Bottoms Up (12 page)

It was his turn to nod sharply.

A complicated drink order pulled his attention away from their corner table. By the time he pulled beers, shook martinis and layered another goddamn B-52, they had finished their tequilas and were standing in front of the table.

Destiny broke off from the pair as if she meant to head for the door, but Karina caught her arm. She said something that made Destiny raise her eyebrows and giggle.

Karina held out the leash.

Johnny held his breath.

Destiny shrugged and took the leash. She swiftly clipped the lead onto the thick ring attached to the blond slave’s collar. Together, they led him toward the back hall.

Destiny’s slim waist fit snugly in the curve of the taller woman’s hip. They walked in step, and the attitude Destiny had been throwing off when she arrived was nothing to what those two women projected together.

Johnny stood stock-still, rock-hard, staring after them.

He motioned to Dane, who was watching the trio almost as hungrily as he. “I’m out tonight.” He ducked out from behind the bar.

“Lucky bastard.”

“Not exactly.” He ignored Dane’s quizzical stare as headed for the back hallway.

It had to be the tequila, Destiny thought.

Or the wine at dinner. She must be drunk.

For just a second, when Karina dared her to join them Upstairs, she had felt like her old self and had eagerly agreed. Now the leash felt heavy in her hand, and Damian and Karina looked like strangers. The heavy techno beat made her head throb. Her mouth was dry. The scent of sweat, incense and sex was suffocating.

“I can’t do this. Sorry.” She pressed Damian’s lead into Karina’s hand and turned to flee.

Johnny’s huge frame blocked her path. She gasped.

“Stay with me. Please.” His hard hands on her arms told her he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but Destiny had reached her limit tonight.

“Get your hands off me. I shouldn’t be here.”

The nude servants swept toward her, but Johnny stopped them with a word. “No. Not her. Me.”

The girls flushed above their tattooed collars as they reached for the buttons of his shirt and the leather at his waist. Their eyes were shining like it was Christmas morning and they were pretty sure the enormous box in their hands held the Barbie Dream House.

Destiny watched, confounded.

“Get up!” she whispered urgently when Johnny knelt at her feet dressed only in his broad cape of tattoos. The sight of him on his knees was ridiculous, almost offensive.

He tipped his head to look at her. The column of his throat was corded with tight muscle. He swallowed. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust, Destiny. In apology, I would like to offer myself to discipline as you see fit. Will you punish me, please?”

“You don’t bottom.” She threw his own words back at him.

“I will bottom for you.”

Shock filmed her skin with cold sweat. “I don’t know what to—”

“Shhhh,” Mistress Karina leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t shame him. You know how much strength it takes to submit.”

It was true—she did.

Submitting to Johnny had been a challenge that had turned into a life-changing event. Her week with him had freed her from the past, from Damian and her obsession with Dominance. However, her week without him had been even more empowering. She’d had plenty of time to think about what she wanted from her sexual identity. Not what Damian had wanted. Not what Johnny wanted. Destiny had been exploring her own needs and desires. She had discovered her
self
.

Karina’s supple arm slid around her waist. “If you don’t want him, can I have him? I’ve wondered once or twice what it would be like to have Master Johnny Delcorral begging on his knees before me. Let’s not waste it.”

Karina’s laughing admonition restored her equilibrium. She remembered fantasizing about seeing him like this, the night they had begun this whole fiasco. Back then, putting Johnny on his knees had seemed impossible. His Dominance had filled the room. It still did, in spite of the fact that he was on his knees before her, naked, erect and vulnerable.

What had changed for him? Why was he willing to taste submission?

More importantly, did she want to punish him? There was power in this moment of decision. It surged between them, a tangible force. How would she wield it?

She knew, quite suddenly, exactly what to do.

She stepped away from Karina with a nod of decision, grateful to the Domme for buying her time to think. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Destiny trailed one hand over Johnny’s broad shoulders, circling behind him. His muscles were lithe and coiled. The shaved skin of his scalp prickled under her palm. She felt a hint of a shiver shake him.

“Hard limits?” she probed.

His reply was steady. “None.”

She motioned him to his feet and led him to the chair he had occupied the night he caned her. She perched on the arm of the chair and gestured to the floor. Johnny sank to his knees. “So, you’d stay at my feet for hours and never complain?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Misery tightened his face.

She gestured across the room where a female slave was bound, hand and foot, to the St. Andrew’s cross, waiting for punishment. Her Master stood beside her, whip lax in his hand as he—and everyone else in the room—watched them. “If I strapped you to that cross and worked your ass with a crop all night, you’d be a happy man?”

Johnny nodded rigidly.

“And if I left you here and played with Damian and Karina instead, you’d be fine with that?”

He jerked a curt nod.

Destiny slid to the floor beside him. “That’s not what I want from you, Johnny.”

The relief on his face was comical. “It’s not?”

Destiny shook her head slowly. “I don’t need or want your submission. I want your trust.”

Johnny frowned. “I’m offering to bottom for you. How much more trust do you need?”

“That’s not the kind of trust I’m talking about. I need more from you than sensation play and head games. I want you to trust my strength. My judgment. I won’t betray you, Johnny. My impulses, though hard to resist, aren’t going to carry me up a cliff and leave you standing at the bottom to pick up the pieces. You have to be strong enough to give me more than your body. I don’t want you to submit to me. In fact, I don’t want you on your knees at all. I like your lion pride intact. I don’t doubt you can take any physical punishment I can dish out, but I need you to trust me with your heart. I want to be with you, Johnny, but I need an equal.” She gestured around the room. “This is a game for equals.”

The applause from the crowd made her eyes sting with tears.

Johnny took her hands. “I’m still a Dominant, Destiny. This is my life, my world. Will you submit to me? Here?”

“I will.” Hope filled the cracks in her composure. She bit her lip. “But I have a Dominant streak too. I spent a long time developing it, and I might want to indulge it under certain conditions.” She glanced at Damian and his Mistress. Head games could be fun if you knew what was in your head. And your heart. “I’m done trying to become something I’m not. I’m sick of wearing a label—I just want to be myself.”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his strong arms around her. Her feet left the floor. For the first time all week, Destiny felt warm and secure. “You were right,” he whispered in her ear. “You were so right. I totally want a woman who is up for a dare.” He dropped her to her feet, and familiar mischief began to dance in his eyes. “Hard limits?”

“No other women.” Her voice was adamant. They both knew who she was talking about.

“Agreed.” He snapped his fingers and one of the girls scurried over with his pants. He fished around in one of the pockets, but didn’t put them on. Instead, he held up a sturdy, gold ring, dangling with a sparkly bit of bling.

“What on earth is that?”

“The world’s most expensive clit ring.”

She gasped. “Is that a diamond?”

“One hundred percent. Will you wear my jewelry, Destiny? Will you truly be mine?”

She gaped. “You want to collar my clit?”

“You bet I do. It’s a little more personal than putting one around your neck, and if you like the way it feels, maybe you could pick out a ring for your finger too. Is that exclusive enough for you?”

Was he serious? “I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.”

“Neither am I.”

Their eyes locked.

“So, just a short civil ceremony, then?” Johnny finally asked, one side of his mouth twisting in the sardonic smile she had come to love.

“Only after some serious time and consideration.” No impulse on earth would rush that decision.

Johnny scooped her up in his arms, pausing to snag the remote control from the kitchen counter and black out his bedroom. The crowd booed, making them both laugh. Destiny waved at Damian and Karina over Johnny’s warm shoulder as he carried her down the hall. Damian gave her a thumbs up.

Johnny’s arms tightened around her as he entered his bedroom and kicked the door shut. “I love you, Destiny. God, I love you so much.”

She caught his head for a kiss. “I love you too.”

Their lips met, and strength fed strength, in equal measure. His erection slid against the full length of her body as he eased her feet to the floor.

As signs went, she liked that one a lot.

About the Author

It makes me chuckle to think about all the romantic short stories I wrote in my rather too literary creative writing classes in college. If only one of my professors had steered me toward popular fiction! On the other hand, if I had discovered my calling back then, I wouldn’t have gone to culinary school, I wouldn’t have met my husband, we wouldn’t have had three children and I wouldn’t have turned to erotic romance to get my mojo back during all this hair-raising kid raising.

To learn more about me, please visit
www.mirandabaker.com
. Send an email to
[email protected]
if you want to chat about romance, writing, or recipes!

One sub to please the Master…in any way he wishes.

Hurt Me So Good

© 2010 Joely Sue Burkhart

Victor Connagher is no stranger to the Dallas BDSM scene. As CEO of a risqué cable channel that caters to adventurous adults, he ensures the lifestyle is portrayed in a positive light. He even supports a local bondage club. Yet behind the cool, confident mask, Victor lives in fear.

Once, and only once, he lost control of his inner Dom—and it cost him his fiancée. Now, no one knows how hard he works to keep his darker appetite for pain buried. No matter how much his saucy, confident associate producer makes his fingers itch to once again take up his riding crop.

Shiloh Holmes is a sub, but she’s no doormat. She’s always suspected Victor has the skills to feed her insatiable need for pain, and now she’s found the perfect way to crack his formidable control. Develop a new reality show, America’s Next Top sub…and dare him to compete.

Week after week, as Shiloh fearlessly challenges the real Victor to come out of hiding, he realizes his past mistake was only a blow to his pride. If he loses Shiloh, he could lose his heart.

Warning: Explicit sex, BDSM, reality television, a very reluctant Dom, an audacious sub willing to do anything to win for him, and one very wicked riding crop.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hurt Me So Good:

“It’s a BDSM show.” Shiloh let a sultry smile curve her lips, but she didn’t look directly at him. She didn’t trust herself not to plop down into his lap. “If we set up the correct challenges, everyone will go home extremely happy regardless of who wins.”

He checked his watch, warning that his patience was almost gone. “Either this is a reality show or it’s not. There has to be a winner, and I won’t stand for cheating among my own employees.”

“It’s a dual competition.” Shiloh fought not to blurt out her response in a desperation plea. “We’ll have submissives competing to win the Dominants’ favor, but also a single Dominant could win the title of Master, if he selects the correct submissive to win it all.”

Ms. Kannes laughed. “By God, Victor, it’s brilliant. I could compete as one of the Dominants, with my submissive as one of the contestants. Patrick could compete too, and that would give us another two or three submissives, depending on who’s in his stable right now. If we can get another couple from Silken, then we’d have an interesting mix of newbies and experienced players. The experienced ones would be teaching the rest, as well as having a little friendly competition among us all.”

Frowning, Mr. Connagher shook his head. “There’s not going to be much drama between you and Patrick. You’re too evenly matched and know each other too well.”

Shiloh let out her breath and took a step closer to him, waiting until his gaze swung to her. “That’s why you should compete, sir.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth flattened into a hard slant, and his shoulders squared, chest broad and muscular in a universal signal of male dominance that his suit couldn’t conceal.

Her heart froze a moment and then exploded into a rapid, thunderous pace that made her ears roar. He didn’t refuse outright, though, which gave her the courage to continue. “The show needs a Master with a capital M. Someone who’ll really bring the competition to a peak. Based on our demographics, it should be a male, and preferably, his submissive should be female. It will be even more exciting if he’s unattached, so the unowned submissives all feel like they have a chance of winning his attention. The ultimate prize, then, will be the Master’s collar, not money like the typical reality show.”

Evidently he didn’t like that idea at all. Silence stretched out, painful and heavy, his midnight eyes locked on her. Her mouth went dry and her heart hammered, but she stood her ground without blinking or flinching in the wake of his intensity. She didn’t even dare breathe.

“You presume, then, that I’m not only a Dominant, but also a man who’d be interested in a giggling, immature submissive who’s incapable of any sort of serious play.” He blew out his breath in a low snort and turned to the other woman. “As though I’d give my collar to someone just because they thought they’d won a show that we set up from the very beginning.”