Make Me (3 page)

Even if this daring woman fascinates me with her arrogant views and obvious interest in submission, I should toss Sloane out on her shapely ass for breaking our rules, yet I’m not ready to part with her. How will she react to the truth? A small, wicked part of me wants to see the shock on her face, so I tell her. “Your sister is preparing for The Submission Games.”

He didn’t give me a kiss—he took one. Christ, he can have them all.

Soft but firm lips claimed mine with a restrained fury like he was holding a storm of pleasure at bay with nothing more than sheer willpower. He could have been Tessa’s Master or boyfriend for all I knew, and I didn’t want him to stop kissing me.

Thank God he’s not
with
my sister.

But a memory of a younger Tessa, slashed wrists leaking so much blood onto the bathroom floor where I found her, momentarily blinds my eyes to the present. I’ll do anything to make sure she hasn’t fallen back into self-harming, and that she’s truly okay. I feel like this is something I can’t quite take her word on. Not with Mister fucking Orgasm simmering in front of me in his chair. I can barely think straight with him so close and I’m not as vulnerable as my twin.

Tessa is very emotionally driven and the first card she’ll pull is the ‘you haven’t done it so you couldn’t possibly understand’ card, especially after the way I called kink sick. She won’t believe I suddenly understand or approve, which means I need to be as prepared as possible when I see her—even if it means trying this lifestyle.

I need to get her the hell away from these people. That little demonstration could have seriously hurt that man.

It was unbelievably hot.

No, these people are sick. Regardless of my body’s rampant approval, I do not trust anyone here.

But if I show up and win these Games, Tessa won’t be able to argue that I don’t know what it’s like. She’ll be forced to listen to me, give me a chance. “What are The Games?”

He traces patterns on the table’s surface with his fingertips, and my belly sympathetically burns, remembering that touch. I shouldn’t want more of it.

“You know that The Underground is a BDSM club.”

I tear my gaze from his hand and focus on his eyes, trying to ignore the heat rippling through my belly. “My source told me that it was extremely exclusive.”

“Your source isn’t Tessa?”

My source is my gay friend Jay, who is up on all the gossip around town. That’s basically all he knew, but this guy doesn’t need to know what I know.

He smirks. “Extremely exclusive is an understatement. It doesn’t matter who you know, who your daddy is,” he raises an eyebrow at me, “or who you fuck. Money is meaningless, prestige even less, to the owner of The Underground.” His accented tongue curls around certain words the same way it did in my mouth.

God, I need to focus. “If money is meaningless, how much do memberships cost?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

He grins. “Money isn’t everything? Other than The Games, it’s invitation only, and even then you must be vetted by at least three in-house Dominants. We are the best. The fact that you can’t buy or fuck your way in is what makes this place special.”

“And these games fit in how? Winner gets to stay?”

“Very good.” Resting his head on his hand, his index and middle fingers touch his temple. The tip of his ring finger curls in, toying with that sensuous lower lip. He grazes it with his teeth. “Yes, the winner of The Games earns a membership.”

I clench my jaw. “And my sister earned one of these memberships?”

“No.”

“How did she get a VIP membership?”

“That, I am not at liberty to discuss. If she didn’t tell you, it’s not for me to say.”

He could end this conversation with a few straightforward answers but chooses to draw things out between us. Is it because he enjoys being obstinate or because he wants to spend more time with me? “What
can
you tell me about her?”

“I will tell you that your sister is in deeper than you can imagine.”

All the heat leaves my body at once. She would have opened up to me if I hadn’t come down so hard on her. Now she’s neck deep in a place where they tell you liking pain is normal, switching one unhealthy behavior for another, and damned if I’m not getting her out. “I’m in. Sign me up for The Games.”

His laughter mocks me. “There is no way in hell you would get past round one.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you have no idea about kink.”

Anger warms my skin. “What would I have to do to win?”

He smiles. “Whatever the Doms wished you to do.”

I swallow hard. “Are you one of them?”

“Not this year, but I have been in the past.”

I cling to that. “So you have power here. Can you call Tessa for me?” Maybe she’ll pick up for him and I won’t have to do this.

“Tessa has gone silent to protect your father. The Games are huge and famous in our circles. She is distancing herself on purpose, and I’m not going to violate her wishes or the protocol of The Games. I don’t need to tell you how big a scandal it would be if her proclivities were discovered. She’s done this for your family.”

Now
that
has Tessa stamped all over it. But the thought of her protecting me and Daddy from something that is hurting her—even if she thinks she likes it? I can’t abandon her if there’s the chance she’s self-harming again. I couldn’t live with myself knowing she could be hurt because my judgment pushed her into reckless behavior. Looks like The Games are out. “If you won’t sign me up for The Games, then get me a regular membership.”

His blue eyes turn glacial. “You don’t
get
a membership. There are protocols. Our Doms would not vet a contestant who wasn’t worthy of being here.”

I need a membership. With it, I can show Tessa I have experience about kink and know what I’m talking about. If she won’t talk to me directly, I’ll tell her I’m writing the exposé. If that doesn’t get her attention, I’ll publish it. But no matter what, she will talk to me. Desperation loosens my tongue. “Make me worthy.” It feels like letting the scorpion ride my back across the river, but his eyes burn with interest and something indefinable.

“You want me to coach you to become a proper submissive? So you can win a membership to The Underground?”

I plead with my eyes, not daring to speak.

He continues. “I would be putting my neck, my reputation on the line if you failed to get in. Not to mention the penalties.”

“Penalties?”

“I would lose time on my membership.”

Big whoop, his toys are taken away? “That’s all?”

He stands and steps into my space, and the darkening of his eyes makes my mouth dry. “Believe me, Sloane, that is a terrific punishment for those of us who earned our places here. The Underground isn’t just some place to get hammered and stare at tits and ass.” He leans closer, one hand on the table, the other on the back of my chair. His breath falls on the skin of my neck, painting me with goose bumps of fear and attraction. “Most of us have been made to feel like our inclinations are perverted, fearful. Wrong. Something to be subverted and forgotten.”

My eyes close as I remember his mouth on mine. His hand on my crotch once more, this time without clothes on and taking it further. Taking control of my body. How can I want someone like him to do things like that to me? I’m not into this stuff. I’m not into pain. “Suppressed?”

“Yes. This place means more to us than you’ll ever know. Losing it for any amount of time is torture.”

“You’re the only member I know. I need this.” Maybe playing to his ego will help. I’ll offend him into wanting to prove himself to me. “Are you a good coach? How many of these games have you participated in?”

“Four.”

“Always as a coach?”

“No. Twice as a coach. Twice as a Dom putting the submissives through the rounds.”

If I had to choose, would I rather he be my coach, showing me how to do things beforehand, or the Dom in the round with me? My thighs reflexively clench. “Have you ever won?”

“Both times I coached.”

I bite my lip, curiosity freeing the words. “Which did you prefer?”

“Being a participating Dom.”

He says he’s good, but how can I take his word for it? He’s a stranger. “Yet you’re a good coach. Allegedly. So you’d be a great teacher.”

“Very.” He crosses to a panel and punches a number into the keypad.

A breathy voice answers. “Yes, Sir?”

“Come in here.” He returns to his chair. “Sloane, if you want an unbiased opinion, you should cover your face so she doesn’t think you are Tessa.”

I barely have time to put my hat back on and hide the lower part of my face behind my hand when the door opens and a gorgeous woman walks in and kneels at his feet even though there’s a third chair available. Unreal.

“Sir?”

He strokes her silky black hair. “Milena, please tell our guest here what The Games are.”

“They are an opportunity of a lifetime for submissives to earn a place with us.”

“How many times have I participated?”

“Twice as a Dom. Twice as a coach. Once was as my coach.” Her eyes, one green, one brown flit to his lap.

He smiles down at her. “Focus, please.”

I clear my throat. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a private chat?”

He stands. “Of course. Send Milena out when you’re satisfied.”

I wait until he’s gone. “Are you here under duress?”

“What?”

“Against your will?”

She laughs. “Oh, I know what you meant. But no.”

“Please sit at the table. I hate looking down on you.”

She moves to the chair but looks more uncomfortable sitting on it than when she was kneeling on the floor.

I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “I’m having a hard time believing you’d be here voluntarily.”

“I like it here.”

“You can speak freely with me, Milena.”

Her beauty isn’t marred by the scowl on her face. “I know.”

Clearly she thinks she likes it here. I try another angle to make her open up. “Was he an okay coach for The Games?”

“The best. You look familiar.”

“You know my sister.”

She squints, nodding after a moment. “I won because of him.”

I pick up my drink. “So he coached you to a win and now what, you belong to him?”

“I wish. I’d live in his bed if I could.”

“Seriously?”

Her hands trail over her collarbone. “Do you know what it’s like to go through life looking for a rush, a thrill, being able to have anything but finding nothing?”

Yes. I’ve found that rush in war zones, in disaster areas, going after stories. Never in someone’s bed, not like she’s describing. Would it be like that for me, if I submitted to him? Is it like that for everyone in BDSM, or is it just that he’s a skilled lover?

I want to feel that rush.

No, I don’t. I want the story, the truth. “So, submission is the ultimate rush for you?”

She smirks. “I look about ten years younger than I am. Outside of here I was a surgeon for years. I held peoples’ lives in my hands on a routine basis. Saving people, pulling them back from the clutches of death was a rush for me. Like I’d done something important. For a while.”

“And you quit that for this?”

Milena’s posture finally relaxes a bit. “No. I quit that and went to find myself, as they say. I was brought up in a wealthy, strict, conservative household where women were meant to make babies and plan meals for the chef to prepare. It infuriated my father and embarrassed my mother when I went to medical school.” Her eyes twinkle. “My way of rebelling. But soon it wasn’t enough. I traveled all over the world searching for the feelings I find in Sir’s arms. Extreme sports barely touch the rush his hands bring.”

I tasted a sliver of that. My body craves more. “You love him then?” The tiniest twinge of jealousy tugs at me. Ridiculous.

She laughs. “Not the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t go as far as I want him to, but he’s the best I’ve found up to this point. The vanilla world would consider us friends-with-benefits. I love what he does for me, to me. I love who he is, but I don’t want him to put a collar on it.”

“Collars are like wedding rings?”

She nods, and I lay it on the table. Maybe surprise will make her reveal something. “I’m considering training with your Dom, but it hinges on me trusting him.”

“Training with him?” She frowns. “He’s asked you to...” She swallows hard and forces a smile. “Trust him with your life. Family and his word are all that matter. Honor.”