Page 32 of Dark Angel

I brace myself for her questions, but she takes a different route. “Looks like sex is tied to my new powers. Maybe it’s time I figure out why sex seems to complicate everything. So, what should I know about these scenes? What’s expected of me?” Her question cuts through the room, sharp and demanding, yet laced with a hint of vulnerability.

Rayne's response, simple yet laden with unexpected conviction, catches me off guard. My power surges in response, almost reveling in her straightforwardness. She articulates the questions that I, shrouded in my own complexities and past traumas, find difficult to confront. It's a peculiar sensation, feeling this surge of hope, as if Rayne might be the key to unlocking parts of me long buried in darkness.

Launching into a discussion about our mission, I talk about the clubs and their connection to the criminal underworld, but my thoughts are elsewhere. I focus on Rayne, peeling back the layers of her persona, and exploring the depth beyond her outwardly vanilla appearance. I want to discover her, understand her, delve into the intricacies that make her unique.

“So, what’s lesson number one?” Curiosity tinges Rayne’s voice.

I forcibly restrain my thoughts, pushing away the tantalizing images of Rayne in a state of vulnerability, bound in surrender. It's not the time for these fantasies, not when there's so much at stake. Yet, the conflict within me rages on, a battle between desire and the scars of my past.

“First, we need to understand if you're more of a submissive or a dominant,” I say, surprised at my own boldness. My power, it seems, is steering the ship now, compelling me to engage in this dance of discovery with Rayne.

“Oh, I love stories about Subs and Doms. I’m a Sub.” Rayne announces with a degree of finality, not that I doubt her. Her declaration of being a submissive is stated with such finality it feels like a confirmation of my own instincts. My power echoes her sentiment, urging me to reach out, to bridge the physical gap between us. Yet, the mere thought of contact stirs the darkness within me, a reminder of past traumas that still haunt my every move.

“But how can you be sure, given your limited experiences?” I challenge her, my voice laced with a harshness that I instantly regret. The link between us conveys her hurt, yet she remains poised, her bright demeanor dimming under the weight of my words. The realization that I've caused her discomfort, that I'm pushing her into a corner, fills me with self-loathing, yet I'm powerless to alter my course.

“I took a few surveys on the internet. They all say I’m a sub.”

Her response, while seemingly trivial, strikes a chord within me. It's her way of navigating our complex world, a world where power, submission, and desire intertwine in an intricate dance. And in this moment, I'm both a participant and an observer, caught in the throes of my own internal struggle yet utterly captivated by Rayne.

The idea of introducing Rayne to the world of kink, albeit as a mere observer for now, sets my pulse racing. The distinction between being a Dom and a Top might be lost on her at this stage, but it's a lesson for another time. Right now, my main concern is not to overwhelm her or push her into realms she's not ready to explore. My role, as I see it, is to guide, to enlighten without casting any shadows of fear.

Rayne's admission that she's never even met a Dom is not surprising, yet it stirs something within me. Her hesitation, tinged with a hint of apprehension about my perception of her, only makes me more determined to be her guide in this uncharted territory. Her innate curiosity, that raw eagerness to learn, is like a beacon, drawing me in.

Refusing to dwell on the notion that I might be the one to give Rayne her first real taste of kink, I focus instead on the immediate plan. "We'll start with something simple, something easy to digest. Tonight, at the club, we'll observe a beginner flogging session. It'll give you a glimpse into the dynamics, the trust, the communication that's crucial in these interactions."

The words leave my lips with a blend of trepidation and anticipation. It's a fine line I'm walking, introducing her to a world that's second nature to me—albeit more as an observer than a player—yet so alien to her. I need to be cautious to ensure that her first experience is one of understanding and not intimidation.

In my mind, I'm already preparing for the evening, running through the possible scenarios, the questions she might have, and the reactions she might exhibit. It's a dance of discovery, not just for Rayne, but for me as well. For in guiding her, I'm also exploring new facets of my own being, peeling back layers of control to reveal the vulnerabilities hidden beneath.

And as I ponder this, I feel a surge of excitement, a recognition that this journey with Rayne might be the most exhilarating one I've ever embarked upon. A journey not just of physical exploration but of emotional and psychological revelation. It's a path fraught with potential pitfalls, yet the prospect of traversing it with Rayne by my side fills me with a sense of purpose and anticipation that I haven't felt in a long time.

20

RAYNE

Fire and Ice. One face for the show, another just for us. Jaden's a pro at this game, way better than I ever could be. I'm scratching my head trying to pin him down, but it's like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. When I think I've got a read on him, he flips the script. Call him out, and he either blows a gasket or comes back with something slick like, "Predictable? Not my style."

Two things are crystal clear after seeing him with others: Mr. Charm is his go-to move, and the ladies? They eat it up. He's got a thing for curves, too. Thinks he's slick about it, but I'm not blind. I feel his eyes, his interest, even if he plays it cool.

Jaden's like those wild ice volcanoes I saw on a documentary once. To the world, he's like this impenetrable block of ice, all stoic and tough. Struts around, covered in this frosty armor, keeping everyone at arm's length. But underneath? There's this fiery storm brewing, a heated geyser ready to burst through that icy exterior. He's a bundle of contradictions—cold on the outside, but inside, there's a fiery core that's just simmering, waiting. And sometimes, he slips, shows a spark of that inner fire, and you realize Mr. Ice King's got more layers than you thought.

And there's me, caught between wanting to smack him for his arrogance and wanting … something else. Something that's more than just physical, despite his constant reminders that it's all about sex. I can feel it, this pull between us. But now there's this weird urge to give in, to let him lead, and it freaks me out. I shove that thought away but know I can't hide from it for long.

"Rayne." Jaden's voice snaps me back to reality. "Focus. Before we hit the club, we need to lay down some rules. Any physical stuff between us? It's just sex. No strings attached. We're just friends, that's it."

"Got it, loud and clear." My voice is laced with sarcasm. I'm not blind to his physical attraction to me, this unspoken tension that he seems to despise as much as I do.

“If I’m going to teach you about kink, you’ll have to be absolutely honest and open with me. No lies. That’s one of the things I like about the BDSM community. The community is an accepting and judgment-free zone, at least when it comes to sex.”

I glare right back at him as he gives me his best CC look. “I will if you will. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander after all. Are you going to answer my questions?”

“We’ll see.” There he goes again with the damned cryptic answers. “Right now we’re talking about you, not me.”

That back and forth goes on for a while until Jaden decides it’s time to go. Good thing, too, because I’m getting quite the buzz on from this damned Stoli. It goes down way too easily. Maybe that’s why I’m not super embarrassed and mortified by the direction the conversation takes—the third-degree about my sex life. It dawns on me that Jaden has an inordinate amount of interest in my sex life . . as I do in his.

I almost choke when Jaden asks, “How often do you masturbate?”

“Um . . . Never.” Now I cannot meet his eyes but I sure as hell feel something like displeasure or disappointment through our link.

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