Make Me (5 page)

She did exactly as she was told and managed to make me forget I was testing her. I step back, putting space between us. “You may turn around.” Desire for her nearly strangles me, but I manage to speak. Her eyelids are heavy, lips pouty with lust, skin flushed a darker pink.

“Put your top on.” I can’t think with her nipples exposed, begging to be licked, sucked. If I continue this, I won’t want to stop partway; I’d need hours on end with her to be satisfied. She isn’t ready for that tonight. I want this woman too much. Fuck it; sink or swim, we’re both going to jump in the deep end.

And damn the consequences.

She zips her corset and spins it around, covering herself.

“I accept the task of teaching you.”

“Thank you.” She sags in relief.

“Just so you’re prepared, that was nothing compared to what you will experience.”

“I don’t care. I can do it.”

“And yet you would still deny you belong here?”

Her terse nod convinces neither of us.

“Your body tells me otherwise.”

She crosses her arms, becoming all bravado again with the toss of her hair. “What do you know about my body?”

The bottoms of her jeans vibrate ever so slightly, betraying the shaking in her legs. Even with the corset, her belly is tight and her breathing is quick and shallow. Fingers dig into her upper arms. A delicious blush decorates her chest and creeps up her neck like lacy frost on a window. Her full lips are dark with the blood that’s rushed to them, and her eyes are all dilated pupil. What do I know about her body? “Not nearly enough.”

She briefly squeezes her eyes closed, but when her gaze meets mine again it’s defiant. “What time tomorrow?”

The whiskey coats my throat with a silky burn. I go over my schedule for the next few weeks, rearranging things that will need to be cleared so I can coach her, all while wallowing in memories of Sloane Winters.

I didn’t know I wanted her until she knelt her way into my blood. Spending time together will either get her out of my system or make it exponentially worse. The bar still buzzes with exaltations and arousal from the Florentine Flogging demo. What would Sloane look like, tied to a St. Andrew’s cross and flogged until her skin glowed?

Does she smile when she comes or scream? Will she writhe and thrash around, or stay silent and still, going inward, losing herself in the pleasures of subspace?

I punch a number into my phone. Business first.

Reiley answers on the first ring. “Yes?”

“Tanner outdid herself tonight.”

“I’ve heard.”

I chuckle at the way his Irish accent makes him sound even more bored about it. Nothing happens in his club without him knowing about it. Usually. “Then my next news may come as a bit of a shock. I will be teaching a submissive.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?”

“Sloane Winters.”

His smile reaches me through the phone. “Playing with fire, my friend?”

Perhaps. “She is one of us and belongs here.”

“Very well.” He hangs up without saying goodbye.

What the actual hell was I thinking?

I slam the car door, pull off the stupid hat, and rest my head on the steering wheel. Darko. I’ve never met anyone like him. Well, of course I haven’t! I don’t make a habit of scuttling around in BDSM clubs.

Something about him grabs me by the ovaries and short circuits my brain. Maybe it was just the danger of the situation, combined with watching that submissive man and woman performing, seeing how easily he could have been hurt, yet he was rock hard when he left the stage. He was into it.

And so was I.

It’s sick, but part of me wanted Darko to rip our clothes off and fuck me against that window.

Hard.

Why was that sexy? Is it just that I haven’t had sex for so long that the hyper-sexuality in that place overwhelmed me, swept me up? Darko was right about me liking rough sex with my boyfriends. But that’s sexual preference, not BDSM. I’m not into kink.

But when he was slapping my ass and then rubbing the sensitive flesh, I wanted more, so much more. Guilt burns my face, remembering how I tried—and failed—to be still beneath his hand, and my hips moved as though they were someone else’s. Even now, a part of me—mostly located beneath my panties—screams at me to turn around and run back to him. There was an unexpected tenderness in his eyes when he crouched down and wiped my tears away.

I hadn’t meant to cry, but I was compelled to tell Darko the truth—I sensed that he’d respond to it, and I let my frustration rise. I can’t believe I let him see me cry. But Tessa is more important than my embarrassment—and this article just got a whole lot juicier. Submission Games? If Tessa already has a VIP membership, what the hell is she doing at The Games? Trying to prove how hardcore she is because of me and the shitty way I spoke to her?

I’m in over my head. I pull my phone from my purse and pull up my second favorite contact.

“Governor Winters’ phone.” The woman’s voice is unfamiliar.

“I’d like to speak to my father please.”

“Who’s speaking?”

“Sloane.”

“Do you have an appointment, Sloane?”

“No, I do not have an appointment to speak to
my father
. I suggest you put him on the phone. Now.” New aide. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but at the moment I’m not my most patient. I roll my eyes and wait for the muffled scrabbling to end. Upon hearing my name, he’s taken the phone from her.

“Sloanie?”

At least I didn’t get hung up on this time like a previous aide did. She thought my ‘family emergency’ was an excuse from a reporter trying to get an interview. Talk about career suicide. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Sorry, darlin’, new aide’s still learning the ropes. What can I do for you?”

“Tessa’s in Canada. I found her flight itinerary.”

“You spoke to her?”

“No, but I infiltrated a nightclub, and she was there recently for sure. One of them confirmed she was on a private plane going to Montreal. So you need to call the authorities, have them stop her at the airport.”

“Sloane.” He sighs. “What evidence do you have that she’s actually in trouble?”

I blink furiously. “She hasn’t called me back in weeks.” I refuse to tell him our last conversation or what just happened between me and Darko. It’s too personal.

“She called me yesterday.”

Those four words slap me in the heart. “But she hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to speak to you. Other than your instincts, what actual proof do you have that she’s in trouble? She told me she was taking a vacation, Sloane, some health spa that was run by New Agers who don’t approve of modern technology, so she’d be unavailable for a couple weeks.”

“She outright lied to me. If she had nothing to hide, why would she lie?”

“Because she knew you’d act like this?”

A guy was whipped in front of me and he liked it, and Tessa has a history of self-harm and I’m pretty sure being on her knees in a BDSM club isn’t a sign she’s alright. “It’s a feeling. Something’s off. If you had a shred of sense, you’d call the police right now.”

“And tell them what? That my grown daughter is off on a vacation, and her overprotective sister feels left out of her life and is making a mountain out of a molehill?” His voice softens. “I think your last assignment is clouding your perception. Tessa isn’t a weak runaway, being taken advantage of.”

I slap the steering wheel, wishing I could punch something more satisfying. “I’m not exaggerating, and I’m not projecting. You don’t know the kind of people she’s involved with here.” Sexy, intoxicating people who make you feel like you
want
to be there, tied to their bed.

“All the more reason to wait until we have some solid proof she’s in trouble.”

“If not the police, can’t you have someone on your security team help me get her out of there? I know you’ve got people who could get in and out quietly.”

Silence. Reality roars back with the weight of a freight train. He’s not going to help me. The less scandal involved for Daddy, the better. Years of putting on a perfect public persona to protect the family’s reputation is a hard habit to break. But I’ll shatter it for Tessa.

I soften my tone, trying another track. “You don’t know the situation.” The heat radiating from my ass is a raging indicator that I’m no longer in Kansas. The way I want more makes me think I’m not necessarily the innocent little Dorothy I thought I was.

He sighs. “
You
don’t know she’s in trouble. Remember the time she took off to Barbados for two weeks and none of us knew about it until she came back with those ridiculous beaded braids in her hair?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Or the time she decided to go find herself in Peru? How long was she gone before calling us then?”

I sigh. “A month.”

“Can you admit the possibility that maybe she’s off on another spiritual journey somewhere and will return to us in a few days, sunburned and safe?”

This time is different. “But–”

“Or at least hold off on making this into the scandal of the century until you actually have something solid to go on other than a paranoid hunch?” His seemingly reasonable tone heats me with anger. When your family is neck-deep in politics from the time you’re going through puberty, perception is important.

“A man there said she was being silent to distance herself from you, because she was involved in something potentially scandalous,” I admit.

“There you have it. Stay out of her business, Sloane. She’s a grown woman, and you aren’t her mother.”

I have no doubt he loves us, but his eyes are on the Oval Office and he’s got to be super careful of anything that might hurt his chances.

I may be in over my head, but I’m alone in this fight—at least for now. “Fine.”

“Was that all you wanted to talk about? I’m about to head into a meeting.”

“That’s all.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah.” I hang up, not saying the words back, too annoyed with his ambition. He put so much on hold for us when Mom died, but he’s been like a man obsessed for the past ten years.

And despite every instinct I have screaming at me that Tessa is better off away from The Underground, I actually don’t have anything concrete to take to the cops. She wants to be there, and what proof do I have she’s being abused? I can just hear that conversation now. ‘Yes, officer. My sister, who has a history of taking off on impromptu spiritual quests, is missing. Well, not missing, she told me she’d be unavailable for a few weeks and hasn’t returned my emails even though she told me she’d be unavailable and talked to our father yesterday. I think you know my Governor father, but he doesn’t believe me either.’

Even if I convinced them Tessa was in trouble and they went into The Underground with a valid search warrant, and managed to find her, there’s no guarantee Tessa would leave with them—not if she thinks she’s happy there. She’s more likely to back up Darko’s story, and I’d be in shit for wasting police time.

But if she sees me, if she knows I’ve trained as a submissive and reads my article, that’s a whole different level of truth. I can prove I’ve experienced it; I can make her listen, make her come home, and get her the help she needs to be healthy again. I’m her best shot at being okay. Maybe I’m her only shot.

I start the car and peel from the parking lot.

I’d expected whips and chains, not blood tests and X-rays. Upon arrival at the private clinic, Darko escorted me to a small, brightly lit room occupied by a blonde nurse with a German accent. She looks a bit like that supermodel, Frederique Vander-something, and except for the amused expression punctuated with piercings, has been as professional and business-like as any hospital nurse.

The alcohol is cold in the crook of my arm as she scrubs it with a cotton ball. “I’m using a butterfly on you. Your veins are very good, but deep.”

“Oh. Guess I’d be good for taking shrapnel.”

“Indeed.”

The banter keeps my mind off the needle being inserted into my arm. I’ve never been good with hypodermic invasions, but if I can’t beat a tiny needle, Darko might reconsider sponsoring me for a membership—where there’s sure to be much worse than a little prick.

That’s what she said.

Tessa and my inside joke springs to my mind, second nature. Only this time, it’s followed with a twinge of sadness.

Darko’s eyes seem darker than yesterday even though we’re in a brighter room. A muted version of the lust that was in his eyes last night still gently burns.

The needle is replaced with another cotton ball. “Press down on this please.”

I push down while she grabs a strip of white tape and secures the cotton in place. Next, she holds out a plastic container, the kind used for urinalysis.

I don’t take it. “What’s this for?”

“You have to get an X-ray done. It’s standard.”

“So?”

“We can’t do the X-ray before doing a pregnancy test to make sure you’re not pregnant.”

My forearms prickle and heat spreads through my cheeks. “Well, save your time. I’m not pregnant.”

“Yeah. That’s what the last woman said and hers came back positive. So.” She wiggles the cup. “We’re still going to need you to take the test. Sometimes people don’t keep good track of their periods and can be pregnant without knowing.”

I’m on birth control, but I haven’t had sex in over eight months. Unless I’m cultivating the world’s tiniest baby, while having regular periods every month
and
being on birth control pills, there’s just no way. “I’m not pregnant. There’s no possible way I could be pregnant.” Do not look at Darko.

Her smile doesn’t falter.

I snatch the cup and hold up my crossed fingers. “Second coming of Christ.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

I take a few steps before I realize she didn’t catch my sarcasm. “I’m not a virgin! I have sex. It’s not like I’m a prude or saving myself for marriage. I’ve had lots of sex.”

The nurse raises her eyebrows. “Just not recently?”

Darko coughs into his hand to hide a smile.

“I’ve had sex. With men. A lot of men! Okay, not a lot of men, but a few. I’ve had sex!” It sounds like I’m overcompensating. God,
I
don’t even believe me and I know it’s true.