Primal (4 page)

That didn’t mean she believed in one night stands, though. As much as she knew it was okay to enjoy sex, she’d never indulged in any sort of purely sexual relationship or affair based on desire. And oh, lord, did she desire Adam.

He was right, though. Tonight was not the night for them, no matter how much heat she’d seen in his whiskey-streaked gaze. But he was wrong to think she was out of his league. In fact, she was sure he was way out of hers.
 

Once inside her apartment, she glanced at the clock and dialed his number.
 

“I’m home,” she said when his deep voice answered. “Safe and sound, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad. Thank you for calling.”

“I’m going to think about you,” she spoke quickly, before he could hang up. “When I’m in bed tonight. And just so you know, it won’t be tomorrow, but I’m going to come see you soon, and it won’t be slumming when I do. It will be amazing.”

Then she hung up. She didn’t want to hang up on him, but she didn’t want to give him a chance to argue either. She wanted him, and she was going to have him, even if he’d only give her one night.
 

Adam stood in his favorite position, leaning against the viewing rail above the main floor of his club, watching the people below. Overwatch was a haven for those who had a desire or need that might make them vulnerable. They came to his place, a place where they were safe
to be themselves, to be vulnerable and get their most base needs met. It gave him a sense of purpose to provide that for them. Something that he desperately needed after too many years overseas fighting battles he wasn’t sure he believed in.

Just then Veronica “Ronnie” Mack walked into the club, and a strong sense of satisfaction slid through Adam’s veins. The pretty little tomboy was a new member, and the perfect example of why he’d opened Overwatch. She had a need, a craving, and she’d been on her own, searching unsuccessfully for a way to get those needs met until she’d found his club. Remembering how that had happened, Adam made a mental note to call his Canadian counterpart and update him on the sub’s progress. She’d gone through the training classes recently but was still on probation and had yet to play in the club.

When Adam saw Ian Johnson step up beside the little sub, a protective hand on her back, he bit back a smile. Ian was one of the core group of people Adam depended on at Overwatch. A Dom who thrived on training new submissives and then, once they found their footing, letting them go. But no one would look at him and Veronica standing there together and think Ian was just doing what he does. What those two had was real, the connection and closeness between them a visible thing.
 

Strange, even though he’d never had that connection with someone, that he could see it. Recognize it for the gift it was.
 

Ian stepped forward, and Veronica moved with him naturally. Even from a distance Adam could see the woman’s excitement, and the nerves that some might miss. She was no young inexperienced virgin, but it was going to be her first time doing a scene in the club, and Adam watched the couple closely.

Ronnie sat at the bar and soaked up the atmosphere of the club as Ian chatted casually with the bartender. It was Monday, and a slow night, which is one of the reasons Ian had chosen this as the night for her first public scene. For years, she’d dreamt of finding a man like Ian—no, that wasn’t true. She’d been dreaming of
him,
she just hadn’t known it. She’d pushed him, and the way she’d felt about him to the far reaches of her mind after he’d disappeared from her life.
 

Then fifteen years later, when she’d given up on the dream and decided to go strictly for sexual adventure by joining a BDSM club in search of a Dom, Ian had walked onto the small Overwatch stage and brought her dreams back to life.
 

Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up and saw Adam at the top rail, looking down. The club’s owner was one scary dude, but seeing him up there brought Ronnie a new sense of calm. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Ian, she did, completely. But Adam had been her first connect when she’d walked into the club. He’d also been the first man who’d been able to make her feel truly certain she could find what she’d wanted, and he’d never even touched her.

In the past few weeks, Ian had touched her plenty. He’d shown her again and again that he didn’t need to be in a club, or use toys, to command her body and mind. She’d opened herself up to him, and he’d accepted her submission for the gift it was, rewarding her with more pleasure than she’d known was possible. The man was hers, and she was his. He not only had her heart, but he completely mastered her body in the bedroom. Now, tonight, they were going to play in a club.

As if sensing where her thoughts were, he turned away from Kalina and winked at her. “How do you feel about a little bondage with ropes and some impact play?”

She laughed, the memory of their negotiation during one of her training classes flashing through her mind. He’d heated her up with his words then, and she knew tonight, words were just the beginning. Negotiating a scene was foreplay, and she was ready to make him work for it.
 

“What sort of impact are you thinking about?” she asked.
 

“I just picked up a new flogger today, and I wanted to test it out. See what sort of color it could bring to a woman’s skin when applied to all the right spots.” Heat sparked in Ian’s eyes and he leaned against the bar. “Does that appeal to you?”

He knew it did, the sneaky bastard.
 

“I also think you’d enjoy what I can do with a riding crop.”

“A riding crop? Like jockeys use on horses?”

His lips twitched. “Exactly like that.”

The memory of him fucking her from behind, spanking her ass as he thrust deep had a rush of heat washing over her. He’d used his hand, but what would a crop have felt like?

“Okay, I’m willing to try that,” she said, mentally cursing the sudden breathlessness of her voice. “But I’m not feeling like ropes, tonight. Got any other ideas?”

He nodded. “I’ve got plenty of ideas. Are you willing to tell me what you’re not into, and let me figure it from there?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, trying for a casualness they both knew she didn’t feel. “Tonight I’d say no to ropes, and I’m not that interested in chains. One of the specific pieces of furniture, like a bench or table would be fun though.”
 

“Hard limits?”
 

Suddenly tired of the verbal play, and anxious to move forward, Ronnie met his gaze head on. “With you? None.”

The spark turned to flame, and Ian stilled. They stared at one another for a moment, the club and all of its occupants fading away until there was only them, and the connection that had always been there.
 

He straightened from the bar and held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

“Hell, yeah,” she muttered. She followed him as he moved smoothly through the club to the far wall. She knew without looking exactly where he was going. It shouldn’t surprise her that he somehow knew exactly where she wanted her first time at the club to be, but it did. Her skin was tight and her knees weak as they walked toward the St. Andrews Cross.

The cross had grabbed her attention on her very first night there. A thing of beauty, it had fueled many of her fantasies since.
 

Ian set his toy bag on the chair against the wall and turned to her. “Strip.”

Despite knowing it was coming, her belly clenched at his order. She undressed quickly, not paying any attention to who, if anybody, was watching. She only cared about Ian. His nostrils flared and color flushed high on his cheekbones when she stood in front of him, completely naked.
 

He gestured, and she stepped up onto the cross. The cuffs he wrapped around her wrists and ankles were soft but binding. When he stepped back to look at her, there was no denying she was well and truly restrained.
 

“Normally, I love our little give-and-take, but for tonight, I don’t want you talking unless I ask a direct question. Understand?”
 

She nodded. This was new.
 

“Just settle in and enjoy,” he said. “Remember your safeword?”

She nodded. “Red.”

“And if you’re unsure of anything?”

“I call Yellow, and you’ll stop to check in with me.” They’d been over it more than once, and she’d yet to use either word with him.

He nodded then began to unbutton his shirt.
 

Her man was a computer geek. He spent his time in an office behind a desk playing with gadgets and games. You’d never know it by looking at him though because, with each button that slipped through, another inch of perfect male flesh was revealed. Her mouth watered as she watched him, remembering the other night when she’d gotten to taste every inch of that fabulous male flesh.
 

It wasn’t just the smooth muscle lightly covered by dark hairs that he revealed that had her unconsciously tugging at her restraints. It was the look in his eyes as he watched her watching him. He fed off her desire; she could see it in the bulge growing beneath his zipper.
 

When his shirt was off, he moved to stand directly in front of her. He was so close the heat from his skin touched hers, and everything inside her yearned for contact. For him to touch her, to stroke her, to do something. It was then that she understood why he’d wanted her silent, and she frowned.
 

“Yes, my girl. This is where you usually say something that distracts me from my plans.” He cupped a hand around her jaw and titled her head up, giving him complete access to her throat. Bending forward, his lips brushed against her neck, then his tongue and his teeth.
 
He nibbled and sucked, sending shivers up and down her spine. She gasped, the throb in her nipples increasing to an almost painful level.
 

He chuckled, his hot breath puffing against her skin. “Oh yeah, I love having you restrained and completely open to me.”
 
A warm hand skimmed down her side, brushing lightly over her waist and hips to reach around and cup her ass. He pulled her forward, hip-to-hip. His hard-on rubbed between her thighs, and she moaned. So good, he felt so damn good.
 

He stepped back, and she whimpered. A purely feminine sound that only Ian could drag out of her.
 

He winked and stepped over to the chair, out of her sightline.
 

Suddenly, she became aware of her surroundings again. People, more people than she’d thought were even in the club, stood around their station. Just as she was starting to panic, she saw one man shift forward.
 

Adam stood at the edge of the crowd, his gaze intent on her. He smiled, and her breathing eased. There was pride in his gaze. Not the same kind of pride Ian showed when she gave over to him, but one that reminded her she was right where she wanted to be.
 

Ian stepped back into her line of vision, and everything in her focused on him. A black leather flogger swung at his side. He rolled a wrist, swung his arm lightly, and the strands barely brushed over her torso. Every cell in her body rushed to the surface, eager for more.

Funny that whenever she’d dreamt of being flogged, it had been across her back, even her buttocks, but Ian had switched it up by taking the play to her front. The strands slapped against her skin again and again, leaving a trail of heat and sensitivity in their wake. Her small breasts tightened, the nipples aching and throbbing to match the pulse pounding between her thighs.
 

Her eyelids grew heavy as he moved in front of her. He walked from side to side, swinging lightly, and slapping first one breast then the other. Sometimes, he swung at the same side two or three times before switching. Sometimes he’d swing at more of a sideways angle, sending the leather against her thighs, from the outside, then the inside. When he swung straight up and the tips of the strands barely brushed the swollen lips of her exposed pussy, she moaned and bit her lip to keep from begging for more.

Ian stopped swinging and strode right up to her. He leaned in, his body brushing against hers, his scent teasing her senses as he cupped a breast and squeezed.
 

She moaned, arching up on her tiptoes and pressing forward, deeper into his grasp.
 

“I think I like my new toy,” he said, hot eyes roving over her face. “It certainly brought some color in to your skin. Didn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s try something else, shall we?” He stepped back and around the side of the cross again.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a sigh, her eyes drifting closed. “More would be wonderful.”

He chuckled, and she smiled, pleased to have made him laugh. She liked it when he laughed. It made her heart swell and everything inside her all warm and fuzzy.

There was no warning, just a stinging slap to her nipple that had her eyes popping open and lightning bolts of pleasure zipping from nipple to groin. She saw the crop in his hand, but it didn’t sink in what he was doing until he did it again. Harder. Then again, softer.

Holding the handle in one hand, he pulled the flappy tip part back with his other, then let it go, so it smacked right on her nipple. He shifted and did it on her other nipple, watching her reactions closely. Monitoring her. She smiled. He monitored her because she was his. He loved teasing her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm, and watching her squirm. He loved doing it to her almost as much as she loved him doing it.