A delicate sendoff. My goal is to fill her head with images of me, of the things we can do together, even if they’re fleeting and not really what we want from a long-term partner. I don’t care about the long term right now. I care about what I want right now. And I want her. I want her body, her voice, her scent, and anything in that wild mind of hers that she feels like sharing.

Just, you know, I hope she keeps the sharing to before and after the main event. When I’m sinking my shaft into a woman, all I want to hear is her moans and her lips begging for me to give it to her.

You think she’ll give me that much? A man can dream. In the shower. I must be going.

Chapter 20

KATHRYN

I stood Ian up.

When Wednesday came and the instructions were in my texts, I couldn’t do it. Don’t ask me why. Not because I don’t know why, but because I know too well why.

I can’t do it. I can’t submit to him.

It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. It’s not who I am. Not only do I not have a submissive personality, but I don’t have the fortitude to do something like that, even for a night. What I do to my male subs is completely different from what happens to female subs… from men.

Now, I’m not about to tell a woman who is of sound mind and body what kinks she should not engage in with men. Especially if that woman knows what she wants and understands her mind well. Lots of women get massively off on a guy dominating them. I get that. Superficially. Only superficially. Beyond that? I have no idea what they’re thinking or what goes on with them physiologically.

I don’t want to know.

Look, I know what that dinner was going to be. It would be Ian smarming all over me, trying to get me in bed. Submissively. Ever since that bet happened, I’ve been wary. He’s looking at me as a potential sub now. I’ve gone from a good fuck to a good time. If all Ian Mathers wants is sex, that’s one thing… but I know better.

He wants me to submit now. That can’t happen.

I don’t mind sharing some control. I don’t mind him getting on top of me in bed and thrusting at me like an animal. That can be… well, it sounds really hot. Yet I can’t stand the thought of him thinking of me like that. As a submissive. I won’t let Ian think of me as anything other than I am.

Who am I? Right now I’m the type of date who stands a man up, waiting until the last minute to send him a text curtly saying that I can’t make it, and then preemptively blocking his number so he can’t bother me.

I don’t feel good about it. I should at least talk to him, but right now I’m so fucked up in the head that I think it’s best to let it cool for a while. I’ll have to see him eventually anyway.

See him, yeah. For work. That’s it. We should probably stop having sex.

It’s Thursday night and I’m at The Dark Hour. Alone. I didn’t invite Eva because, one, I knew she would be busy, and two, I want to decompress on my own terms.

Usually the club isn’t too busy on weeknights, but Thursdays can be different. Lots of businesspeople take a three day weekend and start the party on Thursday night. Tonight isn’t different in that regard. Every time I look out from my VIP perch, I see more people filing in and out. The place isn’t packed, but it’s not empty. If I wanted, I could find a sub for the night.

Probably, but I don’t want to.

I’m here to have a drink and watch others. I am definitely more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist. I prefer to have my slice of paradise behind closed doors, where it’s me and my partner. I can’t say I’ve ever had the desire to have someone watch me as I come – unless that person is the one making me come.

So here I am, sitting alone in my booth with a glass of whatever and watching others have a good time. It’s a good way to unwind most nights, but my mind is plagued with thoughts.

Like the thought of Ian Mathers curling his hand around the back of my neck and whispering into my ear, “Bend over, Kathryn.”

What does that mean, anyway? That he wants to spank me? To fuck me from behind? You know, Ian, I would let you fuck me from behind anyway. Just know that you’re not holding my head in the pillow and using me as a sex toy like you Doms do sometimes. You would hear every moan leak from my lips. You would see my pupils as I look over my shoulder and into your striking hazel eyes. The closest you’d get to holding me down is climbing on top of me and pile-driving me. Ha! You think I wouldn’t let you do that if I was in the right mood?

Just don’t think of me as your sub. Think of me as the virile, stubborn woman you’re taking for five minutes.

I don’t like playing mind games in bed. This is why I like submissive men. They know what they’re going to get from me. They respect me. They make me feel like the greatest woman in the universe.

Being submissive can’t do that for me.

Nevertheless, you can probably guess what kind of people I’m watching in this club. It’s always the same. Aside from Eva and myself, there aren’t that many single Dommes who frequent this place. Most of the women are submissive, whether they’re paired or alone. Besides, it’s easier for submissive women to get access to the club. The owners are always looking for more subs for the unique tastes of we rich Doms.

Always.

Oh, reason the third Eva isn’t here tonight? Her brother and his fiancée walked through the door. Eva always makes a point of not showing up at the same time for obvious reasons. Like icky incestual-feeling reasons. Can’t say I blame her.

Especially when your brother and his fiancée are, you know, two of the most famous (infamous?) kinksters around.

If you were to ask anyone in this club who the most well-known submissive is, almost all of them would say Monica Graham, the woman who owns and operates a BDSM pleasure house in the countryside. I’ve never been, but Eva says it’s everything I’ve heard about and more. Apparently that’s where Henry and Monica met a few months ago. Caused quite the scandal, since Monica’s ex-Dom is none other than Jackson Lyle, a snot of a man whom nobody likes but everyone does business with because he’s so insanely rich that there is some debate between him and Bill Gates when it comes to wealth. It was the stir of the century when Monica and Henry had an exhibition and earned millions of dollars in one night.

I know. I was there. I may or may not have been convinced to throw a cool million in their direction because damnit, Monica Graham is a ridiculously talented sub.

And gorgeous.

They make a beautiful couple. Henry Warren is tall, blond, and always the gentleman. Monica is petite, brunette, and carries an effortless grace that begs to be examined.

So I examine her.

I don’t consider myself bisexual. There may have been some times in which I indulged and explored certain sides of my sexuality, but for the most part, women don’t give me the satisfaction that men do. (Sorry, Eva.) That doesn’t mean I don’t care to look at a beautiful woman, especially one dressed in a see-through negligee with silk underwear on beneath. Only in this club could you get away with that. And only Monica could get away with walking around as if it’s no big deal everyone’s seen her nipples and pussy before.

She’s the perfect example of a confidant sub. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it from a Dom. Right now she’s sitting on Henry’s lap in the main gallery, serving him and his business associates some drinks. A hostess could do it for them, but Monica is the type to get off on doing it herself. She’s the ultimate in pleasing someone like that. I’m not sure that’s the kind of sub I look for. I want to feel like a goddess, but that doesn’t mean my sub is my slave or servant.