Mercy(White Collared Part 1)(24)
“I like grape Popsicles.” He licked his lips. Was he imagining its taste? Or hers? “Have you ever been handcuffed?”
A memory sparked and her chest tightened. The phantom sensation of steel pinched her wrists. She tried breathing through her nose like Nick had suggested at the police station. “Not for sexual purposes.”
“Why then?”
She tried to pull away, but his hands held her firm in his grasp. “I don’t . . . I don’t talk about that.”
Soothing her, he drifted the back of his hand over her cheek. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me . . . yet.”
Her throat grew dry, and she licked her parched lips. Anger rose to the surface at the suggestion that he’d expect her to reveal her past. She didn’t talk about it with anyone. Not even Tom. “Why all these questions? I thought you were going to train me.”
“Training isn’t only physical. It’s mental. Emotional. Even spiritual. At Benediction, it won’t be good enough to pretend you’re my submissive. You will have to be my submissive. In every way. You’ve indicated you have some knowledge of BDSM, and so you understand it’s a power exchange. A negotiation of parameters. Those items you may not be ready for at the moment but are not completely off the table are your soft limits. I may push those boundaries at some point. But I will not challenge you on your hard limits. You will entrust me with power over your body, and I will honor your wishes. Keep you safe. My pleasure derives from yours. While it would arouse me to parade you naked through the club wearing nothing but jewelry dangling from your nipples, I will only choose scenes I know will please you. These questions may seem personal to you, but soon I’ll see and touch the most intimate parts of your body. Parts you may not have even explored. As my sub, you’ll have to trust that everything I say and do has a purpose, even if you’re not aware of what it is. If you can’t accept my terms, we’ll find another way to prove my innocence.”
“But I’m not submissive.”
Was she? His words penetrated those protective boundaries she’d carefully constructed and accessed her most personal desires as if he’d plucked them out of her conscience. The ones she thought about at night when she lay alone underneath the cool sheets and explored her own body, picturing herself tied spread-eagle to a bed by a stranger. Helpless. Defenseless. Empowered. But those were her fantasies. In reality, she wouldn’t trust anyone with that amount of power over her.
“Don’t lie to me or yourself. Any Dom worth a damn would see your submissiveness from miles away. Believe me, I was drawn to you from the moment you slid into the interrogation room, so desperate to please your boss, you wouldn’t even ask for a chair.”
Her body shuddered at the idea that this man desired her.
“No bodily fluids. No needles or permanent marks. And no bondage. Those are my hard limits.”
“If I hold you down with my hands . . .?”
“Maybe,” she said with a sigh, the fire between her legs burning brighter at the thought. “It’s a soft limit.” There was a limit to the amount of control she’d give. She wouldn’t place herself in a position where she’d be completely helpless, no matter what she fantasized.
“You think you know what you’re going to see at Benediction, but I can’t possibly prepare you for the seductive debaucheries on display. When Cole DeMarco opened his home to the kink community fifteen years ago after the state closed the public club he belonged to, he wanted a place where people could safely participate in whatever their kinky hearts desired. It’s not solely a BDSM club. It’s a den of iniquity. As long as you’re over eighteen and pay the membership fee, all your darkest fantasies can be brought to life. Whether it involves bondage, sadomasochism, voyeurism, exhibitionism, roleplaying, or simply a foot massage, nothing is off limits.” His hair caressed her cheek as he whispered in her ear, “Tell me. What’s your desire?”
How could she vocalize her desires when she didn’t know how to put them into words? Her fantasies were just that: fantasies. The fact that her pussy swelled at the thought of being tied down and bound with rope didn’t mean she’d actually enjoy it. “My only desire is to find Alyssa’s killer,” she whispered in return.
He lifted his head and a million emotions passed through his eyes before they settled on something akin to regret. Whether it was for Alyssa or because she hadn’t answered his question, she didn’t know. “Benediction recognizes ‘red’ as the club’s universal safe word. Red means everything stops. You use ‘yellow’ when you want to slow down and we’ll talk. Green means you’re good to go. But if you want, you can pick a safe word in addition to red. Something you’ll remember.”