Make Me (16 page)

I manage to force the question down until I’m alone washing my hands at the black marble sink. How often does Darko come to The Underground and top women?

More importantly, why the hell do I care? I’m only seeing Darko for an article.

I walk out of the bathroom, trying to outrun further thoughts on that subject. Realization creeps over me, stealing my momentum. I’m genuinely jealous. I want him. I want him to be my reality. This man I barely know, who knows me better than anyone else, has become the only thing I never knew I wanted.

When the hell did this happen? We had sex once. How has he burrowed beneath my skin so quickly that I want him so irrationally? Not just here, or in a scene, but out in the real world too away from the fantasy?

It scares the shit out of me.

Is kink like this for everyone? The power exchanges force the timeline of a relationship, making you feel closer to someone than if you were just dating, because of the sheer amount of trust exchanged in scenes? I’ve done articles on how the brain mistakes danger for love, and couples who do something exciting and a little scary on first dates feel closer than those who do dinner and a movie. But we’re not talking bungee jumping or zip-lining.

That’s got to be the answer. My lips curl and I bark out a laugh. Fucking endorphins. Crazy chemicals flooding my brain, nothing more. I need to stop thinking of him as if he’s a romantic option. This is a job. I’m writing this to prove to Tessa the dangers of kink.

With a deep breath, I retreat to logic. To business. I’ll add something along these lines in the article. Mistaking adrenaline rushes for substantive feelings of love and attachment. The clinical thoughts ground me.

“You’re not trying to avoid me, I hope.”

My entire body shivers once, violently, as a flash flood of ice water slams through my veins. Despite the overwhelming urge to cringe myself to the floor, I manage to stand straight. “Hello, Sir. No, Sir.”

“I prefer Master.”

“I’m not your slave.”

“Clearly.” Carey Clark circles me in a distinctly predatory way. Darko feels like a simmering orgasm waiting to happen. Carey is more...unpredictable. They’re equally intense, but the man standing in front of me doesn’t turn me on like my coach does. Oh, Carey’s sexy as hell, and I bet he could rock anyone’s world, he just doesn’t do it for me. The blatant interest in his eyes says that feeling is not mutual. “Care to join me for dinner?”

Now I know how Little Red felt when she met up with the wolf. “No, I’m okay, thanks. Not really hungry.”

“Too bad.” He moves closer. “I’d be into showing you a few things you’d never tried that would leave you feeling...full.”

“Are we still talking about food?” I swallow.

“Do you want us to be?”

This man just told me he thinks Darko and I are into each other, yet he’s coming onto me? I can’t think straight right now. “I should get back.”

“Has Darko ever told you how deliciously expressive your face is?”

My heart’s slamming my chest so hard I can barely remember my own name, never mind any conversations I may have had with Darko. “I can’t remember if it’s come up.”

“It’s a shame. I’d have loved to have had a scene or two with you. It’s okay to give in to your desires, especially with someone who only wants to give you what you need.” He chucks my chin and leans closer.

“I have everything I need, thank you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I pull away. Was he going to kiss me? Do I want that?

No. While submitting turns me on, it’s also about the person. And right now, the only person I want to submit to is Darko. But does that mean I actually like him? Of course I like him, but more than that? God, my life is so fucked up. “I should go.” I turn and slam directly into Darko’s chest. Shit! What did he see or hear out of context? How does he feel about me?

“Aralica. How are tricks?” Carey’s voice is smug and unrepentant, like he’s pleased to have been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t want your sub to get taken from you. There are unsavory characters around. People with loose morals.” He widens his eyes dramatically.

“Would you like another drink? It’s warm in here.” Darko lays a hand on my forearm.

“No, thank you. I’ve hit my limit tonight, I think.” I focus on the stage as the music kicks up and the next coach readies for her performance.

Darko glares at the Dom and takes my upper arm. “Sloane. Come.”

I walk away from Carey, not looking back, not even wanting to. Darko’s grip isn’t tight, and yet it might as well be a manacle. He’s silent, leading me down a set of stairs until we’re on another floor, the music barely reaching us through the thick walls, and then it’s gone completely in the cool night. We reach a hallway and he tugs me around to face him before releasing my arm.

“What were you doing with Carey Clark?”

“Who cares?” All I want to talk about is what Carey said about Darko having a thing for me—and how I wanted that to be true, but he was off with Milena. Resentment tempts me to say nothing. Fuck it, I need to explore this with him. “But there’s something else we need to talk about.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You are new to this and could have been harmed, ordered around by the wrong Dom, made us look bad which could have hurt you in regards to your membership. You shouldn’t have left the table.”

“What, like you did? You left me alone there.” Defensiveness clips the ends off my words. “Has it ever occurred to you that this is all a bit much for me? That I might need time away from this so I can get a handle on it mentally? I’ve been spanked, bound, blindfolded, teased. I’m dying for a release here, for a diversion. For something! For anything.” For him. Not that he’s noticed tonight, leaving me to go be with Milena. Maybe I don’t mean anything to him.

“And you thought you’d find that with Carey Clark?” The lack of emotion in his voice scares me more than if he’d screamed in my face.

“What? No. Anyways, why were you with her?”

His brow furrows. “Who?”

“You fucking know who.” My jealousy surprises me but I can’t rein it in.

“Stop changing the subject.” He steps closer, shoulders stiff. My back hits the wall; I need more space but can’t find it. Darko moves sinuously, bracing his arms on either side of me. I should want to escape. I should feel trapped.

I don’t. I want him to press me into the wall. I want him to unleash his desire all over me.

His eyes are all pupil with a tiny rim of blue. “Carey Clark is not someone I want you around.”

“Why not?” Is Darko jealous? Does he see some kind of future when he looks into my eyes? “Is he a bad man?” I tip my head back, angling my mouth inches from his, daring him with hungry eyes to close the space and just fucking kiss me.

“He’s not a good man for you. Not a good Dom for you. His style would hurt.”

Prove you want
me,
Darko
. “Maybe I like being hurt.”

“Not like this. It would cause you harm.” The back of his hand traces my cheek, heating the blood in my thighs.

“So?” I lick my lips, trying to provoke him.

His hand slams into the wall by my ear. It makes me smile to see him lose it just a little. “Do not play these games, Sloane.”

“Games? You’re the one who exposed me to these games, who’s showing me how to please a Dom. And yet you never let me please you. Never even ask. Doms don’t ask, they order and demand. I want to try everything with you, do a full scene and then some. I want you to take over, take control so I can lose myself in whatever you want to give me.”

His eyes slam shut. “You’re not ready.”

I know he wants me too, so why the hesitation? Why is he holding himself back if it’s what we both want? The slight unsteadiness in his husky voice gives me confidence. This means something to him too.

Pushing myself away from the wall, I meld my body to his starting at the hips, rolling upwards until our lips are the only things not pressed together. I’ve made the first move but need him to be the one to seal it. The muscles in his jaw flex, internal conflict stamped all over his face.

“You fucked me on my kitchen floor because you wanted me as much as I want you. You told me about your past because I mean something to you.” I reach around and scratch all the way down his back, not hard enough to hurt but not lightly either.

He shudders and crushes me close, and finally, his lips meet mine. As tightly as he’s holding me, his lips are gentle and he moves slowly, easing my lips apart and stroking his tongue across mine. His hands devour my body while he savors me with his mouth.

I explore the hard contours of muscles beneath his shirt with my hands, tracing his biceps and shoulders before pressing against the nape of his neck, deepening our kiss. It’s like trying to guzzle cold honey. Decadent, overwhelming, but no matter how much I want more, it doesn’t go any faster. Darko won’t be rushed and continues tasting me at his maddeningly sweet pace.

But I’ve been teased and touched and tormented into a frenzy since the beginning of my training. Since before that when I first laid eyes on him. And knowing he was with Milena tonight, even benignly, boils my blood. I need him now. He catches me easily when I jump and wrap my legs around his hips and grind against his hard cock, gasping when it swells further against me. His hands dig into my ass, his fingers hitting a sore spot from our last scene which sends a streak of pain through the pleasure, intensifying it even more.

The combination shorts out my awareness of anything around us, and this time he’s just as frenzied as I am when our lips meet. Molten lust so primal it’s nearly angry consumes us both as we bite, suck, devour each other. If I could draw the air from his lungs and make it my own I would.

If only I could breathe through the haze.

My back hits a door; I hadn’t realized we were moving.

“Your room?”

He nods. I reach down and fumble for the doorknob, refusing to unwrap my legs. Darko is mine. I refuse to let go. He smiles against my mouth when my thighs squeeze tighter and walks us inside, heading straight for the bed.

The weight of his body pressing me into the mattress is the best thing I’ve ever felt. He kisses his way down my jaw and nuzzles my neck before doing something with his tongue to my throat that curls my toes and rolls my eyes back into my head. One of his hands squeezes my ass and traces the back of my thigh from my hip to my knee and back again.

I pull back, my inexperience flooding over me, loosening my lips. “I feel like I don’t know enough.”

He props himself on his elbows, a concerned frown on his face. “Enough what?”

“Enough to please you.”

“You please me greatly,
ljubav
.”

I close my eyes. “I mean, in other ways.”

“We can stop until you’re ready.”

“No, I want you.” Christ, I can barely see straight I want him so much.

His chest rises and falls three times. “Very well.”

Yes, I’m getting my way! Oh, fuck. Are we really going to do this? The exhilaration is streaked with fear. Am I really ready for a full scene and then sex with him? God, it’s going to be intense.

He walks to the wardrobe. “You are the one in charge, Sloane.” His voice softens. “If at any point something becomes too much for you, it is imperative that you safe out. Understand?”

Like hell I will.
“Yes.”

“On the other hand, you absolutely can’t allow fear to take over and rule your reactions.”

“I don’t scare easily.” Fear of a situation is usually worse than the situation itself. Usually. And he’s never done anything to me that I haven’t liked.

He grabs a dildo from a shelf in a cabinet, removes it from the package, and twists the head. The low vibration fills the room, and my nerves buzz with fear and arousal. “Excellent. Remove your clothes and lie face down on the foot of the bed please.”

My heartbeat ratchets further when he grabs the biggest tube of lube I’ve ever seen.

“Sloane.” His posture screams authority, and yet I still hesitate.

Use your brain. Would he really do something that would hurt you? He’s doing this to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.
He’s provoking me to show me that the fear is conquerable. But I already know that.