Bonds of Trust Page 2

  Intrigued now, Jake examined the details outlined in the client dossier. The puzzle of one Ms. Cali Reynolds was becoming more attractive than he wanted it to be.

  Over the last few months, he’d felt the restlessness returning. That inescapable, persistent itch to move on. His five-year commitment was up at the end of December, and he knew he’d be leaving. Seth and Dek, his de facto brothers since they’d bonded dodging fists and abuse in a foster home together, had made him promise he’d stick with the club for five years. Knowing him and his wanderlust a little too well, it was the only way they’d agree to go into business with him.

  He didn’t need to be pulled into client issues when he was quietly trying to disentangle himself from the club. Hence, his reluctance to do the interview. But he couldn’t dodge the task without making Seth suspicious.

  Not when both Dek and Seth were already looking for departure signs.

  Jake picked up the head shot then studied at the full-body shot. “She’s very attractive.” He glanced up at Seth, who was watching him a bit too intently. “Are you sure her age is correct?”

  Seth frowned, crossing his arm over his chest. “Like Dek would mess that up. Everything in her file has been validated. Like always.” Membership was strictly monitored and all applicants had to pass a rigorous interview and background check before membership was granted.

  Jake flashed an apologetic smile. “Right. I’d place her at least ten years younger by her photos.” The blonde in the pictures had the face and figure of a woman in her early thirties. Hell, she looked better than a lot of women did in their twenties.

  “And you look like you’re crowding forty?” Seth scoffed. “Come on, Jake. You, of all people, should know how deceiving appearances can be.”

  “Touché.” People constantly assumed Jake was younger than he was. He pulled his attention from the soulful green eyes in the picture and tossed the papers back on the desk. “Is Marcus doing the meet and greet then?”

  Seth nodded. “I told him to take Ms. Reynolds to Lounge One when he was done with the basics.” He turned to leave but paused before he opened the door. His lips quirked in a mischievous smile. “Let me know how it goes with the cougar.”

  Jake laughed, a reflexive bark that burst from his gut. “Right. She looks and sounds more like a kitten. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t run from the club in blind fear once she sees the action up close and personal.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Seth opened the door, letting the noise enter in a smooth rhythm of drums. “I told you, there’s something about this one.”

  He left before Jake could respond. A quick exit was the only way Seth could leave and still get in the last word.

  Damn.

  Jake picked up the headshot once again. A submissive? She had the doe eyes, but they were sharp and filled with intelligence. Not that subs were stupid, but most had that eager, need-to-please expression when they were at The Den. Her hair was styled in an efficient bob that grazed her shoulders. Not a strand out of place. Pale pink lipstick complimented her creamy skin and highlighted the cupids-bow arch of her upper lip that was curled in an almost shy smile, contradicting the edge in her eyes.

  Intriguing.

  His turned to the security screens, his gaze hunting down the mystery woman. A lone blonde sat in Lounge One, her back to the camera, showing her stiff spine and a tumble of curls that moved softly as she swiveled her head to look around the room. Her face was hidden from view and he leaned to the side in an unconscious move to get a glimpse of her features.

  He jerked away when he realized what he was doing. What the fuck?

  Jake tossed the photo on the desk and stood. He flexed his fingers, working out the residual ache left over from his earlier appointment. A regular who enjoyed being spanked after work before she headed home to her boyfriend. Her end-of-the-work-week tension release.

  He chuckled under his breath. Too bad she couldn’t have an honest conversation with her boyfriend about what she desired. But then, the stigma around BDSM prevented a lot of people from openly admitting what they wanted, needed in their lives. It wasn’t just about sex, either.

  Not that most people understood that.

  It wasn’t his problem. Half the draw of The Den was the forbidden aspects of what it offered. Aspects he enjoyed both exploiting and encouraging.

  He ran a hand over what he thought of as his Dom outfit. The expected black leather pants and black shirt that most Doms wore at the club. It was part of the image, another expectation he fulfilled, even though a truly dominant nature did not require specific clothing.

  The facade was just one more thing he was tiring of.

  A tight smile curved over his lips as he left the room, the persona of the Dom settling comfortably on his shoulders.

  It was time to perform.

  Chapter Two

  The almost imperceptible click of the door opening echoed in the still room. Cali whipped her head around, her focus anchored to the entrance. Her breath hung in her lungs, her spine stiffened with the tight clenching of her stomach muscles as the moment lapsed into a tense second of expectation.

  This was it.

  A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the room, closed the door and moved with a purposeful stride to stand before her. He had a lean build that showed solid muscle under the tight shirt and form-fitting leather pants. His head-to-toe black clothing only served to emphasize his commanding presence and aura of authority. Without question, he was a Dom.

  His lips thinned. “Ms. Reynolds?” His deep voice tumbled over her, sending a quickly concealed chill down her spine.

  “Yes,” she answered hesitantly, not knowing if she should stand and meet his gaze or kneel and stare at the ground. What was the protocol? Going with what she knew, Cali stood and extended her hand. “I’m Cali Reynolds.”

  The man looked her over in an almost critical fashion before staring pointedly at her extended hand. With a slight curve to his lips that didn’t quite make it into a smile, he clasped her hand in his much larger one. “Ms. Reynolds, I’m Master Jake. Welcome to The Den.”

  His grip tightened, his thumb caressing the back of her hand in a sensual stroke. Instantly, tingles of sensation whispered up her arm straight to her nipples, which stiffened in urgent desire.

  Licking her lips, she once again stifled her response to the intriguing stranger and kept her poker face in place. This immediate attraction she felt had to be due to her prolonged sexual dry spell. But then, that was exactly why she was here.

  Her stomach ached, the anxiety building with each step closer to achieving her goal. Could she really go through with it?

  “Have a seat.” Master Jake released her hand and motioned to the love seat. “I’m one of the owners of The Den, and I’d like to talk to you before you proceed into the club.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” He took a seat across from her, leaning forward in the chair, arms resting on his legs, hands clasped in an intense, aggressive pose. “Why are you here, Ms. Reynolds?”

  She shifted back into the couch, an unconscious move to put more space between them. “Please, call me Cali, and I believe what I want is obvious.” She met his gaze and refused to cower. “I answered all of the questions Mr. Mathews asked in my screening interviews. Is there still more?” Please, please don’t let them reject her now. Not after she finally had the courage to do this.

  “I have a few more,” he replied. “What specifically are you looking to get out of The Den?”

  “Sex,” she boldly stated, proud of her ability to answer without blushing.

  “What kind of sex, Cali?” He said her name in a low, taunting way that made her stomach clench and her throat dry. Not to mention the rush of desire that pooled between her thighs.

  She crossed her legs, lifted her chin and refused to turn away from his hard, calculating gaze. “The kind that makes me come.”

  Again, a small quirk of a smile cur
led over his lips before it flattened once more. Gone as fast as it came. He leaned back in the chair and crossed an ankle over the other knee. His dark hair was long, but not so much as to be classified as unkempt. It brushed across his forehead and curled slightly on the ends. Cali imagined it would be the perfect length for gripping when she came.

  That thought had her squirming, just slightly, against the soft leather of the love seat. His eyes, a clear gray that was both pure and sinister when paired with his dark hair and bronzed skin, flickered as he registered her movement. Apparently, nothing got by the man.

  “There are all kinds of sex that can make you come, Cali.” Again, with the purr of her name. “Can you be more specific? At The Den, we cater to a wide range of lifestyle choices. Where, exactly, do yours lie?”

  This time, she had to look away. It had been so long since she’d talked openly about sex, it was incredibly hard for her to trust anyone with her desires.

  “Cali, look at me.” His voice was low and commanding. He waited until she complied. “There’s no wrong answer here. No judgment either. You obviously came to The Den for a reason. It’s my job to see that you get what you want. I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me.”

  He was right. Of course, he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier for her to talk about it.

  Inhaling slowly, she stared at her hands and gathered her courage. “Honestly...” she began.

  “Look at me,” he demanded again, his voice stronger, more insistent.

  She immediately responded, her body tingling in a rush of shivers. Why?

  “Now, continue. And don’t look away again.”

  Was she doing something wrong already? But she didn’t even know what to do. “Yes—” she paused then continued, based on instinct. “Sir. If you want honesty, then I have to say I don’t know what I want. I only know what I long for.”

  “And that is?”

  Her heart raced. It was the moment of truth. Time for her to admit her desires out loud and hope he didn’t laugh. “For someone to take control. To know intuitively what I want, sexually. To drive me crazy without me needing to direct the person. I want a man who will take me to the edge, make me beg for more until I don’t think I can take any more, and then give me more.” The loud drum of her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  “Are you a submissive?”

  “In my real life, no.” She tilted her head and assessed him for a moment, keeping her gaze on his as he’d directed. “Here, I think so.”

  “Would you like to explore that?”

  Would she? “Yes, since giving up control is part of what I just defined.” She thought for a moment before quickly adding, “But I don’t want porn BDSM.”

  He raised one dark eyebrow. “Explain.”

  This time, it was incredibly hard to hold his gaze. That penetrating, mesmerizing gaze. “I researched before I came here. The internet is a wealth of information and I know a lot of it is staged and exaggerated. However, there are things I watched that didn’t appeal to me at all.”

  “Such as?”

  She swallowed her embarrassment, her clasped hands clenching. “Degradation of any kind, especially public. Fisting and...being peed on is blatantly disgusting to me. And I’d probably be a horrible slave, as I’d feel more embarrassed than satisfied by being forced to lick someone’s boots.”

  He nodded, his face remaining completely neutral. “Have you ever engaged in any kind of submissive or bondage play? In your marriage or otherwise?”

  Her eyes closed. “No,” she whispered.

  The silence held in the room as she waited for his next question. When none came, she opened her eyes to see him watching her with the same intense patience he’d held before.

  Control.

  He was slowly, subtly taking control and that realization made her insides melt.

  “Why?” he asked.

  A very simple question with an impossibly hard answer. At least, for her to admit. It was so much easier to evade. “Does it matter? I thought I answered all of these questions in the checklist.”

  His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned as if he was annoyed or angered by her answer. “In all the research you did before coming here, tell me, what is the most important and essential thing between a Dom and sub?”

  She knew this. Had read about it but didn’t really understand it. “Trust,” she finally answered, her voice just barely reaching an octave over a whisper.

  “Then tell me,” he said just as softly, only his voice held the hard edge of steel. “Does it matter?”

  “But you’re not my Dom,” she hedged again, irritation starting to bubble in her gut. Why was he grilling her?

  “True,” he conceded. “But if you can’t speak honestly with me, someone who’s here to help you obtain what you want, then how will you be honest with your Dom? And, more importantly, why would a Dom want to pair with someone who won’t answer the simplest of questions?”

  She glanced down, his sharp gaze just a bit too insightful for her to handle at the moment.

  “Look at me, Cali.”

  There it was. That calm command that had her inhaling against the flash of burning desire rushing through her system. Her heart hammered once again as she lifted her head and followed his directive.

  “Answer the question,” Master Jake ordered. “Why haven’t you engaged in any kind of submissive play if it’s something that interests you? Your application states you were married for twenty-two years. Playful bondage between married couples is very common.”

  And there was the question. That one she avoided at all cost, but he wanted an answer. Master Jake had cut to the chase and got to the heart of the issue in less than five minutes of conversation. Her face grew warm as she prepared to answer the question.

  Honestly.

  “Because my husband wasn’t interested in sex,” she finally admitted. The lingering anger, pain and resentment made her answer come out as a clipped challenge. A dare for him to believe her.

  He watched her silently for a moment, her admission wavering between them in limbo between belief and doubt.

  “And that hurt you,” he stated.

  “Yes,” was all she could say. So much went into that one simple answer. Relief, shame, grief and much, much more. Her throat tightened, the ache causing her to swallow against the rise of tears. She’d never admitted any of that to anyone.

  To have this man, this stranger, not only believe her, but understand how her husband’s indifference had affected her was almost too much to handle when coupled with everything else she was tackling tonight.

  Abruptly he stood and extended his hand to her. “Come with me. I’ll show you around The Den.”

  Relief rushed through her in a wave of mixed gratitude. She wasn’t being kicked out and he’d stopped before she was pushed over the edge. As if he was already in tune with her. She placed her hand in his and stood on shaky legs.

  His hand closed around hers and infused her in warmth, his free hand lifting to tilt her chin until her eyes met his once again. “Trust me, Cali.”

  Her name. That repeated use of her name in that deep, rolling voice of his was her undoing. Her skin tingled where he touched her, her body flushed with heat at the contact. Right then, she felt like she would do anything he asked. Anything to please him so he didn’t leave her. Who was this woman who now possessed her body? Where was her backbone, her strong, controlling nature that ruled every aspect of her life?

  It was resting quietly beneath the desire to let someone else lead for a while. He was offering her the freedom to let go and trust that her needs would be taken care of.

  On a shaky breath, she answered the only way she could. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Three

  The hard beat of alternative music pounded through the room, the vibration carrying up her legs through her spiked heels. The air, however, vibrated with something much more substantial, yet invisible.

  Sex. Desire. Lust.

&nb
sp; It was everywhere. In the sway and grinding of bodies on the dance floor, the hooded looks and heated touches between couples and the blatant wanting that was etched in so many faces. She’d never been anywhere where sex was so openly displayed and exchanged without actually revealing anything. It made her pulse accelerate and her skin flush.

  Master Jake led her effortlessly through the dimly lit main floor, the crowd seeming to part in unspoken respect of his authority. She caught a number of raised eyebrows, a few speculative gazes and even one or two scowls before they were concealed. She focused on keeping her face neutral and her chin up.

  There was power in rising above. She’d learned that the hard way.

  The dance area was the first room everyone entered and was packed with a variety of people dressed in anything from G-strings and leather to silk and diamonds, including more than a few collars and leashes. The diversity only testified to the wide range of clientele The Den catered to.

  Cali did her best not to gawk, but her gaze couldn’t stop roaming. There was so much to observe and she knew from the tour during the application process that this was only the first room.

  The rooms beyond this one became increasingly more explicit. The big red doors in the back served as the barrier to the voyeur and exhibition rooms just beyond. A fully equipped Dungeon took up half of the second floor, and the third floor was filled with private rooms for members to reserve.

  The slight pressure of Master Jake’s hand at the small of her back kept her grounded. Next to him, she felt safe. Everything seemed just a little less overwhelming with his tall form protecting her.

  Yes, protected. That’s exactly how she felt. A sensation so lost she couldn’t remember the last time her ex-husband had made her feel that way.

  “Would you like a drink?” Master Jake spoke into her ear. The warmth of his breath tickled the small hairs on her neck.