Page 4 of Dominate Me

“Haley,” a man with a rough voice said from my left.

I turned in that direction and barely managed to withhold my gasp.

I had seen photos of Master Dylan online. We even met for coffee last week. In his element, he was even more stunning, more intimidating and more powerful. With his rich, caramel-colored skin and cropped black hair, his even blacker eyes seared my skin as his gaze quickly wandered down my body and back to my eyes.

“So thrilled you could come tonight,” he said, and immediately placed his hand on my shoulder, closing the space between us.

I looked away on instinct.

As someone who wanted to submit, even if I was untrained, it was still difficult to look him directly in the eye. His large body, his muscles obvious even in his black suit, and the deep timbre of his voice indicated he could wield power and control in many forms.

He wasn’t my Master, and he’d described his monogamous relationship with his current slave Gabby, so he would never be my Master, but that didn’t matter.

His deep-set black eyes seemed to bore into my soul while he watched me.

“Thank you for taking all this time.” I managed a shaky smile, feeling more settled as his hand drifted to my lower back. The touch wasn’t sensual, and a comforting sensation trilled down my back.

“Let’s get you a drink, we’ll sit and talk and when you’re ready, I’ll give you your tour. Sound okay?”

Oh, God. This was really happening. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good,” he replied. His clear approval of my response made me fight back a grin.

After he explained the club had a two-drink-limit rule and it was only allowed in the main meeting area, he ordered me a glass of champagne and then led me toward a booth near the middle of the room.

Men and women alike greeted Master Dylan as we walked by, either by word or a tip of their chin. Determining Doms from subs by the simple way they reacted to his presence was easier than I’d thought it would be. Women who were clearly subs dipped their chin away from him, almost shrinking from his presence while the dominant men and women straightened, growing stronger and larger.

The dichotomy was obvious, as well as alluring.

I understood how every submissive behaved. As if his inherent power made you want to kneel in front of him. I had to resist the urge to do the same.

That realization was all it took.

This was me. It was immediate and apparent as I let Master Dylan guide me into a booth. Instead of being intimidated by him, I acquiesced to him. My nerves began to dissipate as that knowledge settled inside me.

“Something happened on the walk here,” he observed, pressing his glass of vodka neat to his full lips. “Felt something inside you shift. Want to explain?”

Amazing how he noticed it. Although with as knowledgeable and wise as he’d already shown himself to be, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Sometimes, Master Dylan spoke to me in a way that showed he knew things about me even I hadn’t figured out.

I looked at my glass of champagne I held gingerly in the tips of my fingers. The liquid shook so I put the glass down and smoothed my shaking hands down the tops of my thighs.

He gave me moments to put my thoughts together but it didn’t take long before I was able to pull my eyes almost directly to his.

“I am this,” I said. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I tried again. “The way everyone in here behaves, or responds...to you and others. I can’t explain it, but it made me think of Timothy. Through dating and our marriage, there was always a pit in my stomach, like a heavy rock had settled there, that I had to continue to push away.”

I took a sip from my glass. The bubbles tickled my throat and I blew out a breath. “I can feel your power, feel the way I instantly recognized a sub who shrunk from you. I feel connected.”

His look was one of approval and I smiled in return as a rush of pent-up tension fell from my lips and shoulders.

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table between us. With a slight tilt of his head, his eyes flickered to a mirror on the other side of the bar before coming back to me. “Do you have any questions for me? Or would you prefer to start with the tour?”

Jensen

None of this was supposed to be happening. Being back in this club, a place that at one time had been my second home, a place I left so long ago, shouldn’t have calmed me so much as soon as I arrived. It wasn’t supposed to feel like I’d stepped into myself when several Doms walked up and welcomed me. Joe’s playful punch to the shoulder wasn’t supposed to have meant so much.

Every breath I took, every acknowledging nod in recognition sent my way should have made me turn on my heels and walk right back out of the place I’d vowed never to enter again.

---