Take Me (The Submission Games Book 2) Read online

  I take one from her. “Perfect timing.”

  She doesn’t break my silence as we make our way to my apartment.

  I shut the door behind us and she grabs two glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen, meeting me in the living room.

  I wiggle my toes into the sheepskin area rug while she pops the cork, pours us each and glass, and clinks hers against mine.

  As the peppery cabernet fills my mouth, tears start to fill my eyes.

  Sloane sighs. “You once said to me, not all that long ago, that I shouldn’t do myself harm by denying who I am and being ungrateful to those who showed me the way.”

  I derisively snort and cross my legs. “Mark James did not show me the way. Others did. I found my way to them and they helped get me through things. Besides, we’re not even sexually compatible.”

  Sloane almost spits out her wine. “Jesus Christ, if you two aren’t sexually compatible with the way you’ve been glowing, no one is. You’d just need some time to work out the finer details. You’ve only been back together for five minutes. You’re still getting reacquainted.”

  “We were. And now we’re not.”

  We both finish half our glasses, lost in our own thoughts. Sloane leans her head back on the cushion and pins me with a stare. “You also told me not to throw away a chance with the man who gave me the key to unlocking myself. Somehow I feel like you were giving yourself advice when you told me that, so I’m giving it back to you now. If he’s the one you want, don’t give up.”

  If only it were that simple. “Yes, I want him. But it feels like he’s got one arm around me, holding me, and the other reaching for the doorknob, looking for a way out.”

  “But it’s not you he’s trying to run away from. It’s his own bullshit. You don’t think he’d relax a little if you gave him some time to wrap his head around things?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know if time would help. This is something he’s got to actively deal with.”

  Sloane smiles. “He will. And if he’s too stupid to realize how much you two need each other...well. Soldiers follow orders, right? And you, my darling Dominant sister, you’re pretty good at giving orders now, aren’t you?”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “I am.” But the reality of the situation erases it. “But I’m not crawling back to anyone. Not even the love of my goddamn life.” Tears spill down my cheeks. “If he wants me, he can fucking find me.”

  Sloane swallows. “He found you last time.”

  “Yeah. Well, he’ll have to be the one to hold on this time. I know my worth now—and if he doesn’t see that, it’s his loss.”

  His loss, but my god, it’s mine as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mark

  My entire body aches from the workout I used to punish myself with at the gym. It still hasn’t helped.

  Beating yourself up won’t make this better.

  It’s just made me feel beaten down. Maybe Tessa’s idea of flogging me in front of her crowd would work. Probably not. Even if that’s something she’s into, I’m not. Another huge difference between us. I can’t be her lapdog in the bedroom—it’s not appealing in the slightest.

  I’d still take her crop on my body if it meant she was in the room with me now.

  Idiot.

  I down a bottle of water and crush the plastic with a satisfying crunch when someone knocks at my door.

  Instead of finding a tall American woman, I find a tall European man. “Darko? What are you doing here? Come to try and kick my ass for hurting Tessa?”

  He shakes his head. “May I come in?”

  Bemused, I step back and allow him to enter.

  He slowly makes his way to my living room. “If I thought for a second you’d hurt Tessa, or Sloane through Tessa, you’d already be gone.”

  I sit on the couch. “Gone?”

  The gentleman gives me a chilling smile. “Out of their lives by any means necessary. But I do not believe you’re harmful to either of them—or rather, I didn’t until you began whatever this”—he waves his hand at me—“is.”

  I rest my elbows on my knees, running my hands through my hair. “I’m not good enough for her.”

  Darko sits on the opposite end of the couch. “No one’s perfect. Why are you using that as an excuse not to try?”

  “Because she’s already gone through so much—some of that because of me. What if I do worse, hurt her worse this time?”

  “You are both grown adults, Mark. You are both far from the young, inexperienced people you were the first time around. You’ve learned and grown since then. Hard won lessons that shaped you into stronger versions of yourselves. No matter what happens this time around, you will both be fine at the end of it. Together or not.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you so worried about perfection? Spoiler alert—you’re both going to fuck it up. But you’ll make it right as well. Do you know how Sloane and I met?”

  I shake my head.

  “She was doing an exposé on The Underground, convinced Tessa was being held captive there and abused by evil people.”

  I shift in my seat. “This sounds uncomfortably familiar.”

  “Like looking in a mirror. She came to the club dressed in Tessa’s clothes, met me, convinced me to teach her submission, but she was planning on writing a piece about the club and me. Painting me as the villain.” He tilts his head and looks up at the ceiling. “What was it she’d said...’one of the most dangerous tools in The Underground’s arsenal. He gets inside your head and switches off your inhibitions, cuts off all common sense. Darko found his way inside my fantasies and exploited them one by one. He appears cultured. Refined. A gentleman even. But that’s how he gets close enough to strike.”

  “You remember all that?”

  Something dark shifts inside his eyes. “How can I forget? Those were the words that almost tore us apart. I stormed out of her life, justifiably perhaps, hurt and angry. I felt betrayed by her. Here I’d been falling in love, and she’d been getting closer to stab the knife into my back and leave my home away from home in ruins.”

  “But you’re still together.”

  “Yes. Tessa has done nothing to you, yet you’re pushing her away. Sloane’s mistake was intentional, but forgiving her was an intentional choice as well. She fucked up. She also fixed it. Trust is something that must be maintained on both sides. Sometimes you lose sight of what truly matters, but in the end you must fight if you want to remain together. If that’s what matters to you. If Tessa truly matters to you.”

  “You think it’s easy to give her up?” Anger flashes through me.

  “No. I know exactly how hard it is to give up on living because you feel guilt for still being here when someone else isn’t. I, too, have seen war, Mark. Tessa told Sloane she thinks this might have something to do with the things you’ve seen, people you’ve lost?”

  “You fought?”

  He shakes his head. “I was a child. Grew up in a country locked in conflict. I could tell you about rivers that tasted of ash and blood. Of little boys torn from their mother’s grasp and trampled in a crowd fleeing in the darkness. How I was able to stand up after, but my brother never stood again. Never breathed again. A child lost to another war started by men, and how I blamed myself.”

  “Fuck.”

  “And how I had to let it go when I realized I was becoming a ghost. Would I have wanted Micho feeling this way if the roles had been reversed? If I’d been the one lost, and he’d gotten out alive when many others hadn’t? Hell no. That would be slapping a miracle in the face. None of us should have gotten out alive—but some of us did. Don’t let what happened claim two lives, Mark.”

  It’s tough to turn your thoughts on a dime, but this is getting through to me, shaking things in a way that makes my head spin. Tessa told me to get over it like it was easy.

  It’s not easy in that it requires no effort, but it’s a simple enough thing to stop buying into the bullshit worries that I’m n
ot good enough for Tessa because I’m not supposed to be here. Because I don’t deserve to be here and don’t deserve the love of my life.

  She wants me. Who am I to reject that?

  “Reiley’s also seen some things.”

  Darko nods. “He’s experienced a different kind of war than either of us have, yes. Ireland isn’t the place it used to be—thankfully. But he didn’t get out unaffected. He’s still got contacts that would make your head spin.”

  “He’s why the Governor won’t try to get the twins out himself.”

  Darko smiles. “Precisely. The girls have nothing to fear from their father—not while Reiley and I are around.”

  Darko has connections too. It’s wild. These are people who actually understand it—understand war and survivor’s guilt and the struggle of moving forward that I’ve been flailing my way through for years. Sure, it’s all relative and all different, but they know what it’s like to be in situations where you’re so far out of control that it doesn’t matter who or what you know. To taste fear that primal, to know how mortal we all are, to touch the livewire of that survival instinct inside all of us and grip it for all it’s worth when it would be easier to let go...empathy wasn’t what I ever expected to find.

  Especially in an underground BDSM club.

  “Darko, you’ve...thank you.”

  “You are welcome. I’m doing it for them—Sloane, yes, but Tessa too. I’ve known Tessa for years longer than Sloane, and I care for her a great deal. It’s time she was truly happy with someone worthy by her side. I believe you can be that person, Mark, if only because you are the one she’s chosen.”

  “I want to be that person.”

  He inclines his head. “Then be it.”

  “I’d need to really prove to her that I care about what she needs and wants. I’ve fucked up repeatedly since coming back into her life. But...”

  “But...?”

  “Tessa’s into some things I’m not. That night at the club. I saw some things...” I shake my head. “Not into all of it, by any means.”

  Darko nods. “I understand. But there are many things in our world that you may not realize are things Tessa is into...things that you’d both be into.”

  Maybe. It’s not as though I’m an expert at this. “I’ll need your help.”

  Darko smiles. “What do you need?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Tessa

  Three days go by without a word from Mark.

  My father doesn’t try to get in touch with me either, so at least it’s not all bad.

  That’s a lie. Everything feels bad. I swore I wouldn’t cry one more tear over Mark, but...turns out, I lied.

  When Reiley texts that he’s got information about Mark, I peel myself out of bed, hop in the shower, and head to The Underground wearing my best armor: my favorite corset and three coats of waterproof mascara. If I have to hear shitty news, I want to look stunning while I do it.

  And then possibly go have a scene with a submissive or three or however many it takes to forget all about Mark.

  Reiley greets me at the door.

  My heart sinks. Whatever Reiley found out can’t be good if he’s meeting me out here. “What? Is it that bad?”

  “Don’t be mad.” He leads me to the playroom off the main bar and pauses outside the door. “He’s been informed that he’s only allowed to do what you tell him to do.”

  He? “What?”

  Reiley nods at the door. “Mark’s in there. Waiting for you.”

  “Why? What? Why?”

  Reiley crosses his arms. “Sometimes people need us to meddle in their lives. In this case, I’m the meddler and you’re the...meddlee?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Is that so? And I suppose whatever you found out—”

  “Only makes him look even better, I’m afraid. This isn’t just me who wants to see you happy. I had a couple unindicted co-conspirators.”

  No surprises as to who they are. “This has Sloane written all over it.”

  “We want what’s best for you. And Mark came to us, asking for a chance. He was very convincing.”

  All my mirth flees the building. “And you think he’s what’s best for me?”

  Reiley squeezes my shoulder. “Only you know what’s best for yourself. I’d like you to take this opportunity. At the very least, you’ll get to dominate the shit out of him.”

  I bite my lip at the thought. “That doesn’t sound...terrible.”

  “I know.” Reiley’s eyes sparkle. “I’ve a feeling you’ll want to get in there sharpish.” He looks pointedly around the room, and I follow his gaze, noting all the Dominants. “Especially in a place like this, Tessa. Waste not, want not.”

  Maybe he’s kidding, but that wouldn’t matter here.

  He sighs. “Mark left because your dad’s a blackmailing prick. Suffice it to say, Mark had no choice. You’d have done the same thing in his shoes.”

  I try not to look like I’m rushing into the room, but Reiley’s laughter hits my back before I close and lock the door behind me, terrified, hopeful, incredibly turned on.

  Mark’s kneeling in the center of the room, hands behind his back, head slightly bowed, but he follows me with his gaze when I enter and walk a slow perimeter of the room around him.

  The energy between us is palpable. I’m surprised my hair doesn’t crackle with static electricity.

  “You’re here.”

  He nods.

  I grab a crop from the closet. “And what is it you think you’re going to do here tonight?”

  “Nothing.”

  I tilt my head and gently slap my palm with the end of the crop, making a sharp smack. “What?”

  He licks his lips. “I’m not allowed to do anything. Unless you tell me to.”

  “Are you literally only going to do what I order you to do?” Reiley, you’re a goddamn evil genius. Or Darko. Sloane? Hell, maybe they all conspired to come up with this scenario for us.

  Mark’s smile is wicked. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Two words. Three syllables. An immeasurable effect. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  Does he know what those words do to me? How can he? They make my knees go weak with power—what should be a total contradiction, but the acknowledgment of my strength and control in a scene gives me a thrill. It’s someone saying that they trust you with their body, with who they are, and they’re giving into pleasure. They are surrendering completely, trusting you to keep them safe.

  There’s a power in that. Nothing else comes close to the way it humbles and touches me.

  But this man saying those words makes something click into place inside me. They make everything click into place and I almost moan, filling jagged empty places our separation created. I thought they’d healed.

  Not until this moment and what his words, what his presence here, means. My real family has given him their support, trying to show him how to win me back and that means so much—but it’s not a guarantee.

  No, I’m going to make him earn this chance. Because I’m never going to be less than my real self ever again.

  Not even for Mark James. So if he can’t hang with the woman I am now, it’s best we find that out tonight. “To your feet.”

  He complies.

  Excellent. “Remove your clothes. I want you naked.”

  “Will you be—”

  I smack his ass with the crop. “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He pulls his white t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside while I enjoy the view.

  He’s got a semi. Interesting.

  The psychological power shift that comes when you’re naked and the other person is clothed is primal. I want him to feel vulnerable—and then safe.

  And then horny.

  Not necessarily in that order.

  I openly admire his body while he strips naked, letting him see my desire. It’s about power, not trying to make him feel self-conscious. “Give me a little spin.”
<
br />   But of course, he shamelessly twirls, completely comfortable with his nudity because it’s Mark.

  “Come here.”

  He stalks toward me with an intensity on his face that threatens to knock me on my ass, but I stand my ground and grab him by the nape of his neck. He caresses my face and moves in as though to kiss me, and I pull back.

  “Hands on the bed. No one said you could do that.”

  His eyes narrow, but he splays his hands on the mattress and looks at me over his shoulder.

  I leave a handprint on his left ass cheek. His cock twitches when I reach around and give it a little attention. He stands and grabs my hand, and I shove it away.

  “That’s a naughty boy, Mark.” I leave another handprint, this time on his right ass cheek. I do love a matching set. He sighs but relaxes when I press against his back and reach around again.

  He stands perfectly still this time, even holding his breath while I rub his cock.

  “Remove my shoes.”

  He steps really close and trails his hand down my leg as he lowers himself to comply.

  “Remove my skirt.”

  I turn so he can access the zipper. He obeys.

  “Now my panties.”

  He reaches up and I smack his hand away. “With your teeth.”

  His eyes widen and he leans in close, nuzzling me through the satin fabric before carefully doing as I said, gripping the underwear and slipping it down my legs. I step out of them, wanting to order him to do so many things, but desire is making me impatient.

  I lift my hair. “My corset.”

  He moves so close to my back to unzip it, his body heat radiates against my skin, and I want him to kiss the top of my shoulder where it meets my neck so damn badly I almost whimper. “Kiss me.”

  His mouth lands on the exact place I’d wanted him to kiss, and I moan in relief, tipping my head forward to give him better access.

  “Lie on the bed. On your back.”

  He scrambles into place and lies perfectly still as I cuff first his ankles, then wrists to the bedposts, dropping kisses above the leather cuffs as I finish securing him, spread-eagle.