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  When she ripped the other zip line off, Malcolm screamed louder.

  Rick’s cock jerked as Brenna quickly moved behind Malcolm, when he caught a glimpse of her raised hand then heard the leather flogger hit his friend’s shoulder.

  It felt like forever but couldn’t be that long because Rick’s shoulders were only tingling with tension, not aching with fatigue when Malcolm’s groans grew quieter. Whimpering replaced them and his head dropped to the side. Glistening with sweat, his chest began to rise and fall in a deep, steady rhythm. The sound of Brenna’s strikes grew softer, slowed until they were no more than a rustle and whisper.

  Finally they stopped altogether. Rick caught a glimpse of her forearm then the back of a hand as she loosened the laces of Malcolm’s mask. When she eased it off, Malcolm’s face was red but eerily peaceful. His breathing slowed, the gasping relaxing into a deep, regular rhythm. With his lips parted, he looked…peaceful. A wreck, but a completely zenned-out, peaceful one.

  “Fly,” Brenna whispered in Malcolm’s ear, caressed his chest, nuzzled her body into the side of his. She was probably also stroking his ass. “Stay there, my magnificent sub.”

  When she turned to Rick, he swallowed, hard, and locked his shaking knees, wishing her hand was on his ass.

  Instead she was rapping her palm with his paddle. He didn’t remember her picking it up but the sight made his dick even harder. It wasn’t just the erotic promise she presented, it was her too. Brenna made his heart beat faster and that humbled him.

  Again he glanced at Malcolm, in awe of his friend’s ability to let go of every inhibition so fear and pain peaked into the ultimate endorphin high.

  Damn. How was he supposed to compete with that? It was selfish and stupid but he wanted her to want him more than his best friend.

  “Don’t look at him,” Brenna murmured. She touched his face, kissed his jaw, took hold of the clamps on his nipples and tugged ever so gently. “Look at me.” His gaze snapped to hers. “Think about me. Give me your pain, your pleasure. Let it go.”

  Nodding jerkily, Rick tipped his head down to hers. She kissed him readily this time, without hesitation, without coyness, and the feeling was better than great. Her tongue parted his lips and her taste made him sigh before he claimed her mouth.

  She let him. Rick felt his strength, his primal identity as a man, surge. It was counterintuitive but being stripped of his chest-thumping, alpha shell let what he thought of as the real man inside him free. His lips were firm and compressed her soft ones. Ripe and warm, everything about her called to him and honed his lust. Shaping her mouth, filling her with his tongue let him share that lust with her, thank her, tell her he wanted more.

  No begging. No posturing. At that moment, between them, there was only an honest need let out by the trust she’d established between them.

  When she finally leaned away from him, her eyes sparkled in a way that made his chest swell and precum smear her tight leather dress. The gentle creak of it and the scent made his balls ache. Again.

  Damn things would probably be blue for days.

  “Finish it. Please,” he groaned. He didn’t want to control the scene and had been given some harsh lessons about that in the past. But Rick knew she’d respect and respond when he communicated his need.

  Stepping away, she lifted her chin, nodded once then moved behind him. As always, she kept constant contact between her body and his. The brush of her breast against his lats. A graze of her leather high heels against the side of his bare foot.

  For the first time Rick let himself wallow in the sublime eroticism of being naked while she was fully clothed. Shivering with pleasure, he felt exposed way past his skin, relished the bare honesty she brought out in him and stood tall.

  The first thing he felt was the sting and burn as she paddled his ass cheek. It took a second for his jacked brain to process the sound but when it did, it layered the sensory input onto the discomfort. Next came the clip of her heel on the hardwood floor, the sound of chains rattling, a gasp as he sucked in air, the soft chafe of the leather band securing his ankles as his leg jerked. When he breathed again the nipple clamps swung, adding another dimension of sensation to rock his world.

  Whack. Whack, whack.

  Controlling his breathing, letting the pain roll through him and build into a pleasure so sublime all he could do was tremble, he locked his knees, held his ass still and let this beautiful, phenomenal woman beat him until he couldn’t hold back a howl of ecstasy.

  “Rate the pain,” she commanded sharply.

  Rick shook his head. She wanted him to speak? To think? No way. He only wanted to experience, to let the feelings run hot and crazy fast through him.

  When she tugged on one of the nipple clamps, giving him pain his body found impossible to experience as anything close to pleasure, she got his attention.

  “Six,” he blurted out, and hissed when she brought the paddle down on his other cheek. “More, please more. No. No more. Yes.”

  Whack. Whack, whack.

  “Seven,” he hissed, clamped his teeth together and sucked in air through his nose. “Seven,” he repeated sharply. It was getting hard not to pant. “Eig…” Maybe it was an eight now. Maybe not. It hurt. God, it hurt but his body craved the sensation now. He no longer cared that his ass was starting to feel like pounded chuck, that his skin felt brittle and on the verge of splitting.

  She hit him again only softer this time. After a pause of three heartbeats, she hit him yet again, then a pause of five. “Don’t,” he gasped, writhing in his restraints. “Stop. Don’t. God.”

  Somewhere inside his forebrain, he heard the word “bulldog”. That was the magic word. It would make this all stop. He shook his head, gritted his teeth and moaned when the next hit came…light, slow and lingering. Like a sexual magician, she paddled his ass in a rhythm as steady as the tide. One side then the other. Pause. Breathe. The next round was gentler and more drawn-out. Above his right shoulder blade, his skin warmed as she paddled then cooled it when she stopped to lay her hand on him. The left shoulder was treated to the same gentling, soothing strikes. The endorphins his body had jacked itself up on began to disperse, leaving a growing, mellow lightness in their wake.

  He didn’t want the scene to stop but he needed it to. Sighing, he trembled as sweat trickled down his body. This woman took decisions out of his hands, gave him the freedom to simply experience. She listened to his most vulnerable, honest needs when he was too fucked up to think rationally.

  “I love you,” he breathed then relaxed, letting the restraints take some of his weight.

  “I know,” she whispered in response. She stepped around him and snuggled that warm, curvy body into his.

  She could have gloated, even busted his chops for his un-butch devotion to her. But not Brenna.

  His Brenna.

  Rick liked the sound of that. Too much, actually, considering they were only casually acquainted with little more in common than a mutual interest in D/s. Well, as far as he knew anyway. Still, he wanted her close so he laid his head on hers instead of withdrawing behind that stoic guy façade he could usually pull off so well.

  “Ready?”

  The sound of her voice made him blink, brought him back to the moment and drew his gaze down to hers. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the decorative base of one of the butterfly clamps.

  Did he or didn’t he want her to?

  Oh hell yeah.

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded, gritted his teeth, and watched her tug sharply with one hand. The clamp slid off his distended nipple smoothly. His flesh was left misshapen, pale white at the base, ruby at the tip. Rick blinked and waited. Without warning, pain streaked through his chest. His nipple felt as if it was on fire as blood finally flowed into his tortured flesh, letting his nerve endings juice up and fire at will.

  Hot damn but that ached like a son of a bitch. There was no way his brain could process it as pleasure so he sucked up the pain, internalized it, got
off on it in that perverse way that always freaked him out, even as it thrilled the hell out of him.

  The only thing better was the look of power and pleasure on Brenna’s face. She obviously had a streak of sick and sadistic that complemented his, er, proclivities. Hallelujah.

  Leaning forward, trying to master his breathing so he wouldn’t huff all over the side of her face, he teased the edge of her earlobe with his teeth. “Do the other one, and pull hard this time.”

  Her smile matched his just before she pulled, and a second scream erupted from his throat.

  Chapter Six

  Rubbing his wrists absently, Rick watched Brenna help Malcolm curl up on the padded bench. She’d laid a blanket beneath Malcolm’s naked body to shield him from the cool leather and her ability to think ahead earned Rick’s approval. What he didn’t approve of was the way she fussed over his friend, stroked his hair, covered him up with a second blanket and murmured something low and comforting in his ear.

  Just what the hell did he expect? She was a Domme, experienced and in tune with her subs. Of course she’d make sure Malcolm was comfortable as he came down from sub-space, tend to him and give him time to recover.

  Next time Rick looked up, Brenna was standing in front of him holding a damp washcloth in one hand and a towel in the other.

  “I didn’t give you what Malcolm did,” Rick whispered and hated the neediness that came out along with the words he hadn’t wanted to let out in the first place.

  Her gaze met his then, with an efficiency that was anything but detached, she began sponging the sweat from his body. “Reaching sub-space is about the individual.” She spoke quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb Malcolm.

  Bastard.

  “Most people,” she continued, “take a while to let that kind of deep, sometimes subconscious trust build up.”

  “I trust you,” he blurted out. Great. Not only was he pathetic, he was a whiner.

  “I know you do and I cherish that. Your friend is all about the pain.” She shrugged lightly and pressed the warm cloth to his shoulder, his upper arm. “I’ve got some skills. He’s hard-wired to respond to that. You, I think…” After dabbing the water away with the towel, she walked back to the recessed cupboard that held a small sink. Rick followed. “Need a deeper connection with your Domme to really let yourself go.” After rinsing the cloth, she sponged his chest, let droplets of water trickle over his nipple then, ever so gently, licked them away.

  Hissing with a pleasure that was too great to contain, Rick steadied himself by laying his hands on her shoulders.

  “Ultimately,” she continued in that low, feminine voice of hers, “that’s the kind of trust I most want.”

  A smile quirked the edges of his mouth. The fine Ms. Brenna had, in a roundabout way, just said she’d like to see him again. And keep seeing him. Hopefully.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner next Saturday.”

  When he spoke, that warm cloth and those soft hands that had just started sponging his still semi-hard cock, paused. Her lips parted just a little as she looked up at him.

  “A real date, before we come here. Flowers, candlelight, something overpriced and loaded with chocolate for dessert.”

  She grinned just before her teeth sank into her lower lip.

  “Well?”

  “Yes.”

  Rick hadn’t expected his breath to catch. Hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted her to say yes.

  “Good. Just one question though.”

  “Hmm?”

  His hips rocked forward as she rolled her wrist to rub his shaft with the warm, damp, nubby terrycloth. “What’s your last name?”

  * * * * *

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Rick turned his back to the cold spring wind whipping down Avenue Road. He’d made the reservation for seven and had arrived early.

  Brenna Darling…damn, but he still got a kick out of her name…lived north of Peterborough so she could only estimate how long the drive would take on any given day.

  He didn’t want to leave her waiting.

  A stream of partiers marched out of the nearby subway entrance. He made room for them by moving closer to a building hunched up against the sidewalk. Morton’s was the best steakhouse in Yorkville. Getting a reservation for a Saturday night on short notice had proved impossible until his nurse reminded him he’d removed the sous chef’s gallbladder a few years back.

  Manning up and telling Malcolm he’d asked Brenna out on a date had been easier, and uncomfortable. He replayed the phone call in his head.

  “Listen, Malcolm, about this Saturday…”

  “You backing out?” Malcolm had cleared his throat and when he spoke next there wasn’t as much glee in his voice. “I mean, you’re still coming, right?”

  “Of course. But I, um, I asked Brenna out to dinner. We’re meeting up before we go to the club.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Around then was when the uncomfortable pauses started. “Dinner, huh? Like dinner, dinner or a date dinner?”

  “Date dinner.”

  “Huh.”

  Pause.

  “And you’re telling me because…?”

  Pause.

  “Because I didn’t want to go there behind your back. Because I really like this woman and want…more.” Shorter pause. “Like you said, I don’t want this to come between us.”

  “So if I want to, I can ask to join you.”

  Long enough pause that Rick felt guilty about it.

  “Yes.”

  Malcolm had sighed. “I can’t. I’m on the schedule for this Saturday so I won’t get out of the clinic until after seven.”

  “Would you have come? If you weren’t working?”

  Longest pause so far.

  “Maybe not. I mean, I really get off on Brenna, obviously.” Malcolm had lowered his voice. “But I’m so into her as a Domme I’m not sure I’d want to sit in a restaurant with her as an equal. It might mess with the fantasy.”

  “Huh.” There was another long pause as Rick processed that. “Okay. But if you can change shifts, we’re meeting at Morton’s at seven.”

  The phone call had ended soon after. Returning to the present, Rick looked at his watch. Ten minutes to go and… The wind catching the hem of a long, pale-pink coat grabbed his attention. Another gust, this one from the subway, tugged at an unbuttoned placket. It shifted, forming an exquisite backdrop for a pair of long, stunning legs. Simple, no-nonsense, killer stilettos ate up the concrete sidewalk with a grace and confidence that made his nut sac tighten.

  Brenna had seen him first and her glossy lips were parted in a smile. In a move worthy of his barbarian ancestors, Rick looked her up and down, taking in her tailored, so short it should be illegal linen dress, the seductive roll of her hips, the tilt of her head as the wind pulled her long, unbound hair back.

  Two guys in leather jackets and worsted slacks were walking down the sidewalk toward her. Rick caught the slight stutter in their steps, saw their heads move as if they were liking the view a whole lot.

  Pushing off from the side of the building, he cruised past them, stepped into his woman’s path, cupped the back of her neck and kissed her.

  Even the clotted Toronto air couldn’t dim her scent. He inhaled greedily, stepped into her so her breasts touched his chest and drove his tongue into her mouth until he remembered they were on a crowded, public street.

  “I’m happy to see you too.” There was amusement and pleasure in her voice as she took the hand he offered and followed him into the restaurant.

  He watched her watching him over the rim of her wineglass. They’d ordered one glass each. The New York cut was far too good to be eaten without a sip of burgundy between bites.

  “So I visited your website.” Rick pushed his last baby carrot around his otherwise now-empty plate. “It was on your business card.” Curious was okay but, jeez, would she think he was a stalker? “I’m actually familiar with your company. My mother’s crazy for that lemon grass stuff y
ou produce.” He flashed Brenna a grin. “I wanted to give her cruise tickets for Christmas but she wanted your holiday gift set. Everywhere I went it was sold out.”

  “You should have told me. I would have brought some samples from our summer line.”

  “Now you tell me.” He snorted and liked the way she chuckled in response. “I drove myself crazy hunting around until I hired a personal shopper to find one for me.”

  “So did you find a set for her? For Christmas?”

  “The shopper did, yeah. She cost me more than the gift set.” He pierced the carrot with his fork, brought it to his mouth and chewed. “I didn’t want to tell my mother that, so I bought her the cruise tickets anyway and snuck them into her stocking. Them I bought without help so I didn’t feel totally neglectful.”

  “Do you see her often?” Brenna already knew Rick’s father had passed a few years earlier.

  “A couple times a month. That woman’s got a bigger social life than a supermodel.”

  They chuckled together.

  Rick continued, “She cooks me dinner or I take her out somewhere. ‘Course, we’re getting caught up now. The cruise was in February and she used the companion ticket to take one of her girlfriends along. Turns out the cruise she chose was themed around watercolor painting and the two of them came back with dozens of pictures they’d drawn of naked guys.”

  “She sounds like my kind of woman.”

  Grinning, Rick nodded in wry agreement. Then he froze. “This isn’t turning you off, is it? I mean, me talking about my mother on our first date. You’re not planning on running for the door, are you?”

  “No.”

  The surety and the amusement in her voice made him relax.

  “It’s reassuring, actually, to know you’re a good son. It tells me you know how to treat a woman. I worry sometimes.” It was Brenna’s turn to sound hesitant. “The lifestyle isn’t risk free, and I mean heart-risk. I want to be more than a leather dress and good technique.”