Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(42)

“You never did tell me what you thought of working in a terrifying BDSM club.” Holt tilted his head. “I know all of us Masters are pleased to have you there.”

“That’s what your Master Z said. He talked with me before I left on Saturday.” She laughed. “Working at the Shadowlands is a bit frightening but exciting, too. And everyone”—almost everyone—“has been very welcoming.”

“Good to hear.” He pressed her toes upward, stretching the muscles on the bottom of her foot. “You found watching the scenes exciting?”

“Uh.” She felt warmth rising upward again. “I meant exciting like interesting, not exciting like…like sex-exciting.”

“Mmmhmm.” His hum was one of disbelief.

She scowled down at her wine because he had read her well, and her correction had been a token protest. In all reality, she’d found the atmosphere totally erotic. “Fine. Yes. It’s exciting in all shades of the words.”

“I like when you’re honest, Josie.” He leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “Good girl.”

At the warmth of his hand and the approval in his low voice, she stilled, her insides melting like butter in a hot sun.

“I’ll see if Z will let you off early at 1 a.m. on Saturday so you can do a scene with me.” His steel-gray gaze held hers, holding her protest in check. “If nothing else, when we’re done, you’ll know more about BDSM and what you want and need.”

When he moved his hand, her cheek felt cold.

Swallowing hard, she stared at him. A scene with him? The thought was terrifying. And the interest she saw in his eyes was purely electrifying. “I-I’m not sure that’s a good—”

“You don’t know me well enough to trust me completely, and that’s all right. But can you trust me with this one scene in a public place?”

He’d touch her. Maybe tie her up. Use a flogger on her. And it would be Holt holding the flogger. Quivers of desire ran across her nerves, and she dampened between her legs. Oh, God, this would be such a bad idea. “I don’t know.” Her voice came out disconcertingly husky.

“Josie, if you don’t like how it’s going, one word will stop everything.”

“Just say no, huh?”

His laugh rolled out, wickedly sexy. “Actually, the word is red, not no.”

Right, a safeword. She’d read about them. “I never quite understood why y’all don’t use no.”

She was beginning to wonder if she could refuse Holt…anything…and she shivered.

His eyes narrowed. “I think you need to be closer when we talk about this. Come here, sweetheart.”

Moving to the middle of the couch, he settled her in his lap.

She smacked his shoulder. “No, dammit, you had surgery. You’re not supposed to be lifting or putting people on your lap or—”

“Guess you better sit still then,” he murmured. He positioned her so her legs were on the couch, and she sat sideways, leaning against his chest. “I enjoy holding you, Josie, in case you haven’t noticed.”

She caught her breath at his words, and his arms came around her, holding her firmly against him. As she felt the thick erection pressing against her hip, she felt herself melting. Because she’d wanted to be here—right here—all night.

“To continue our discussion,” he said. “Some Doms do allow the use of no. I don’t—for two reasons.”

Feeling daring and absurdly happy, she put her arm around his shoulders. A deep breath brought her the fragrance of his soap and freshly laundered shirt. So clean and masculine and perfect. “Why wouldn’t someone prefer a clear no instead of a safeword?”

“One is due to our society. Even now, too many females are raised believing respectable women shouldn’t want sex. If she doesn’t make at least a token protest, she doesn’t feel as if she’s a good girl. That kind of idiotic pressure on women means it’s difficult for a guy to know if a no is a symbolic protest or a definite, absolutely not. A distinct safeword lets her use no as a token protest and ensures there’s no confusion as to when she really does want to stop.”

He stroked his hand up and down her back. It should be comforting…except her nipples bunched into hard throbbing peaks.

Her palm against his chest, Josie could feel the slow lub-dub of his heart. “I’d like to say your reasoning is wrong…except that’s how I was raised too. I tell myself women deserve sexual freedom, and I should be able to jump into bed with no worries—but part of me feels it’s wrong.”

“Yeah.” Holt sighed. “Society doesn’t do right by the female gender.”

“What’s the second reason?”

“Ah, now, that one’s more fun.” Holt nuzzled her hair, sending a tremor from her head to her toes at that sign of his interest. His voice was husky. “Some women enjoy rough—forced—sex. They don’t need to be relieved of the guilt; they simply get off on being physically dominated. Yelling no, no, no is part of that roleplay, and—again—the aggressor needs to know when she truly wants to stop.”

A frisson of interest went through Josie, and when she heard Holt’s low chuckle, she realized she’d squirmed.

Oh God. When she tried to slide off his lap, his arms tightened and trapped her against his chest.