Page 4 of Dare to Love Again

Chapter 2

LOS ANGELES, ONE YEARlater...

A hard palm met quivering flesh with a resounding crack.

Immediately after that, a throaty moan, equal parts pleasure and pain, rose in the air, further thrilling the rapt audience.

Dressed in snug-fitting black jeans and a black shirt molded to his muscular upper body, the dom leaned over the naked submissive bound by wrists and ankles to the padded A-frame bench. His chest pressed against her back as his fingers sank into her thick, wavy hair. The crowd around the station held their collective breaths as he murmured in her ear.

“Have you learned your lesson yet, Cassie?”

The pretty blonde squirmed in her restraints. Her body quivered and her breaths came in short, little pants as the dampness between her parted thighs grew visibly. Her dom’s fingers caressed intimately as she moaned softly. She was completely at his mercy and the sensations he was eliciting from her.

“No, master,” came her breathless reply. “I’ll need a dozen more, maybe two, and, most definitely, your cock deep inside me to drive the lesson home.”

At the audacity of her response, murmurs and startled gasps rose from the spectators, but her dominant laughed, the low, deep sound filled with delight.

His large hand fisted in her glossy curls, and he turned her head until her lips grazed his. “Two dozen sounds perfect for a naughty girl like you,” he declared in a low, seductive voice.

“Then will you fuck me, Flynn? I mean, master?”

“As tempting as you are, baby, how could I resist?” He took her mouth in a kiss so smoldering hot, one observer fanned herself. It went on for several heartbeats before he broke away and kissed a path down her spine. His fingers left her pussy and slid up to smooth over her pink cheeks. Splayed wide, they squeezed and massaged briefly. “But first things first.”

Another swat landed, and still another, as he gave his cheeky sub themoreshe asked for. Midway through the promised twenty-four, he switched to a flexible leather paddle. The rosy tint blooming across the woman’s creamy skin grew more vivid with each subsequent swat, her ardent cries now soaring to the rafters.

Esme stood in the front row, transfixed by the erotic scene playing out before her. The chemistry between the pair was off the charts, and she bit her lip to stifle her own moans.

But it wasn’t only the couple she found arousing; it was the entire atmosphere. The audience surrounding her vibrated with excitement. Cries of pleasure mixed with the heart-pounding metal music playing in the background. The earthy scent of leather, the lemon oil they used to polish the wooden equipment and bring a shine to the thousands of square feet of gleaming hardwood floor, and beneath it, the pungent yet heady smell of sweat and sex were an intoxicating mix that stirred the long-suppressed cravings inside her. Then there was the lighting, low everywhere except in the stations, which were spotlighted from the three-story ceiling.

She found the club enthralling and utterly decadent—like its name. Whether in the lounge or the dungeon, it was as if she had stepped into a different world altogether.

As she watched the round leather paddle connect crisply with the submissive’s bare bottom, she imagined herself bound to the bench, receiving the hard yet intensely sensual spanking. It had been so long.

A shiny flash caught her attention. Squinting to focus, Esme realized it was the light glinting off the gold band on the dom’s third finger. She glanced at the submissive’s left hand clutching the padded grip of the armrest. She wore a similar band paired with a large, sparkling diamond solitaire.

Esme stroked her thumb across her bare finger. When she took off her wedding rings and tucked them safely away in her jewelry box, the groove left behind had taken months to fade. That had been two years ago, three years after her life had been so abruptly and violently altered. Even now, the pain of losing Andrew was like a knife in her chest, the emptiness left behind enduring. But five years was a long time to be without a man, especially for a submissive, which is why she was here, like it or not.

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