“Good. Busy at the dojo since Ronin is out of the country. I always think he walks around like lord of his domain . . . until I actually have to do his job. Then I remember how much it sucks to be the big boss. How much pressure there is.”
“It’s not as easy as some assume, being the lord of your own domain,” he said dryly. “I swear the majority of my time is spent dealing with privacy and security issues. Doesn’t leave free time to enjoy the fruits of my labors.”
“I haven’t seen you in here much lately.”
Merrick poked the ice cubes in his drink with his straw. “The Friday night crew is in need of my presence. Not the staff, but the members who decide to test their limits or try something new. It can be entertaining. I was here last Saturday, just briefly, to meet with a new Domme to the club.” He glanced up. “You were here, right?”
He nodded. “I was booked in the back.”
“Did you meet Mistress B?” he asked casually.
Knox leaned in. “Yes. And because I work with that woman every goddamn day, I recognized her right away. The mask and the platinum wig didn’t fool me. She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her.”
“I’ll bet. I found it interesting she didn’t apply for membership as Ronin’s sister. She used her club references in Tokyo. Only after she and I met in person did she tell me who she was.” He took a drink. “Will her being here be a problem for you?”
Not in the way you might think, because the damn woman makes me think. Annoyed by that thought, he said, “She and I constantly butt heads at the dojo,” a little testily.
“You worried because of her martial-arts skills and being a Domme she’ll take punishments too far here at the club?”
Knox frowned at him. “That’s the last worry I’d ever have with her. The only person I’ve ever seen with more control is her brother.”
“So is it the idea of seeing her in a sexual situation that’s causing your concern?”
He thought back to last week when she’d made Dex come just by commanding it. That’d been hot as hell. But she hadn’t demanded reciprocation. What if she had? Could Knox have stood there watching Dex get Mistress B off with his hand or his mouth?
No. And fuck if that feeling of . . . possession didn’t annoy him too. As much as he’d like to witness She-Cat losing control and see what she looked like lost in passion, he knew he couldn’t stand watching it happen at the hands of another man.
I’d want it to be me getting her off. Watching her writhe on my tongue, my fingers, my cock as she comes unraveled.
“Knox?”
He met Merrick’s gaze. “I don’t know. I talked to her after her scene with Dex. I wasn’t surprised to learn that she’s a Domme. What I can’t wrap my head around are male submissives.”
“She tried to explain it to you?”
“Tried and failed.”
Merrick studied him in depth.
“What?”
“You’ve been part of Twisted for five years, Knox. My trust in you is implicit. So I’m going to tell you something that very few people know about me.”
When Knox grabbed himself a beer, Merrick laughed.
“You may need that when I tell you I was a submissive for seven years.”
Knox choked on his beer. “No shit? But you’re so . . . Jesus, Merrick. You know how goddamn formidable you are.”
“And there’s where your problem originates. You see male submissives as weak, probably as pansy asses with mommy-pleasing issues, the need to be coddled, but I assure you that’s a dead-wrong assessment. Dead wrong,” he repeated.
“So how’d you meet your . . . ?”
“I met Lizette when I was eighteen. I’d moved to Denver to attend college. She was this beautiful, dynamic woman twenty years older than me, who owned my apartment building and ran her own successful real-estate-development company. She’d come by the apartment complex to check on something and I just happened to be in the manager’s office. Somehow we ended up in the courtyard talking for hours. My college education, my family life, the girls I’d dated. Then we discussed business and the difference between setting goals versus having dreams. She firmly believed strong discipline on one side of your life would automatically bolster the other. So she began to train me.”
“Did you know what she was?”
Merrick shook his head. “I’d never heard of a woman calling the shots in all aspects of her life being called anything except a cold, calculating, ball-busting bitch.” He smiled, but it held a hint of sadness. “Lizette was anything but cold. She was warm, giving, loving, and unashamed of her needs. I was young and so very green. She taught me everything I know about how to please a woman. Which meant I spent a lot of time learning mental and physical discipline at her feet and occasionally tied to her bed. I learned to please her not out of a sense of obligation, but because anticipating her needs gave me a sense of pride and purpose. No one knew her like I did. No one could give her what I did. When she trusted that I’d given her my all without boundaries or exceptions, she returned that adoration. I’d never felt so . . . complete. I finally felt like a man.”