Club Desire: My Obsession Part 13

Thoughts about all the times in her life that self-defense skills would have come in handy flitted through her mind as if someone were flipping the pages of a book in front of her face.

"Sandra?"

She jumped, feeling as if she'd just been caught, but caught doing what, she wasn't quite sure. "Sorry. My mind wandered a little."

"Not a problem." He gestured with his chin toward the large window beside them. "That view would make anyone turn a bit introspective. Terrific, isn't it?"

She met his smile with one of her own. "It's amazing. I've always wondered what it was like in here." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you so much for bringing me. And thank you for introducing me to Gary." She felt another rambling speech coming on and bit her tongue to stop it.

His too perceptive gaze raked over her, making her feel as if he could see every secret she tried to keep carefully hidden inside.

"You're literally glowing with excitement. It's nice to see." Brent took a sip of his wine and gestured toward her waiting gla.s.s. "And there are still great things in store today."

She nodded as antic.i.p.ation marched through her.

Chapter 14.

The moment she was dreading came as they finished lunch and waited for the delivery of the fruit tart Brent had ordered for dessert.

"Sandra." He laid his large hand over hers, and even the strength and warmth pulsing from the contact couldn't warm the core of ice that had formed in her belly. "Who hit you?"

She'd known it was coming, but even so, she flinched as if she'd been struck, her mouth and throat went dry, and tears brimmed in her eyes.

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, and she looked up to meet his gaze before she could catch herself. She always had the feeling that Brent could see way too much when he looked into her eyes. But it was too late now.

What she saw in them made her already shaky breathing hitch. There was concern, but also a fierce protectiveness on her behalf that she'd never seen so intensely from anyone.

A thick silence fell as she tried to form words to explain away or deflect the discussion she knew was coming. Through it all, Brent's gentle yet firm gaze held her captive, and she had to resist the urge to run away to avoid this conversation.

When she thought she couldn't stand another second of the tension and dread building deep inside her belly, she pushed out one word that wasn't exactly a lie, but wasn't the entire truth either. "Diego." She tried her best to make it sound like she was surprised he didn't already know.

His gaze never faltered, but his head c.o.c.ked slightly to the side, those deep blue eyes still pinning her in place.

"Who else before Diego?"

Before she could think better of it, she sucked in a small breath that sounded loud in the thick silence that Brent allowed to hang between them.

He knew.

"Do you remember what I told you?" he asked gently.

Her mind scrambled to find the relevant conversation, but nothing came to her. Brent must have read that in her expression, because he continued.

"I told you that I would decide what's relevant and what's not that could affect what happens on the dungeon floor." His gaze softened a small fraction but still didn't waver from her. "Because of the very nature of the play we engage in, as your Dom, it's my responsibility to not only protect you, but guide you toward your pleasure and your deepest desires and needs. I can't do that if I don't know what happened." He paused, and his entire demeanor changed as he turned to allow the waiter to set the tart between them and then retreat.

Sandra hadn't even noticed the man was there until the tart plate clinked softly against the table. But Brent had easily and effectively let her save face by making it seem they were so caught up in each other that they wanted as much privacy as they could get. A swell of grat.i.tude rose, and she closed her eyes, steeling herself against what she knew was still to come.

He gave her a small smile of support. "It's all right. I know in the past that Diego used things like this to hurt and manipulate you. I can only try to earn your trust over time and prove I won't do the same. But I can't risk hurting you with any more play until I know the situation."

The knot of ice in her stomach tightened and the first tear slipped down her cheek. She knew Master Brent wasn't trying to blackmail her using her craving for play to get what he wanted, and she could even see the logic in his statement. But that didn't make it any easier to discuss the subject she'd been instinctively hiding since she was ten years old.

She straightened her spine and raised her chin. All of that was in the past and had no place in her new life, so maybe it was time to vanquish it. To finally admit it to someone other than Child Protective Services, and even possibly deal with it with the help of a therapist. But first, she had to see if she could even tell Brent.

She took a fortifying breath and steeled herself before diving in. "My father left us when I was ten." The memory still sliced deep, and the familiar pain in her heart broke the control she'd been holding on to with the last shred of her willpower. Hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "My mother resented me as an unwelcome reminder of what she'd lost when he left, and she turned to alcohol." Sandra tried to find the words to explain the rest, but she already felt hollowed out from even that admission. She'd held it inside for so long that it had become a constant part of her, and it felt odd to have set it free.

Brent gently squeezed her hand, compa.s.sion and understanding strong in his gaze. "Alcohol can often cause people who are holding on to pain and anger to lash out, especially toward those who are closest to them."

His words and calm, understanding tone seemed to break open the last of her barriers to that part of her life, and words tumbled out of her.

"It started only a week after my dad left us. Mom dressed up in a slinky party dress that showed her b.o.o.bs, slathered on too much makeup and perfume, and told me there were TV dinners in the freezer as she walked out the door." Sandra closed her eyes against the sharp memory, but her words wouldn't stop. "I had been home alone many times before that, but since my dad's leaving was still so fresh, I was terrified that my mom had left me too. That I was alone in the world. And in a way, I was from that moment on."

She took a small sip of her wine, welcoming the moisture onto her dry tongue. "As soon as Mom's car pulled out of the driveway, I broke down and sobbed until I felt hollow and empty."

She was surprised to realize Brent had moved his chair closer and she was pulled tight against him. When had that happened?

The familiar raw pain and fear came back and she sobbed against Master Brent's chest.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently ma.s.saging her scalp, a sense of comfort melting the edges of that remembered pain.

As he held her, Sandra continued. "Hours later, Mom came home drunk, although at the time I didn't quite understand that. Neither of my parents ever drank in front of me, and I had never seen anyone drunk, not even on TV. When I first heard her car pull into the driveway, relief rushed through me, and all I could think about was that I would feel safe again. She had come back. She wasn't abandoning me like Dad."

Sandra sucked in a breath so she could continue. "I ripped open the front door and ran out to meet her, wanting to feel her arms around me and hear her tell me that she would never leave me, and that she loved me. Instead, she raised her arm and backhanded me so hard I was knocked off my feet. I fell on the ground, hard, my lower lip bleeding, and pain ripping open my heart all over again from my dad leaving. I had never been hit by anyone before that, and the pure fact that it was from my mother made it so much worse."

She spared a glance at Brent and found him looking at her, concern and protectiveness apparent in his gaze. He took one of the cloth napkins from the table and gently brushed away her tears while still holding her and offering her his silent strength.

Sandra licked her lips, tasting the salt from her tears. "It became a routine after that. When I heard the car pull into the driveway I would hide, hoping she would pa.s.s out and forget all about me until morning, but she rarely did. She would slam into the house and come looking for me. It didn't matter where I hid-she always found me."

Sandra rubbed her hands self-consciously over both arms, remembering having to wear long sleeves even in the summer. "It became almost second nature to conceal the bruises. If someone did notice, it was effortless to lie about them and hope my mom never found out that I had let someone know our horrible secret."

She shook her head, remembering the frustrating cycle that had been her life. "A few times people did see my bruises, and I paid dearly for not being careful enough."

Brent's body stiffened just enough that Sandra could tell he'd reacted to her words. So when his low rumble came, it didn't surprise her. "CPS never removed you from the situation?"

Sandra shook her head, staring at Brent's cheek or chin rather than be caught in his gaze once again. "I would be called out of cla.s.s to report to the counselor's office. The school counselor and a CPS worker would be waiting. They would ask me about the bruises, or whatever report they had gotten from the neighbors or my teachers, and I would either tell them the truth or blatantly lie and defend Mom-it never made a difference."

She tightened her hands into fists at the frustration that still burned through her that those appointed to protect her never had.

"They would tell me it would be all right and not to worry. Then before I got home from school they had already gone to speak to my mother. She'd tell them how hard it was without my dad and how difficult it was to raise a 'problem' child while working full time. Then she would promise never to do it again, or lie and tell them that I had come home with the bruises and wouldn't tell her how I had gotten them. In the end, I would return home to another beating, sometimes so severe I wasn't able to go to school for a week until the bruises faded and I didn't wince every time I spoke or moved."

She sniffled, noticing the tears were slowing. "After a while I prayed that CPS would just stop intervening. I could weather the original beatings. I had grown almost used to them. But the ones after their visits to her were brutal. I'm still surprised there is no lasting physical damage."

She shook her head, anger welling for the first time in a long while at the situation. "Throughout all of it I kept expecting them to take me and put me into foster care somewhere. That's why they exist. Or so I thought. But they never did take me. Unless a minor ends up in the ER, they continue to let things slide." She fisted her hands so tight her nails caused little pinp.r.i.c.ks of pain against her palms. "I hope it's not that way anymore, but back then it definitely was, at least here in Arizona."

Brent's arms tightened around her and she burrowed against him, tucking her head under his chin. She sniffled, embarra.s.sed that she was having a mini breakdown in a public place. But Brent's strong and comforting presence seemed to insulate her and hold the mortification at bay.

His warmth and strength poured into her and she let out a sigh as the heavy weight that she'd carried all these years lightened, if only a little.

"So you became adept at hiding it from everyone, putting on a mask of serenity and kindness that would keep people from looking too closely at you and your home life." He said it as a fact and not a question, so she only nodded, feeling numb and disconnected from the entire conversation.

He rubbed gentle circles over her back, which slowly helped calm her breathing enough to answer. "By the time I got to high school I somehow made it into the 'popular' set, although I have no earthly idea how."

She laid her hand over Brent's heart, letting the steady beat and his warmth soothe her. "I didn't have any close friends to speak of since I couldn't risk letting anyone get that close to me or my deep, dark secret. Oh, there were a few people I liked to see at school and who made me smile, like Mich.e.l.le. I never shared too much that was personal with any of them, though. I couldn't risk it. But I interacted just enough so that I began to look forward to seeing them and hearing about their lives that were so much more normal and calm than mine."

Sandra shuddered at the painful memories that swamped her and pulled back a little from Brent. His touch was wonderful, but right now there was too much going on inside her, so much that she was afraid she might burst if she allowed any more input into her overtaxed brain.

She sucked in a breath as more words tumbled out. "I did go out of my way to see the good in others and try to be kind at all times, no matter how much I was tempted to lash out." She frowned a minute, wondering at Brent's ability to be so accurate on that count. Maybe he knew someone who had been through something similar? She hoped not.

She cleared her throat as more words bubbled up. "I refused to be anything like my mother, and that included raising my voice or using harsh words toward anyone. I never invited anyone to my house. I rarely attended parties or get-togethers, and then only when my mom was partying for the weekend or shacked up at the house of some guy she had just met." She shook her head. "I just couldn't risk it. But somehow amid all that I ended up being popular."

Sandra licked her lips, suddenly wis.h.i.+ng she were back in bed and not drowning in memories from the past. "I can only surmise that a good chunk of that was because I filled out early." She glanced down at her generous cleavage and then up to meet Brent's gaze. "I grew into my curves before most of the other girls, and the boys started to take notice. I'm surprised I made it out of high school a virgin for all the times that boys would try to manipulate me into having s.e.x, a male teacher tried to kiss me or 'accidentally' brush against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s or my a.s.s, or Mom brought one of her drunken boyfriends home from the bar."

She squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid memories that tried to flood back. "I learned early on to keep my room locked and stay out of sight. The upside was that if she brought one of them home, she wanted to look like the perfect mother, so she never touched me on those nights."

Brent offered her a smile and she basked in its warmth for a few seconds before continuing. "I would usually try to sneak out the next morning before either of them woke up. I'd go hang out at the park or on the bleachers at the high school until I thought it was late enough that the men would be gone. It usually took until nightfall for Mom to sober up, so I learned to time it well, and she never seemed to care that I had been gone all day."

Brent cupped her cheek in his large hand, the warmth of the contact burning through her and softening the hard core of ice that had formed inside her belly before she'd told him.

"No child should have to deal with something like that. Children should be loved, cherished-protected. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He brushed a slow kiss over her trembling lips before tucking her against him again.

She didn't answer, but a sense of the rightness of his touch soothed her. She was glad he hadn't said he understood. No one understood unless they'd been through it, and she didn't want to think about this wonderful man ever having gone through the h.e.l.l she'd survived.

Oddly, it hadn't been as difficult to talk about as she'd feared. The pain was still there, but somehow it was muted. She had expected that reliving those memories would be just as painful as living through them the first time, but in a way it almost felt like she was relating the story about someone else, some stranger. Only the churning of remembered dread deep inside her stomach confirmed that it had indeed happened to her.

"Thank you." She blew out a slow breath, trying to get used to the sensation of being without all of her heavy secrets. "I've never told anyone all of that outside of the different CPS agents who came to my school to talk to me. It actually feels good to finally let it out." She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank you for pus.h.i.+ng me to tell you."

Brent's lips curved into a gentle smile, his handsome face showing compa.s.sion and something that for a flash of a second she thought might be...no...it couldn't be that. It definitely wasn't love, although there might be the first stirrings of it on her side. She'd seen in Brent's gaze a deep caring, at the very least.

"I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me." He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing rhythm. "Now I understand why you have a hard limit about being hit. I won't abuse that knowledge."

She returned his smile. She'd let her guard down with him. She'd learned never to share any type of personal information with Diego, especially fears and sensitive spots. But she believed Brent when he said he wouldn't do the same. If she was wrong, only time would tell.

She sucked in a deep breath, hoping she wasn't wrong. Please, not about this.

Brent brushed his fingers over her forehead as if he were smoothing away the creases that formed when she frowned. It made her aware of her tense expression, and she forced herself to relax her face and loosen the muscles of her shoulders and neck. It was time to move forward.

"As for now, Master Brent, I think we have more important business to attend to." She purposely used extra emphasis on his honorific to try to steer the conversation to more comfortable topics. The flash of s.e.xual interest in his deep, blue gaze showed her it had gotten his attention.

He sent her a questioning look, which made her laugh as she'd hoped. "We have this beautiful fruit tart to eat."

He laughed and then dropped his gaze to the tart. "It's too bad we don't have more privacy here. We'll have to try a restaurant with a little more next time, but not too much."

Her skin heated at the dark hunger that shone in his eyes.

"What would you do if we had a little more privacy?" she pressed, truly curious.

Brent picked a piece of kiwi off the fruit tart and brushed it against her lips. When she opened her mouth to take it, he pulled it away. "You'll have to be patient. Believe me, there are wonders that are definitely possible, even here, but I don't think you're ready for them yet." He brushed the kiwi over her lips again, spreading its moisture before lowering his mouth to hers.

He kissed her thoroughly, effectively stealing the sweet juice from her lips and causing her entire body to heat as moisture dampened her panties.

When he pulled back from the kiss her breath was coming in harsh pants. All she wanted at this moment was to have him buried deep inside her. A vivid image of him laying her back on the table, on top of the tart and everything else, to f.u.c.k her hard until she screamed his name in front of the waiter and all the other diners sent s.h.i.+vers racing through her.

As if he could smell her arousal, he threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape and took control of her mouth in a rough, thorough invasion. As the sensual a.s.sault continued, her nipples puckered hard against the cups of her lacy bra and her c.l.i.t throbbed.

The sound of a clearing throat broke through her haze of arousal, and Brent's deep chuckle echoed through her as he slowly broke the kiss and pulled back.

It took her a few long moments to make sense of the situation. When she did, she saw the waiter standing right next to them, looking decidedly uncomfortable. She knew she should feel embarra.s.sed, but she only wished Brent would have ignored the interruption and completed her vivid fantasy right here in front of the world.

"Yes, we'll take the check. Thank you."

Brent's voice brought her the rest of the way back to the present moment and reality. She must have missed the entire exchange between Brent and the waiter to this point. She tried to gather her wits, but the endorphins still raged through her.

Master Brent had awakened her desire, and her body demanded more. Because right now he was Master Brent and not just Brent. Once again in charge of her desires, and she loved it.

"Let's get back to the Club and we can take care of you before your self-defense cla.s.s this evening. If I send you to the cla.s.s this aroused you might end up killing someone." He smiled, and she forced her lips to curve in response.

At least he recognized how aroused she was and he wasn't going to leave her this way. Or worse, demand that she not take care of it herself or punish her for even getting wet. She shoved those thoughts away. That was her old life. She needed to bury it and enjoy building this new one.

Master Brent paid the bill and then offered her his hand so she could stand. She was glad for the help-her legs were wobbly and her entire body was busy trying to process all the signals and stimulus of the past hour.

Chapter 15.

By the time they reached Club Desire and she'd changed into something more comfortable, Sandra's body was screaming. Master Brent had taken her back to the room she'd stayed in before, to let her change and freshen up before they headed down to Bas.e.m.e.nt 2.

Not sure what was on the agenda for the day, she slipped on a blue, lacy baby-doll nightie with spaghetti straps. The bottom ruffle tickled the tops of her thighs, flas.h.i.+ng the small sc.r.a.p of material that pa.s.sed for the matching panties each time she moved.

Master Brent growled deep inside his throat. "I love that color on you, Sandra."

She turned to find his possessive gaze raking over her. No one would mistake the blatant message of "mine" in his gaze. The knowledge thrilled her and kicked her arousal back into overdrive. "It's the same color as your eyes."

His expression darkened with something that made antic.i.p.ation surge through her. That gaze promised erotic explorations that would leave her boneless with pleasure. And she couldn't wait.

Master Brent led her down to Bas.e.m.e.nt 2, where only a few people were playing scenes or sitting in the locker room chatting.