Yes. Roy was probably waiting for the right moment, trying to avoid a scene like the one at her apartment in New York. “There are twenty bodyguards surrounding this building. We’re as safe here as we are on the bus.”
A smile trembled on her lips and fell away. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” She pulled her hand back and curled it against her belly.
He cupped her face and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry I ever gave you a reason to doubt me.”
She nodded, released a tattered breath, and threw her arms around his neck.
Spinning on the edge of giddiness, he kissed her face and her lips and dreamed of all the ways he wanted to make her glow. Her flesh warmed under his palms as he ran his hands down her spine and over the taut globes of her ass. “Just like heaven.”
“You look like you’ve been through hell.” She mussed his hair with one hand, the other clinging to his waist. “Have you eaten?”
He stretched his fingers around the back of her thigh and curled them between her legs. “I want to eat you.”
“Put her on the bed and you can.” Conrad appeared behind her, the rope wound over his shoulder. “That is, if you plan on sticking around for the remainder of the scene.”
87
“What do you mean, the remainder of the scene?” Jay swung his head, scanning the room for Charlee’s clothes. Where did she leave them?
She uncurled from his embrace and lowered to her knees, head bowed. His mind scrambled to make excuses for the change, even as he knew what the pose meant.
Conrad watched him from beneath dark brows. “The look on your face tells me you’ve never witnessed a scene before.”
Did internet videos count? He’d also perused fetish sites while she slept, trying to glean safe techniques to use on her. “We’ve…played.”
“How’s that working for you? Both of you?” Conrad hung the rope on a hook on the wall. “Are you comfortable in your role?”
No. Not if his role meant hurting her. Jay bent, brushed the hair from her face. “Charlee, is this what you want?”
Hands folded behind her stick-straight back, she stared at the floor beneath her spread knees.
“Address me. Not her.” Conrad walked to a tall cabinet. “This is my dungeon. My scene. She entered this room because that is what she wants.”
Jay’s dignity insisted she choose between him and Conrad right that goddamned minute, but he knew it would’ve been an ignorant thing to force on her. He was there to learn from the man, not battle him in a dick-measuring contest.
Rifling through a drawer, Conrad pulled out a form and handed it to him. “Half of my clientele are couples. Often, I’m helping one learn how to dominate or submit to the other. Sign this waiver, and we’ll proceed.”
Her subservient posture rooted Jay in realization. It wasn’t just the fear that got her off. It was the submission to it. His visceral response was to drag her far away from this lifestyle, but his devotion and attachment to her had him reaching for a pen and signing the form.
Conrad returned the paper to the cabinet. “You didn’t read it.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Resolve pulsed deep in his chest.
“If I break your famous fingers, you can’t sue me for ruining your career.” Not a wrinkle of a grin on Conrad’s face.
Great. Said fingers curled into his palms.
Conrad lowered his gaze to Charlee. “In this room, who is your Master?”
“You are, Sir.”
Jay’s spine snapped straight.
“Who is your other Master?” Conrad moved to the wall and retrieved a whip.
“Jay.” The twitch in her cheek matched the smile in her voice. “Sir.”
“Master Jay is your Master, and I am his Master.”
Jay was certain the macho-egotist stated that for his benefit, but he put his own ego aside and bit back his Go eat a dick retort.
“Remove your clothes.” Conrad leveled his gaze on him. “Place them on the chair by the door.”
Her head shot up, crimson locks tangling in her blinking eyes. “Sir? He—”
“I’ve got this, Charlee.” Jay toed off his sneakers, removed his socks, and shoved down his pants sans briefs. His cock pointed to the floor, dispirited by the chafing conversation. “The shirt is staying on.”
Turning his back on Conrad’s scowl, he placed his jeans beside hers on the chair and sorted through the questions storming his thoughts. “She can come without pain if she’s anticipating it. If I stop hurting her, she’ll stop anticipating it. Can I get her there without ever hurting her?”
“You sure you’re hurting her?” Conrad unraveled the whip.
Reflections of a sandpaper belt, bamboo pole, clamps, and spankings flickered through his mind, ushered by a throb in his head. “Yeah.”
He padded to her side and wondered if she was entertaining a private chuckle about his attire. He tugged on the collar of the t-shirt, the only thing he wore, and smiled. Yep. She was definitely laughing at him.
“The hurt she experiences is relative.” Conrad aimed the whip at the empty side of the room and snapped it through the air.