More than a Dare (Masters Club 4)

Are you home yet? I miss you.

As she was going down the station stairs, Hayden texted back.

Perfect timing. Just got home. Come over?

On my way. See you in thirty.

Hayden would help her figure this out. Naomi’s certainty had shaken her up, but she knew in her bones Naomi was wrong. While Dahlia recognized she had a long way to go if she wanted to enter Hayden’s world, she wasn’t about to throw it all away because she was afraid.

What was life, after all, without risk?

Chapter 9

“She’s on the way up, Doctor.”

“Great. Thanks, Norm.”

Hayden had asked the building doorman to let him know when Dahlia arrived. He couldn’t wait to continue where they’d left off. He would take her into the dungeon this time. How beautiful she’d look, naked and bound spread-eagle against the St. Andrew’s cross. Was she ready for more intensive impact play?

He certainly was.

He took up his post at the front door, eye to the peephole. A few moments later, Dahlia came into his line of sight. Just as she raised her hand to ring the bell, he pulled the door open. Without giving her a chance to react, he pulled her into his arms, kicking the door shut in the process.

She gave a startled gasp as he pressed her against the wall. Taking her bag from her shoulder, he tossed it aside. When she started to speak, he silenced her with a long, passionate kiss. She tensed a moment in his tight embrace, but then relaxed, her tongue seeking his.

When she started to bring her arms around his neck, he caught her wrists and pinned her arms over her head against the wall. “Stay just like that,” he growled softly in her ear. “I’m going to strip you naked, and you’re not going to move, except as directed.”

To his dismay, she didn’t obey his directive, instead wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

Hayden frowned, taking a step back. A Masters Club pleasure sub would never have dared such blatant disobedience. For the hundredth time, he reminded himself Dahlia was not a Masters Club pleasure sub. As certain as he was of her submissive and masochistic orientation, she was still feeling her way in all this. Though he was longing to delve deeper into their erotic exploration, if he pushed her too far, too fast, he would lose her.

She was staring down at the floor. In a quiet voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I just… It’s not…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently, forcing himself not to leap to any dire conclusions. Reaching for her chin, he gently raised it so he could see her face. When her eyes met his, they were full of tears.

Hayden gently pulled her arms from her torso and wrapped her in an embrace, holding her close. “I’m sorry, Dahlia,” he said, his heart cracking a little, both for her and for himself. Damn it. He’d known better than to get involved with someone so incredibly inexperienced in the scene.

Not that it had been a choice, exactly. He’d have fallen for Dahlia no matter what, but that didn’t mean it was a smart move.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added, “or to move too fast. Come sit down with me and we can talk through what’s bothering you.”

To his relief, she gave a small nod. “Okay.”

“Let me help you with that,” he added, drawing down the tag of her parka zipper. Once she’d shrugged out of the coat, he took it from her and hung it in the hall closet.

As he led her to the sofa, he wondered what had happened to create this disconnect between them when things had been going so well. The adage that communication is paramount in any relationship was definitely true, and doubly so, for a BDSM connection.

She had texted that she missed him, and she’d shown up, both positive signs. Whatever was going on now, they could work it out.

“I was just about to treat myself to some brandy. Would you care for some?” he offered as she settled herself on the sofa. “Good on a cold winter night.”

Dahlia smiled, and he was pleased to see some of the anxiety had left her face. “Sure, yes. That sounds perfect.”

He went to the small liquor cabinet in the corner of the room and poured several fingers into two snifters. Returning to the sofa, he handed her a glass and took a seat next to her. He shifted a little so he was facing her and raised his glass in a toasting gesture.

She lifted her glass to his. The fine crystal made a pleasing sound as the snifters clinked lightly against one another.

They both sipped. The brandy burned pleasantly as it went down.

“Mmmm,” Dahlia said, her face suffusing with pleasure. “This is really good.”

“It’s Remy Martin XO.”

She took another sip and then shifted so she, too, was facing him. “I hope this isn’t too nosy a question,” she said. “But you’ve only been out of residency a couple of years. Either you’re making way more than I am right now, or you won the lottery.” She waved a hand around the living room. “This place”—she lifted her glass—“this fine brandy? How do you manage it all?”