Kelly Jamieson: TamingTara

She gritted her teeth. “Top.”

“Of course.”

“You?”

“Top. Always.”

“Of course.” She echoed his words in a chilly tone.

He smiled. “You, Tara, are no top.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, I am.”

He shook his head slowly. “I can see it in your eyes. You may think you are— you may fool others into thinking you are—but you’re not.”

“That’s ridiculous. In fact, I’m meeting two men at eleven o’clock in the red room who need to be punished. And I’m going to do it.”

“But are you going to enjoy it?”

She stared at him. “Of course I am.”

He looked at her. Said nothing. “What are you drinking?”

“Uh. Green tea and apple juice.”

“Sounds good.” He reached for her drink, took it from her and tasted it. “Yeah, it is good.” He handed it back to her.

She glared at him. He gestured to the bartender and requested another one for her and one for himself.

“So how are you going to punish these two men?”

“With this.” She held up her flogger, lifted a brow.

“Nice.” He took it from her, let the ball of the handle snuggle into his palm. Gave it a flick across his own palm. “Very nice.”

He watched her breasts rise beneath the shiny PVC and the way her eyes darkened as she watched him snap the flogger. Oh yeah.

“Nice, if a bit…amateurish,” he added.

“What!” Her lips parted.

He smiled. “This is good for a beginner. You can’t do too much damage with this.”

“I know what I’m doing!”

The bartender passed their drinks over and Joe handed one to Tara. She clenched her hands into fists and refused to take it. Oh man. She was just asking for it.

“No thanks,” she said shortly. “Give me back my flogger.”

He lifted a brow. Waited.

“Please.”

Ah. Satisfaction. It was a small thing, but still…the anticipation of bending her to his will, of bending her body over and giving her what she really wanted sizzled through him. Jesus.

He handed her the small black rubber flogger and itched to hold his favorite one, a wicked beast with a dozen braided deerskin tails and double slapper tips. He imagined dragging the tails over Tara’s soft skin, watching the look of fear in her eyes as she waited for what he could do to her with it. He was confident in his technique, knew he could change the sensations from massage-like to sharp stings to deep thuds.

He had to suck in a hard breath at the images in his mind, because what were the chances he was ever going to get to flog his boss’s granddaughter? And never mind the fact that she didn’t even seem to know she wanted it.

Leading her to that discovery could be so much fun…but mixing business and pleasure—or pain, as the case may be—was never a good idea.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes until her “play date”. His mouth twisted. Just as well she had plans and he had to look elsewhere for his fun. But he watched her when she left, followed her to the hall and observed her enter the red room. For some reason he felt almost…protective of her. She was in there with two guys, and although the club carefully screened members, as he well knew, shit could happen, especially if she was inexperienced for one thing, and for another, she wasn’t really dominant. Things could get out of control and she might not be able to get them back on track.

He wandered around, passing by a group of submissives sitting together on a couch, dressed in frilly lingerie and white collars. For once, they didn’t interest him at all. Too easy. He couldn’t stop thinking of Tara and her strength and will and resistance. The urge to overpower that resistance and have her was eating away at him, destroying any appeal others might have held.

He kept an eye on the door to the Red Room, tension tightening inside him as time went on. It was a rule of the club that he could not enter a private room. Otherwise he would have stormed in there and taken over. Not that he wanted to spank two boys. He just wanted to attend to Tara.

When the door finally opened and first one young man, then the other emerged, both of them flushed and glazed-eyed, Joe strode down the hall, passing them. They barely glanced at him, with eyes only for each other. Huh. What was Tara getting out of a threesome with two men who were so into each other?

He paused at the door, then lifted his chin and entered the Red Room.

Tara sat on the pallet on the floor, staring at the pattern of stripes the hardwood created. Things hadn’t gone so well. Jason and Adam had pretty much had to come right out and tell her they wanted to do forbidden things and then be punished. It had taken her a few minutes to realize they wanted her to make them do those things, the threat of the flogger forcing Adam to take his friend’s penis in his mouth and suck it.

She sighed. Her arms and shoulders ached and her right hand burned from the friction of the flogger handle.

Once again, the flogging had been…weird. She’d concentrated on technique, but had a hard time getting past that fear that she might actually hurt them. Even though she knew that was what they wanted. A deep, aching longing had risen up inside her as she’d punished them, a disappointment, a yearning for something more than she was getting from this. When she’d watched them, it had been erotic, but this time she’d told them to leave before she tried to find the satisfaction that would ease that emptiness inside her. Although she wasn’t even really aroused.

And she knew Jason and Adam hadn’t been quite satisfied either. They shouldn’t have to direct the scene; she should be the one to do it. Normally she had no problem telling people what to do. It was what she did every day at work.

Why wasn’t this satisfying her? What did she really want? She’d been so excited to come to the club and try these things, certain this would fill the emptiness in her life, the dark yearning she felt inside her. But it didn’t seem to be working.

When the door opened, she looked up, thinking it was Adam or Jason coming back for something.

Joe.

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and leaned against it, hot, dark eyes burning into her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, sitting up straight.

He said nothing.

“This is a private room,” she snapped, rising to her feet. “You can’t come in here unless it’s agreed on. That’s the consensual part of ‘safe, sane, consensual’ in case you don’t remember.”

“I remember,” he said, his voice low and rough.

“Then get out!”

“No.”

She stood and glared at him, lungs tight, eyes wide. He moved toward her. Every nerve ending tingled. She took a step back, almost without realizing it. Dammit. “Joe.”

“How did it go?”

“Fine.” Her eyebrows snapped together.

“Really.” He lifted a brow. “You don’t look like you just had the best scene of your life. Or are you already crashing?”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

“It wasn’t that great, was it?” He stopped in front of her, long legs planted wide, arms folded across his impressive chest.

She pursed her lips. “It’s only my third time here. It will get better.”

“Uh-huh.” He studied her, making her feel very warm.

“I spent some time with a Master who taught me to use the flogger.”

Joe shook his head. “Maybe you need a little more…mentoring.”

She blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m an experienced Dom. If you want to learn, maybe I can help.”

Her breath stuck in her throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Very likely not,” he muttered, his mouth firm. “But it’s hard for me to watch someone struggle when I could help.”