Training Sasha (Club Zodiac Book 1) Page 6

  Rowen padded across the room and faced the window. He stared out into the night in silence for a long time.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Lincoln finally said. “I shouldn’t have suggested it to her before running it by you. It just sort of happened. She was so adamant, and I was grasping at straws. I didn’t expect her to accept my proposal. I just wanted her to see reason.”

  “You’re a sadist, Lincoln,” Rowen told the window. “Not the kind of Dom who trains service submissives.”

  “What makes you think your sister even knows which sort of submissive she is or aspires to be?”

  Rowen continued to face the window, but his voice was calmer. “I don’t think my sister’s submissive at all. I think she’s being rebellious to piss me off. What I know for sure is that she isn’t a masochist.”

  “Agreed. But unless I work with her, she’s not going to be able to figure any of this out in a way that we can guarantee her safety.”

  More silence.

  Carter opened his mouth, but Lincoln stopped him with a hand. If the guy repeated that Lincoln had a yet another good point, Rowen would probably go through the glass.

  Finally, Rowen turned around. He met Lincoln’s gaze and took a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t mess with my sister.”

  “Come on. You know me better than that. I’m always careful with my submissives. I’ve never once hurt any of them.”

  Rowen shook his head, gritting his teeth. “That’s not what I mean, man. Promise me you won’t fuck my sister.”

  Lincoln stopped short. He blinked as he caught on. “Of course.”

  “You train her. Teach her everything there is to know about being submissive so that in the event she decides she wants a Dom of her own, she’ll know how to be treated with respect and dignity. You got me?”

  “I got you.”

  He strung his next words out. “Better yet, do your best to make sure she doesn’t want anything to do with the lifestyle at all so we can continue to sleep at night.”

  Lincoln nodded. That was his intent.

  Rowen leaned in closer, his eyes so narrow they were mere slits. “You do not have sex with my sister. You teach her about the lifestyle and what a Dominant expects and how to properly submit. But you stick to D/s. Now is not the time to let your dick get in the way.”

  “You have my word.”

  Chapter 7

  Sasha stared at her bedroom ceiling, watching the slow path of the stream of morning sunlight as it leaked into the room through a slit in the blinds.

  She had not slept. Even though Lincoln had brought her home last night with strict instructions for her to sleep, she had been unable to rest. In her mind she replayed the previous evening over and over again, mostly ignoring the parts with Master Colin and focusing on a running reel of the things Lincoln had said to her.

  It seemed surreal. By the time the sun came up, she assumed she had surely imagined most of it. Maybe she had passed out and dreamed their conversation.

  A knock at the door to her apartment made her bolt upright. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was eight in the morning. Early for a Saturday. Who the hell would be at her door at that hour?

  The knock sounded again.

  Shit.

  She flung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed to standing, grabbing the first thing she could get her hands on to cover herself. Flannel pants. She shrugged into them, hopping on one leg while she worked her way toward the bedroom door.

  Again with the knocking.

  In a moment of panic, she realized it had to be her brother, and she hesitated. Maybe it would be best not to open the door to him. The last thing she needed at that hour was a lecture on top of very little sleep, no coffee, and confusion clouding her ability to reason.

  How much would Lincoln have told him about last night?

  More knocking. Louder.

  With a deep breath, Sasha padded to the door and yanked it open.

  Shock raced through her.

  It was not Rowen.

  It was Lincoln.

  And he had the audacity to look well-rested, showered, and ready to start the day. Dressed in blue jeans, a tight white T-shirt, and loafers, he was also frowning. He set a hand on the open door, pushed it wider, and stepped inside.

  Sasha inched backward as he shut the door, still frowning at her.

  “Did you even look through the peephole to see who was at the door?”

  She lifted a shaky hand to her throat. Lincoln Walsh was inside her apartment. Lincoln Walsh.

  “Sasha. I asked you a question.” His voice was clipped.

  She flinched. “Shit, Lincoln. I’m barely awake.”

  He leaned toward her, wrapped his big hand around the back of her neck, and repeated himself. “Did. You. Look. Through. The. Peephole?”

  “No.” She breathed. “Jeez. I assumed you were my brother.”

  He released her neck slowly. “Why would Rowen be here at eight in the morning?”

  She threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably to give me a ten-hour lecture about meeting up with strangers in clubs and letting them spank me?”

  “He won’t be bothering you.”

  “What?” She narrowed her gaze. Unless Rowen was killed in a mysterious accident in the middle of the night, he would so totally be up her ass before noon.

  “I spoke to him. Last night.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I bet that went over well.”

  “I told you I was going to handle Rowen.” He frowned again.

  Had he? Anything he said last night might need to be revisited since she had been frantic and slightly out of her mind. This started from the moment she got dressed in that out-of-character, black corset and skirt and then didn’t end until the moment Lincoln dropped her off at her apartment while rambling through demands. None of which she could currently recall.

  Odd since she’d spent the entire night reliving the evening. But her memories focused on the way he’d held her in his lap. The unmistakable bulge in his jeans. The way he’d cupped her face. Forced her to meet his gaze. She recalled jumping up and arguing with him. She also remembered making some sort of commitment. But surely that last part was in her imagination.

  Lincoln sighed. “I handled your brother. He won’t be calling you today.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad.

  Lincoln’s eyes drifted to her chest. “Put some more clothes on, woman. Lordy,” he mumbled. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  She glanced down to see that she was only wearing a thin white tank top, her usual sleeping attire. That and a pair of panties. At least she’d had the sense to pull on pants before she greeted him.

  He turned around and wandered farther into her space, smirking, though she had no idea why. Still muttering under his breath, “She not only opens the door without seeing who’s outside, but she does so wearing fuck-me clothes.”

  “Pardon?” She set her hands on her hips, forcing herself not to cover her chest. Fuck him for speaking of her like that. She was covered.

  He ignored her question. “We need to talk.”

  She lifted both brows as she rushed past him, heading for her attached kitchen. “I need coffee.” What the hell was Lincoln doing at her apartment on a Saturday morning declaring that they needed to talk? Until last night, they rarely spoken to each other since they’d met.

  “Black,” he stated from right behind her.

  For a second, she was confused, and then she looked down at her mug in her hands and realized what he was saying. Fine. She could make him coffee. Why not? She couldn’t speak or think properly in front of him, but she could hand him a cup of black coffee.

  He blessedly stepped away, but only a few feet to stand in front of her fridge.

  She glanced at him to find him touching the edge of a finger painting under the alphabet letter magnet holding it to the fridge. “You’re an artist?” he teased.

  “Uh, no. If I attempted to use pa
ints, mine wouldn’t look that good. One of my four-year-old students did that.” Sasha turned back to the coffee pot and willed it to run faster. Small talk?

  “And you hung it up?”

  She glanced at him again. His head was cocked to one side, his eyes drawn together. “It was for me. She asked me to.” What was causing the confusion?

  His smile warmed her before he left her alone in the small kitchen to wander back to her family room. When the coffee was done, she found him sitting on her couch.

  She returned and handed him a mug as he pointed at the armchair across from where he sat. “Sit. But before you do that, go put on a sweatshirt or something.” His grin had disappeared. He was back to all business. Serious. Frustrated?

  She jerked her gaze to his, took a sip of her coffee, and dug her heels in. How dare he come into her home before any sane person was out of bed on a Saturday and start ordering her around. “I’m fine where I am,” she stated, head held high. “And it’s warm in here. I don’t need more clothes. But thanks for your concern.”

  Bossy much?

  The answer to that was yes. He was bossy. He was a Dom. She was well aware of that. But he wasn’t her Dom. So he could go fuck himse— Fuck. Was he her Dom? She really wished she could remember more of their conversation last night. She took another sip of coffee, hoping it would help.

  Lincoln’s glare penetrated through to her bones.

  She lowered herself onto the chair, tucked her legs underneath her, and hoped the compromise would appease him.

  He leaned forward, set his mug on the coffee table, and propped his elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together, fingers worrying each other, he spoke again. “Did we or did we not come to an agreement last night?”

  She gulped back nerves and tried to keep her hands steady by wrapping them both around her mug. “I might have been a little distracted. Can you remind me what we agreed upon?” Perfect. Not too bratty. Not whiney. Not angry. Just looking for clarification.

  Did I agree to let him train me? Fuck. “Shit,” she muttered.

  “I think it’s coming back to her,” he said. It was the second time he’d referred to her in the third person. Weird. Sarcastic. Domineering. Rude. He continued though, “Enough cussing. I don’t want to hear it coming from your sweet lips. Understood?”

  She flinched. “Cussing?”

  He narrowed his gaze, pinning her deeper into the chair. “Sasha, don’t cuss. It’s a simple request. You’ve said shit two times since I arrived and once last night. Don’t do it anymore.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Sasha?”

  Her eyes widened. What more did he want from her? Lord, this was weird.

  “Are we clear?” he prompted.

  “Sure,” she blurted out, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

  A vein in Lincoln’s temple bulged, his eyes piercing her with venom.

  Shit. And damn. It was all coming back to her. She had made some sort of arrangement with Lincoln Walsh last night. It definitely involved eye rolling. And he also might have mentioned addressing him properly.

  It seemed prudent to scramble to repair the damage and then request more details. “Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m not quite awake, and I seriously don’t remember everything you said last night. I was… distraught.”

  He hesitated, and then he relaxed slightly and leaned back against the couch, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Perhaps I should recap our agreement last night and see if it’s still something you’re interested in pursuing.”

  She blew out a breath. “That might be a good idea.”

  When his eyes closed on a slow inhale, she hastened to add, “Sir.”

  He smiled. “That’s better.”

  It was. In more ways than he could imagine. Because she found herself aroused by the idea of pleasing him. What the hell? She squeezed her thighs together and tried not to squirm. She should not be aroused just because he approved of something she said. Nor should she be aroused at this hour of the morning.

  “Do you want me to train you, Sasha?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer that right now. I can see mornings are not your friend. Just listen to me. I have basic requirements any Dom would insist upon. I know you’re new to the lifestyle, exploring, and I’ll try to be understanding of that fact, but you’re going to have to put forth serious effort if you want me to work with you.”

  She nodded, deciding it was best to keep her mouth shut.

  “First of all, you’ll address me as Sir. Always. Without exception. Not because most Doms would expect that from a submissive twenty-four seven, but because I want you to live fully in the role while you’re learning. It’s confusing to new submissives to waffle back and forth between both worlds—D/s and vanilla. Understood?”

  “Yes. Sir.” The one word was weak. Strained. She watched his intensity and knew he was being totally serious about this. He was willing to train her. Lincoln Walsh was going to train her to be submissive. Holy shit. Shoot.

  “I have expectations. One of them is that you not cuss. It’s not something I normally demand of other subs, but it suits you.”

  “Why?” she blurted. What made her different?

  He lifted a brow and waited.

  “Sorry. Sir. Why, Sir? Why don’t you want me to cuss?” It was the strangest request.

  “You’re the poster girl for innocence, Sasha. You work with preschool children. You wear conservative dresses and dainty sandals. Your hair is loose and curly and unruly like a flower child most days. Cussing doesn’t suit you. Don’t do it.”

  “Okay, Sir.” Listening to him describe her in such detail made her sex clench. She was wet. It shocked her that he’d been so observant. And she was intrigued by the way he saw her. Did everyone see her in that same light? Some pure, sweet, innocent girl? She needed to speak her mind over one issue that was bothering her, though. “May I say something, Sir?”

  “Yes. Thank you for asking politely.” He was softening. He looked pleased.

  Her nipples puckered. Shit. “I don’t like it when you refer to me as a girl. I’m a grown woman. It makes me feel stupid and too young to know my mind.”

  He set his fingers on his lips and tapped them several times, thinking. “Sasha, when I call you a girl, it’s not meant to be derogatory. It’s a term of endearment common in the lifestyle. It’s not that I don’t think you’re grown up. I can see perfectly well that you’re a woman in every sense of the word.” His gaze roamed to her chest and stayed there a moment.

  She processed his words. So intense. Apparently he did not see her as a girl. Good.

  He continued, “I don’t think I’m capable of altering that habit. It’s imbedded in my brain. Can you perhaps accept that I’m in no way trying to belittle you when I say it?”

  Since he put it that way… “Yes… Sir. Thank you for clarifying.”

  He smiled. “See? Compromise? You might find it interesting to know I had this same argument with your brother last night.”

  She lifted a brow. “What?”

  Lincoln grinned. “He kept referring to you as a girl. I came to your defense and pointed out to him you are indeed a woman. For all the good it did me.”

  “Thank you?”

  He smirked. “Nevertheless, like I said, in the lifestyle, girl is often a term of endearment. Even if I did agree to refer to you by any other term, you won’t find many Doms in the lifestyle who don’t use it, so I suggest you get over yourself.”

  “Okay, Sir.” She found it curious that he’d gone to such lengths to explain himself. Perhaps he was the perfect person to train her.

  “Now, in order for your training to be most effective, it would be helpful if you had a chunk of time you could devote solely to this endeavor. Do you have any vacation time coming?”

  “This is the last week of school before the kids go on summer break. I was planning to look for a summer job to augment my income.”

  “Perfect. So Friday is your last day?”

 
“Yes.” The word wobbled. What was she getting into?

  Part of her couldn’t imagine a better proposal. Being trained as a submissive by one of the best in the lifestyle who also happened to be smoking hot and figured often in her dreams? She couldn’t ask for a better arrangement.

  And yet… Could her heart survive this experiment? What if she failed and disappointed him? What if they were both disappointed? What if she fell in love with him and he turned her away after they were done?

  Yes. She definitely needed to hold her heart close to her if she agreed to this arrangement.

  “Good. That gives you a week to think about this proposal. I want you to be sure. You have seven days to change your mind. If you decide you want to go through with it, I’ll pick you up Saturday morning one week from today and bring you to my house for the duration. If you need help paying your rent or utilities while you aren’t working, I’ll cover them. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She gripped the mug so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. The coffee had long since gone cold, but she couldn’t risk setting it down for fear she would spill it all over if she moved.

  “I’m a firm Dom, Sasha. Do not think this will be a walk in the park. I’m demanding. I won’t go easy on you just because you’re new. In fact, I’ll expect more from you than I would anyone else since we don’t have to tiptoe around the disadvantage of not knowing each other. I’ll be harder on you.”

  She gulped. How well did she know him really?

  At least enough to know he would never hurt her. He was her brother’s best friend. Rowen would kill Lincoln if anything happened to Sasha.

  “I’ll expect you to obey me in all things. I will punish you when you’re disobedient. You have my word that I will not mark your body in any permanent manner. I will not pierce you or brand you or change your skin in any way. I will not have sex with you.