AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks.”
He rested his elbow on the counter and leaned in. “So what are you into, Everly?”
“Jeez. Not even going to buy me a drink first?”
He looked at her cup and arched a brow. “Yours is full, but I’d be happy to when you finish.”
She took a sip as she assessed him. “Are you a Dom?” He looked like one—had that confident presence.
“I’m a sadist top with a thing for sensation play.”
“Are you a baby sadist?” Newbies weren’t her thing. She didn’t have the patience to babysit. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“No. I’ve been playing for years. I moved to town a year ago and only found out about this club recently.”
She peered around them, checking to see what equipment was available. She’d been coming here long enough to know the club was safe. Plus, Kon had been watching her on and off, even while his subs made out next to him. Somehow, she knew he was looking out for her, and though she didn’t need a babysitter, it did make her feel safer. Maybe not all rich guys were assholes.
“I’m a brat masochist,” she said, letting the warning hang in the air.
He nodded. “I’m more a sadist than a Dom, but I can give you pain if that’s what you want.”
She thought for a moment. Ambrose had left her wanting more. If not with him, why not with this guy? Her body ached for release. The built-up stress of covering for Morgan, the upcoming protest, and coming off the high after the best sex ever needed to be released somehow. And here was a sadist, ready to hurt her.
“Do you like canes?” she asked.
He grinned wickedly, and she shuddered.
She finished the last gulp of her soda then declined when Troy offered her another. Instead, she pointed to an empty Saint Andrew’s Cross.
“Jeez. Not even going to buy me a drink first?” he teased.
Laughing, she rose and started toward the equipment. “Come on. It won’t stay open for long. I’ll buy you a drink after.”
He followed her, heading right to the rack of canes hanging on the wall. His eyes darkened as he looked them over. She had to admit the expression was sexy, even if he wasn’t Ambrose.
She remembered Ambrose saying he wouldn’t use a cane on her until he knew her tolerance.
Well, fuck him.
Troy led her to the cross and she took position, her back to the room, front up against the hard wood. He began the process of strapping her wrists into the cuffs, then her ankles. Usually she got pleasure from the process, when it involved the power dynamic. This felt hollow. Like they were just doing a job, fulfilling meaningless roles, and that was it.
This wasn’t satisfying her the way it did when a Dom handled her. But all she needed was the pain. She could do without the mastery.
The lie was hard to swallow, but she forced herself to push thoughts of Ambrose and permanence and how badly she yearned for something real away.
A moment later, she heard the telltale swishing sound of a cane slicing through the air. But it didn’t land on her. Troy tested it out a few more times, making her flinch.
“I’ll start slow,” he said. “Over your skirt at first. Okay?”
She nodded. The club safeword was “red.” If she yelled it and Troy didn’t stop, people would come running.
Her muscles tightened in anticipation, and she tried to relax with a deep inhale.
A voice caught her attention. Every hair on her body rose. It was far away at first, but then it became clearer, and closer. She turned her head, searching for the owner.
There, in the corner near Konstantin, was Ambrose.
And he was staring at her.
