More than a Dare (Masters Club 4)
More than a Dare - Chapter 1
What was she so afraid of?
After all, she’d been the one who’d pressed so relentlessly for a peek into Hayden’s “other” life as a BDSM Dom, despite his warnings she might be biting off more than she could chew. After much cajoling on her part, Hayden had finally agreed to take her to the Masters Club’s private holiday party as his guest. As the price of admission, she’d allowed Hayden to put her through a series of incredibly sensual, slightly terrifying exercises designed to assess her “submissive potential.”
She couldn’t deny how turned on she was by the powerful scenes of erotic submission she’d witnessed that night. The dungeon setting was like something out of a dark, artsy film noire, the elegant players hidden behind satin masks, the smell of sex and leather its own aphrodisiac.
Dahlia had been nearly overwhelmed by the experience—naked submissives bound and subjected to all kinds of erotic torture, the breathy cries of pain and ecstasy all around them, and her own pulsing desire.
She’d been especially captivated by the scene at the bondage wheel station. The woman had been tethered to the wheel, dressed in nothing but a red leather thong and a slave collar. Her Master had snapped a thin, whippy cane against her flesh over and over as the wheel turned, leaving red, angry welts behind.
Instead of screaming in agony, the woman had only sighed with each stroke, something very much like bliss moving over her pretty face.
No question about it—the Masters Club party had been the strangest, scariest, sexiest experience of her life.
They’d left the party to give Dahlia a chance to get her bearings, and now sat across from one another at a small table in an all-night diner. He smiled at her, sexy and slow, his eyes hooding in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
Without saying a word, he reached across the small table and placed his hand on her chest, his palm against her collarbone. His touch warmed her skin, still chilled from their brief walk from the Masters Club to the diner.
Could he feel her racing heart?
His eyes fixed on hers, he moved his hand slowly upward along her neck, his thumb and index finger coming to rest just below her jawline. He squeezed just enough to send a raw, uncontrollable shudder through her body. She felt as if she were melting inside, her body opening and yielding to his promise—a promise she didn’t yet understand, but longed for.
“Admit it, Dahlia. You were born to submit. I just proved it—again.”
Dahlia barked a laugh. It sounded forced, even to her own ears. “Ha. You proved I react to a primal touch, probably something coded into my DNA from prehistoric times. That doesn’t mean I want to be tied down and whipped like those subs at your club. The concept of erotic pain frightens me.”
Even as she said those words, a surge of dark, raw desire moved through her. Again, images from the intense play party rose in her mind. Only now, she was the one bound against the bondage wheel, helpless as that long, thin cane snapped against her flesh.
Hayden regarded her with a discerning look in his sapphire-blue eyes. “Sometimes the things we most fear are precisely what we most desire.”
A rush of heat moved over and through Dahlia, stiffening her nipples and dampening her panties. Any effects from the single glass of champagne she’d had earlier in the evening had long since worn away, yet she was drunk with sensation, overwhelmed by the evening, by this gorgeous, confident man and her own unresolved feelings and desires.
“You were given a window into a world tonight that, until now, you’ve only read about in your romance novels,” he added. “It’s late, and you have a lot to process. How about we call it a night?”
Dahlia felt at once relieved and let down. Her conflicting feelings must have shown on her face.
“Hey,” he said gently, reaching over to place his hand on hers. “This isn’t a brush-off, if that’s what you’re thinking. Far from it. You and I have become real friends over these past months. I don’t want to lose that, no matter what you decide about your experience with BDSM so far. I’m incredibly attracted to you, as I think you’re aware. But I know my limits and I’ve learned the hard way to respect them. I don’t do vanilla. It just doesn’t work for me.”
Dahlia pulled her hand from beneath his, feeling slightly affronted. “You don’t do vanilla? What does that mean, exactly?”
“That I know from experience that my getting involved with vanilla women doesn’t work. However much we might be attracted to each other, it’s too big a divide to cross. I don’t just enjoy BDSM, Dahlia. It’s an integral part of who and what I am.”