Page 36 of Take Me, Sir

Dean

I was being pulledin half a dozen directions, and the only thing that I knew for certain was that I wanted Kyndall more than ever.

Dalton was pissed at me even though I could tell that Juliette had been working on him about Kyndall and me. If he didn't come around, I could lose his friendship for good, and it could seriously mess up things between him and Kyndall. But she seemed to be willing to risk it, so I wasn't going to complain.

As for her, she was getting what she wanted: more than a taste of my world.

Any of which could send her running at any time.

For her relationship with Dalton, I knew I should want her to go. For me, however, I couldn't quite bring myself to wish for it. More than anything I'd ever wanted, I wanted her to see this part of my life and accept it. In the past, I'd always separated my encounters with women into vanilla and not. Since they were never anything more than sex or the occasional social event, it was easy to not care if a particular woman was inclined to enjoy certain aspects of my sexual preferences.

With Kyndall, I cared about what she thought, about how all of this made her feel. As I wrapped my arms around her waist and waited to see how she'd respond to the show, I knew I'd be willing to compromise on sex if it meant keeping her. I still wasn't entirely sure what that meant, or even if this thing between us could translate into something other than what it currently was, but I was going to try to make it work.

I'd never been the sort of man who was afraid of commitment or had issues with the idea of a long-term relationship. I'd simply never met a woman who made me think of things that way. Always, in the past, when I made plans for the future, it was only me. Now, I thought of things like taking a trip back to London with Kyndall so she could meet my parents or taking her into consideration when I thought of buying a permanent place here in LA.

The women on stage came simultaneously, their cries carrying well above the sounds of the crowd and the music. I barely registered any of that though. My full attention was on the woman in my arms, on her ragged breathing, the flush spreading across her smooth skin.

“What's he doing now?”

Kyndall's quiet question made me turn my eyes toward the stage. The Dom was moving behind the women, and the crop he now carried told me what he had planned.

“He's going to use the crop on them,” I said, watching Kyndall out of the corner of my eye.

“Use it?”

I nodded, kissing her shoulder. “People who enjoy giving or receiving pain often use floggers, crops, whips, and hands when it comes to certain kinds of pain. It all depends on the pair. Or the group, in some cases.”

She flinched as the Dom brought the crop down with a sharp crack on the blonde's ass. The Sub whimpered, but it was a clear sound of pleasure.

“Why so many options?”

“Each one feels different,” I answered as I traced my fingers across her collarbone and along her neckline. She shivered as my fingers caressed the tops of her breasts. “In a way, BDSM is about two things: control and sensation. They manifest in so many ways that one may not always see their true nature, but the use of, say, a crop, produces a certain sensation.”

“Pain.”

Three cracks in quick succession, one more for the blonde, and then two for the brunette. The Dom then circled around to the front.

“Sometimes,” I said. I ran my fingers through her hair. “Each person has their own threshold for pain, their own way of interpreting pain.”

“What do you...oh.”

Her question had been interrupted by the Dom using the crop on the blonde's breast, the tip striking the lace-covered nipple with practiced precision. The blonde gasped, arching her back toward the Dom.

“You know how a bite can hurt and feel good at the same time?” I nipped at her earlobe, and she nodded. “It's the same principle.”

The brunette cried out when the crop came down on her breast.

“How do you know what feels good?”

I slid my hands over her breasts, loving the weight of them against my palms. “Practice.”

She stood so suddenly that I thought she'd had enough, but the moment my eyes met hers, I knew that wasn't the case.

“Your place or mine?”

* * *

“Areyou certain this is what you want?” I asked as I opened the door to my suite.

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