Fighting Attraction Read online

  Don’t engage. Don’t engage. But I can’t help myself because she is beautiful in her fury. She’s beautiful all the time. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and never fucked. “Why?”

  “Because you’re there.” She twists the ring again, and her voice drops. “That means it has to be a good place, a safe place. I trust you.”

  I give a bitter laugh. “Trust me? You don’t know me. Until yesterday you thought I was someone else.”

  “We’re all someone else.” Her face tightens, and her voice takes on a pleading tone. “I felt something click when I walked into the club. I felt like I’d found something I didn’t know I was looking for. I need to explore it. Can’t you understand that?”

  Although I won’t admit it, I do understand because I felt the same way when I first walked into Club Sin. For years I’d thought there was something wrong with me because I got pleasure from other people’s pain. Only when I’d hit rock bottom did I start searching the Internet only to discover there were others like me and places where I could go to find people who wanted the pain I wanted to give. I met Damien in a chat room, and he invited me to his club. My life changed the minute I walked in the door. It clicked, just like Penny said.

  “All else aside,” I say, trying to rationalize it all away, “you have a conflict. You can’t be a member of a club you are trying to shut down.”

  Penny leans against her car, a bright-red Ford Mustang convertible that always makes me smile. She doesn’t often let her wild child free, but when she bought that car, she did it in style.

  “I thought about that, but because I signed all those documents before I served the papers, technically I was a member first, so I don’t think it would be a problem.”

  Christ. Does she have an answer for everything? I play my final card, although I feel like a bastard doing it. “There’s an application and a screening process, and I’ll tell you right now, you won’t make it through. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Penny jerks back as if I slapped her, and even I am shocked at the vehemence in my tone. But it’s bad enough she saw me at my worst, doing the one thing I crave and hating myself for it. I can’t stomach the thought of her seeing me at the club again or, worse, seeing her on the other end of the whip.

  “This is a free country, Jackson Caldwell.” Her body trembles, her eyes fiery in the night, her words touching my soul. “You can’t stop me…” She trails off, her anger fading beneath a puzzled frown. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’ve never heard you say my name.”

  “Oh.” She deflates, and her cheeks redden. “Well, I’m not allowed to use your real name at the gym, and no one seems to use real names when the team is out together, so I never really had a chance.”

  “Say it again.” I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I like hearing my name on her lips, her British accent turning something ordinary into a sensual feast of rounded vowels and soft consonants.

  “Jackson,” she says softly, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Jackson Caldwell.”

  I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, trailing my fingers over her high cheekbone and the graceful line of her jaw. Just once I would like to see her hair down from that ponytail, the chestnut strands spreading across her back, her beautiful face framed in silky softness. “You don’t belong at Club Sin, Pen. What you’re looking for isn’t there.”

  My words break the spell between us, and she pulls away. “You have no idea what I’m looking for. You don’t even know who I am.” She unlocks her vehicle, opens the door. “I’m going back to Club Sin. And if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

  5

  Get your hands off her

  PENNY

  Redemption or Sin? Redemption or Sin?

  After spending the day trying to work while researching BDSM clubs on my phone and not thinking about Rampage…no, Jack and his incredibly hot body, or the way his muscles bulge when he lifts weights, or the curious warmth I felt when he called me darlin’ with that soft Southern twang, I get in my car after work on Wednesday and drive toward the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Do I go to Redemption for a workout, or do I go to Club Sin and ask Master Damien for an application form? Is Jack right that I don’t belong? Will I get hurt? Do I want to go back because of him? Or am I doing it for me?

  My pulse kicks up a notch when I approach the turnoff. Left for Sin. Straight on for Redemption. Fear gets the better of me, and I choose Redemption, but just as I signal to change lanes, a white van cuts me off, and I am forced to take the overpass into the city. I might have chosen Redemption, but it seems like Sin has chosen me.

  Half an hour later, I walk into Club Sin, letting out a relieved sigh when I see Kitty at the front desk. She is wearing a spectacular flame-red corset trimmed in gold, her blond hair piled high on her head.

  “Look who’s here.” She grins. “The only woman who has ever made Master Damien lose control. After you gave him those papers, he went crazy. We had to lock him in his office until he calmed down.”

  “I’m not here on business today.” I fiddle with the chain around my neck. “I… What do I need to do to become a member of the club?”

  “Master Damien said you’d be back.” She reaches into the desk. “He left an envelope with the application forms for you.”

  “He said I’d be back?” I take the envelope from her, glance up at the camera above her desk. “How did he know?”

  “He’s a psychologist. And he’s very good at reading people. I guess he saw something in you when you were here.”

  I’m not sure if that is good or bad or if he saw something I don’t want anyone to see, but now that I’m on this path, I’m not going to let anything or anyone turn me away.

  Determined to get the application process done with tonight, I open the envelope and settle down on the red velvet couch. The first few forms are easy—medical history, contact information, and a brief description of my sexual history, work, and fitness. But I hesitate when I come to the ten-page questionnaire that requires me to answer yes, no, or maybe to a long list of activities, half of which I don’t even recognize.

  “If you need help, let me know.” Kitty tugs on the front laces of her corset until her breasts look like they are going to explode over the top. “There was a lot of stuff I didn’t understand when I first came to the club, and it can be intimidating.”

  Frightening is more like it. Fisting? DP? A spreader bar? Mummification? Suspension? My imagination works overtime, and I finally enlist Kitty’s help with the unfamiliar terms. I quickly decide I’m not into humiliation, service, exhibitionism, or any of the more extreme BDSM practices. I’m good with bondage, whipping, spanking, clamping, and all impact or sensation play. I’m willing to be controlled but not tortured. Hurt but not harmed. Everything else gets a question mark.

  After I’m done, Kitty whisks the package off to Master Damien, and I fidget for five minutes, pacing the room, looking at the photographs with new eyes, imagining those leather cuffs around my wrists and that crop slicing across my thighs.

  Kitty gives me a smile when she returns. “He has some time free, so he’s going through it now. Do you want to wait?”

  “Of course I want.” I want it so bad, my mouth waters at the thought of going inside.

  An hour of fidgeting with my ring, chatting with Kitty, and staring at the pictures on the wall later, Kitty leads me back to Master Damien’s office. We travel along the same hallway, although this time the alcove is empty. No Jack in sight.

  Master Damien waves me in. I close the door and take a seat in the giant black leather chair in front of his desk. His office has a sensual, masculine feel, with red ochre–painted walls, heavy wood, dark leather furnishings, and lights so dim I can barely make out his face.

  “I’ve read your paperwork.” Master Damien’s cha
ir creaks as he leans back. “Usually we would do background checks to verify the information, but I’ve already spoken to Master Jack about you, and he assures me you are who you say you are.”

  “You talked to him about me?”

  “He expressed a concern about your interest in the club.” His cold, searching gaze bores into me, and even if I’d thought about outing Jack, I wouldn’t do it now.

  Leaning forward, I say in earnest, “I would never tell anyone what I saw. Even if I hadn’t signed those documents. I told him that.”

  “And I believe you.” He drums his fingers on his desk, as if deep in thought. “But we do have a problem, and that is a conflict of interest. Perception is everything. It looks bad for you. It looks bad for your law firm. It looks bad for me.”

  I have a sick feeling that maybe this isn’t going to be as easy as signing on the dotted line. But damned if I’m going to back down when I’ve finally found something else that might take away my pain. “It looks bad if I’m doing something wrong. But I’m not. As far as I understand it, nothing I do or say can change the facts of the case. And as for perception, I can keep a secret.”

  Master Damien rounds his desk and leans against the edge, arms folded across his chest. “There are other clubs.”

  “But Jack is here. I know him, and I trust him. I’m not saying I want to do a scene with him, but the fact that he picked this club tells me it’s a place where I can explore this side of myself and be safe.” And if Amanda succeeds in shutting down the club—which I know she will do—Club Sin is my best chance at flirting with the dark side without falling too deep.

  “Ah… Master Jack.” He smiles. Lots of teeth. Like the wolf probably smiled at Little Red Riding Hood when he met her in the forest. All predator. No man.

  “He asked me to send you on your way if you showed up again,” he continues. “He’s a good friend and a regular client. I’m afraid I have to abide by his wishes.”

  Bloody hell. I stand and sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell me that up front instead of making me fill out all the forms?”

  “Curiosity.” Master Damien follows me to the door. “I hope this won’t deter you from trying another club.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think I would be able to work up the nerve again or go somewhere I don’t know anyone. Please reconsider.” I pull open the door, look back over my shoulder with my most plaintive look. Master Damien is studying me, his head tilted to the side.

  “Well… I can’t see that anyone would be harmed if we did a scene together, just to give you a taste of what you’re looking for. Maybe then you won’t feel as hesitant to try another club.”

  Scene with Master Damien? “I…uh…”

  He closes the distance between us. “You want to be hurt, don’t you, love?” He cups my jaw in his warm palm and strokes his thumb over my cheek. “You want pain.”

  I swallow a few times, willing the tears back. I’ve never told anyone about the release I get from hurting myself, the relief I get through pain. And yet the shame and embarrassment at what I have to do to cope with my emotional tension freeze my tongue, and all I can do is nod.

  “Do you want to play with me, Penny?”

  My heart gives a little flutter. When I imagined myself in the club, it was Jack behind me, Jack on the other end of the whip, Jack making me scream. But he doesn’t want me to be here, and if I can’t have him, at least I can find out if this is really what I want. Now or never. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  Redemption or Sin?

  Sin.

  “Yes.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

  “Excellent. My room is free tonight. Last-minute cancellation.” Master Damien pushes open the door to a small room adjacent to his office. With its pristine white walls and stainless steel equipment, it has a cold, clinical feel, much like a doctor’s office.

  “What is this place?”

  “My personal playroom.” Master Damien pulls a wide padded bench away from the wall and positions it in the center of the room. “I was all set to do a doctor–patient scene tonight with one of our regular submissives, but she couldn’t make it.” He pats the bench, clearly wanting me to join him.

  “Um…” I scramble for a reason to delay the scene. “Should I take off my clothes?”

  He undoes the leather straps on the four corners of the bench. “Do you want to take off your clothes?”

  I bite my lip so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. “I’m not really comfortable going starkers.”

  “Totally up to you. I can work with whatever you want to give me.”

  “Well, then you get me with the skirt and blouse I wore to work.” Taking a deep breath, I join him at the bench.

  “Up here.” Master Damien helps me onto the wide padded bench, positioning me on all fours, my knees and elbows on two ledges and my body resting on what feels like the padded top of a sawhorse. I feel like a jockey, urging a horse on to the finish line, and if I didn’t have my skirt covering my ass, I would feel uncomfortably exposed.

  “Good girl.” He gives my ass a gentle pat, and I fight back the urge to whinny.

  “Um, thank you.” When in doubt and feeling deeply humiliated while crawling onto a spanking bench, always be polite.

  “I’m going to restrain you now.” Master Damien gestures to the leather straps at the front and back of the bench. “Do you remember our safe words from the application form?”

  “Red for stop. Yellow for slow down. Green for go.” I swallow hard, clench my fists. “I’m not going to ask you to stop.”

  A grin splits his face, and he chuckles. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be able to buy this building outright, and no one would be trying to kick us out.” He slides a leather strap around my ankle and buckles it tight. “Of course, no one ever says things like that to Master Jack. They go to him because they know he’ll take them right to the edge, that point where they will beg him to stop.” He cuffs my second ankle, and a violent tremble runs through my body.

  “Shh.” Master Damien buckles a strap around my wrist, and my heart pounds in my chest. This is it. One more strap, and I won’t be able to get away. I check out the room, hoping to distract myself from the panic building inside me, but the shiny silver racks holding an assortment of ropes, handcuffs, whips, chains, crops, and paddles do little to assuage my concerns.

  I take a deep breath, inhale the scent of vinyl, and whimper.

  “Relax.” Master Damien fastens the last strap and tugs out my ponytail holder, massaging my scalp as my hair spreads across my back. My tension eases a tiny bit, and I turn my head just as someone pounds on the door.

  “Damien!” Jack’s deep voice with its rough edge is unmistakable. “I know she’s in there. Kitty told me. Open the fucking door.”

  I suck in a sharp breath and jerk against the restraints. “Let me up.”

  “It’s okay.” Master Damien strokes a soothing hand down my back. “He’s not coming in. We have rules about interrupting a scene.”

  “Obviously, you don’t know him very well.”

  Bang. Bang. Bang. The door shakes with the force of Jack’s blows. A part of me thrills at the thought that he cares enough to cause a scene, but another part wonders if he’s angry because I disregarded his wishes and he thinks that I will out him to his friends.

  “Damien! I’ll break the fucking door down if you don’t open it right this fucking minute.”

  Master Damien’s lips quirk, amused. “It’s interesting how you can know someone for years and still discover new facets to their character.”

  “He can do it,” I warn Damien. “He broke down the door to the women’s changing room at Redemption when the locking mechanism jammed and people were trapped inside. I also saw him break down a door at a bar when some bloke…” I trail off when a heavy thud makes all the whips and chains shake o
n their racks.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her.”

  “How badly do you want this, Pen? If I tell him to go, he’ll have to go.”

  I drop my head to the bench and sigh. “He seems very agitated. I think it would probably be best if you released me so I can try to soothe the savage beast.”

  Master Damien releases my restraints as Jack continues his vicious assault, but before I can get off the bench, the door splinters and slams open.

  Boom. I look up to see Jack glowering in the doorway, dressed in a delicious pair of worn jeans and a black T-shirt that clings to his muscular body.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” He stalks into the room, his face a mask of fury. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “You’re interfering with my scene, Master Jack.” Master Damien’s voice tightens in warning, and he presses a firm hand against my back, keeping me down on the bench.

  A growl curls up Jack’s throat, and darkness crosses his face. “Get your hands off her.”

  “Jack.” I slide off the bench and stand between him and Master Damien. I’ve never called him Jack before, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I want to be here. I want to do this.”

  Danger rolls off him as he closes the distance between us, his gaze firmly on Damien, his six-pack rippling as he moves. “I told you this wasn’t a fucking game. Damien knows better.”

  I have watched enough fights to know what happens next, and although Master Damien is a formidable man, he has no chance against Jack in full battle frenzy.

  “No.” I wrap my arms around Jack’s waist, press myself against him, my temper beginning to fray. Who does he think he is, rampaging in here and telling me what to do? Enraging an angry fighter is never a good move, but with my emotions and nerves shot, I don’t give a damn. “You’re out of line.”

  Jack stiffens, and I look up only to see his eyes narrow. “I told you not to come here.”

  “I heard you. I didn’t listen.”

  His eyes darken almost to black, but the golden specks still shine bright. “You. Here. It’s not right.”