Tempting Tricks (Tempting Nights #2)

Chapter Six

~Trick~

I hate demo nights at The Den. Dealing with wanna-be submissives and curious housewives who’ve read that one famous book way too many times and think they’re going to find what they need in a place like this. But it’s part of my contract as a member here, and particularly, as a trained member of the club, to participate in these events at least twice a year.

So, here I am, bored out of my fucking mind, hoping against hope no one approaches me for a demonstration. Until, that is, the woman across the bar locks eyes with me, sending a shiver down my spine. I feel like I know her, but I can’t place her or her friend in any of my memories. I mean, let’s face it, I’ve fucked a shit ton of women over the last few years. Some here, some through my work at Temptations, but I can’t remember ever having her as a client either.

“Hey, handsome, you want a drink?” Samantha, the bartender working, and also one of my more frequent fucks here at The Den, asks from behind me.

“Sure, Sam. I’ll have a bourbon. Bulleit, straight-up.” I turn back to the bar, noticing the blonde being approached by one of our more prestigious doms, Michael, and focus my attention on the drink I’m handed a moment later.

“Heard you took quite the beating from Mistress Blue the other night.” Sam reaches her hand across the bar and drags her long, claw-like nails down the back of my hand.

My eyes follow the path of her nails and then trail slowly up her body until I’m looking in her eyes. “Guess nothing’s a secret around here these days.”

“I can keep a secret,” she mewls out. “I bet I can make you feel so much better than she did.”

“I bet you can.” I take a sip of my drink, the liquid warm as it flows through my blood, thawing away some of the coldness within.

“You know where to find me.” Her tongue darts out and swipes across her lips seductively, a smile at the very edges forming, before she turns her attentions away from me and waits on someone further down the bar.

I unbutton the cuffs on my shirt then roll up each sleeve to mid-way on my forearms, glancing at my watch. Jesus, it’s only nine-thirty. It’s going to be a long night. I take my drink off the bar, turning as I take a sip, surprised to see the blonde is still sitting in the same spot with her friend. Not very many people say no to Michael. Not only is he exceptionally good looking, he’s extremely rich. Interesting.

Deciding to move away from the bar, and Samantha, I move a little closer to my mystery woman. I want to get a better look, to see if I can remember where I know her from. I find a table that has a clear view of her and sit, watching as I sip on my drink. Her friend leaves her to go talk to a man, and I can’t help but wonder if she’ll leave. She seems nervous, but she stays put, approached almost immediately by Anthony. Fucking pussy. I can’t stand him. He pretends to be nice to a girl then rips her to shreds as soon as he has her alone and in his clutches. I’m still not quite sure how he hasn’t been thrown out yet.

I’m relieved when I see her rebuff his attentions, too. Yes, this is very interesting. What in the world is she doing here if she isn’t going to say yes to anyone, nor approach anyone herself? I think my question’s going to be answered when I see Pamela sit beside her and begin to have an actual conversation with her. Gay? But I’m surprised again when I see Pamela get up and walk away.

Without even thinking about it, I decide I’m going to figure out what she wants. I am out of my chair, headed her way before I can second-guess my own actions. Her back is to me, so she doesn’t see when I approach and slide quietly onto the stool next to her. “I’ve been watching you.”

She turns her head, and I find myself staring at wide caramel colored eyes. Why was I expecting blue eyes? “I’m sorry, what?”

Her voice is soft and whispery, and also familiar, but I can’t recall from where. “Have we met before? You look so familiar.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she says quietly, fiddling with the stem of her glass, then looks back at me. “I’m Belle.”

I search my memory for a Belle but come up blank. I reach my hand out to shake hers, but she moves to get up. “I was actually just leaving. ”

I place my hand over her arm and push her gently back down. “But you haven’t found what you came for yet.”

She sits back in the seat and analyzes me for a moment before replying. “What do you mean? I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“I’ve been watching you,” I repeat.

“So you said,” she bites out.

“Three times you were approached, and three times you said no.”

“So?”

One side of my mouth cocks up in confidence. “That means one of two things. You’re either afraid, or you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

She stares at me for a long moment before responding, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can’t it be both?”

My brows shoot up in surprise. I wasn’t expecting her to admit that. I lean closer and take one of her hands in mine, stroking my fingers softly across the inside of her wrist. “Yes, it can be both. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see if perhaps I can’t make you feel less afraid.”

She presses her lips together firmly and pulls her hand out of my grasp, shaking her head back and forth. “I think maybe I should go, that maybe I made a mistake.”

I turn her stool so her legs are between mine and place both of my hands on the arms of her stool, caging her in, then speak again. “You’ve come this far. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

She peeks up at me under dark, heavy lashes, her cheeks pinking before finally speaking in a rush. “I want to know how someone gets pleasure from pain.”

Her statement jars me, my body physically leaning back from her in response. This is a question I’ve heard before, and it’s also an answer I know I can provide. I feel my cock stir between my legs as I rake my eyes down her body. “You want someone to hurt you?”

She shakes her head back and forth, pulling her shiny, red lower lip between her teeth. “I want to know how it can bring you pleasure.”

I sit back, pondering her question. The kind of pain I like is different. I feel I deserve to be punished. I need to be punished to stave away the pain I feel in my bones every day over the loss of my crew, for not being able to help them. Wanting pain, purely for the pleasure of it, is something different, but something I know how to provide. Just not how to receive.

“I can help you.” I lean close to her again and lower my voice. “Do you want me to show you?”

Her eyes lock with mine, and she slowly bobs her head up and down.

“I need to hear you say, yes. It’s not enough for you to just nod your head.”

She nods again, but this time speaks in her hushed voice, “Yes, I want you to show me.”

Fuck, my dick just got hard as a rock. “Come with me.” I stand, take her hand, and pull her through the crowd to a doorway leading to the private rooms. I walk quickly, stopping at a door with a green light above it, pushing through, and pull her in with me. I shut the door and turn the lock, knowing this will switch the light to red, indicting the room is in use.

I turn and see her eyes canvasing the room, taking in the large bed, the cross on the wall, the chains, ropes, canes, whips, and the large chest of drawers against another wall. Her hands are clenched in front of her, her feet shuffling back and forth.

“Are you scared?”

Her eyes dart from the cross on the wall to me. “Yes.”

I’m about to tell her not to be when she continues. “But I’m excited, too.”

Fuck me. I want to throw her up against the wall and slam my dick into her until she screams my name. But this isn’t about me. And, suddenly, I’m so glad I came to demonstration night after all. I walk over to the bed and sit on the end of it. “Come here.”

She hesitates for a second but then walks over.

“Sit.” I pat the spot next to me. She sits, obeying me again. She’s more submissive than she realizes.

“I need you to know that I’m not going to hurt you, that I’m not going to do anything unless I think it will bring you pleasure. Okay?”

She looks at me with her soft brown eyes and nods. “Okay.”

“But we still need to have a safe word. You know what that is, right?”

She nods again. “Yes, I say it if I want you to stop. Stop doesn’t really mean stop in one of these places.”

I chuckle. “Yes, I guess that’s true. Do you have a word you want to use?”

“Um, Oreo?” she suggests.

“Oreo?” I question.

“It’s the least sexual thing I can think of off the top of my head,” she explains.

“Oreo it is. ”

“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, fiddling with her nail polish.

“Of course. Anything.”

“What should I call you? Master or sir?”

I realize that I never had a chance to tell her my name because I was so intent on getting her not to leave. “My name is Trick, which is fine, unless we’re in a scene. Then I’m your master and you can call me sir.”

“Okay.” She continues to fidget with her fingers.

“Belle, have you ever been tied up?”

Her head whips in my direction, her eyes wide. “No.”

“Spanked or whipped?” I watch as her eyes grow wider.

“No.” She’s back to whispering again.

“But you want to know how some pain can be pleasurable? I can try to show you, but you have to be willing. I won’t force you.”

She nods her head slowly. “Yes, I want to know.”

My cock twitches at her fear and eagerness rolled into one, her complete and utter innocence of this world, and her curiosity about it. “Can you tell me why?”

She’s silent for a long time but finally answers. “Because nothing else I’ve done with a man feels good. Or right. Or turns me on. The men I’ve been with have never even gotten me off. Just thinking about you doing this to me makes me excited.”

“Good, that’s a good answer.” I stand then, pulling her up with me, and before she can question what’s next, I wrap a hand around her head and pull her lips against mine in a kiss. She gasps at the first touch, stiffening, but as I pull her against my body, I feel her relax. Her hands find my arms and trail up their length, one reaching up to grasp the nape of my neck. I deepen the kiss, sweeping my tongue across her lips, forcing them open, her tongue waiting for mine.

She lets out a moan and presses her body flush against mine, her hand gripping my bicep so tightly I can feel her nails digging into my skin. I tear my mouth from hers and trail wet kisses down her throat, over her chest, and over the silk material of her top, clamping down on her peaked nipple through the fabric. She lifts a leg and tries to wrap it around me as I suck hard, her back arching into me, her hand reaching down to rub over my throbbing cock. How in the world did she think she wasn’t responsive? I’ve never felt someone be so fucking responsive.

I release her nipple and push her away roughly. She whimpers and looks up at me like a lost child. “What?”

“You’re not nervous anymore, right?”

She nods, biting her lip.

“Then you’re ready.”

“Okay.” She takes a small step back. “What are you going to do? Are you going to whip me?” She stares in the direction of the wall where numerous types of whips and canes are hanging.

I smile and move closer to her, taking her hand. “No, of course not. You’re not anywhere near ready for something like that. But I am going to spank you.”

“Oh!” A breathy exclamation leaves her round mouth.

“And I think you’re going to like it,” I drawl out, pushing her down onto the bed so she’s sitting, and then kneel at her feet. “But first, I’m going to take these boots off. These heels could do way more damage to me than I could ever do to you if you decided to rear back and kick me like a horse.”

She laughs and then nods in understanding. I kneel at her feet, grip onto the heel of the first boot, and pull, sliding it easily off her foot. I do the same with the other boot, setting it down beside the first one I removed. I lift her tiny feet and can’t resist running my hands up the smooth, sheer silk covering her leg, bringing my mouth down to kiss the top of her foot, then freeze. Holy fucking hell . My eyes lock onto the small rose with one falling petal tattooed right above her ankle. My heart starts to pound so loud I can feel the blood whooshing in my ears.

This cannot be a coincidence. This tattoo is too unique. But the blonde hair and the brown eyes? I lower her foot and raise my eyes up to hers. I notice then that she’s wearing contacts that spin just slightly off center when she blinks, revealing a hint of blue. It really is her. This is Doctor fucking Murphy. It has to be. And she has no fucking clue that I know.