Two of a Kind (Desire Island 2)

She stopped abruptly, pressing her lips together, as if she’d been about to say something she’d decided against. Instead, she said, “I got it after a rough period in my life a few months back. To me, it’s a symbol of hope that when all seems lost, it’s still possible to come back, even stronger.” There was determination in her tone as she said this, but he could also see the pain still lingering in her eyes. Something had happened to this girl—something bad.

He was about to gently ask her what it was when she placed a hand over his left biceps. As with the night before when they’d shaken hands, a shock of raw, powerful electricity tingled over his flesh at her touch and all thoughts flew from his head.

“I love your tats,” she said, moving her fingers lightly over one of his tattoos. “At first it just looks like colorful designs, but when you look closer, you see all the good stuff.”

Dylan laughed. “Good stuff, huh?”

“To folks like us, shit, yeah,” Kendra replied, her eyes dancing.

Dylan’s arms were covered in various BDSM symbols and gear that were part of an intricate design he’d created with his tattoo artist nearly a decade before.

“Seriously, though,” she added, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, “your sleeves are works of art—a real testament to the lifestyle and also just plain beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Dylan said, resisting his insane desire to grab her hand and raise it to his lips for a kiss. “I got them back when I was a rebellious kid in my early twenties riding with a motorcycle gang and basically raising hell. I had dropped out of college and I was way too into weed and booze and my initial love affair with all things BDSM.”

“Booze and weed don’t generally go too well with BDSM,” Kendra commented.

“You got that right,” Dylan agreed emphatically. “It’s sheer luck that I didn’t hurt someone or get myself killed. I was basically a clueless asshole.” He offered a wry smile, adding, “But then, most guys in their early twenties are clueless assholes in one way or another.”

“Agreed,” Kendra said with a grin. “But now you’re this sober, responsible Dom running seminars and doing demos. How did you get into that line of work?”

Cynthia’s face flashed into his mind. Though he hadn’t actually been there when it happened, in his nightmares she had stared at him with reproachful eyes, her mouth opened in a silent howl in the seconds before she went completely limp. No way was he going to dump that horror story into Kendra’s lap.

Instead, he said, “Actually, I’m a software engineer. I do a lot of programming for the blockchain industry. I’m a freelancer, so I can basically pick and choose what jobs I take. And I can work from wherever I am and whenever I want. It works out great when you want to go out and catch an amazing wave, or come to an island across the country for a six-month gig.”

“Where are you from? California?”

“Malibu,” Dylan said with a nod. “You mentioned Seattle? They have a great BDSM scene.”

“I grew up in Ohio but I spent the last miserable year in Seattle working for a shitty national chain. Yeah, the city’s great and all that, but the weather totally sucks.” She lifted her face to the sun. “Give me sunshine over rain any day in the week.”

“Me, too,” Dylan agreed. “This place is definitely a BDSM paradise.”

“And it’s more than that, right? I think it’s great that they have training programs, not just for submissives, but for anyone active in the scene,” Kendra said earnestly. “We definitely need experienced people to enlighten folks new to the lifestyle about basic safety and protocols.” A dark look moved over her face. “I’ve scened with way too many assholes in my day. The ones who think they can just pick up a bullwhip and wing it. Or the type of guy who says, ‘Get on your knees, bitch. You’re a sub—you have to.’”

Dylan laughed. “Yeah. I’ve known way too many of those guys, unfortunately. When Ryan called me about this gig, I jumped on it for precisely that reason. And my schedule here is light enough that I can still do programming work when I need to.”

“A win-win,” Kendra said with a smile. She picked up her smartphone and glanced at the screen. “Darn. I have to get going. As sweet as Chef Henry is, he’ll be pissed if I don’t show up for my shift.”

“Yeah. I better go get showered before my seminar.”

As they both got to their feet, Dylan said, “You going to be at the dungeon tonight?” He held his breath, startled at how much he wanted her to say yes. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman since… in a long time.