Rogue (5 page)

“I prefer the term ‘blunt,’” I told him with a grin.  “Maybe even ‘ballsy,’ if you
want to be crass about it.”

“Oh, I can be crass, babe.  I like to talk dirty.”  He winked at me.

“Creep.”  My pointed allegation was ruined by my amused smile.

“Damn.”  He smothered his own smile, doing his best to school his expression into
something contrite.  “I promise I can be good.”

His attempt at wide-eyed innocence didn’t suit him at all.  He looked so ridiculous
that I couldn’t hold back my laugh, ruining his efforts to keep a straight face.

“Well, if you promise to behave yourself, I guess I will take that drink.”

“I wouldn’t make that promise to anyone else.  But I’ll make an exception in your
case, as a form of penance.  Which is something else I don’t do, by the way.”  He
eyed me carefully.  “Maybe Clara’s right.  Maybe you will make a good Domme.”

The way the lines of his face drew downward let me know that the thought didn’t please
him.

I did my best to ignore my unease at having disappointed him.  I didn’t like disappointing
people.  It was a reflexive thing, an ingrained response from years spent trying to
please my father.

Shaking it off, I grasped at the opportunity to further my mission.

“That’s actually why I came back,” I said quickly.  “I wanted to talk to you about
what it takes to be a Dominant.  Even though you pissed me off, you seem to know what
you’re talking about, and I want to do this right. 
Safe, Sane, Consensual,
right?  It’s my job to uphold that.”  My lips took on a wry twist as I added, “No
matter how creepy my instructor is.”

Derek’s brows rose in disbelief.  “You want to sub for me to learn how to be a good
Domme?”

“Maybe,” I hedged, my fears getting the best of me.  I knew I should accept immediately,
but nerves made me shy away from the commitment.  “I’d like to talk about it more
before making up my mind about that,” I amended.

He considered me carefully for a moment.  Did he approve of what he saw?

Stop that! 
My entrenched people pleasing would get me into trouble here if I didn’t focus on
holding my own around this man.

Finally, he nodded, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Okay.  We can talk about it over that drink and then revisit my proposal.  What’s
your poison?”  That signature smolder that Clara had warned me about threatened to
make me melt for him at the mention of his
proposal.

Submitting to him.
  Shit, I needed a drink.  A strong one.  But now wasn’t the time to get plastered. 
I had to keep my wits sharp.

“I’ll have a Diet Coke, please,” I requested.

Derek waved down Ortiz to get our drinks.  He ordered tonic water.  It seemed I wasn’t
the only one who wanted to stay sharp.

The look he gave me as he pressed the Diet Coke into my hand was one of respect. 
And that hint of lust still remained, flaring when his fingers brushed against mine. 
I should have pulled away, but I allowed the contact to linger, enjoying the tactile
sensation of his calloused fingertips on my skin.

I’m just playing my role,
I assured myself.  But deep down, I knew my actions were the result of something more
than my sense of duty.

“I’m glad to see you’re abstaining from alcohol.  A Dominant needs to be fully aware
when interacting with his submissive.  The sub’s safety is his most important responsibility.”

His lips thinned suddenly, and he withdrew his hand from mine.

Again, he stressed that safety was of the upmost importance to him.  And he seemed
deeply disturbed by the thought.  Did he know what was going on in his club?  If he
did, his expression indicated that he disapproved.

He blinked hard, his expression slipping into a genial mask.

“I guess that’s a good place to start: a D/s relationship is about the Dom caring
for his sub.  If that means giving her structure in her life or giving her pain to
help her release negative emotions, then that’s his responsibility.  Ultimately, D/s
is meant to be a mutually fulfilling relationship, based on trust and complete honesty.”

I couldn’t help but take note that he said
he
when referring to the Dominant and
she
when referring to the sub.  I decided to let it slide.

“So it’s not just about power?”

I had assumed that Dominants were on a power trip and submissives had low self-esteem.

Smith was right.  I have no idea what it means to be a Dominant.  I should have researched
more carefully.

Shit.  I was going to have to talk to Miller, after all.

Derek gave me a censorious frown.  “Is that what you’re here for?  Power?”

“I…  Isn’t everyone?”  My question was little more than a squeak in the wake of his
disapproval.  Damn, I hated it when he looked at me like that.

His expression softened, his eyes turning introspective.  “Yes, the power exchange
is at the heart of the D/s dynamic.  But it’s about so much more than that.  Casual
BDSM play between two consenting partners isn’t as deep as a committed relationship. 
The sense of control that the Dom gets and the sense of release that the sub attains
is the payoff for that kind of play.  If you do enter a D/s relationship, there will
be a deeper sense of satisfaction in the trust you share with your partner and the
fulfillment of caring for someone.  Or being cared for.”

I suppressed the urge to shiver at his last words.  They were accompanied by that
damn smolder again.  It made me wonder what it would be like to be cared for.  No
one had taken care of me in a long time.  Not since my mother had died when I was
eleven.  And my father had been painfully closed off after that.

Don’t go there.

“Oh,” I said stiltedly.  “I didn’t realize…”

I became aware that my hand had fisted from my nerves when Derek’s fingers hooked
through it, gently loosening my grip.  He rubbed small, soothing circles across my
palm, and I instantly relaxed, my muscles easing from my fingertips all the way up
to my shoulder.  I almost groaned at the blissful release of the tension that had
gripped me for days.

“Taking care of your partner is about more than the exchange of pleasure and pain. 
The sub serves her Dom, but a good Dom will serve his sub as well.”

The implications of his words and the heat in his eyes slowly registered in my brain.

Sub.  He’s treating me like a sub.

I jerked my hand away as though his heat had burned me.

“Um… Okay.  I think I get it,” I fumbled.

When I dared to glance back up at Derek, he was regarding me seriously.  “It’s okay
to enjoy my touch, Sharon.  Practice with me.  Let me show you what it means to be
a Dominant.  I won’t hurt you.”

“Won’t you?”  I meant it to be a snarky challenge, but the question came out as a
hoarse whisper.  “You just said that a Dominant gives a sub pain.  If I do this with
you…”

I trailed off, unable to put the humiliating things I might allow him to do to me
into words.

“There’s a difference between giving pain and hurting someone,” he told me gently. 
“If you work with me, I can show you that.  It’s your choice, Sharon.  You can still
come to my club as a Domme, even if you don’t do this.”

I eased down off my barstool, edging away from him as though he was a rabid beast. 
But if I was honest, I was more frightened of myself, of my reactions to him, than
I was of Derek.

“I’ll let you know.  I need some time to think about it.”

I need to talk to Miller about what the hell I’m getting myself into.

Turning my back on Derek and his alluring aura, I almost fled from him to search for
my partner.

Chapter 4

I took a deep breath and plunged right in.  “I need to talk to you.  About BDSM.”

Miller grinned at me.  “Smith and Clayton told me to talk to you, too.  I’m happy
to do it, but I don’t appreciate being given orders.”

“What?!”  I spluttered, my familiar ire rising up within me, driving away the warmth
and consternation that Derek’s touch had awoken within me.

Barely twenty minutes had passed since I had left his side.  As soon as I had tracked
Miller down, he suggested we leave and get a bite to eat.  My distress was written
all over my face, in every taut line of my body.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about him
reading me so easily, but I was too relieved at his agreement to get out of Decadence
to worry about it.

Now relief gave way to annoyance.  The force of my hand hitting the table nearly made
my coffee slosh over the sides of the mug.

“Asshole Doms,” I muttered.

“Hey!”  Miller was obviously offended, but there was a playful lilt to his protest
that let me know he wasn’t truly angry with me.  “Sure, it’s in our nature to be controlling,
but the guys are just looking out for you.”  He met my glare steadily.  “And if it
makes you feel better, I told them I wouldn’t force you to discuss anything with me. 
Not all of us are as pigheaded alpha as Smith.  Clayton seems reasonable, but he cares
about you enough to be pushy when it comes to your safety.  Can you blame them for
that?”

I blew out a long sigh.  God, when he put it like that, it made me sound like a petulant
child.  My pride and stubbornness were impairing my judgment.  I hated to admit it,
but Smith and Clayton were right.  I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself
into.  Tonight had proven that.

“Right.  Sorry, Miller.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I guess I am a bit of an ass these days.

Miller shrugged and nodded his acceptance of my apology.  “You can call me Reed, you
know.  All this surname stuff seems cold.  I’m your partner, and I’d like to be your
friend as well.”

I eyed him suspiciously.  What was his game?  Was he trying to lull me into complacency
in order to get the upper hand on my op?

“I don’t play games, Sharon.  Well, not outside of
play
.”  He shot me a roguish smirk before his expression turned more earnest.  “You can
trust me.”

“Sure.”  My response was noncommittal.  Miller – no, Reed – frowned, but he let it
slide.

“Are you ready to order?”  The cute blonde waitress with the perky boobs was back. 
And it was obvious that they were perky, because she was practically thrusting them
in Reed’s face while she unnecessarily topped up his mug with half a centimeter of
coffee.  To his credit, he didn’t stare into her cleavage.  Instead, he gave her a
sweet smile, looking her squarely in the eye.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger with everything on it, please.”  Reed ordered and then looked
at me expectantly.

I gave a small shake of my head.  “I’m good with coffee.”  With the tension that was
knotting my stomach, I couldn’t eat a bite.  Besides, wearing so little at Decadence
had made me painfully aware of how wide my hips were.

Reed turned his attention back to the blonde.  “She’ll have the same.”

“Hey!”  I protested.

But the waitress had already shot me a frosty look and turned away.  I glowered at
my partner, tapping my nails on the table in annoyance.  “I hope you’re ready to eat
both of those, because I’m not touching a burger.”

“Why?  Are you a vegetarian?”  His lips turned down in distaste at the thought.  “I
can order something else for you.”

“No!  I don’t want anything, damn it.  If I did, I would have ordered it for myself.”

Reed shrugged, unapologetic and completely unaffected by my aggravation.  “You should
eat something.  I’ve rarely seen you with anything but coffee.  Caffeine can only
keep you going for so long.”

“I had a salad for lunch.” 

The frown Reed turned on me was stern, and I couldn’t help the knot of discomfort
that formed in my gut in the wake of his disapproval.  I hated disappointing people.

“Is that all you’ve eaten today?”

I had coffee for breakfast.  And dinner.

Okay, so maybe I forgot to eat a proper meal sometimes.  I had a lot of work to do. 
Besides, Clayton always brought me Mu-Shu pork when he ordered Chinese for the office,
which was at least three times a week.  That happened fairly often, I realized.  Was
he feeding me on purpose?

What the hell was wrong with these guys?  Couldn’t they leave a girl alone to govern
her own life?

“Do all Doms feel a compulsion to boss women around?  Or is it just the pushy men
I work with?”

Reed ignored the jibe.  Instead, a satisfied smile lit up his face.  “So Smith and
Clayton do it too.  Good for them.”

“Do what?”

“Top you when you need it,” he answered simply, as though that made perfect sense.

“What does that even mean?”  I had a feeling I knew what he meant, and I wasn’t sure
I wanted to know the answer.

He rolled his eyes.  “I can see why they wanted me to talk to you.”  His tone turned
lecturing.  “A ‘Top’ is the dominant partner.  A ‘bottom’ is the submissive.  A good
Dom will top a sub to not only get what he wants, but also to give her what she needs. 
Even if she doesn’t realize it.”

“So they’ve been
topping
me for years?”  All my suspicions about their lack of respect for me were confirmed.

Reed shrugged.  “Probably.  I’ve only just joined the New York field office, so I
can’t say for sure.  You’re a natural sub, but you’re also stubborn and prickly as
hell.  If they’ve managed to top you for that long without you realizing, they’re
good at what they do.”

My frustrated growl was not at all ladylike.  “Why does everyone keep saying that? 
I am not a ‘natural sub’!  I’m an FBI agent, goddamn it!  I kick ass and arrest bad
guys twice my size.  Could a
submissive
woman do that?”

Reed’s glare was so sharp that it seemed to slash right through my chest, taking my
breath away.

“Yes.  She could.”  The words were clipped.  “You’re proof of that.  No.”  He held
up a hand to silence me before I could hurl more venomous words in his direction. 
“You are going to listen to me, Sharon.  I’ll tolerate insults when it comes to Smith,
Clayton, and me.  I know they come from a place of ignorance.  But I will
not
allow you to continue belittling subs.”

His usual lighthearted demeanor had given way to something severe and forbidding.

Dom,
I easily recognized it now.  I shrank back into the booth behind me.  He allowed the
silence to stretch, his eyes warning me not to speak out again.

The waitress returned, but Reed didn’t say a word as she set the plates down before
us.

“Can I get you anything else?”  Her voice was low and throaty, her focus on Reed. 
He just shook his head, dismissing her and never taking his eyes off me.  She stalked
off with a little huff.

“Eat,” he commanded.

I reached out and grabbed a French fry.  Its salty flavor hit my tongue before I realized
what I was doing.

“Good?”  He asked.

I found myself nodding mutely.  It was delicious.

So why was I being such a bitch about it?  I needed to eat dinner, and it tasted good. 
Sure, I was pissed that Reed had presumed to order for me, but was that really such
a bad thing?

My taste buds were telling me that it wasn’t.  This was a very, very good decision.

I plucked up another fry and brought it to my lips.  Reed smiled, and the relief I
felt at his approval was embarrassingly visceral.

I really did hate disappointing people.

“Okay, you win.”  My admission was only a touch surly.

“It’s not about winning or losing, Sharon,” Reed told me.  “If a Dom is good, everyone
should win.  He gets satisfaction out of taking care of his sub, and she gets the
satisfaction of having needs met that she wouldn’t have seen to on her own.”

There it was again: the alluring idea of being cared for.  I closed my eyes briefly
against the unexpected wash of emotion that it brought out in me; resentment, grief,
and longing.

His large hand covered my fist.  My eyes snapped open, but I didn’t pull away.  His
touch didn’t send the same thrill through me that Derek’s did, but his warm strength
was undeniably comforting.

Everything I had faced in the last forty-eight hours had all but scrambled my brain. 
I was already exhausted from the constant strain of my anger, and now the revelation
that my friends had been subtly controlling me for years was almost more than I could
bear.  The fact that I was forced to acknowledge that their control had helped me
only made it more difficult.

Natural submissive.

Shit.

Okay, so maybe I had a few submissive tendencies.  The fact that what Reed described
wasn’t at all like what I thought of as “submissive” made that easier to swallow. 
I grudgingly acknowledged the appeal of being taken care of from time to time.  But
wasn’t that what any healthy relationship entailed?  Partners supported one another. 
And one of them didn’t have to be tied up and demeaned for that to happen.

I shifted in my seat.  It suddenly seemed far too warm in the diner.  I extricated
my hand from Reed’s heat.

Research.  This is just research.

I would focus on studying BDSM like I focused on studying for a test.  Learning more
from Reed would help me succeed in my mission, and that meant a win.  A win meant
accolades and approval with the Bureau.  I would earn the men’s respect.

People pleasing.  Is that a submissive trait?

No.  It couldn’t be.  I was taking control of the situation by gaining information
and formulating a plan.  My intellect made me strong, gave me power that I lacked
in physical strength.

I wasn’t submissive.  I wasn’t weak.

“Are you okay?”  Reed studied me intently, his penetrating black eyes threatening
to suck me into their inky depths.  “I’m sorry if I pushed too hard.”

Damn it, why did he have to be so nice?  And so reasonable?  Smith and Clayton might
have been
topping me
for years, but as soon as I realized that they were bossing me around, I had gone
into righteous bitch mode.  A few words from Reed, and I found myself questioning
who I was.

But even though he had confused me, I felt calmer than I had in days.

I wasn’t sure if his words reached me in a way the other men’s couldn’t because I
didn’t know him yet, or if he was just incredibly perceptive when it came to communicating
with me.  He had known when a gentle touch would comfort me and when a sharp word
would shut me up.

“As a Dominant, he’s a master manipulator.”

Did Smith’s warning apply to Reed as well?  Did it also apply to him?  To Clayton?

They had all manipulated me in subtle ways.  I wasn’t at all comfortable with that
thought.

“I’m good,” I forced myself to reply evenly.  “Just…  I don’t like that.  Don’t do
it again.”

“Sharon.”  My name held a touch of exasperation.  “You’re hungry.  You’re eating dinner
now, and you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t ordered it for you.  Is that really so terrible? 
I’m not doing anything nefarious.  And neither are-”

“Please.”  The word was laced with desperation.  I couldn’t allow him to convince
me that this kind of behavior was normal.  That it was
natural.
  “I don’t like it.”

The seconds stretched out until he finally nodded.  “Okay.  If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I assured him immediately.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me about?”  He prompted.

I didn’t think I could handle talking about BDSM anymore.  Research be damned.  I
could deal with it later.

“I think I understand things better now,” I confessed.

Truly, I did.  Reed had helped me to see that D/s relationships weren’t abusive. 
To hear him and Derek describe it, that kind of relationship sounded almost beautiful. 
In a perverse way.  I still didn’t understand the pain thing, but that would be all
right for now.  No way was I going to allow Derek to touch me like that.

“There’s a difference between giving pain and hurting someone.”

I suppressed a shiver at recalling Derek’s words.  They did something funny to my
insides.  The sensation wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Reed agreed.  He seemed reluctant to drop the subject so soon, but his dark
eyes read my unease, and he wisely let it lie.  The man could read me far too easily. 
But I had to admit that wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing; he respected my boundaries,
my needs.

“…having needs met that she wouldn’t have seen to on her own.”

I raked a hand through my hair, tugging at the tight curls as though I could pull
the confusing thoughts out.