Dare to Submit by Carly Phillips, now you can read online.
ONE
She submitted without the comfort he’d expect to see from a woman who’d been coming to this club for over six months. In the main room, members were in all states of dress, some naked, some in leather, all comfortable with themselves. She dropped gracefully to her knees, legs spread wide, palms up, and yet he sensed her discomfort from across the darkened room. The sound of pleasure, of sex, of pain echoed from the play areas nearby. To most, it was familiar, comforting. It should be the same for her, but her posture was too stiff, her entire demeanor, too wary. Possibly because she played with a different man each time. Searching for something. For what? Decklan Dare wondered, not that he understood why he cared. But she called to him. Had from the first.
So he watched her. Just as he watched for her arrival, uneasy when too much time passed between her visits. She didn’t show up more than once, sometimes twice a month. He wasn’t here much more often but tried to time his visits with what he knew of her past schedule. Ridiculous. She was just another female and not one he’d ever played with, at that. But she was soft and rounded in just the right places, curvy in a way that appealed to him when no one before had ever reached that deep.
He shook his head and told himself to move on. Find someone else. Someone who knew he had no expectations but for the night. But he no longer used the club for pleasure. He’d tired of it awhile back. He came to relax here with friends, that’s all.
His gaze fell back to her. She shifted her body uncomfortably and Decklan frowned. He’d always disliked protocol. He’d never expected it. Didn’t need it. He’d bet she didn’t either. She just needed a man she believed in, that was apparent.
Not him. She looked too vulnerable for someone who took, gave the minimum, and walked away.
“Still fighting it?” his best friend, Max Savage, asked.
Decklan cocked an eyebrow. “Fighting what?” he asked although it was stupid to play dumb. Max knew him better than he knew himself.
“Yourself. Go play with her. Get it out of your system.” Max eased himself onto a barstool beside Decklan. “Better than watching her and wondering. Besides, you need to get laid.”
Decklan clenched his fist in his hand. His brother, Gabe, had told him the same thing. “You know as well as I do I can’t give her what she needs.”
Max barked out a laugh. “Like you’d even know what that is?”
“I can guess. Does she look like she’s found the right guy? She comes here and tries out different men. Obviously she’s not into exhibition, because she ends up in one of the private rooms for whatever her kink happens to be, he gets her off, and the next time, she’s on to the next guy.”
“Sounds perfect for someone who doesn’t do relationships,” Max said, gesturing to the bartender for his regular scotch on the rocks.
The club had a one-drink maximum. Alcohol and consensual play didn’t go well together. Decklan had already had his, ordered it the minute she’d walked in. One look at her curves, the full br**sts, perfect indentation at her waist, and that luscious ass he’d like to squeeze, and only a drink would do.
“Or maybe she hasn’t found what she needs and she’s looking for a relationship of some kind,” Decklan said, guessing at what the beautiful woman was really in search of.
He didn’t do those. Had thought neither of the Dare brothers did those. He’d been wrong. Gabe had found Isabelle, and now Deck was left wondering if there was something wrong with him.
Max ran a hand through his longer blond hair. “You could always walk away after.”
That was the problem. Decklan was afraid one night with her wouldn’t be enough.
He scowled at the scene across the room. She still wasn’t comfortable, and Mike, her chosen man of the night, wasn’t a patient dom. The monitors had had to intervene more than once in a scene he’d performed, and Decklan watched the duo warily. Maybe that was what she sensed, what made her unable to find her peace.
But in position, her long blonde hair fell over her back. And Decklan’s groin tightened at the sight. Every cell in his body rebelled at the notion of the other man’s hands on her body, or worse, him thrusting into her wet heat. No doubt that would be the end result. Why else would she choose a private room for play?
“Let Mike f**k her tonight.” The bastard now tangled his hands in her hair.
“She doesn’t always sleep with the guys she plays with.” Max sounded pleased as he imparted the information, then took a long swig of his drink.
“How would you know?” Decklan asked, his shoulders stiffening even more.
The other man shrugged. “I negotiated a scene with her once.”
An unexpected wave of jealousy turned Decklan’s vision a blurry haze, and he grabbed Max’s shirt, only to have the man laugh in his face. “It was before you’d laid eyes on her.”
Feeling ridiculous, Decklan released his friend.
“And she wasn’t interested in having sex with me.” Max smoothed out his shirt, his grin still annoying the shit out of Decklan. “Does that change things for you? Maybe she’s not looking for anything but subspace and a couple of orgasms. Surely you can handle giving her that?”
“Fuck you, man.”
“Sorry. You’re not my type.” Max laughed.
Decklan closed his eyes, wondering if the lack of sex with her partners did make a difference. If she just came here to scene and relax, that he could handle. Maybe. But if she wasn’t sleeping with someone until she’d established a deeper level of trust, that was beyond his ability to give. But he didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this, watching, unable to get her out of his head.