Desire's Edge (18 page)

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Authors: Eve Berlin

Tags: #Romance, #Erotica, #Adult, #Legal, #Fiction

BOOK: Desire's Edge

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Mostly.

Damn it
.

He forced himself to stop pacing, to look out over Elliott Bay below him. It was too dark to really see the water, but lights from the docked boats glimmered. It was an amazing view. A million-dollar view. On those rare clear days the horizon seemed to stretch forever, the water sparkling, brilliant. And the nighttime view was like a string of jewels—the boats on the water on one side, the city of Seattle spread out in panorama on the other. But he couldn’t have cared less at the moment. He turned away, ran a hand over his jaw.

Don’t think so damned much
.

He needed to keep it together. Especially tonight. Kara’s first visit to a BDSM club could be overwhelming. He had to be in total command.

Just focus on the club. On your role as a dominant.

He was fine in that role. Always had been. Focused. Strong. He’d have to be tonight. Because there was something different about taking Kara there, to the Pleasure Dome. About the idea of stripping her down and playing her in front of all those people. Exciting as hell. He had to stop thinking about what else was lurking beneath the surface of the sexual thrill, the thrill of power play.

He took in a deep breath, forcing his mind to calm. His body.

The buzzer went off and he jerked, startled.

She was there.

Kara
.

He opened the door.

She was so fucking beautiful. Her long, brown hair, a blend of chocolate and caramel, was loose around her shoulders, which were bared by the white leather corset-style dress she wore. Her lips were painted red, which made him go hard instantly—the vampy mouth in her lovely face that always held some air of innocence.

Jesus.

“Dante?”

“What? Sorry.” He hadn’t realized he’d kept her standing in the hall while he stared at her. “Come on in.”

He took her hand and pulled her into the apartment. He stood there, looking at her once more, taking it all in.

The dress was short, baring a smooth expanse of firm thigh between the hem and the tops of her white stiletto-heeled boots. Her legs were endless when she was wearing heels. Hell, they were endless even in bare feet. But the boots were fantastic on her. Flawless.

She was quiet, standing before him, her hands hanging at her sides. He could see that she was going down already, into subspace, that misty place in her mind where a bottom really began to let go. He’d take her much deeper before the night was over.

A sharp twitch of need in his cock at the thought of it. Better to get to the club as quickly as possible. If they stayed in his apartment any longer, he was going to tear that little dress off her and fuck her right there on the hard floor of the foyer. With those hot, white boots on . . .

He blinked, realizing she was waiting for him to do something. She was holding her trench coat in her hand. He took it from her and slipped it around her shoulders, got his leather jacket and put it on.

“Are you ready, Kara?”

“Yes. Ready. Excited. And a little nervous. I knew I would be, but this is . . . I’m a bit overwhelmed. Not knowing quite what to expect.”

“That’s all normal.” He could say the same for himself tonight. “It’ll be fine, I promise. And if anything makes you seriously uncomfortable, if you begin to panic, tell me and we’ll go. I would never force the club scene on anyone. But I wouldn’t take you there if I wasn’t convinced you could handle it. I think you’re going to love it.”

She nodded, a small smile on her lovely face. “So do I. I really am ready.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.”

Outside, he hailed a cab. He wasn’t certain how worked up he’d be himself by the end of the night. Adrenaline. Endorphins. He didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to drive.

On the short ride to the club, Kara was quiet beside him. But she was leaning into him, her body warm through the little leather dress, her coat. When he put a hand on her thigh she was burning up.

Too good, that hot, silky flesh. But what was coming later was even better.

They got out in front of the club, an old gray-brick warehouse with a heavy red door. He nodded to the doorman, who, recognizing Dante from his frequent visits there, let them inside. The interior of the club’s main floor was dimly lit in red and amber, the walls dark. Around the room were pieces of large equipment: the tall St. Andrew’s crosses, the racks and bondage tables, the enormous wooden bondage frames where people wove intricate patterns in rope, holding their bottoms captive. The rope work was beautiful, but it wasn’t really his thing. He was more into sensation play.

Keeping an arm around Kara’s waist, he moved them toward a row of spanking benches. Yes, this was what he loved. And he knew she would love it, too. That sensual heat of his hand coming down on her skin. He loved the occasional toy: the paddle, the flogger, the clamps. But with her, he simply couldn’t get enough of her flesh beneath his hands.

Kara’s head was spinning. She’d been sinking into subspace ever since she’d started the ritual of getting dressed, preparing herself for Dante. It was something she’d become used to, something that happened whenever she was getting ready to meet him, even those times when she was going into his office at the end of a workday. But this was different, being at the club. Now that they were really there, in the Pleasure Dome, that soft, sinking sensation threatened to take her over completely.

It was wonderful and frightening at the same time, and she was glad for the solid stability of Dante’s big body next to hers. For how tightly he hung on to her. There was command in his grip. It made her feel safer. It made her want to be there that much more.

The club was a lot larger than she’d expected, an enormous warehouse space with vaulted ceilings. There were dozens of people there already, using the equipment or sitting in groups on the sofas and chairs at the edges of the room. Everything was dark: the walls, the furnishings, the lighting. It seemed appropriate for such a place, somehow. Music thumped in the background, a consistent, sensual beat, helping to create an atmosphere of tension, anticipation.

But she noticed all of these things at the edge of her consciousness. What really filled her head, her body, were thoughts of Dante touching her. Spanking her. Commanding her.

He led her to a wall where wide chairs upholstered in dark red velvet punctuated a row of leather-covered spanking benches. She understood what they were, what they were for; she’d looked them up online a long time ago, and again more recently. How had Dante sensed this was exactly what she craved most?

But as he took her to the chair and set down the leather duffel he’d brought with him, nerves filled her, making her tremble. Was she really going to do this?

“Dante . . .”

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” he told her, stroking her hair from her face.

He helped her off with her coat, removed his, and laid them both over the back of the chair. Every motion was precise, controlled.

She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself by focusing on his absolute control. By reminding herself that she was in good hands with him, literally.

He put his hands on her shoulders, gazing down at her. His features were so strong, so purely masculine. Beautiful.

“Kara,” he said quietly. She could feel the heat of him, desperately wanted him to kiss her. “I’m going to take your clothes off.”

“Oh . . .”

She felt shocked, somehow. She wasn’t sure why. There were a number of naked people at the club. She’d known to expect it. Still, the idea made her shake with equal measures of nerves and a stark, driving lust.

Need him. Need this
.

He leaned in closer, his mouth right next to hers. “Kara, take a deep breath. All you have to do is obey me. Simply do as I say. I will take care of everything else.”

She nodded. She knew he’d take care of her at the club. And her mind was going empty, then refilling with a blanket of soft, white noise. She let herself fall into it a little as Dante began to undress her.

He reached behind her and unzipped her dress. She felt the cool brush of the leather as he drew it over her head. All she had on underneath was a white lace thong.

“Pretty,” he murmured before he slipped that, too, off her body, down over her high boots. Then he took those off, as well, helping her step out of them.

The air was warm on her naked flesh. She had never felt so naked in her entire life as she did now in this room full of other people. It made her shiver with need. With a strange sort of pride. Her nipples were two hard peaks.

Dante smoothed his palms over her shoulders once more, pausing to press down. Just enough pressure to let her know that he was in command. Her mind emptied a little more, her sex going damp.

“Kara, I want you down on your knees,” he told her, his voice still that low, soothing tone. “I know we haven’t done this before. But it’s a beautiful symbol of your submission. I understand you are not a slave. That’s not what I’m interested in. Your submission is about what is happening at this moment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dante . . . but it’s . . . I don’t know if I can do it.” There was a tight, inexplicable knot in her chest.

“You can. You’d be surprised at how freeing it can be. Simply turning it all over to me. Do you trust me, Kara?”

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Then down you go, beautiful girl.”

God, was she actually going to do this? Her mind was really spinning now, reeling at a hundred miles an hour. But as fast as it was going, it was almost entirely blank.

Dante held on to her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she went down, kneeling on the floor.

Her cheeks were burning, but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was a heat emanating from deep inside her body. Desire. Intensity. She couldn’t figure it out. All she knew was that she was going loose all over, the knot in her chest unraveling, her body signaling her yielding. To
him
.

Dante.

He had his hands on her shoulders again, standing behind her now, pressing down. Holding her still. Holding her
safe
.

He leaned over and said quietly, “Good girl, Kara. Take in a breath. Exhale. And let it go. The control. The fear. I’m right here. Take another breath now. Good.”

He stayed with her, taking her through the breathing, helping her to relax. To trust. Her head was buzzing.

“I’m going to let you go for a few minutes to get things set up. I want you to stay just as you are. Will you be all right?”

“Yes. I’ll be okay.”

“Very good.”

She felt him move away, was dimly aware of the slip of the zipper on his duffel bag, small, muffled sounds as he removed things from it. There was a thrill in wondering about it, what he might do, what implement he might use on her. That combination of desire edged in fear. She pulled in a deep breath, focused on the pulse beat of the music she could feel deep in her belly. The eager anticipation in her aching sex, her breasts.

Dante was back at her side after a minute or two, helping her to her feet.

“Come on, Kara. We’re going to the spanking bench now.”

She paused, had to clench her jaw not to yank her hand back. Why did she have the urge to pull away when this was the very thing she wanted, had fantasized about?

Maybe
that
was why. But she couldn’t think enough to figure it out. She was trembling all over.

“Dante . . . no.” She was shaking her head slowly. She couldn’t stop herself.

He was quiet a moment, his hand going to the back of her neck and massaging it lightly.

“Are you truly saying no, Kara? Because if it really is no, then we can stop. Tell me what you want.”

“I . . . I don’t know. I can’t stop shaking.”

He drew her into his side, his arm tight around her waist. His face was close to hers. He said very quietly, “This is all up to you, Kara.
You
decide. That’s where your power is in all this. So tell me. Is it yes? Or is it no?”

She felt as if she were on a precipice. Paused. Waiting to fall into the darkness. The unknown. She wanted this. Badly. She was scared to death.

Yes.

No.

Her mind was spinning so hard she was breathless. She had no idea at that moment what her answer would be.

ten