

In his bag he dug out a rectangular swatch of black fabric.
He folded it in half length-wise twice, making it a perfect blindfold.

He knelt behind her, wrapping the material over her eyes and
knotting it in the back.

She never asked a question, didn’t make a peep, but her
breathing grew shallow and he could feel her heart beat along her back.

“I want you to tie it again. I want you to feel each tie
beneath your fingers and on your skin. Tie it with your heart involved this
time instead of making it all about the tension and the aesthetic. Tie it for
me
this time.” He kissed down the side of her throat, nipping her shoulder
between his teeth.

Her head twitched toward him as she seemed to fight her need
to submit to him, to give him what she so obviously needed to give.

The pads of her fingers slid along the flesh of her thighs,
over her knee, and down to her shin. Into the rope.