Make Me (15 page)

“They are starting.”

The lights don’t so much dim as they are extinguished, leaving the room in an inky blackness. Three ropes, blue, green, and red, float across the stage. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to notice that they’re being carried by someone.

“The ropes are black light responsive.” Darko’s whisper makes excitement shiver through me.

“Shibari?”

“Yes.”

Hell yeah. I want to try it, but I’ll settle for watching a demonstration. The lights don’t come on; they’re going to perform this in the dark with the ropes as the only brightness in the room.

A mesmerizing dance of movement and light, darkness and stillness, begins on stage. I’m sure it’s more difficult than it looks, but within moments, the female submissive has been decorated in intricate knots and ties, and the performer moves on to the man sitting patiently on the neighboring pedestal. My gaze flits back and forth from the woman already tied up to the man undergoing the same treatment.

What would that feel like? I squeeze my thighs together, picturing Darko wrapping me in those ropes, tying his knots around my body.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass like seconds. The ropes are gently luminous, reflecting only a small amount of light on the submissives’ velvet skin so it’s more like the idea of a person tied up in glowing ropes. Maybe not even a person but a ghost, held into a human shape by the lengths of radiant color. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

Darko’s hand slips into mine and gently squeezes. It wouldn’t hurt if we had sex one more time, would it?

Only if you asked him to make it hurt.

What if I wanted more than sex? Unable to tear my focus away from the demonstration, I can only squeeze his hand back.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

I whip my head to the right so fast my neck hurts. “Carey?”

“I prefer Sir, but I’ll let that slide on account of the fact we’re already holding hands.”

I smile and gently tug my hand from his. “I’m sorry, I thought...”

“You thought I was Aralica?”

I nod. The lights come up and we all erupt in applause. I use the opportunity to scan the room, trying to find my errant coach.

Carey bends closer. “You’ll see him in a moment.”

“Where’s your submissive?”

“Are you scared to talk to me without adult supervision?” His dark eyes twinkle and I smile despite myself.

“No. I happen to like English.”

“That makes two of us, though he is awfully hung up on someone else. No wonder the two of you get along so well.”

The forced casualness in his voice puts me on alert though I don’t show it. “What are you talking about?”

He smiles. “Don’t bother, Sloane. The attraction you feel to him is written all over your body.”

This time my drink tastes watery with the melted ice. “For English?”

“Oh, we’re playing make-believe? Okay, stop me if you’ve heard this tale. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful submissive no one had ever met, who showed up at a kingdom of pleasures. And this sub had a coach, a man with a funny accent who had a thing for his submissive-in-training.”

My heart stutters. “What are you even talking about?”

“She didn’t know how to feel about that.”

Could Darko be interested in more than just my training? But we barely know each other. And yet he knows more about me than anyone I’ve met. One look at me and he knew my innermost secrets and pulled them out, used them to make me stronger than I dreamed I could be. It’s because of him I’ve learned these truths about myself, seen the reserves of strength that are bottomless wells. He’s shown me I can do anything I put my mind to.

I almost got myself off this morning making coffee, looking down at the place on my floor where he fucked me.

A funny flutter enters my belly when I picture his face. Could I be falling for him? It’s been so long. Hell, this is all new to me, but I know that submission is something I want to explore more of, and Darko is twined around that; I’ve begun seeing them as one and the same. I want more of the freedom his hands give me. But that’s just sexual attraction, right? I’m into submitting, not Darko.

Or is it the other way around?

I don’t even know anymore.

Carey clinks our glasses together. “And she was interested in him too, only she was too stupid to realize it in time, and he went back with his evil ex, another beautiful submissive who deserved much better: a certain handsome Dominant from the East coast.”

I swallow hard. “His ex?”

“Milena, dear. But we’d moved on to me, the handsome prince from the East.”

I set my glass down a little too hard. “I talked to her though. She said they never dated and he never collared her.”

“Maybe not. But there’s certainly love there.”

I follow his gaze up to the side of the stage, where Milena and Darko stand facing each other, only a few feet apart. Her perfect body is perfectly showcased in a corset and panties. She looks how a submissive should. They look good together.

Surely they’re not seeing each other, not while we’ve been—not while I’ve trusted him to...

Not when I’ve trusted him to, what, teach me? We’re definitely not dating, but I hadn’t expected this. We’re not exactly promising each other anything after my training ends, despite sleeping together once. My heart thumps with a surprising lurch of disappointment. Why do I care? I’m only here for a story anyways.

“Welcome to exhibition night, where the coaches put on a show for their contestants.” Carey tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “The next demonstration has begun.”

No, that’s just chemicals in my brain. I’m not in love with Darko, but I could fall for him so easily. He’s intelligent, caring, sexy, exciting, and he’s directly made me a stronger person. I can’t deny the potential for a future I feel every time we touch.

What potential? Any woman would feel...soft...toward the man who helps her overcome something shitty in her past and who makes her come so hard she may have pulled a muscle in her lower belly.

But if it was just that, then why is my heart pounding at the thought of him being interested in me as more than just another sub?

I stand on shaky legs. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

I could watch Sloane watch Shibari all night. Even in the darkness, her large eyes sparkle and reflect the movement of the ropes, making it more interesting than if I pay attention to the stage. Shibari is something I have studied, but I’ll be focusing more extensively on it if it’s what turns Sloane on—and it very obviously does.

I want to take her to the edge of where she thinks pleasure peaks and nudge her over it into uncharted territory, to discover heights she had no idea existed. But before that can happen, she needs to trust me to take her there. We’re getting to that place. She opened the door this week, even if she didn’t let me all the way in.

It’s my hope that after tonight she sees the man behind the suit. The hand holding the crop. I want her to want me and not just the scene.

My intention is to be so much more with her, for her. I’ve somehow been planning as though she’ll be my sub at the end of this. Foolishness, and unfair. I want to give all of myself to Sloane, truly devote myself to her training and see where that leads us. But before moving on with Sloane, I need to formally end things with Milena, so I slip from the chair and seek her out.

Maybe Sloane won’t want more from me than what we have and I’ll be alone. But feeling this way about her makes it impossible to go back to Milena. I’d feel like something was missing. Who knows, maybe Sloane will be open to the possibility of redefining our relationship. Optimism hasn’t been my strong suit, but perhaps I shall try it on and hope for the best.

It’s a very important responsibility when you begin a D/s relationship regardless of whether or not a collar comes into it. Milena and I were never exclusive, but I’ve been a part of her life and she’s been a part of mine for a couple years now. Even though I wouldn’t have walked through it, a part of me still felt like that door to the past was open.

Tonight, I’m closing that door so Sloane and I can move forward.

I hope to return before Sloane notices I’m gone.

Milena stands by the stage, wearing a tiny red corset and tinier panties. Her eyes light up when she notices me. “Sir!”

“Hello. How are you?”

She steps forward and I embrace her. “Better now. Will we be playing tonight, Sir?”

“No. There is something I need to tell you.” I glance around to ensure we have privacy, if not from eyes, at least from ears. My words are for Milena alone.

Her huge eyes are sad. “Was I bad?”

“Only when I needed you to be.” I stroke her shoulder. “You are a gorgeous submissive. But it’s time we moved on.”

“Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.” She sighs and smiles. “The woman you brought here tonight? Tessa’s sister?”

I nod.

“She makes you happy?”

“I think she could.”

“Give her the chance to. Let her in.”

“Didn’t I let you in?”

Her wry smile reminds me of our nights together. It was a play of pain and pleasure, of fire and ice. Of soft touches with hard chains; hard touches with soft hands. With bodies and sensations, we went through a relationship, many times with not a word spoken between us, only the sounds of pleasure Milena made.

But there wasn’t much beyond that. She’s intelligent, engaging, fun, an outstanding submissive, beautiful inside and out, but she doesn’t do it for me like Sloane does.

I guess I really have kept Milena at crop’s length, but I truly thought I’d let her in. And yet it’s not only that I’m ready to open up now. Even now, if I had the choice between the two women, it would be Sloane, hands down. Sloane makes me want to open up without realizing I’m doing it. Sloane makes me want more.

“I am truly sorry for the remaining walls between us, Milena. I gave you all I could give. It was no fault of yours, only mine.”

She shakes her head and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re the best Dom I’ve ever been with, Darko. Don’t doubt that and don’t ever feel sorry about anything we’ve had. You taught me more about my body, more about myself than I could have learned without you. Hell, you coached me to victory in The Games. We were great together, but I wasn’t the one. The walls you built around yourself suit you right down to the ground. Maybe she’s strong enough to climb them, but it will be better on both of you if you let them come down. Be a little selfish for once and choose happiness. For both of you.”

Milena and I stare into each other’s eyes, speaking volumes. This woman knows me, yet doesn’t, and that’s on me. I made all of our scenes about her, not us. All the time we spent naked together suddenly seems so impersonal compared to Sloane’s and my scenes, few as they’ve been. There’s an intensity to them I can’t shake.

There’s an intensity I don’t wish to shake.

Milena and I have said goodbye and can move on. That sentiment resonates through my bones and is reflected in her eyes.

She steps forward into my arms, and I hold her close. “Thank you, Sir, for everything. I hope she makes you happy. And if she doesn’t appreciate you, I’ll lose my high heel in her ass.”

That makes me smile. “Thank you, Milena.”

She takes a breath, hesitating only for a moment. “You’re different with her. I can see it. She’s good for you.”

“I’m the same as always. It is too early to tell.”

“No. I’ve never seen you so...she lightens you. Softens your edges.”

I pull back. “That doesn’t sound good.”

She smiles. “It isn’t good. It’s great. You’ve carried such a weight for so long. I can’t say I’m not sad it wasn’t me, but I’m glad you’ve found someone you can unburden yourself with.”

I bend to kiss her cheek, humbled that this woman knows me and cares. “Any Dom here would be lucky to have you—for a night or a lifetime.”

“I know.” She grins up at me, already bouncing back from the sentiment of the moment.

I take a deep breath and turn back to the table, ready to get a glimpse of Sloane, of a future that includes not just scenes, but trying something outside a D/s relationship—if she’ll have me.

Sloane’s not at the table where I left her.