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And Gibson never had. He’d had sessions with dommes where he’d been blind with the pain but he never let go, never orgasmed in session, never went to that place he knew others sought, that oblivion of subspace. He couldn’t surrender. The gratification was in surviving it.
But Sam wouldn’t want that. She’d want his full surrender.
It was something he didn’t have to give. Just thinking about letting go like that put a pit in his stomach.
Grant stopped by his table and clapped him on the shoulder, breaking Gibson from his thoughts. “Hey, stranger, haven’t seen you around in a while.”
Gibson glanced up, trying to clear the scowl he felt himself wearing. “Hey, man. Yeah, work’s been crazy. Kade opened up a new Mediterranean concept and the launch has sucked up all of my time. How’ve you been?”
Grant smirked. “On the verge of a nervous breakdown. Charli’s pregnant and for some reason, she thinks she can continue on with her life as normal and has dismissed my plan to keep her locked in our bedroom and off her feet for the next six months.”
Gibson laughed, knowing the overprotective Grant was probably only half joking about this plan. But Gibson also knew Charli, and there was no way that woman would put up with being Rapunzeled. “I can’t imagine why she’d have a problem with that. But congratulations, that’s fantastic news.”
“Thanks.” He took the seat next to Gibson. “So are you here for a paid session or something else? I’m only asking because Elise, the woman in white over in the corner, is a new member, and I’d rather pair her with someone who’s a veteran.”
Gibson peered over in the direction Grant had indicated and found a pretty redhead scanning the room, her nerves evident in the stiff set of her spine and tight hold on her glass. Everything about her said newbie. Everything also said submissive. Gibson should’ve jumped at the opportunity. She was attractive, and he enjoyed training new members. But trying to drum up excitement tonight was like rubbing two wet sticks together and expecting a fire. “I’m not sure what I’m here for, to be honest.”
Besides his brother and his friend Pike, Grant was the only other person who knew about Gibson’s occasional private sessions with the paid dommes.
Grant gave a grunt of acknowledgement and then nodded toward the entrance on the far side of the room. “Maybe she’s more in line with what you’re looking for this evenin’?”
Gibson turned his head, expecting to see Janessa or one of the other regular dommes who worked there, but instead Sam strolled in. Sam. Just the sight of her gave him a swift kick in the gut. She’d changed out of her work clothes into snug black pants and a corset, torturing Gibson with curves and smooth flesh and brash confidence. Good God, she was something to behold. But as she moved farther into the room and he got a better look at her face, his appreciation of the view switched into something else entirely.
The Sam he’d left in the bar was not the woman here now. Her eyes were puffy and devoid of the smoky makeup she’d been wearing earlier, and one side of her face looked red and swollen. She’d been hurt. He jumped to his feet so quickly, his chair nearly tipped backward. “What the hell?”
Grant stood as well, probably noticing the same things he had.
Their sudden movements must’ve caught her eye because she turned Gibson’s way. Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she spun on her heel and headed in the other direction. But he was only a few strides away and picked up speed.
He caught up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Sam, wait.”
She tensed beneath his fingers. “You’re not supposed to touch anyone without permission here. Let me go.”
He didn’t give a shit about the rules right now. He stepped around her, blocking her path. Up close, the damage was even worse. Her cheek was definitely swollen, her lip puffy, and she’d been crying. His spunky, upbeat Sam, crying. Something primal and protective surged in him.
“Baby.” He reached for her cheek. “What the hell happened?”
She ducked away from his touch, her jaw twitching. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
He dropped his arm to his side but didn’t move away. “Bullshit. Talk to me.”
Grant stopped a few steps back, listening but not interrupting.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, her fists clenching at her sides.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Sam,” he said, warning in his tone.
She looked away, her stance steely. “Fine. The guys who gave me trouble at the bar tonight were waiting for me when I walked to my car, all right? Shitty end to the night.”
Gibson’s stomach plummeted, and anger ripped through him like a wildfire. “They did this to you?” He closed the space between them, searching her face, wanting to run his hands all over her to make sure everything was intact but knowing he needed to tread carefully. “God, baby, did they—”
“Angie chased them off before they could do any worse than this. I have a few bruises and a ripped shirt. I’ll survive.”
Gibson let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but rage still beat through him hard and ugly. Those fucking inbreds had hurt Sam, had scared her, would’ve done worse if someone hadn’t been there to interrupt. “I’m going to kill those fuckers.”
