Make Me (24 page)

English embraces me and I invite him in.

“Tea?”

“Wine?” He holds up a bottle of sparkling white.

“Bestie!”

He laughs as I show him to the kitchen and grab two glasses.

“Make it three.” His sentence is punctuated with a knock at the door. I frown.

“I invited a friend, she was running late. Hope it’s okay.”

“Sure.” I’m a little disappointed that I won’t be able to talk to him about submission like I’d hoped to, but I guess there will be other days. I answer the door to a pale brunette with huge brown eyes, a pointed chin, and a mischievous smile that makes me instantly like her.

“I’m Edda.” She holds out a bag of chocolates. “I know I’m crashing, so I brought the big guns: sea salt coconut caramel truffles.”

“Okay, you are so in right now.” I show her to the living room, where English has brought our glasses of wine and the bottle and has settled on the floor with his back against the couch. Edda grabs hers, I grab mine, and we say cheers.

“English tells me you’re a writer, Sloane.”

I curl up on the end opposite her. “A journalist, yes. What do you do?”

“I’m in banking.” Edda wrinkles her nose.

English opens the truffles. “Edda’s a member of The Underground.”

“Really?” So she knows my sister.

“Yup.”

I turn to Edda. “I haven’t quite learned how to ask this yet, but are you a submissive too? Is that a rude way to phrase it?”

Edda smiles. “No, that’s fine. I’m a switch.”

English holds a hand out to me. “Switches like both Dominating and submitting.”

I smile at Edda. “So, you’re basically like, the bisexual of the kink world.”

She laughs. “In a way, yes. I enjoy both.”

“Do you prefer one over the other?”

“Subbing, definitely. Handing over complete control of my body, my safety to someone else and trusting them to not only hurt me but to make me feel good? There’s nothing like it. Though I suppose I’m preaching to the choir here.”

Being with two people who understand the attraction, the thing I love about submitting, makes everything click into place and feel startlingly normal. I’ve been avoiding my real life friends because how do you bring something like this up? I bite my lip and avoid eye contact. “Actually, I’m new to the lifestyle. Like, brand new.”

Her eyes widen. “You were a virgin before Darko?”

Not this again. “I wasn’t a virgin, I’ve had sex before—”

“A kink virgin,” she clarifies.

“Yeah.”

English tips his head back to look at Edda. “Talk about lucking out with your first time, right?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t had a scene with him, but I heard stories from The Games, and I’ve never heard a complaint from a sub. He’s legendary.” She turns to me. “Do you get off on the Domination itself, or do you prefer Domination with sex?”

My face doesn’t flame as much as I thought it would, but it helps how open and accepting they are. “The second. I think. I haven’t really played with anyone other than Darko, so I’m not sure if it would be the same with someone else. I did one scene with someone else, but it wasn’t typical so I don’t think it counts.”

“Wow. Well, you’ve got one of the best Dominants at your beck and call. Lucky girl.” Her teasing smile grows when she sees my blush. “Oh my God! Are you guys in love?”

I nibble a truffle. “I don’t know. It’s too soon. We’ve only been doing this for a couple weeks. We’ve only
known
each other for a couple weeks. I mean, the scenes make everything seem more intense, but that can’t be confused for love.” I head to the fridge and grab another bottle of wine. “Submission is like this, right?”

English frowns. “Not really. I’ve done scenes with people, and it might nudge you toward a sexual relationship. The sheer amount of trust involved can bring you closer together, but it’s different than love. At least for me. Affection yes, but not love.”

Edda takes the bottle from me and refills our glasses. “Maybe you need to find another Dom and see for yourself.”

“I don’t really have anyone I could ask to top me to find out the difference.”

She flicks my toe. “You have me, and I will top you myself, or find someone for you.”

I’m touched as hell that she’s volunteered to help me explore this side of myself more. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. But it doesn’t feel right, you know? I just want him. What about you, English?”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Are you in love with Marielle?”

He toys with his lip ring. “I don’t know if you can love someone you’ve only spoken to once. But I feel like I need her for my life to make sense. I know I’m infatuated, but I want her. I want to see if the reality matches the fantasy. If it doesn’t, then fine, but I want the chance to submit to her.”

Edda strokes his hair. “What if you’ve built it up to impossible heights in your mind and there’s no way she could deliver that?”

He sighs. “It will be perfect because it’s me and it’s her. I’d give anything for the chance to be able to lie at her feet.”

English had told me in the garden that submission saved his life; that he’d thought he was a sick freak for wanting to be dominated the way he did. What he said made me feel better about myself and Tessa. I think her and English are a lot alike. He told me he started his piercing as a way of getting the urge to self-harm out of his system in a healthier way. He hasn’t felt the need in years but has kept the piercings as a reminder of that dark place. Maybe Tessa’s the same? I can’t bank on that though.

I pat his back. “I hope it works out for you.”

“Me too.”

I sigh dramatically. “It’s hard to put yourself out there, as stupid as that sounds. I mean, we’ve already done pretty much everything two people can do together. I should just talk to him about how I feel, but it’s so confusing, especially with the training.” And the article. “Look at us and the things we’ve done to get this far.”

English laughs. “Look at the things we’ve worn! I fucking hate the clothes Carey puts me in. No one needs to see that much of my nipples.”

I smile. “Maybe he has a fetish.”

Edda clinks our glasses together. English shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not a great one either.”

“He’s a good guy and a total bastard.” Edda bites another truffle in half.

English nods and looks at me. “Exactly. You need to tell Darko how you feel. But if you talk to him and he’s not interested in pursuing the relationship side of things outside the kink, then find someone else. Don’t think he’s the only Dom who will ever be good for you, even if it means being single in kink. If someone isn’t interested in us, we can’t force that to change. Don’t be someone you’re not—especially if it’s as revenge against someone who can’t see how amazing you are.”

My throat burns and I stop to hug him. “Thank you.”

He pulls back and stares earnestly at Edda and me. “If we don’t hang out more, someone’s going to get a spanking.” He winks and smiles. “I hope it’s me.”

Later, when they’ve gone, I get a text from Darko, telling me to meet him at The Underground the next night.

Now
this
is what my idea of a Dominant looks like: red corset, short black skirt, killer heels. I’m more familiar with the image of a female Domme than the idea of men in suits telling me what to do sexually. The tall, African-American woman’s back is to me, but there’s no mistaking the power in the lines of her body, the muscles of her thighs and calves. Long blonde waves flow down her back, a waterfall of strands. Even her hair looks strong.

Darko led me into the room in The Underground and closed the door behind me. No instructions or directions were given. It’s probably best to wait for direction. If I’m not told to step forward, the command is to stand still by the door, so I stand and wait, hands clasped behind my back.

The Domme clears her throat and turns. It’s Robyn from the mixer. I smile in recognition—Robyn was one of my favorites from that night—but swallow back the surprised greeting that touches my lips, remembering just in time that right now we aren’t new friends having a drink and she didn’t give me permission to speak. She winks and smiles.

“Hello, subbie.”

“Hello, Mistress.”

“I have to say I was excited to read your file and hear of your flexibility from Darko. It makes things a little more...interesting.” She pulls two ropes through her hand, one large and red, the other fairly thin and black. Her gaze lifts and mine follows to a metal ring the size of a dinner plate, suspended by a chain hanging from the ceiling.

My nipples tighten and a thrill of anticipation courses through me. Darko gave me
Shibari
.

Her steps toward me are deliberate, slow, measured. If I could walk like that I’d be unstoppable, strutting around like a sexy pony. Of course, it would work better if I looked like Robyn. Her hazel gaze sweeps from my head to toes and back again. “Darko has given you this scene as a reward for all your hard work.” She grins and leans close. “You must be doing very well.”

“I’ve tried my best to please him, Mistress.”

“And you have. So enjoy your reward. Remove your shoes, your robe, and kneel, ass on heels.”

As excited as I am to try Shibari, my limbs have taken on a languid movement, slow, deliberate, as though they are sentient and trying to stretch this experience out into infinity. When I’m naked and in position, she walks behind me, trailing her hands over my shoulders and scalp, decorating them with tingles.

She runs the rope down my back, scratching pleasure from it with a light touch.

“Breathe,” she instructs.

I gasp in a breath, senses already overwhelmed. Each breath brings calm relaxation. Inhale. I’m ready for this. Exhale. I want this.

“Put your palms together like you’re praying behind your back.” She embraces me from behind, wrapping her arms around my chest and releasing it again and again, squeezing just a little. Her hands caress my hips, startling me.
Aren’t her arms still around my chest?
No, but a rope winds a diamond pattern down my torso between my breasts, and horizontally above and below them.

“It’s like you’re hugging me with the rope,” I breathe, unable to stop myself from speaking.

She nuzzles my neck, obviously pleased despite my speaking out of turn. “That’s exactly what I’m doing, honey.”

Not just hugging, claiming. She’s claiming me with the rope, binding me so that even when she takes her hands away, the touch is still there reminding me that right here, right now, I am hers.

I close my eyes to listen to Shibari, the slapping of the ropes against the floor, the way the ropes rub against each other, against my skin. Her fingers pulling on knots.

Nudging me to put my weight on one leg, she binds my ankle to my thigh and does the same to the other leg. Unable to see my back and the ropes there, I zone in and out, discomfort creeping into the security. A dull ache claims my shoulders, but I breathe my way through it, careful not to tense up.

One of the ropes is small and silky, the other larger and scratchier. Both make me want to purr when she rubs them across my skin, teasing me, touching me with them while she moves up my body and legs, creating intricate knots I can’t take my eyes off of.