Page 74 of At Her Will

They kept that momentum going with two more upbeat choices. Then they turned to Teddy Swims’ “Losing Control.” Rev drove the song’s passionate need into every swaying body, filling every corner of the club, all of them gripped by it.

His gaze came back to her, again and again. Her skin held the heat of the club and the heat from within her, a double blaze. Her blouse clung to her, her nape damp. When she shivered, it was as if she could feel his breath there, bringing her coolness. A lower temperature could be as erotic as a high one, when applied the right way, at the right moment.

His voice reached far inside her, setting her off like a tuning fork. Vibration everywhere, low in her stomach, rippling across her thighs, and between them. She wanted his mouth there, wanted to guide his fingers into that wet heat under her silken panties so he could feel her response.

She was turning into a damn groupie, but she was okay with that. Because that wasn’t why he looked at her, why it felt like he was singing to her alone.

You make a mess of me…

He made those words a compliment, a desire.Make a mess of me. Please, Mistress.

It was another song that included a line about being on his knees to the one he wanted. She wondered if it had been his idea to include it, or if it had already been in the lineup. Either way, how he sang it said it spoke to him, the way it was doing to her now.

Their full set was a mix of rock and blues. The instruments had their own voices, taken in unexpected directions, but pulling the willing audience right along with them. The mass of humanity had become one body, caught in the music, the moment, the haze of sharing that pleasure, so intense it was almost intimate.

Some people thought blues was repetitious, but good blues was an emotion put to song. Letting go of the need for a pattern, letting go of everything, meant it took the listener where it wanted to go.

Same as a session between Domme and sub. Done right, there was a moment where they both let go, and the control belonged to something else. She wasn’t oblivious to how that overlapped with Rev’s other Master, and His hold on him. Or her belief in the bond between the Lord and Lady.

Watching him get just as lost, as he took them all on that journey, made her want him more.

They wound up with a guitar solo from one of Sy and Trey’s band members. As he finished them off, there was thunderous applause and yells for more. Rev had stepped back, taking a breath. His T-shirt clung to his upper body, the club heat having its effect on him as well, but his eyes, alive with that golden fire,told her it had another source. If the club hadn’t been shadowed and he wasn’t wearing his shirt out over his jeans, it would have been evident. But she knew. She didn’t need to see the proof.

She did, however, desire to feel it.

Sy spoke into his mic at the drums. “Fifteen-minute break, y’all. Enjoy the house music, and if you feel we deserve a tip, jar’s on the stage. Help us pay our rent this month. Oh, and buy a bunch of drinks so management will invite us back.”

He grinned at the cheering crowd. As the band exited the stage, BB King and Bobby Blue Band’s jamming version of “Let The Good Times Roll” poured out of the speakers.

Sy sauntered to their table, moving his hips to the music, his fingers snapping as he did an ebullient turn and gave Vera a playful wink. He also offered Mavis an appreciative appraisal, startling her and amusing Vera.

Sy leaned down to speak into Vera’s ear. When he did, he closed his hand on hers and squeezed it. “Storeroom down the hall on the left. No one’ll bother you. I’ll keep her company while you’re gone.”

He looked at Mavis as he straightened. “Can I get you a drink? It’s on me.”

“Something non-alcoholic,” Vera told him as she gripped the key he’d given her.

Submissives often knew their Dommes as well as Dommes knew their submissives. It was a gift when it was true, and Sy had always been a gift.

“I don’t know. I may need the hard stuff to handle that,” Mavis teased her, watching Sy head to the bar.

“Trust me. He’s better experienced with your head fully clear, so you remember every delicious moment. He’s plenty hard enough, I promise.”

“Holy God.”

The need to claim the man she wanted meant Vera’s body was a wire, strung between two equally demanding needs. Still, Vera managed to casually rise, as if she were headed for the restroom. “I’ll be back. Have fun.”

When she moved toward that hallway, she didn’t look Rev’s way. She didn’t need to. As she arrived at the storeroom door and put the key in the lock, his hand closed over hers. They turned it together. She stepped inside the space, and he closed the door behind them.

The room was dry and clean. Storage cabinets lined one wall, open shelves on the other two for stocked items.

She wasn’t the type of woman who attacked a man in a closet at a club. Except tonight she was.

“Lock the door,” she said. Then crooked a finger at him.

Rev came to her, his eyes lit with the adrenaline of the performance. She inhaled the sweat that made his skin gleam, and gave his shirt that loving hold on his upper body.

He stared at her, hands curling. “Tell me how to take care of you, Mistress.”

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