Fighting Attraction
Page 24
“You set me up.” I take the bottle from Damien and pour myself another shot. “You knew I’d find out you had her in your playroom.”
Damien shrugs. “You’re giving me a lot of credit. Maybe I like pretty, innocent English girls who dress like they’re on their way to a picnic with the queen. Maybe I wanted to see that soft, creamy skin redden under my palms.”
“Fuck off.”
“Protective.” He swirls his drink. “Big sign of attachment. If you wanted her so bad, why didn’t you ever ask her out?”
“Because I can’t have a fucking normal relationship.” I thud my glass on the bar counter. “Especially with someone like her—all sweet and innocent, soft and pretty. Why would she want to be with someone who gets off on giving her pain?”
He raises an eyebrow, dabs at the liquid that splashed out of my glass with a napkin. “Ask any of the masochists.”
“She’s not a masochist.”
He cocks his head to the side in his goddamn “I’m a fucking psychologist” pose. “What is she, then?”
Hurting. Beautiful. Brave. Funny. Determined.
Broken.
Pain gives her release, but I suspect she never realized it could give her pleasure, too.
Sighing into the silence, Damien answers his own question. “She’s not what you thought.”
“Is that how you justify what you’ve done?” My voice rises in pitch, and I slam the glass on the counter again.
Unfazed by my uncharacteristic outburst, Damien shrugs. “I did nothing more than introduce someone to the lifestyle. I take it from this visit that you enjoyed your time with her.”
Enjoy? I can’t even find a word to express the maelstrom of emotion that has consumed me since I had Penny in my playroom. I never intended to take her that far. I just wanted to get her the hell away from Damien, and then I thought I’d give her a taste of what she thought she wanted. I never expected her to respond to me the way she did, to be so willing, so brave, and so open to my touch.
And the scars…
Fuck.
My sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.
Damien studies me and grins. The bastard fucking grins. “She’s coming back, isn’t she?”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles. “You invited her.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You just spent five minutes giving me shit for letting her in, and now you’re pissed off because I’m pointing out an inconsistency in your behavior. You’re lucky I’m such a good friend or you’d be looking for new play space.”
I fold my arms and glare. He’s right. But I wouldn’t have been tempted to ask her back if he hadn’t invited her in the first place.
“She’s the kind of girl you could actually take back to Tennessee,” Damien says casually. “She’s as close to being Southern as a non-Southerner can be.”
“There is no going back,” I spit out. “I was fucking disowned. Beau got everything. The family distillery business, Avery…” I swallow the bitterness clogging my throat. More than anything, I wish I could take back the night I shared the darkest part of my soul with Avery. I didn’t want any secrets in our marriage. It never occurred to me that love had limits, and although I assured her I would never hurt her or do anything she didn’t want, my kink was a limit for her.
Bad enough she walked away only a week before our wedding. Worse—that she told my family my secret and married Beau on what was supposed to be our wedding day, leaving me to wonder just how long she’d loved him and if what we’d had together was real.
I let out a frustrated breath, knowing the frustration is directed as much at myself as at Damien. If not for my kink, I’d be in Tennessee, running the business I’d been groomed to run alongside my dad, married to the prettiest girl in the county, probably with a couple of kids and a house… Instead, I’m sitting in a sex club with a Master Dominant, on my way to hurt the first woman who has made me feel anything except self-loathing and regret since the day Avery broke off our engagement.
A woman who discovered my secret and came back for more.
Maybe if I give her what she wants, I’ll get her out of my system. I’m pretty damn sure she’ll never come back. Which is a good thing. I have nothing to offer but pain. Nothing to gain from a relationship but betrayal and heartache.
Damien lifts a quizzical eyebrow. “So, should I add her to your client list?”
“No. After tonight, she won’t be back.”
“I don’t think Penny is the kind of woman who is easily dissuaded from going after something she wants. She was delightful on my spanking bench. I’d like to see her there again.” He licks his lips, and I wonder if he’s got a death wish he wants to come true tonight.
“She’s mine.”
“Only tonight,” he says. “After that, it’s ladies’ choice.”
Tension curls in the air between us. Cool and calm, Damien tips his head back and finishes his drink. “Enjoy your evening. Because if you don’t, I will.”
* * *
PENNY
“Back again?” Kitty smiles when I walk into the reception area of Club Sin. Tonight, her corset is black, trimmed in red velvet, the bodice cut in a heart shape that dips low, highlighting her ample cleavage. There are bruises on her upper arms shaped suspiciously like fingers. She sees me staring at them, and her eyes soften.
“Aren’t they hot?” she says. “I played with Master Sean last night. He knows I like a little visual reminder of our evenings together. And check this out.”
Before I can protest, she stands and turns around. Her corset drops low enough to cover her garter belt and the tops of her buttocks, but the rest of her ass and her thighs are bared, giving me a good view of her welts and bruises. Although I have no problem hurting myself, her injuries make me feel queasy inside.
Damien shrugs. “You’re giving me a lot of credit. Maybe I like pretty, innocent English girls who dress like they’re on their way to a picnic with the queen. Maybe I wanted to see that soft, creamy skin redden under my palms.”
“Fuck off.”
“Protective.” He swirls his drink. “Big sign of attachment. If you wanted her so bad, why didn’t you ever ask her out?”
“Because I can’t have a fucking normal relationship.” I thud my glass on the bar counter. “Especially with someone like her—all sweet and innocent, soft and pretty. Why would she want to be with someone who gets off on giving her pain?”
He raises an eyebrow, dabs at the liquid that splashed out of my glass with a napkin. “Ask any of the masochists.”
“She’s not a masochist.”
He cocks his head to the side in his goddamn “I’m a fucking psychologist” pose. “What is she, then?”
Hurting. Beautiful. Brave. Funny. Determined.
Broken.
Pain gives her release, but I suspect she never realized it could give her pleasure, too.
Sighing into the silence, Damien answers his own question. “She’s not what you thought.”
“Is that how you justify what you’ve done?” My voice rises in pitch, and I slam the glass on the counter again.
Unfazed by my uncharacteristic outburst, Damien shrugs. “I did nothing more than introduce someone to the lifestyle. I take it from this visit that you enjoyed your time with her.”
Enjoy? I can’t even find a word to express the maelstrom of emotion that has consumed me since I had Penny in my playroom. I never intended to take her that far. I just wanted to get her the hell away from Damien, and then I thought I’d give her a taste of what she thought she wanted. I never expected her to respond to me the way she did, to be so willing, so brave, and so open to my touch.
And the scars…
Fuck.
My sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.
Damien studies me and grins. The bastard fucking grins. “She’s coming back, isn’t she?”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles. “You invited her.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You just spent five minutes giving me shit for letting her in, and now you’re pissed off because I’m pointing out an inconsistency in your behavior. You’re lucky I’m such a good friend or you’d be looking for new play space.”
I fold my arms and glare. He’s right. But I wouldn’t have been tempted to ask her back if he hadn’t invited her in the first place.
“She’s the kind of girl you could actually take back to Tennessee,” Damien says casually. “She’s as close to being Southern as a non-Southerner can be.”
“There is no going back,” I spit out. “I was fucking disowned. Beau got everything. The family distillery business, Avery…” I swallow the bitterness clogging my throat. More than anything, I wish I could take back the night I shared the darkest part of my soul with Avery. I didn’t want any secrets in our marriage. It never occurred to me that love had limits, and although I assured her I would never hurt her or do anything she didn’t want, my kink was a limit for her.
Bad enough she walked away only a week before our wedding. Worse—that she told my family my secret and married Beau on what was supposed to be our wedding day, leaving me to wonder just how long she’d loved him and if what we’d had together was real.
I let out a frustrated breath, knowing the frustration is directed as much at myself as at Damien. If not for my kink, I’d be in Tennessee, running the business I’d been groomed to run alongside my dad, married to the prettiest girl in the county, probably with a couple of kids and a house… Instead, I’m sitting in a sex club with a Master Dominant, on my way to hurt the first woman who has made me feel anything except self-loathing and regret since the day Avery broke off our engagement.
A woman who discovered my secret and came back for more.
Maybe if I give her what she wants, I’ll get her out of my system. I’m pretty damn sure she’ll never come back. Which is a good thing. I have nothing to offer but pain. Nothing to gain from a relationship but betrayal and heartache.
Damien lifts a quizzical eyebrow. “So, should I add her to your client list?”
“No. After tonight, she won’t be back.”
“I don’t think Penny is the kind of woman who is easily dissuaded from going after something she wants. She was delightful on my spanking bench. I’d like to see her there again.” He licks his lips, and I wonder if he’s got a death wish he wants to come true tonight.
“She’s mine.”
“Only tonight,” he says. “After that, it’s ladies’ choice.”
Tension curls in the air between us. Cool and calm, Damien tips his head back and finishes his drink. “Enjoy your evening. Because if you don’t, I will.”
* * *
PENNY
“Back again?” Kitty smiles when I walk into the reception area of Club Sin. Tonight, her corset is black, trimmed in red velvet, the bodice cut in a heart shape that dips low, highlighting her ample cleavage. There are bruises on her upper arms shaped suspiciously like fingers. She sees me staring at them, and her eyes soften.
“Aren’t they hot?” she says. “I played with Master Sean last night. He knows I like a little visual reminder of our evenings together. And check this out.”
Before I can protest, she stands and turns around. Her corset drops low enough to cover her garter belt and the tops of her buttocks, but the rest of her ass and her thighs are bared, giving me a good view of her welts and bruises. Although I have no problem hurting myself, her injuries make me feel queasy inside.
