And Shiori’s assessment that he hadn’t chosen a side bothered him only because she’d pointed out something he hadn’t acknowledged. He never played with other men sexually because that wasn’t his thing. But he had no problem using his skills with instruments of pain on other men. His one hard-and-fast rule at Twisted was he didn’t beat on women. Period. So he’d been the third player in different scenarios. Doms punishing and rewarding their male subs. Dommes punishing and rewarding their male subs. Doms who needed to connect with pain but didn’t trust another Dom to be discreet. Male submissives who sought to test their pain thresholds before playing with a Dom or a Domme. Male submissives who needed a break from playing with a Dom or a Domme—craving the pain and skipping the mind fuck that went along with it.
So the ironic part of him being the whip master? He wasn’t a big fan of pain. He’d had the instruments he used on members used on him, just so he experienced what he administered. Pain didn’t arouse him. Neither did inflicting pain. He looked on it as a service he provided to the club and the members.
The benefit of wielding the whip and the flogger were the women who saw him as powerful. He’d never had to work hard for pussy. That suited him, because the expectations between club members didn’t go beyond sex. It’d never bothered him to be with a woman one weekend and then see her with someone else the following weekend. Unlike Ronin, Knox had utilized the sex part of the sex club more than the kink aspect.
He had to wonder if kink ran in the Black family. Shiori hadn’t indicated if she’d studied shibari and kinbaku, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she had, since she’d followed in Ronin’s footsteps and had become involved in martial arts.
All this speculation was driving him nuts. He cracked open a beer and checked the time just as the doorbell rang.
Finally.
Knox didn’t rush to answer the door like he wanted to. When he opened the door, his gaze rested on her face briefly before movement in the street caught his attention. He glanced up to see the car service driver leaning against the right rear passenger door with his arms crossed. Like he was deciding whether he should leave Shiori here or remain parked at the curb. Without taking his eyes off the man, he kissed Shiori’s forehead. Then he said, “Send your driver away or I will.”
“What?”
“Your driver is eyeballing me like I’m shit on your shoe and he’d love to scrape me off.”
“Not everything is a pissing contest, Knox.”
“Tell that to him.”
She sighed and turned around, waving him off. Then she faced Knox. “Happy now?”
“Very happy that you’re here, She-Cat.” He pressed his lips to hers, proving it with a very thorough kiss. When he pulled back her eyes held a warning, but her lips curved into a smile.
“Taking liberties off the bat, Ob-Knox-ious?”
“Yep. Come in.” He stepped aside. “Let me help you with your coat.”
Shiori turned, and he tugged the black trench down her arms. Beneath it she wore a light brown sweater, jeans, and riding boots.
“You look great, but I’ll admit I’d hoped to see a corset and a short leather skirt under this trench coat.” He placed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Or better yet, nothing at all.”
“Behave.” She faced him. That’s when he noticed she held a small wrapped package.
“What’s that?”
“A thank-you for inviting me into your home.” She handed it to him. “Just a little token. No big deal.”
Knox unwrapped the plain paper and crumpled it in his fist. Inside the small frame was a watercolor painting, very Asian in style, of boats moored at a dock. The serenity of the scene was astounding. “Whoa. This is terrific. Where did you get it?”
“It’s just something I had around.”
“Thank you.” He propped it up on the mantel. “I’ll give you a quick house tour, and then we can eat. Leave your boots on because we’ll be going outside.”
“I was surprised you live in a house and not in a condo or an apartment.”
“After living in government-assisted housing projects growing up and then spending twelve years in the service, I was more than ready for my own place.” He gestured to the living room. “I knocked out a wall to open up the space.”
“You did the remodel yourself?”
“A lot of it. I’m a hands-on guy.”
She ran her fingers up his arm. “I know that. I like that about you.”