Jonas
Ihave a moment of panic when I glance in my rearview mirror and spot Kenna on the highway behind me. I hate sneaking out of town, but Tango isn’t the kind of place most Sugar Creek residents even know about, let alone tolerate. If word got out that I frequent a BDSM club, I doubt much of my clientele would stick around.
I speed up and Kenna falls behind, moving over to exit before we even hit the outskirts of Portland. Within a couple of minutes, she’s out of sight and I can breathe again. At least, I can until I start wondering why she’s out this way, too. Is she meeting someone? Dating is pretty slim pickings in town. Maybe she had to branch out? The idea sits in my stomach like an icy cannonball.
I’m still trying to shake her off as I knock on the front door of Tango. Dominick opens the door, his bald head shining under the red lights. He grins and hooks a thumb toward the door. I slip my mask on and double-check that my red badge is pinned to my chest. Hitting the button, I watch as the double doors swing open, waiting for the flash of excitement I used to get when I stepped through these doors. But it doesn’t come. It never does anymore.
I skirt the edges of the room, eyes sweeping for trouble, but it’s midweek, and there are nearly as many monitors as there are participants tonight. I watch, bored, as a dom cuffs his sub to a St. Andrews cross.
Branson yawns, crossing toward me as the sound of a palm smacking flesh rises over the music. He’s the one who first brought me to the club nearly a decade ago. We were unlikely friends. He was pre-med and insanely rich. I was a scholarship case with sights set on a career in graphic design. We never would have crossed paths if it wasn’t for football, but I’m grateful we did.
After my dad died, I lost interest in everything. I slacked at football and barely went to class. I holed up in my dorm room for months with the shades drawn. One night, Branson stomped into my dorm room and threw a suit at me.
“Get dressed. You’re depressing everyone in a twenty-mile radius.”
He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just drove me downtown in the middle of the night, parked outside a dark building, and told me to shut up and follow him. I was half-worried he was going to steal one of my kidneys, but when the doors of Tango opened, it was like the lights came back on. It cracked me open and gave me back the control I was desperately missing.
“God, I’m bored,” he says as he joins me, leaning against the wall. I nod. The feeling is most definitely mutual. “I might bounce early.”
I glance over at him and frown. That’s not like him.
“I thought I’d get in an early run tomorrow and hit the bakery before opening the clinic,” he explains, grinning at me with his ridiculously straight teeth.
“The baker?” I ask. He nods. “I thought you said she hates you.”
Branson rubs his hands together. “She does. That’s why I like her.”
I snort a laugh. “I don’t see you winning that war anytime soon.”
“I’ve got a plan,” he replies mysteriously. “Which is more than I can say for you. I walked in on the kid at the hardware store trying to steal your girl the other day.”
“I don’t have a girl.”
“Oh, really?” the blond doctor says, cocking an eyebrow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I brought sweet little Kenna down here next time I want to play?”
I don’t reply, but I crack my neck, trying to push out the pinching irritation I feel at the thought of Branson laying his hands on Kenna. He doesn’t take the hint.
“I wouldn’t mind cuffing her to that.” He jerks his chin to a woman folded over a padded leather spanking bench. She’s squirming, legs spread, pussy exposed as her dom works her over. The idea of Kenna like that makes my blood rush south. The little sounds she would make as she wiggled, her lips forming an “O” of surprise...
But then I picture Branson swatting her, and my hands clench into painful fists. I know this motherfucker is trying to get a reaction out of me, so I don’t say shit.
“I wonder if she’s a nipple clamp girl…” Branson muses. “I bet she is. The tighter the bett—”
Without warning, I lose it. Wheeling toward him, blood pounding in my ears, I grab one of my oldest friends by his lapels and slam him against the wall. Branson smirks and I feel alarmed eyes turn towards us. He holds up a hand as another monitor steps our way.
“Thank you, sir. May I have another,” he shouts. He stares me down, eyes warning me to cool it. I almost don’t care. I weigh the cost of clocking him, but I know it wouldn’t do anything to shut him up. All it would earn me is a sore hand and a lifetime ban. Not that I’d care if they kicked me out at this point. What good is a BDSM club when all I do is monitor? I’m a glorified kinky babysitter.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl, releasing and smoothing his shirt front. Branson never loses that cocky smirk, but his eyes get serious. He wanted to get a rise out of me, and he succeeded. He found the chink in my armor and hit it with a pickax.
“You’re fucking lucky she hasn’t found someone already. You know that, right? You’re not going to stay lucky forever. One day you’ll have to watch another man take her away for good.”
“Lucky. Right,” I scoff, biting the inside of my cheek. That’s not what I’d call it. Maybe if Kenna had fallen for someone, I could let her go. If I could see her happy and settled, maybe it wouldn’t feel like my chest is being squeezed by an invisible fist every time I think about her. But every day that passes, and she’s still walking down the street alone, going home to an empty house and an empty bed, is another day of hope. Another day I live to regret my promise to Dean.
How many times have I been tempted to say ‘Fuck it’ and give in? Dozens. Hundreds. Watching her wait tables every day is nothing short of torture, and when she looks up at me with those big dark eyes… fuck.
But how could I look my best friend in the eye after breaking my promise and corrupting his baby sister? I fucking couldn’t. And that’s just Dean. If word got around Sugar Creek that I dragged the town sweetheart into the gutter with me? We’d both be pariahs. The only instinct stronger than the one screaming at me to claim Kenna is the one demanding I protect her.