REVEAL - Scorpio & Harlan (Fettered Book 2) (4 page)

S
ubs pin
me to the floor exactly never. Scorpio just has, and she’s not even my sub yet.

I look at her and try to figure out the answer to a question that should be obvious, but somehow isn’t. “It’s an invitation.”

She’s staring me down just fine. “Scenes are about finding edges, right?”

Yeah. Especially when your Dom is a hard-ass, and I am. “Usually. Especially for the sub.”

She takes a long, slow breath. “I think I come hang out here because you’re all people who know what it is to seek out edges, to need to do that, and I like soaking that in. You feel like my tribe.”

“You don’t get enough of that other places.”

She shrugs. “I get other things. Work makes me feel useful and needed, and they’re my friends and they don’t bleed every day, and I need that too.”

I’ve been at her offices enough to know the adoration is mutual. They’re as tight as we are, and I know exactly how rare that is. But the woman in front of me is still hungry. “But they aren’t edge seekers.”

She grins. “Well, Emily is surprising me.”

She’s surprising the whole damn universe. “She’s doing it because she loves Damon.” And Leo does it because he loves his partner, but I don’t know how much Scorpio knows about that, so I keep my mouth shut.

Besides, this isn’t about love. It’s about helping someone who might belong in my lifestyle find her way there. I’ve got a really big comfort zone with that, even if this thing somehow keeps wobbling outside of it. I touch the envelope again. “This is edge. For sure. But it sounds to me like you want some of that in your life—you just want it balanced with some healthy stuff in between.”

Her eyes are big, but she’s nodding.

I take the leap. “I think we’re the same on that. I’m in a lifestyle that defaults to edges, but part of my job is to hang out here and help make that in-between space, for me and for everyone else.”

She’s smiling. “Big scary Dom and den mother.”

I give her a hard look. “You’re totally going to ruin my street cred if you keep saying that shit.” If she says it where Damon and Ari can hear, it’s going to end up on a damn t-shirt. One that they try to make me wear.

Scorpio just smirks and sips her lemonade.

She’s way more immune to my hard looks than a sub should be. I go back to the story I’m trying to tell. “You found yourself a life that has the warm and safe that you need, but it doesn’t come with enough built-in edges, so you come hang out here when you need a hit.”

She winces. “Yeah. Something like that. Or I go clubbing or bungee jumping or whatever.”

I’ve been a Dom, and a good one, for fifteen years. And I’m in absolutely virgin territory right now. I tap the envelope again like it’s my touchstone. “This is an invitation to the edges. But it’s also an invitation to play with someone who shares your need for something good and strong and real in between those edges.”

Her eyebrows slide up really slowly. “What does that mean?”

I have no fucking idea. “That you play with me and join this tribe instead of getting your high secondhand. And in between, we stay aware and figure it out and cobble together what works.”

She’s just plain staring now. “Like what?”

I feel the very unmanly need to babble. “Like you drop by with cookies or because you need a cuddle. And I drop by with a screwdriver to do stupid shit that doesn’t need doing and get a hit of the sweet and light in your office and maybe you choose to be part of that sometimes.”

She’s grinning now, and I can see I’ve just said the right thing, even though I felt like a total idiot saying it.

Time to get this thing back to stuff I know how to do. I rip open the envelope, pull out a couple of pictures, and slap them onto the bar.

Scorpio glances at them. “No.”

So much for floggers and high heels.

I pull out a few more, careful to position them this time so I can see her eyes.

She scans them, and then touches the middle one, smiling. “Punk-rock gear and fetish wear are pretty much the same thing.”

I can teach her the error of that assumption later. One’s designed to be a whole lot easier to take off. I lay more pictures down.

This time, her nose wrinkles. “Eww. No.”

I look down at the photos, trying to figure out which one set her off. “Rope bondage?”

She shakes her head. “Maid costume.”

That has my Dom radar going off big-time. “Why?”

Her eyes spark. “Do I need a reason?”

“No.” I keep my voice away from the bossy end of things. I don’t get to demand things of this woman—not yet. “But if you have one, I’d like to hear it.”

“Sorry for biting your head off.” She looks it. “The whole servant thing pushes a lot of buttons for me. Being treated as less. Not something I want to go anywhere near. Slave’s even worse.”

She’s not going to like the next question, but it’s my job to ask it. “Tricky territory that you might want to explore when there’s enough trust in place, or hard limit?”

She flashes mad and then confused and then curious, rapidly enough I have to work to keep up. “How the hell do I tell that?”

I push the other two photos out of the way and leave the one of the woman in the seriously scanty maid costume. “When you look at this does it make you feel aroused and ashamed, or aroused and scared, or is it just a turn-off?”

“Turn-off.” Her answer comes quick and sure.

I’ve walked countless newbie subs through trying to make sense of their own reactions. I fucking love how well she sees herself and how willing she is to look. “Okay. Then that sounds like a hard limit for you.”

She’s eyeing me. “And that’s no big deal?”

I wink at her. “If your Dom’s not an asshole—and he isn’t.”

She glares. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

I let her last word hang in the air and pull out three more pictures. This time, I see the thing in her eyes I’ve been watching for. Softening. Yearning.

And then avoidance.

She pushes a woman in restraints my way and grins. “I like this one.”

I’m really good at my job because I can see all the reactions, not just the obvious ones. She’s telling me the truth, but she’s doing it to cover a truth she doesn’t want me to see. I look down at the picture she’s willing to talk about. A gorgeous woman in soft leather cuffs, tied to a headboard, a hairsbreadth away from orgasm. Eyes wide open and looking at her Dom.

Oh, yeah. I could work with that. Ari is a goddamn genius.

Scorpio’s watching me, a little nervous and more than a little aroused. If she was my sub, I’d be sucking those gorgeous, hard nipples of hers as a reward for this gift she’s just offered up. Since she’s not, I have to content myself with words. “What do you see when you look at this?”

She runs her finger down the edge of the photograph. “Surrender that’s not weak.”

In four words, she’s just defined the kind of sub she wants to be. The kind of sub she needs to be. And everything in me wants a chance to walk with her while she goes there.

She swallows, loud enough that I can hear her. “What do you see when you look at this?”

I wait until her eyes meet mine, until I know she’ll keep them there. “A woman who is totally fucking sexy.”

The air quivers between us. A choice on the line. And one that I know better than to force, no matter what the heat inside me wants.

I sweep all the photos back into the envelope. I haven’t forgotten about the yearning eyes and whatever she’s avoiding, but that needs to come after she decides. “Go away and follow the instructions this time.”

She takes the envelope and looks at me with those big, serious eyes of hers. And then she slides off her stool and walks away.

E
mily peers
down at her list and scrunches her nose in the way that tells the rest of us we’re almost at the end and she’s checking to see if anything new mysteriously added itself while we’ve been eating donuts and taking care of business.

Or at least Leo and I have been eating donuts. Gabby has this idea that she has too many curves and Meghan doesn’t eat sugar and Emily’s so high on Damon she probably doesn’t eat anything anymore. Which means more donuts for me.

I lean forward and grab the last one in the box. It’s vaguely person shaped, and when I bite off the head, it’s full of blood. Probably raspberry filling, but I have to take my edges where I can find them these days.

Or at least that’s what I thought right up until Harlan decided to get weird and shake things up. Now he’s offering me a real edge to ride and I don’t want it to fuck up my nice, safe, donut-laden life. Which makes me a wimp or something even sadder—but I’ve seen women sign on with a Dom, and none of them ever come out the same.

Including the obnoxiously cheerful one leading this meeting. I lean forward, suddenly restless and needing out of chair captivity. “So we have three new fall weddings, two of them at Fettered, and everything else is just follow-up, right?” Small steps forward on weddings that are months into the planning with months more to go. Apparently only the kinky folks are in a hurry.

Meghan drains the rest of her coffee. “We’ve got more referrals coming in from the BDSM community. The word’s out that we’re friendly.”

Leo smirks. “The word’s out that Emily can convince Damon to let a bunch of glitter and flowers and streamers loose in his club.”

Emily somehow manages to keep looking professional. “Developing locations is part of my job.”

Leo’s flat out laughing now. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Clearly he’s in on the pool to make her blush. I hand him the raspberry-blood-filled bottom half of my donut. “Back off, hot stuff. You’re just jealous because she got spanked last night and you didn’t.”

Emily clears her throat, her prim face totally in place. “I’ll have you know I got spanked this morning, thank you very much.”

Meghan groans, Leo high-fives Emily, and Gabby turns as pink as her dress. I shake my head. Just another day at the office, or at least the new version of my office that got abducted by aliens and then sent back. Not that I mind. This is the kind of wedding-planning company that might actually hire somebody like me.

“One last thing.” Emily cuts through the hilarity with amused eyes and the voice that makes her the nicest dictator on the planet. “Fettered has formally invited all of us to attend their charity ball at the end of the month. It’s at a swanky hotel, with a romance theme, although that probably means something a little different than it would if we were in charge of decorating. Ari says to think evening gowns. Silk and satin and classy sex.”

Leo grins. “I totally have an evening gown like that.”

The paper airplane I throw at his head doesn’t miss.

He throws it back and blows me a kiss. “Sam and I will be there.”

Meghan’s shaking her head. “I think I’ll be taking that week off. We don’t have any weddings, and I need a break.”

Nobody points out that a charity ball isn’t work. She isn’t as easy with the energy of Fettered as the rest of us, and that needs to be okay. I like that nobody’s pushing her. That’s how edges start drawing blood.

“Well, um.” Gabby looks shy, and more than a little flustered, but determined. “I think I’d like to go. If someone can help me figure out what to wear.”

Leo’s hand is in the air before she finishes her sentence.

I keep my hand down, because I shouldn’t be dressing anyone, but I’m glad he’s going to help. He’ll make sure she doesn’t show up looking like she wants to be gobbled. Although anyone who tries is probably going to have to run a gantlet of big, bad Doms. Gabby might not need a keeper, but she’s got a shit-ton of volunteers.

Emily turns to me and raises an eyebrow. I nod, because of course I’ll go. I’ll have fun, even if I’ll die before I slide this bod into an evening gown. But I’m also feeling sandpapered. This is an easy choice for me. Showing up to a Fettered dance might be Gabby’s edge, but it’s not mine. It’s me hanging out on the sidelines again, inhaling someone else’s smoke, just like I do when I watch grape farmers at weddings.

I’m a tourist in way too many lifestyles.

Leo moves to the chair beside me as the other three head out of the room. “So, who’s the guy?”

I raise an eyebrow and put on the poker face that kept me solvent on way too many road trips. “Who says there’s a guy?”

He snickers. “Okay, who’s the girl?”

I roll my eyes. “Been there, tried that, got evicted from the island.”

He picks up his laptop, stands up, and blows me a kiss. “Fine, don’t share.”

I can’t, not yet. There’s a guy I have to go talk to first.

Again.

I
close
the door behind me and finish locking up. I love being the last one out, putting the club to bed for the night and strolling home at an hour when pretty much everyone else is sleeping.

I can feel the chill in the wind on my cheeks. The first touches of winter, or what passes for it here in Seattle, anyhow. I grin at the door handle. Standing here thinking poetic shit in the middle of the night is a sure sign I need to get laid.

“Hey.”

The voice behind me activates every nerve I have, and that’s before I register that it’s Scorpio and not some thug who wants to crack me over the head and steal my wallet. Some really high, blind, stupid thug. Nobody even a little bit sane tries to rob a guy with as much ink and muscle as I have.

I apparently don’t scare the woman leaning against the tree, though. “It’s not smart to walk the streets alone at night.”

She’s got her poker face on. “I don’t need a protector.”

I need to be one, but that’s a fight we can have later. I’m way more interested in why she’s here. “How long have you been out here?” We have club hours, but respect for those hours is a totally different thing—and the middle-of-the-night time is my favorite. Scenes are done, newbies have gone home, and I get to take off my manager hat and enjoy the people who are the core of my world.

“Not long.” Scorpio hasn’t moved from her tree. “Want to take a walk?”

“Yeah.” I punch the final codes into the door alarm system and hold out my hand. “Which way do you live? I’ll walk you home.”

She studies my hand for a minute and then offers me hers. I hold my breath as our fingers slide together, feeling her skin on mine, the dance as our energies get to know each other a little.

“You do this with all the subs you’re chasing?” She’s still staring at our hands.

“No.” I shrug and tell her the truth. “With friends, mostly.” Touch is a permission thing in my world, so it’s something I’m careful with, even though I’m a guy who drinks it up like water.

She looks at me. “This feels different than friends.”

“Yeah.” I tug her gently toward the street. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Maybe.” She points with her free hand. “I live that way.”

Conveniently, so do I. We walk together quietly. I listen to the sound of our footsteps, feel the warmth flowing from her hand to mine. In the vanilla world, holding hands doesn’t mean much. In mine, it’s a big deal.

She pats the bag hanging over her shoulder. “I picked some images.”

Tension zings through me and straight into our joined hands. I made my instructions very clear. If all she wants to play is beta tester, she’d be having this conversation with Ari. I stop us on the sidewalk and back up until I can lean against a low stone wall so that my eyes are level with hers. I need to be really sure what she’s chosen. “You’re bringing them to me. You want us to play with whatever you’ve picked.”

She stares at me and nods.

The lessons start right now. “Words. You want this, you need to own it out loud where we can both hear it.”

She reaches into her bag and draws out a manila envelope. This one’s a pretty green color and a lot skinnier than the one I gave her. She puts it on the stone wall beside me. “Those are the ones I picked.” She swallows. “I think I’m a sub, and I think this is what I want. But I’m going to be really honest and say that I know a lot of people who want to sing behind a microphone in their daydreams, but they crap out fast when they actually try it.”

Somewhere in that bare-naked honesty she’s stopped meeting my eyes. I reach for her chin. “That’s what safewords are for. I take care of my subs, Scorpio—even if that means stopping dead in our tracks and curling up in a chair for as long as it takes until you feel okay again.”

She nods slowly, and her eyes are full of the kind of courage that only happens when you know you might fail and want to try anyhow.

“If we do this, I’ll push you like hell, because that’s part of the deal for me. But all it will ever take for you to push back is one really small word, even if you said yes to that thing two seconds earlier.”

She eyes me wryly. “You’re very good at this, aren’t you?”

I want to touch so much more than her hand. “Playing’s no fun if you have to get it right every time. We’ll explore, we’ll try some things, we’ll talk, we’ll try some more things.” I hold up our linked hands. “So since we’ve already tried something—is this okay?”

Her smile is softer than usual. “Yeah.”

“Good.” I put my free hand on her envelope. “What about you sitting in my lap while we look at these together?”

“Ah—” I can hear the disconcerted surprise in her voice. And the arousal.

God she’s hot. “Or we can go find a bench somewhere and sit without touching, and talk pictures and contracts.”

She’s eyeing me. “You do contracts? Even when it’s not a club thing?”

I shrug. “For myself, I mostly just need a good, clear conversation, but Fettered requires paperwork for lots of smart reasons, so I stick with that just to keep everything clean. You okay with that?”

She’s nodding. “Yeah. But I don’t want that vibe when we’re checking out the porn.”

I like her style. “Porn first. Lap or bench?”

I can see the shaky breath she pulls in. “Lap.”

My cock is fully in favor of this plan, which she’s about to find out. I reach for her other hand and pull her in between my legs. “What’s your safeword, Scorpio?”

She stares at me, and I can feel her wanting to lean in. To connect. To soak in what I’m putting out there for her.

Damn. This is going to be freaking combustible. I squeeze her hands. “Safeword. Something really easy for you to remember.”

She swallows hard. “Lightning.”

I grin. “I like that one. Where’s it from?”

She laughs quietly. “It’s the name of my favorite electric guitar.”

She’s made it personal, which is smart. And told me why, which is the kind of naked and honest I need and want from her. And she’s waiting for my signal to move, even though everything in her wants to cuddle in.

She’s not wrong about being a sub.

I let my Dom have a few inches of leash. He and I both need to remember that I don’t have permission for squat yet. I let go of her hands long enough to scoop her up, one arm reaching behind her back, the other lifting at her knees. I set her down sideways on my lap, which makes my legs and my erection and the chest she’s cuddling into like she belongs there all very happy.

I breathe for a moment. It’s one of the best things I ever learned as a Dom. Pause. Be in the damn moment. I won’t be holding Scorpio for the first time ever again, and every inch of her is hot and sweet and mine and right where I want her.

She’s got her nose practically buried in my chest. I know what she’s doing, because I’m smelling her too. Imprinting on her scent. Autumn leaves and salt and something that smells totally lickable.

Then I feel her shiver, and I realize we don’t have all night, because eventually we’ll freeze to death on this stone wall. I reach for her envelope and lay it in her lap. “Show me what you want, beautiful.”

Her hands are shaking, and I slide one of mine under her jacket to the small of her back. Steadying. Giving her an anchor. We’ve suddenly gone way deeper than I expected, and we’re not nearly done yet.

We both need me to be her Dom right now. The words will catch up.