Mick slapped him on the back. “Good man. Now how about you let me beat you at pool?”

CHAPTER

Eight

SUMMER’S STOMACH WAS fluttering, tight with nerves. Jamie had been sending her texts all day telling her he had wonderfully wicked plans for their evening at The Bastille and she’d better be prepared, and even though she’d sassed him in response as she often did, most of his messages had carried an undertone—or an overtone in some cases—of real menace. It frightened her a bit, but it also turned her on like crazy. When he’d shown up at her door dressed all in black, from his big black boots to his tight black T-shirt and fitted leather pants that he sported like a rock star, her knees had literally gone weak. When they’d stepped off her front porch she saw he’d driven the Corvette, even though they were going to the club in the warehouse district. And she’d known tonight would be special, different from anything she’d ever experienced with him.

Now they were at the club and Jamie was taking his time talking to the corseted woman behind the front desk, leaving Summer to stand next to him, fidgeting. Totally unlike her, even in bottom mode, but the way he’d handled things today was certainly doing its job. She was shaken up, off balance. And so turned on already she could barely stand it. Which, she was sure, was exactly what he’d intended. How had he known she’d respond like this to his stern approach when she hadn’t known herself?

Finally he was done at the desk as a group came in behind him to check in, and he took her hand and led her onto the main floor without a word. Tonight the lighting was all in shades of purple with the occasional red glow from some of the sconces that decorated the highly lacquered black walls. The music was dark, too, rumbling, rasping hard rock with a heavy bass line that made the floors tremble. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach as they walked across the polished wood floors, passing those who were already playing at the different stations: spanking benches, St. Andrew’s crosses, simple chains hung from the ceiling with spreader bars attached to them where male and female bottoms alike were suspended by heavy leather cuffs. At the edge of her vision she caught sight of a beautiful Domme strapping a naked submissive male into an interrogation chair, a trio using one of the padded tables suspended by chains, a tall Dom spanking a petite young woman turned over his knee on one of the plush chairs in a seating area. There were moans and groans of pain and pleasure and the startling snap of a whip from somewhere. And all of it enveloped her, adding to her headspace, making her feel her submission in a way that was energizing. Empowering, somehow, despite the tremors of fear running like a small, live wire just beneath her skin.

Jamie stopped in front of an enormous web made of chain that stood on a giant frame. He placed his bag on the floor to one side of the gleaming web and pulled her closer to him, smiling down at her.

“We’ll play here tonight.”

. . . said the spider to the fly.

She almost had to grin. But the anticipation was building, making her dizzy. And being at the club with Jamie was overloading her in some way she didn’t quite understand. But she loved that aspect of what was happening.

She nodded, waiting for instructions, her head sinking so fast she was having a hard time focusing on anything but Jamie, the beat of the music, the heavy chains she knew he loved and that she was coming to love, too. She could almost feel their cold touch against her skin.

Yes.

Jamie stroked her cheek, his hand trailing over her long hair until he reached the ends, rubbing the strands between his fingers, as he often did. But tonight he seemed more introspective.

“Jamie?”

“What is it?”

“You seem . . . I don’t know. A little distant tonight.”

“My mind is going. Thinking about the evening ahead. Is it alarming you, sugar?”

“No. Of course not.”

He grinned crookedly—a roguish grin. “Maybe it should be.”

Oh, she loved that he messed with her head like that, as ridiculous as it sounded to her turning the words over in her mind. But she was going wet already from the mind-fuck, from simply being there with him. From everything she was seeing. From the ambience of wicked sensuality.

She smiled. “Yes, maybe it should. Maybe I’ll find out later that I should have been more nervous than I am.”

He tilted her chin up with one commanding finger, leaned in as if to kiss her, stopping inches from her lips. He whispered, “Are you nervous at all, Summer Grace? About what I might do to you tonight? About how much you might like it?”

She swallowed, tried to laugh, but it didn’t quite come out right. “I am now.”

“Excellent.” Jamie straightened up, ran a hand down her arm as he spoke, sending delicious little chills through her. “Tonight will be a bit different,” he told her. “I’m going to demand a lot of you. I want you to be very conscious of your safewords. Use them if you need to. I don’t care how brave you think you should be, or how strong. We both already know how strong you are, sweetheart—you have nothing to prove. But this will be a test of sorts. We’re going to try some new toys, see how much you can really take. Because I don’t think we’ve truly tested that yet, do you?”

“No, Jamie,” she answered truthfully. “I know I can take much more. And I want to. It’s something I’ve been thinking about. Something I’ve been craving.”

Forhim.

He yanked her in hard suddenly, his mouth next to her ear. “Get ready for some testing then, sugar. Because I’m going to be hard on you tonight. Oh yes, very damn hard. And I will take the greatest pleasure in your screams.”

She shivered, unable to answer as he brushed a kiss across her cheek.

He dragged her over to the chain web so suddenly, so forcefully, she lost her footing in her stiletto heels, but he held her up with one strong arm, keeping her from falling. Keeping her safe. And the contradiction of it was a mind-fuck in itself—sweet, gentle Jamie, who was beautifully rough with her at exactly the right moments. And never more rough with her than he was tonight.

He grabbed her chin and forced her gaze to his. “Where are you, Summer Grace?”

“I’m right here.”

He shook his head. “You’re not. I’m asking you again, where are you?”

“I don’t know . . . In my own head too much, maybe?”

“Better. And I agree. Let’s see what we can do to get you more grounded in the moment. Do you remember your safewords? Tell me.”

“Green if everything is good. Yellow if we need to pause or change toys, if I need you to ease up. If I need a drink of water. Red to stop the scene completely.”

“Perfect. Now take off your clothes while I get set up—all but your shoes.”

He released her, turning his back on her to pull different implements from his black toy bag, setting them out on a long table. She swallowed hard when she saw him lay out several long canes in different sizes—both wood and Lucite—but she started to undress, ordering herself to breathe.

She pulled her short black knit dress over her head, then took off her black lace bra. Jamie turned around and put his hand out, nodding his chin. She gave him her clothing, but instead of pulling his hand away he just stood there, watching her with one eyebrow raised.

“All of it.”

She knew she should take her thong off, too. She wanted to. But she felt momentarily frozen. She didn’t know if it was because the way he was treating her was working so well, or if some defense mechanism was kicking in.