Three Hard Lessons (Blindfold Club 2)

Oh. “You won’t find that on the menu.”

“Because it’s a given?”

“It’s not allowed.”

He exhaled. Was that a sigh of disappointment? “A club rule?”

“No,” I said. “Mine, sir.”

“What happens if I break your rule?” He asked it plainly, like he was concerned he might do it.

I paused. It had happened before, and I had the fucker thrown out. Breach of our totally illegal contract and all. But thirty grand made things different. I was basically the star of this club and received the highest percentage off my deals. I’d be netting ninety percent of that thirty grand, or ninety percent of zero if I wanted to be inflexible on this.

“I suggest you try very hard not to.” I didn’t want to have to cross that bridge.

“What if I want to hold your hand?” His voice was casual.

I couldn’t wrap my head around that concept. “You want to hold my hand?”

“I noticed that’s not on the list either.”

Was he fucking with me? “If you want to hold my hand, sir, you can do that.” It would be awkward as hell, but whatever.

“Dom,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Dom.”

Of course it is. “Okay. My name is Sub.”

“Sub?” This voice was confused. “Is that short for some–? Oh, I get it. No, my name really is Dom.”

His cold, thick fingers touched my wrist and I startled.

“Sorry, may I touch you?”

He’d just agreed to pay thirty grand to do a helluva lot more than touch me. My teasing personality slipped out before I could stop it.

“Anxious to get to the hand holding?”

There was a half-laugh from him as he undid the restraint around my wrist, Velcro peeling open with its scratchy, tearing noise. As soon as it was free, footsteps took him around the table to the other side where he freed this wrist, too.

Okay, now what?

I lay motionless on the table, waiting for his command. I had to remind myself he was new to this, and obviously shy. Most guys were on me the moment the sales assistant walked out of the room, some even before. I wasn’t sure I had the patience to deal with a timid client, but the money promptly told me to shut the fuck up.

“Dom? You need to tell me what you’d like to do.”

“Oh. Can you, um, sit up?”

As I did, there was a rustle of clothes. Good, he was getting undressed. Once the clothes hit the floor I could get this show on the road. The cool fingers closed on my hand, lifting it off the leather.

Right away I could tell his goal wasn’t to hold my hand. Warm fabric lined with silk slipped over the skin of my forearm, traveling upwards. Holy sh

it. He was putting some sort of suit jacket on me, the one he’d probably just taken off.

“What are you doing?” Again, I wasn’t supposed to ask questions, but this was disorienting.