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Chapter Eighteen
A week and a half later, I’d spent every day with Cabot Reed… and every night with Master Creed. Truthfully, I didn’t know which version of him I liked more.
We’d even spent our lunches together, and an entire Saturday in Central Park. He made work excuses for us to be together, like deadlines and printing issues, but really, we just couldn’t get enough of each other.
In the daytime hours, I teased the gruff, impatient CEO of Reed Publishing until I got a smirk out of him, pushing his buttons and crossing lines any chance I could get, earning the occasional stern talking to, while still maintaining an appropriate working relationship to anyone on the outside looking in.
And at night, Master Creed punished me in all the ways I loved the most.
Tonight, he was teaching a class on the Japanese art of Shibari in an uptown Rabbit Hole location, and I was his faithful sidekick.
I mean, fine, he’d called me a volunteer, but sidekicks have capes, so.
Sadly, he wouldn’t let me wear one.
Whatever. I’d surprise him by wearing it later. With nothing else.
For the guy who said he didn’t do relationships, he was failing tremendously.
And I was falling for him. Hard.
He clasped my chin, searching my gaze. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? Public performances aren’t for everyone. It’s okay if it’s not your thing. I would never force you–”
I groaned, then, for the hundredth time, I answered, “Yes.”
“There are a lot of people out there.”
“Everyone wants to learn from the Master,” I teased.
He reached down and gave me a firm spank, stinging the bare skin just below the hem of my shorts. “Yes, Rylan, believe it or not, I’m a hot commodity.”
“Oh, I believe it.” Did I ever. I pushed up on my toes to press my nose into his neck and breathe him in. His hand slipped to the base of my skull and gripped it tightly, holding me close to him. In moments like this one, I knew I wasn’t alone in my feelings.
I closed my eyes, breathed him in, then bit his throat.
“Ow, fuck.” He growled as he hauled me away from him by the neck, eyes dark with anger–and a little lust.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” I giggled, then covered my mouth. “Did you bottle it yet?”
His lips tightened into a fine line.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Jesus. I knew you were trouble the day I laid eyes on you.” Reed shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
I widened my eyes. “Something deliciously naughty, I hope.”
He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, like he was asking for divine intervention, then he released me and strode away, expecting me to follow.
Which I did.
It was kinda the dynamic.
When we reached the stage, he stepped to the side of the stairs and extended his hand. I slipped mine into his, then he lifted our clasped hands so I could walk up the stairs in my teetering high heels. When I reached the top, he promptly dropped my hand and strode past me to the center of the stage. I stood where he left me, as I’d been instructed to do. I might defy him during the day, pressing his buttons as long as I could get away with doing so, but in the Rabbit Hole, in his domain, I’d learned early on to respect him.
Unless I wanted to be punished, of course, but even then, I would never undermine him in front of his peers.
Our peers.
I’d spent two weeks down here almost every night consistently, so they were my peers now too.
The crowd quieted down as Reed moved about the stage, gathering his supplies as if we were the only two people in the room. It reminded me of that first night I’d seen him here, the way he’d been so focused on Stella, as if there wasn’t a crowd gathered around them.
The thought of her made my stomach do a little swoop.
I’d finally had to tell Reed about her surprising me at the store when she never showed up to Reed Tower again. By Day Three of her not showing, I broke down and told him the truth. He’d been displeased with the situation–and obviously pissed that I’d withheld something from him–but we hadn’t heard from her since, and I was quite okay with that.
Marisa was twice as busy now, fielding all of the seventy-fifth floor calls from the seventy-third, but I planned on getting Reed all hot and bothered and then convincing him to give her a raise.
Maybe tonight, when I wore nothing but a cape.
“Welcome to the Rabbit Hole.”
Mmm, yes. His deep baritone pulled me from my thoughts. I focused on the powerful man as he stalked the stage in his usual Rabbit Hole uniform of deliciously low slung jeans and bare feet. I stared at that massive Reed Publishing tree tattooed to his back, and, not for the first time, I thought back to that very first day I raced into Reed Tower and how, unbeknownst to me, every aspect of my life was about to change.
So much had happened since then it was hard to believe only a few weeks had passed.
“For those of you who do not know me, I am Master Creed.” He paused as people in the crowd whooped and cheered for him, and I gazed out at them, noting the admiration in some of their gazes–and the desire in others.
I knew both of those emotions well, where he was concerned.
“I am the Ombudsman for the downtown area clubs,” Reed continued. He turned his head toward me and my breath caught. Those onyx eyes never ceased to knock me senseless with just a simple glance. “It’s the first Thursday of the month, which means many new faces. We’re pleased that you’ve come. Whether you are here as the guest of one of our seasoned members or you’ve received a personal invitation from myself or another Mistress or Master, we welcome you with open arms.” He waited as the crowd cheered, then quieted again. “We have a strict set of rules at the Rabbit Hole, the first of which is strongly rooted in a term you might already be familiar with: SSC. For those of you unaware, that stands for safe, sane, and consensual.”
Motioning toward the dancefloor, now packed with tables and chairs, he continued, “As you can see, the nucleus of the Rabbit Hole is a social lounge. It is like this in every location. Your sponsors should have gone over the rules with you, but on the off chance someone has forgotten their responsibilities, there is absolutely no play allowed in this social area.” He paused again, letting that statement sink in.
“We have designated rooms for play. Some are communal, but this space is not one of them.” He breathed deeply and my gaze fell to his chest as it broadened on his deep inhalation. I licked my lips and raised my eyes again, finding his locked on mine once more. The shadow of the smirk I’d come to adore danced at the edges of his lips. He loved when he caught me staring.
He reached toward me and crooked a finger. “Come.”
The word hit me smack between the legs, as it always did, but I strode forward anyway.
He slid his hand behind my neck and settled it gently against my skin, then nudged my temple with his nose. I closed my eyes, breathing him in.
Somehow, even with the bright lights on the stage and the knowledge that dozens of people watched on, Cabot Reed made me feel like we were the only two people in the world.
Whether in Reed Tower, the Rabbit Hole, or Central Park, he was the kind of man that made everything else disappear.
“Sit,” he whispered.
There hadn’t been a chair here a moment ago, but I trusted him not to let me fall flat on my ass, so I did as I was told. Looking up at the satisfaction in his gaze, I sucked in a shaky breath. He lowered himself to a squat, and whispered, “Do you understand that consent is yours to give?”
