Sir's Redemption (Doms of Decadence Book 8) Page 3

  Scared to lose him. To lose the best thing in her life. Oh, she’d survive it. Of course, she would. Kinley was a survivor. She was tough. She could get over Sloan if she had to. But she didn’t want to.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

  He paused while rubbing her ass. Then stepped back. The bereft feeling that filled her only made more tears flow. He lifted her off the couch and onto her feet, holding onto her forearms to steady her when she wobbled.

  “You shouldn’t do that.”

  “Do what? Spank your ass?” he asked with a hint of humor.

  She snorted. “That too. I meant you shouldn’t be lifting me around like that. You need to take care of your back.” She bit her lip the minute she said it. Drat.

  He folded his arms over his thick chest. She watched him warily. Wearing black jeans and with his shirt open to display his magnificent chest, he looked incredibly hot. What she wouldn’t give to snuggle into that chest right now, to feel his arms surround her and hear him tell her it was all going to be all right.

  Of course, it was. She didn’t need Sloan to tell her that. She had things under control. Maybe.

  “Now, I know you weren’t speaking badly about your body since it belongs to me, and no one talks badly about anything that’s mine.”

  Those words sent a shiver of trepidation down her spine.

  “So, I can only guess you’re implying I’m weak.”

  “I was not!” she protested.

  “That I’m old?” He raised one brow.

  “No,” she muttered, realizing he was trapping her but unable to think of a way out.

  He grasped her chin. “Do I have to remind you that talking down about this glorious body of yours just gets you into strife? Been a while since you’ve had to spend the whole weekend naked.”

  That was his punishment of choice. At first, she’d thought it was to humiliate her. That was before she knew him well enough to realize he’d never even consider doing that. It was an attempt to show her how beautiful he considered her to be.

  “No, Sir.” She tacked on the sir to show she was extra regretful. He just let out a half-laugh.

  “Ah, Kinley, you’re trouble for sure.” He clasped her face between both hands and kissed her gently. The light kiss soon morphed into something hot and heavy. A promise of the night to come. And when he stopped she slumped against him, breathing heavily. Not caring in the slightest that anyone could walk in and see her bare ass. He had the ability to make her forget everything else when he kissed her.

  “It’s your super power,” she muttered.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But he had that mutinous look on his face, meaning he wasn’t about to let her get away with that.

  “When you kiss me, you make me forget everything else,” she told him. “It’s your super power.”

  That stubborn look was replaced by a satisfied grin. The cat that got the cream wasn’t quite the apt description. More like a bear who’d found a lake filled with fat, wriggling salmon. The salmon never had a chance.

  Had she just likened herself to a fish? Jeez, Kinley.

  “Do I want to know what that thought was?”

  “Just feeling sorry for salmon.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “You’re always going to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?”

  She grinned up at him. “You like my crazy side.”

  “I like all your sides.” He gave her another, all-too-brief kiss. Then drew back to study her with those serious, brown eyes. “You look better. Cheeks are red, both sets.”

  She resisted the urge to smack him. Sloan might be a pretty relaxed Dom, but hitting your Dom was never a good idea. Even if he had a smart mouth.

  He ran his thumb over her cheek. “Yeah, I think you’ll be all right. I’m still going to keep a close watch on you, though. If you feel tired or dizzy you tell me.”

  She nodded, but her mind was already worrying over something else. “That wasn’t my punishment, was it?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. Normally, she loved when he laughed like that. It sent her stomach into flutters and made her grin. But not this time.

  “Darlin’, that was just the warmup,” he drawled in a rich Texan accent that became more pronounced when he was amused. Or turned on.

  Shit. If that was the warmup, she was in trouble.

  3

  Sloan loved watching her move. It was the thing he’d first noticed about her. Well, okay, it was the second thing he’d noticed. How graceful she was. The way her hips swayed as she walked. It never failed to turn him on. Watching her was one of his favorite things.

  The first thing he’d noticed was how fucking hot she was. She wasn’t stick-thin like society seemed to think women should be. She had curves where she was supposed to have curves. The moment he’d seen her he’d known he had to have her. He just hadn’t realized how far that need would go, or that six months later he’d be in a relationship with her.

  A relationship of sorts, anyway. They’d talked and talked about their Dominant-submissive roles. What they expected from each other. Their limits. Their needs. They’d talked until he was tired of his own damn voice. Speaking about this sort of stuff wasn’t his forte, but it was his responsibility as her Dom to keep her safe. He couldn’t do that unless he knew what her hard limits were. Knew her fears. Her desires.

  Their relationship hadn’t really progressed beyond that. They went out for dinner sometimes. Then they’d end up back at his place. In his bed. Sometimes they spent the whole weekend together. Usually when she’d been naughty and needed his full attention.

  He loved those weekends.

  How she didn’t see how gorgeous she was, he didn’t know.

  Women.

  With those red-blonde curls, her pale, perfect skin, those sparkling blue-green eyes, and her full lips, she was a goddamn goddess.

  He was lucky he’d gotten to her before anyone else had.

  He lowered her skirt and took her hand in his to lead her into the dungeon. Why didn’t he take move their relationship forward? He should. He should be making certain she was his. Always.

  But there was something holding him back. At first, he’d thought it was Sarah. But she’d been gone nearly five years. He’d been a different person back then, less sure of himself. Only just coming to understand his role as a Dominant. March had shown him who he truly was. He tensed. He tried not to think of James March all that much. The other man had been his best friend, his partner—not sexually, but they’d had a relationship all the same. They’d shared Sarah, dominated her together, although March usually took the lead role.

  And like an idiot Sloan had followed him.

  “Sloan?” Kinley whispered, staring up at him in concern as they stood outside the large, ornate doors that led down to the dungeon. The doors had only been put in a few months ago. Apparently, Sam, one of Roarke’s submissives, had decided to do a bit of “redecorating.” Roarke had pissed him off somehow, the details weren’t clear, and Sam was the kind of guy who believed in, “don’t get mad, get even”. These doors were over the top. Like something out of a badly-scripted medieval movie.

  But rather than being pissed off or ordering the doors removed, Roarke had just laughed. Then he’d taken his sub down the stairs, tied him to a St Andrews cross and brought out the whip.

  Sam had left with a smile on his face. And the doors had stayed.

  “Are you all right? Don’t you want to play?”

  He stared down at her. Maybe it was time to think about laying those old ghosts to rest and telling her everything.

  She’d understand about Sarah. Kinley had a lot of empathy.

  He wasn’t so sure she would understand about March. Was he part of the reason Sloan couldn’t move on? Because he’d never finished things properly with March?

  Damn it, he wasn’t some soft cock who needed to go on Dr. Phil to sort his shit out. Talking about his feelings was like pulling teeth. He preferred action over words.

  Maybe that was it. He should have just beaten on March for a while. Yeah, that would have helped. He’d have felt better, and it wasn’t like March didn’t deserve it.

  But now wasn’t the time to come clean. Kinley deserved all his attention right now. She deserved all he could give her. He wasn’t wealthy like some of the other members. He wasn’t powerful. He wasn’t a somebody.

  But he had Kinley and he wasn’t letting her go.

  His needs were simple, mostly. A day’s work, a cold beer, good food, and a sweetly submissive woman with a bit of attitude. That’s all he needed. All he’d ever wanted.

  If the memory of a man he should have long since forgotten threatened to ruin all that, he knew he had to work harder to exorcise his ghosts.

  He was damn lucky that she’d chosen him. He’d make certain she’d never regret it.

  So, he pushed aside his thoughts and smiled down at her. There was no way James March was going to ruin this. He would never be allowed near Kinley. He would never have a chance to hurt Kinley the way he’d hurt Sarah.

  The way he’d killed her.

  Kinley was worried as she followed Sloan through the dungeon. As they stood in front of the ridiculous doors Sam had installed, she almost sensed a sadness coming from him—and a darkness.

  She wondered if she should have pressed him to tell her. But she’d held her tongue. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

  But as they walked into the large room in the basement of Club Decadence, the uneasiness riding him seemed to dissipate.

  In the center of the large dungeon, a few Doms and Dommes stood around the bar, chatting to each other. One of the Domme’s had a female sub at her feet. The sub was dressed in a cat suit, complete with a tail that was attached to a plug settled firmly between her ass cheeks.

  Kinley winced a little, but it didn’t seem to faze the kitten, who smiled up at her Domme. Around them the sounds and smells of the club filtered through to her. She always found it slightly intimidating coming here. She hadn’t known much about dominance and submission before meeting Sloan. He’d introduced her to this world and he’d always been there to guide and protect her. Otherwise she’d never have had the guts to come here.

  A moaning sound had her turning her gaze to a sub who was lying on her back on a spanking bench. Her legs were widely spread and strapped down, her pussy was on display to anyone who wanted to look, the folds glistening with her pleasure as her Dom held a small bullet to her clit. Her cries grew faster and deeper until he drew the bullet away. Then she let out a deep groan, filled with frustration. Her Dom just stared down at her intently, no hint of guilt, no sign he would relent. He waited a few moments, letting her calm down, before placing the bullet back against her clit. She started keening again.

  Kinley felt a pang of sympathy. That was one of Sloan’s favorite punishments. Especially as he didn’t like to bruise her. The few times he had he’d felt so guilty, despite her telling him numerous times that she bruised easily. She’d pointed out that she’d had worse bruises on her legs from bumping into his dresser on her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

  The next time they’d played, he’d taken much more care. He’d also moved the dresser so there was no chance she could bump into it. Crazy man.

  He seemed to be under the illusion she was fragile. He was the only person who’d ever think that.

  He drew her towards the bar, where the bartender silently handed over his bag.

  Sloan opened it and drew something out. A collar. She raised her hand up to her throat. Shit. She was messing up all over the place today.

  “It’s in my bag in my car,” she said, taking a step away as though she thought he might let her go and retrieve it.

  Sloan just reached out and grabbed her wrist. “You stay here.”

  He fastened the collar around her neck. It was the thick leather one she hated. So different than the pretty necklace he’d bought her when they first started coming to the club to play. That necklace made her feel special.

  This one made her feel like a dog. As he pulled out a leash she almost groaned. At the last moment, she remembered to drop her gaze.

  Someone moved up next to her, his expensive shoes coming into her line of vision. She wanted to look up, but she was hoping if she acted repentant enough Sloan would take pity on her and forget the leash. She hated the leash.

  Which was why the damn man had chosen to use it, of course. He knew all too well how much she disliked it. But it wasn’t a hard limit, and she still had her safe word. Not that she’d ever use it over something like this. All she was going to feel was a bit of humiliation and embarrassment.

  The owner of those expensive shoes snorted. “Doesn’t want that leash, does she?”

  She recognized Alex’s voice. He and Sloan were friends. Alex used to manage the staff, who were mostly subs. That job had fallen to another Dom once he’d taken a sub of his own. Alex and Tara were now married and ridiculously happy.

  “No, she certainly doesn’t.” Sloan placed two fingers under her chin and raised them. “Hmm, as I thought, that was more about trying to hide your true feelings rather than any real sense of submissiveness.”

  Rats.

  Alex chuckled softly. “I’m sure the leash is going to be the least of her worries.”

  Okay, she really didn’t like the sound of that.

  Alex turned that dark gaze on her. “And it should be, considering the way you worried your Dom. I had to convince him to wait another twenty minutes before he started calling the hospitals.”

  Shame filled her, and she dropped her gaze.

  Sloan growled. “She knows what she did was wrong. She won’t make that mistake again, will you, darlin’?”

  She could always rely on him to stick up for her. Even when she was in the wrong. Sloan was almost ferocious in his loyalty.

  She nodded. “No, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow.

  “Sir,” she said hastily, knowing the other Dom was stricter.

  Sloan whirled to glare at Alex. “Stop trying to intimidate my sub. She’s mine to take care of . . . and to discipline.”

  “Of course, I apologize.” Alex looked a little appalled. “Even though I haven’t been in charge of the trainee subs in a while, it seems old instincts die hard.”

  Sloan just gave him an abrupt nod then attached the leash to her collar.

  Drat. She’d hoped he’d been distracted from his intention; she should have known better.

  He looped his hand around the end of the leash, holding it tightly, as though he thought she might try to get away.

  She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Just briefly, of course.

  “I came over here with an invitation,” Alex told Sloan calmly. “This year is a rather big one for me, and Tara tells me I need to celebrate. So, I’m having a party, and you’re invited.”

  She raised her eyebrows. The other Dom was usually a smooth talker. This was the most awkward and embarrassed she’d ever seen him.

  Sloan grinned. A big, slow smile that spoke of trouble. “Yeah? How old you turning?”

  Alex muttered something.

  Sloan placed a hand behind his ear. “What was that?”

  She almost rolled her eyes at his teasing. Then remembered the leash that prevented her from moving more than a foot from her Dom. Best not to rile him up with anything that might be perceived as disrespect. It wasn’t disrespect, of course. But sometimes men weren’t far evolved from their fourteen-year-old selves.

  “Forty,” Alex told him stiffly.

  “Thought I saw a few more gray hairs there, old man.” Sloan whistled. “Jeez, getting old doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”

  If they’d been women, they’d probably have been complimenting each other on how good they looked. Well, unless they were catty bitches. Kinley had met plenty of those. That was how she’d developed this dislike of her body, from stick-thin women with their backhanded compliments.

  Alex just rolled his eyes. “You’re only a year younger than me. It’s the last Saturday of the month. Eight p.m. at my place. Don’t bring a present.” He strode off.

  “Oh, I’ll be bringing a present.” Sloan grinned.

  Knowing Sloan’s sense of humor, she almost felt a little sorry for Alex. Just a little. Although, he did seem to take pleasure in the fact she’d been collared and leashed, maybe she wasn’t going to feel sorry for him after all.

  Sloan walked her over to the spanking bench Mace had reserved for them. Generous, wasn't he? She was just filled with warm fuzzies for the overbearing Dom. Not. Ever since he'd been placed in charge of Club Decadence, he’d become almost ridiculously overprotective of everyone in the club. And she meant everyone. Dom or sub. Someone needed to stage an intervention.

  When they reached the bench, Sloan pointed to a spot next to it, and she knelt, wincing at the thump of her knees hitting the ground. Graceful, she was not.

  He frowned down at her, and, for a moment, she thought it was her clumsiness making him scowl, but then he snagged a passing sub, whispering something quietly to her. She moved off, returning in less than a minute with a red cushion from one of the couches scattered throughout the dungeon.

  He held out his hand, and she slipped her smaller, paler one into his, letting him help her stand. He placed the cushion under her and kept hold of her hand as she knelt once more.

  Even though she'd worried him, angered him, and had nearly been the cause of an argument, all he thought of was her comfort. Well, to a point. She knew she was going to be vastly less comfortable very soon.

  She was grateful for the cushion as he began to slowly unpack his bag. The size of the butt plug he drew out made her swallow heavily. Lube. A rubber paddle.

  Oh shit.

  He hardly ever used anything to spank her other than his hand. That was more than enough. The man had hands the size of dinner plates and enough strength to make a big impression. It seemed he intended to make an even bigger one tonight.

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