Primal (17 page)

Just when Ian was starting to take offense at his obvious concern Adam nodded. “Okay then. You’re a good man, and a damn good Dom, so I’ll trust you to let me know if your history becomes an issue.”

Ronnie’s stomach jumped as she stared at the building in front of her. Was this the right place? The parking lot was half full of vehicles of every description. There was a shiny new Mercedes parked between a dented Ford pickup and small pink Hyundai. Who the hell would want a pink car? She’d parked at the far side of the building, next to a kick-ass midnight-blue ’67 Nova that made her fingers itch to pop the hood. She struggled to ignore it as she moved toward the door. She wasn’t there because of her passion for fast cars, she was there for another passion. One she needed help exploring.

When she was about three feet from the set of double doors at the front, she saw the simple black X directly in the center of it and knew it was the right place.

Overwatch. The private club that just might be the answer to her prayers.

This place had been recommended to her after a she posted a particular rant on the “lifestyle” website she’d been using to try and find a Dom. After posting the rant, she got a message from Mason Hardin, the owner of a club up in Canada. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she’d emailed with him a few times before he sent her the paperwork and told her to apply for membership at Overwatch, and here she was.

Her fingers trembled when she reached for the handle, and she paused for just a second. She was about to step into another world, one she’d only ever dreamt of belonging to. One she wanted— no, one she
needed
to be a part of. Each day since she’d made the decision to join the club, her lust had gotten stronger. Filling out the application had fired up her imagination, and her dreams had gotten darker, raunchy enough that a couple of times she’d woken up so wet she’d thought she’d peed the bed like a little girl. If only she’d remembered the orgasms she was obviously having in her dreams, they might satisfy her inner hunger a bit. Instead, they just made the need for a man claw harder at her insides.

Be brave, Ronnie,
she told herself.
Damn it, girl. Get your shit together and go get what you want.

With a deep breath, she pulled the heavy metal door open and strode in. She laughed at herself when she saw the next set of double doors. This time, when she reached for the handle, she didn’t hesitate, and her fingers didn’t tremble.

Here, she found a real person. A good-looking guy in black slacks and a black button-down shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the hard body beneath the soft clothes stood in front of yet another set of doors.

“Hey,” she said as she walked toward him.

“Hello. Can I help you?” He smiled, but didn’t move from blocking the entrance. Doors through which she could now hear music.

She pulled the email she’d printed earlier from the back pocket of her skinny jeans, unfolded it, and held it out to him. He read it, stepped back, and opened the door for her. “Welcome to Overwatch.”

Okay, that was kinda cool. Also a bit intimidating.

She stopped just inside the club and looked around. More than bit intimidating. She went down the small set of stairs that led her into the centre of the club, breathing deep to slow her racing heart.

She was in.

She spotted a group of women gathered together at the cluster of chairs and couches nearest the small stage at the front of the room. Some of them were staring at her, and her stomach clenched. Great. Her worst nightmare. A clique of mean girls in a place she was sure to feel vulnerable.

Ronnie had never had much luck with girlfriends. She didn’t enjoy drama and angst, and it seemed to her that women thrived on that shit. Except for Scarlet, her best friend since she was sixteen, and her only girlfriend. Scarlet was cool.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ronnie prepared to go over and meet the others.

“Veronica Mack?”

The deep voice startled a rare squeak out of her, and heat rushed to her face as she turned to the shadowed corner at her left. “Yes.”

“I’m Adam, owner of Overwatch.” A man stepped from the shadows. “I’d like to have a word before you join the group.”

Her nerves disappeared as she looked him over. Tall, dark, and dangerous looking, with muscles and tattoos everywhere, the guy looked like one mean-ass brawler. Until she looked into his eyes. They were strangely gentle. “Sure.”

“Come on over to the bar with me. Can I get you a drink? Soda, coffee, juice?”

“Just water, thanks.”

The owner of Overwatch made his way behind the bar, neither of them speaking as he grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and water. Excitement started to tickle her insides. The man was something to see. He moved with such confident grace her belly tightened and her pussy warmed just from watching him. She’d never had an instant reaction to a man like that before, and it calmed her in a way nothing else had. She was in the right place, on the right path.

Adam set the glass of water on the bar, and she perched her butt on the seat in front of him.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A bit,” she said. “More excited, to be honest.”

“Always be honest, especially in here.” He braced his hands on the bar and leaned forward, causing her heart rate to pick up. “I know it took a lot of courage to fill out the paperwork so fully, and that’s why I think you’re exactly where you need to be. You didn’t hold back, and I admire that.”

Holy shit, the man was intense. As his dark eyes burned into her, Ronnie’s spine snapped straight and her insides quivered.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not the only one, either. Just so you know, you caused a bit of a debate among the trainers.”

“Oh?” Shit, they hadn’t even seen her yet, so what was the problem?

“They all want to work with someone so open and honest about their needs, so be prepared. They’re gonna do their best to hook you.”

Before she could get over the shock of that statement, he started talking again.

“The training period is three weeks, followed by a three-month probationary membership. For the three weeks of class training, you’re not allowed into the club when it’s open. Classes are Tuesday and Thursday nights, from eight to ten. Will that be a problem for you?”

“Nope.” And if it was, she would damn well deal with it. She’d deal with anything to be in this place. Her instincts were humming, and she got the same feeling as the first time she’d walked into shop class in junior high school. This place was what she’d been waiting for.

“After the classes, you should visit the club when it’s open a few times before you play. Take the time to observe and talk to members. It’s not a rule, as some people have more experience than others already, but after reading your application, it’s what I recommend for you. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Two more things,” he said with a small smile. “One. If you break any of my rules, you’re out. No exceptions.”

He stared at her, and she looked right back, calm in a way she’d never really felt before. She wasn’t worried.

Adam nodded, took a white card from the back pocket of his jeans, and slid it across the bar top to her. “Two. Becoming a member here makes you mine. Not mine as in my sub, but still, mine, and under my care. This is my personal cell number, if you ever have any concerns or issues, I want to know. That means if you have questions, iffy or bad experiences, or even just weird vibes from someone, you come to me. You hear?”

Ronnie was no innocent. She recognized the look in Adam’s eyes and knew on a visceral level that this man was dangerous. Not to her, but to anyone who would dare hurt someone he considered his.

Relief flowed through her. She’d known him less than five minutes, and she trusted him. With this man’s protection, she knew she’d be able to truly explore her darkest fantasies and not feel threatened.

She reached for the card. “Got it.”

Instead of joining the clique of women when Adam was done talking to her, Ronnie eased her way around the club. Her blood heated and her imagination fired up with all sorts of dirty thoughts as she checked out a spanking bench, a flat table, hooks and bolts sticking out of the walls, and chains hanging from the ceiling.

So many ways to be tied up, or down, or over …

A shiver danced down her spine, and she gave herself a shake. She really needed to get a hold of herself.

Then she saw the St. Andrew’s Cross—the thing she dreamt about the most. She’d always thought they were wood, but not this one. This one was steel. Shiny, clean, and sparkling steel that was cool and smooth to her light touch. Bolts at each corner of the cross for ropes to be slid through, or cuffs to be hooked. Being tied to this cross would be the ultimate for her. Hard steel against her skin, spread open and ready to take whatever would please her Dom. She wanted to be tied to it. To be touched and teased, sensually taunted and tantalized, as she opened herself completely to the man she’d chosen to give herself to.

First, he’d touch her lightly, trailing fingertips over her skin, raising goose bumps and shivers of pleasure before stepping back and picking up his favorite toy. Would it be a flogger or a whip? Maybe a riding crop or a cane? Whatever it was, she’d be happy to have him use it on her. It would heat her skin, get her nipples hard and her juices flowing so that when he put down the toy and stalked toward her, she’d—

A sharp whistle rent the air and pulled her abruptly back to the present. She jerked her hand away from the cross and turned to face where Adam stood on the small stage, telling everyone to find a seat. Several men and women joined the half-dozen women already there. She hurried to join them, sinking into a chair near the back of the group.

“I’ve already introduced myself to each and every one of you, and now it’s time for you to meet those who will be running your training sessions. Each of these people has their own areas of expertise, but they also have years of experience in the lifestyle and a wealth of BDSM knowledge. Meet, Eden, Simon, and Ian. Listen to them. Learn from them.”

Ronnie watched as a tall, slim, yet curvy woman with long dark hair spilling over her shoulders stepped onto the stage and faced them with a sincere smile. Behind her was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. The guy had the same dark, dangerous vibe Adam did, but his grin was pure erotic devil. Excitement zipped straight to her nipples at the sight of his muscled forearms and wicked grin. The man was hot!

Then she saw the last man to walk up onto the stage. It took a second for her mind to catch up to what her eyes saw and acknowledge the man her heart had recognized immediately.

Someone she thought long forgotten.

Ian Johnson.