Bottoms Up (11 page)

She stood up. “I apologize for trash-talking your friend Lisa, but I’m not thrilled with the fact that I remind you of a drunk, selfish teenager. There’s a huge difference between a girl who can’t say no and a woman who isn’t afraid to say yes. I know I’m reckless and impulsive. I have a wicked temper, and I don’t like to be told what to do. Submitting to you was a big deal for me. I feel different now. Everything that happened last night happened because I trusted you, and you broke my trust.”

He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “I’m sorry, Destiny.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Her sad smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Doesn’t really help as much as I thought it would, though.” She pulled her hand from his grasp.

He followed her to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Why? Worried you’ll find me hanging in the corners of your club looking for another Dom?”

Shit, now he was.

She snorted. “Don’t worry. I enjoyed submitting to you, but I don’t think it applies to other Doms.”

Satisfaction twisted in his chest.

She looked at his hand on her arm. He hadn’t realized he was touching her. Reluctantly, he let her go.

She left his office without looking back.

He eased out of the doorway and dropped into a chair. Destiny was right about the Black Cat—her daredevil persona enthralled him. He had put her on his wall, a safe way to capture a dangerous woman, but he had never made the connection to his life.

It was possible, fast approaching probable, that he was an idiot. A
bona fide
, hardheaded tool. He had painted every woman willing to stand up to him with the same brush, assuming they were all like Lisa and would self-destruct eventually. He had wanted to curb Destiny’s defiant streak and make her his submissive, but, in fact, the opposite had occurred. She had broken him, instead.

Destiny had turned his world upside down, first by reminding him that he liked spirited women and then by aptly pointing out that obedience was not a substitute for good judgment. She had neatly put the responsibility for his actions back on him, where it belonged. He had asked her to submit to him, to let him cane her, to have sex with him and Matt, and it wasn’t fair to blame her for saying yes. He had thought he was looking for her limits. Actually, he had discovered his own.

Yup, he was an idiot. Pride and the fear of getting hurt again had kept him from love for fifteen years. Hadn’t Destiny said something about lion pride? Smart girl. Well, he wouldn’t allow pride or fear to hold him back any longer. As for pain—well, if he could dish it out, it only seemed fair that he should take it. He had wronged her, and he needed to make it right.

But not here. It wouldn’t mean anything here.

It would have to be Downtown.

Upstairs.

And he was going to need a little help.

Chapter Nine

The wind dashed tears from Destiny’s cheeks as she sped down the highway. Well, she’d certainly got what she came for—and then some. Of all the reasons she had invented for Johnny’s behavior last night, a ghostly ex-girlfriend hadn’t even made the list. If he was still hung up on Lisa all these years later, she didn’t expect a week with her would make a difference. At least, not to him.

It made a huge difference to her.

BDSM explored desires, needs, respect and trust. Negotiation. Obedience. An environment in which Dominants and submissives could safely exchange power without being judged. For most, it had nothing to do with love.

Unfortunately, Destiny wasn’t one of those lucky people. For her, BDSM had begun with love—and Damian.

Dominance had been a torch she had been carrying for him for years. Her love for Damian had made her want to carry the extra weight. In his absence, she had continued to explore the world of BDSM, waiting for him to come back, but the torch had gotten heavier and heavier.

Submitting to Johnny had been a huge relief.

But that didn’t make her a submissive. Her feelings for him were exclusive. She had known that since their first scene.

Not a Domme anymore, and not a true submissive. Destiny turned toward the open highway, planning to drive every spoke on the wagon wheel Norton highway system until she figured out who to be. She sighed, the sound lost in the wind whistling through her helmet. Maybe she was just a woman looking for a man to make her feel something extraordinary.
Well, extraordinary humiliation, coming right up
, she thought wryly. Her tendency to act first and think later was getting painful. Johnny was sorry. She wasn’t. End of story.

She turned toward home.

Now she had to begin the long process of recovery. Was recovery even possible? All those beautiful blond boys and three years later, she had still felt gut-shot when Damian walked Upstairs. How long would it take her to recover from Johnny? A decade?

Destiny found her apartment door unlocked and cautiously entered. It was quite possible she’d been in such a tizzy this afternoon that she’d neglected to lock it, but she left the door wide open and reached for her pepper spray, just in case.

She found Damian sprawled on her couch, eyes half shut and sleepy as he took in her leather gear. “Now there is the Mistress I thought I’d find here.”

“Damian! What the fuck? Do you still have a key?”

“You said I could always come back. I thought you meant it.”

Yes, she had.

His lips plumped in a pout. He held out his arms. Destiny felt a frown begin between her eyes.

“Mistress, you’ve got some ’splaining to do.” Damian’s familiar, easy grin dispelled her annoyance, and she dipped to hug him. The scent of sweet sunshine wafted from his shirt. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, unable to resist the impulse to press her lips to the strong, tan column of his throat.

“Destiny?”

“Hush,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. He subsided, let her arrange his body around hers in a more comfortable embrace, and waited.

Eventually, Damian’s warm body absorbed the road chill from her skin. “Johnny challenged me. To switch,” she finally offered. “I was bored, so I thought, why not? It’s not my thing, though. I won’t do it again.”

“Oh, Destiny.” His voice conveyed sympathy and a hint of amusement. “You can’t fake submission like that. My Mistress was jealous as hell. I think she likes you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” She sat up on the couch. She stroked his hair away from his face. He smiled into her palm when her hand lingered on his cheek.

“It must have scared the crap out of you to bottom, especially for a guy like Delcorral.”

“Not as much as you might think.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Did you set that threesome up beforehand? The sound was off.”

“Huh?”

“Last night. You and Delcorral went into a private room with some blond guy. It was all on the big screen.”

She groaned. “The whole room saw that? I didn’t know the monitor was on.”

Damian reared up on the couch. “I’m going to kick his ass.”

“No need. I just did.”

“But you don’t like to leave marks.”

“Yes, that was always the problem with us, wasn’t it?”

He shot her a dirty look, then his sculpted features turned grave. “I did miss you, you know. I still do.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered.

Damian leaned forward to touch his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

“Our rings still match,” she murmured against his lips.

“I noticed.”

His mouth opened under the questing pressure of her tongue, and she explored his lips and teeth, testing the boundaries of their old connection. He responded as he always had, compliant and passionate. It wasn’t enough. She sighed and pulled away.

“Shhhhhh.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“All that time spent becoming a Domme, and by the time you come back to Norton, I don’t even want to top you anymore. It isn’t fair,” she complained.

Damian held her hands in his warm ones. “I’d love to see you in action, Des, but I think I missed my chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not a switch. Think about it.”

Her heart sank. “I’m not a bottom, Damian.”

“I think the bruises on your ass say otherwise.”

She flushed.

“Thought so.”

“I can’t imagine bottoming for anyone other than Johnny, and he’s not interested. You saw what happened last night.” Her cheeks felt fiery, although it didn’t really matter what had been on the display. The entire room had watched her take a caning and come like a banshee. A little ménage humiliation almost seemed vanilla after that scene.

Damian raised his eyebrows. “Yup, I saw an experienced Dom flee a scene like the hounds of hell were chasing him. Makes a sub wonder, doesn’t it? What would make a guy like Johnny Delcorral forget his training?”

“You aren’t the first person to say that to me today.”

“So listen.”

“Why are you doing this, Damian?”

“Because I owe you one.”

“Why?”

“I would have been miserable if I had stayed in Norton. You were trying so hard to give me what I needed, but I knew it was difficult for you. I knew you didn’t understand. You let me go, even though you didn’t want to. Now I want to help you get what you need.”

“I thought I needed you.”

“And now?”

Destiny shook her head. “Now I have no idea.”

“Sure you do.”

“Enough with the riddles, Damian.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I don’t want to play these head games anymore. Not with you, not with Johnny. I just want—”

“To cut your dreads off and wear clothes from Target?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ll have to discuss that with my Mistress, but I bet we can work something out.” His cheerful self-confidence grated on her raw nerves. “You are not a mainstream kind of girl, Des, whichever way you jump. Domme, sub, Top, bottom, Master, slave, who cares? It’s all a head game. It is what you want it to be. That’s a plural you, by the way. Give it some time. You’ll figure it out.” Damian jumped off the couch and pulled her into a tight squeeze. “Want to have dinner with us this week?”

Her jaw dropped. She nodded.

“Good girl.”

Destiny burst out laughing.

“I’ll call you this week.”

Destiny nodded again, bemused. She still had a somewhat proprietary feeling toward Damian and wouldn’t mind meeting his new Mistress under different, more clothed, circumstances.

“If you change your mind, I’m sure Mistress Karina would love to scene with you.”

Destiny shuddered. “No, thanks. Your Mistress has Capricorn written all over her.”

Damian chuckled and kissed her cheek before he headed out the door. She watched his back—his broad, tan, willing back—and sighed, finally ready to let him go.

Chapter Ten

They met at a downtown restaurant where their leather and metal caught many admiring glances. Destiny had no idea what to expect from Damian’s raven-haired Mistress, but warmth was surprising.

He clearly adored her, and she returned his affection. Destiny was surprised that she felt a twinge of jealousy. Not because she wanted him, but because she wanted that kind of easy, loving exchange for herself.

Karina insisted on paying for dinner, and Destiny let her.

“What are you two up to tonight?” Destiny asked.

“We’re going to stay Downtown.”

“Ahhh.” She understood. It was Friday, Master and slave night Upstairs at Johnny’s club. Naturally those two would want to go have some fun.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Karina suggested.

Destiny recognized the challenge in her voice. Karina’s dare was easy to resist since she’d had a whole week to get her head on straight. The Downtown scene was not for her anymore. “I don’t think so.”

“One drink.” Karina took her hand and drew her along the sidewalk.

Destiny dug her boot heels into the pavement. “No.”

“Downstairs.” Karina’s voice was firm and commanding.

“Uh-uh. No can do.”

“Don’t let Johnny Delcorral make you hide from him.” Karina unerringly hit her hot button.

“I’m not hiding! I just don’t want to see him.” Destiny shook free.

“Liar.” Damian’s voice was warm and kind. It compelled Destiny in a way that Karina’s needling could not. “Just one drink. We’re already here. Show him your strength.”

“Not fair.” Her voice sounded weak and hollow, even to her.

“We’ll be with you the whole time.” They each took an arm. Mac waved them through, and, suddenly, Destiny stood inside the door of Johnny’s bar.

Johnny slung a beer down the bar and into the waiting hand of a Downtown regular. The door opened and he saw Mac bow. It was unusual for him to accord a patron that measure of respect, but, when Destiny swept through the door, it was clear why the tough Scotsman had been so moved.

Energy crackled around her. Her jeans fit like a second skin, low on her hips, unbelted. Her short, black tank looked like silk and was cut about four inches too low and high for modesty. She was glorious. He almost didn’t notice Karina leading her blond boy in Destiny’s wake, but the fat, black leash dangling from her hand caught his attention.

The threesome claimed a booth near the sub corner in the back. Destiny assumed her usual posture, feet up on the bench, arms crossed, gaze absently searching the corners. Johnny forced himself to concentrate on the B-52 he was layering. Gratitude made his hand shake over the glass. He had to pour the drink in the well and start over.

He forced his hand to steady on the bottle when Karina appeared in front of him, refusing to let his nerves ruin another drink. “Karina,” he greeted her quietly.

“Good evening, Johnny.”

“Thanks for bringing her.”

Karina nodded. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. I only said I’d get her here. What’s her drink? I’ll have one too.”

He poured two shots of Patrón. He considered pouring a shot of tequila for himself, but didn’t, knowing he was going to need all his self-control before this night was over.

Karina laid cash on the bar.

“On the house.”

She nodded.

“You think you can get her Upstairs?” Johnny kept his voice low.

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Karina nailed him with a piercing look. “I like her, Johnny. Don’t fuck this up.”