Twice the Touch (6 page)

"Yes, Sir," she whimpers. Right.
Punishment
.

She'll discover that I have
a low tolerance for disobedience. My rewards for good behavior are generous; I never hesitate to spoil a sub. But my punishments are as generous in the opposite direction. A previous sub once blamed me because she had to throw out her mascara and buy a waterproof one.
Tears are granted.
Tears for all reasons.

I swallow and groan and nip at her jaw. The urge to kiss her is goddamn insane, but I don’t have the rules yet. I don’t know what's okay for me to do. If I'm going to scene with these two again, I need to find out as much as I can—in order to maximize the pleasure.

Thirty-four seconds.

When Evangeline tilts her head toward my mouth, I straighten a couple inches and stare down at her in question.

"It's okay—you're on our list," she blurts out. Fidgeting, fierce blushing, and stuttering follow. "All right, not so much a l-list as it's a Post-it note with y-your name on it, but…" A little squeak ends it all, and she buries her face in her hands.

Master Cooper on a Post-it, huh?

My shoulders begin to shake with silent laughter and I hug her to me, finding this young girl too fucking endearing for words.
A damn Post-it
. I snort a laugh.

"Adorable," I murmur,
giving in to chuckles that I don’t bother to keep bottled up inside.
Eleven seconds.
I sigh and drop a kiss on the top of her head. "You will have to tell me more about this, ah, list of yours later." I tilt her chin up and kiss her nose, too, enjoying the blush still gracing her cheeks. "But our time is up for now. Did Tess warn you about Greg?"

She responds to my abrupt question with a swift nod
. "Yes, Sir." The timer beeps, so I walk over to shut it off while Evangeline continues. "Tess told me he's pretty strict."

"Understatement." I smile wryly and hear Tess announcing from the living room that dinner's ready. Which means everyone will move into the dining room now. "Whatever you do, don’t let him find out about
your interest in BDSM." My brother would fire her—simple as that. Now, I don’t know how important a babysitting job is to Evangeline, but I figure it's best to lay it out there.

"Yeah, Tess told me that, too."
She grimaces a little. "Is he really that bad, though? I mean, I've only watched Abby for a few weeks, so I can't say I've run into Greg a lot, but still…he hasn't seemed that straightlaced. And Tess is so different."

"That’s probably why you were invited here today," I answer. "If Greg doesn’t know you very well yet, prepare to be questioned." My brother trusts Tess'
s judgment enough for her to hire babysitters, tutors, and nannies, but he will still have the chance to veto. "Paint yourself as a churchgoer and he'll love you."

Being around my brothers sometimes makes me want to shock them out of their Armani suits. They pull off polite conversation about current events, the best school districts, and sports
flawlessly, and…all I can think about is walking over to them and telling them what I did last night while they enjoyed a bottle of wine and a foreign film.

Evangeline giggles. "Actually, aside from being a submissive, I can't say I have anything inappropriate to dish out."

Good. That means dinner will probably be enlightening for me, too—in a way that I'll learn things about her that are true, as opposed to stories to appease Greg.

*

As it turns out, countless questions are thrown Evangeline's way throughout dinner. Had it not been for Tess and my parents occasionally telling Greg to slow down, I would've stepped in. Alas, Evangeline has found support in my family, and she shoulders the questions like a champ.

H
aving her age confirmed is the only thing that shocks me a little; I find out she's only twenty-three. I had expected her to be in her early twenties, but I somehow leaned more toward twenty-five for some reason. She's so young. But other than that, I'm only intrigued by what she tells us. She carries herself well; she's mature for her age, and my image of her becomes clearer as the dinner goes on.

Her love for children is
evident, and I watch how her eyes light up at the mention of working with kids. Just this past spring, she graduated with a degree in Early Childhood Education. Before her four years here, she also studied art in Paris for two years, and I'm pretty sure there's more to that story. Her name sounds French, and I recall hearing her and Brayden speak French at the club.

Anyway,
since it's not the easiest to find a job in this day and age, especially not for someone fresh out of college, she takes on smaller assignments here and there. Tutoring, babysitting, a few temp gigs, and so on. And throughout that explanation, the light in her eyes doesn’t fade even a little.

Once we're done eating, I manage to catch Tess alone for a minute, and I'm thankful she doesn’t know just how well I already know Evangeline—only that we met briefly at the club last night.

Briefly
. Sure, we'll go with that.

Mom corners me in the kitchen, too, and asks me the question that no one answered when she was ushered out of here earlier. But I only give her a smirk and shake my head.

"Oh, tell me." She playfully slaps me on my bicep. "From—" she lowers her voice "—from Switch? Is that how you know Evangeline? Is she a sub?"

I can't help but chuckle. "Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Mom. Let it go." My parents may be very…different…in
their viewpoints on relationships and marriage, but nobody wants to hear about their child's bedroom activities, so to speak. "Now, how about that dessert, huh?" I point to the two pies on the counter.

"Nice try at changing the topic." She huffs. "But it's not going to work. Evangeline has a boyfriend, so color me intrigued.
She can't be
your
sub…can she?"

Fuck that—
I'm not falling into her trap. Being married to Dad doesn’t stop Mom from having fun with Ben and Hank. And Dad with Annie and Marie. So, I merely raise a brow and ask, "Are you saying I can't know a woman without sleeping with her?"

She scrunches her nose. "Sounds good in theory." Then a
shrug. "Just didn’t go so well for us."

I snort in amusement, too aware of how that never worked out for Mom and Dad.
Their attractions caused for an interesting upbringing, that’s for sure.

Three couples with nothing but friendship between them, but things changed after a few years. I'm sure alcohol was involved when it
was time to confess desires; then they were all suddenly living together in a huge house outside San Francisco. It's how I grew up—three families living as one. My brothers and I were disciplined by any adult, not only our parents. Same went for Ben and Annie's daughters, as well as Hank and Marie's son.

Biologically, I have three brothers, but my mother would say we're seven siblings altogether.

I agree with her.

Greg, the oldest kid of all of us, started to resent Mom and Dad's lifestyle when a high school girlfriend dumped him because of it. And I understand him to an extent; we did put up with a lot of shit in school, but whatever. I've stood my ground from day one, and so have the rest of us—
well, except for Greg, Ted, and Seth. Nowadays they only drive out to our parents' for Thanksgiving, which is coming up soon. Otherwise they'll stick to our biological family.

"You don’t say," I finish in a deadpan voice.

Luckily, Evangeline and Abby walk into the kitchen, sparing me from more of Mom's interrogation.

*

My younger brothers and Jessica have already left when Evangeline announces that it's time for her to go home, and I follow her lead. It'll give me the chance to talk to her about our next scene that I'm too fucking eager to plan.

A
fter having watched her all night, it's all I can do not to bend her over Greg and Tess's couch and fuck her into next week.

"Thank you for joining us tonight, Evangeline," Greg says politely while I'
m putting on my shoes. "Perhaps you'd like to join us next week, too? You could bring that boyfriend of yours."

R
acking my brain, I try to remember the few things Evangeline mentioned about Brayden, but it's not much. I've found out he's a software engineer, and that he was born and raised here in San Francisco like the rest of us.

"Hon
ey," Tess says with an eye-roll, "I think that’s enough with the questioning. Evangeline is perfectly able to take care of Abby—no need to bring in Brayden, too."

"Nonsense." Greg waves
her off dismissively. "I'm simply being polite. I'd like to meet Evangeline's boyfriend." Well, speaking as if Evangeline isn't even here can't really be considered as polite, can it? "And you can't possibly blame me for wanting only respectable people around our daughter."

"You're
always so fucking pleasant," I say dryly and slip on my jacket. Since Abby has gone to bed already, I don’t bother with the language filter. "Respectable people." I scoff and shake my head. "God help him if he's ever received a speeding ticket."

"That’s
enough, little brother," Greg responds with a sneer.

I flip him off.

"Boys," Mom warns.

Evangeline looks torn, and I can't blame her. She won't like Greg—I know that—but she already feels for Tess and Abby.

"We should get going," Dad says and gives Tess a kiss on her cheek. "If you wouldn’t mind, perhaps you could work on removing the stick up my son's ass." That earns him a glare from Greg.

After thanking
them for dinner once more and saying a few more goodbyes, we trickle out from my brother's house; he also makes Evangeline promise to ask Brayden about next Sunday. But by the time my parents have driven off, I have a solution—something that will keep my two subs from coming here next week. It will keep me from it, too, which is a big, fat bonus.

"Next weekend…" I pause by Evangeline's car
farther down the street as she unlocks it. "If you don’t have plans already, I'd like to scene with you and Brayden."

She looks up surprised and leans back against the car door. "All weekend?"

Stepping closer, I nod slowly and tug on one end of her knitted scarf. "If you think you can handle it, yes." I'm supposed to work Saturday, but I have no qualms about letting Liam cover for me. "And it would be at my place—not at Switch."

Since my divorce, I haven't scened outside the club, but I'm itching to create memories in my condo
now. Cade, my friend from the club, designs BDSM furniture, and I didn’t hesitate to blow a substantial amount of money on that once I'd bought my new place after the separation.

"What do you say, kitten? You'd arrive on Friday night and leave on Sunday after dinner."

She nibbles on her lip. "You'll punish us for that long?"

"Oh, sweetheart." I laugh. "No, definitely not." I'll do that on Saturday aft
er devoting Friday to making them comfortable around me. "You haven't been
that
bad of a girl." I wink.

Even in the darkness, her blush is visible. "Okay. I want that. I mean, I'll talk to Brayden, but…" She nods. "Okay."

I grin, then let it fade as my eyes flick between hers and her mouth. At her shy smile and subtle nod, I dip down and kiss her.

Chapter 6

Evangeline calls me the next day to confirm our weekend plans, and I try to tamp down at least a little of my excitement, because it seems I'm served with an extra thrill around her and Brayden. Excitement is good; attachment is not. For the past several months, I've enjoyed my newfound freedom, and I'm not sure I'm ready to seek out commitment. Or accept it even if it smacks me upside the head.

But as the week continues, a niggling thought at the back of my mind gets louder. 

On Wednesday, it's S/M Night at Switch, and that thought in my head gets a voice in the form of Kayla Brandon. She and Nicholas are only here because there will be a demonstration in the Cave later, and Nick always supervises when there's a demo. Right now he's up in his office, though.

"You could get married and have a bunch of babies to
gether!" she exclaims happily. I give her a look and slide over her Sprite with crushed ice and lime. "Two men—" she nods "—that could make an awful lot of babies."

"A woman can still only get through one pregnancy at a time, honey." Not to mention that I'm not ready for a new relationship. Or babies.
I think. No, I'm not. No.

"Of course." She pouts
and smooths out the frilly hem of her light purple baby-doll dress. "Now I feel dumb."

Not dumb
. She's just excited at the prospect of gaining more friends. Especially if it's through any of Nick's buddies, which would include myself, Cade, and Rio now that he's back in the States. Kayla has already befriended John and Gabriella, another Daddy Dom and Little Girl.

"You're turning out to be our little matchmaker here at Switch." I grin and lean my elbows on the bar top. "Nicholas told me that you helped a sub flirt with Max."

She giggles. "Well, Natalie is like super shy, and Mr. Giles is always busy behind the bar. But he sure noticed her!" Kayla looks nothing but triumphant at her success. "My next goal is to help Chelsea—she's a friend of mine from New York." She nods and purses her lips. "She's moving here after Christmas."

Hopefully, that will keep Nick's little one busy, then.

"Speaking of Christmas…" I raise a brow, amused.

And Kayla scowls.
"I don’t wanna talk about it." But then she does so anyway. "I don’t get why we have to fly up there. I almost never see my family—maybe once or twice a year…" She huffs a breath. "But Daddy says it's the right thing to do. Plus—" a mischievous smile creeps into place "—if I'm good, maybe he'll give me a kitten for Christmas."

I know he will. She's been pleading for a pet since they moved into their new house, and Nicholas loves spoiling her. She will definitely like her Christmas present.
The only kitten
I
want would be a curvy little brunette whose name my niece can't quite pronounce.

"Well, right now you can be a good girl and bring
your Daddy his drink." I prepare Nick's tonic water and slide it over the bar. "Off you go now."

"Yes, Sir," she says in a singsong voice and hops off the stool. "
Thank you for the Sprite."

I smile. "Any time, honey."

Back to work, I'm left with thoughts about commitment and settling down.

Then on Friday morning, I've managed to push down all those thoughts. Or rather, I've replaced them with a compromise. I may not be ready for anything resembling romance, but a D/s arrangement sounds fucking appealing. Even more so i
f it's with
two
subs. It would certainly provide me with a challenge, and I've missed that.

If it's something Evangeline and Brayden are interested in, I'm ready to negotiate terms.

As I'm about to leave my car for a lunch meeting at a wharfside restaurant, my phone starts ringing and I see that it's Evangeline calling.

"What's up, kitten?" I answer the phone, placing it between my shoulder and cheek, then exit the car. "You
two better not cancel on me tonight."

"Fat chance!"
she laughs.
"Nope, not happening."
Good. I smile to myself and lock the car.
"But I wonder if you have a free minute?"

Looking up, I spot
my accountant as she steps into the restaurant. Free minute. I'll be damned if I don’t make a free minute. Important. "Sure thing. Is something wrong?" I fiddle with my keys and walk slowly toward the restaurant, suppressing a shudder at a particularly punishing gust of wind.

"Not wrong, per se."
She hesitates.
"Just something about Brayden I wanted to mention to you."
At my "go on," she does.
"You said when we talked on Monday that you plan to bring up our limits—stuff like that. And…"
She blows out a breath.
"Okay, the thing is, I can't really go into detail, because it would betray his trust in me, and he doesn’t want me to say anything. So, all I'm going to ask is that you go easy on him when it comes to his sexuality."

My eyebrows rise; meanwhile, I look down at the ground, thinking. "
His sexuality," I state.

"Yes. It has to do with his childhood. His father, what that rat-bastard did. Brayden's struggling with his feelings—"

"Evangeline." I interrupt her, worried and tense. "If something has happened to Brayden, someone who can help needs to know."

I'm not that person, as much as I want to be. T
here are people who've suffered everything from emotional abuse to brutal rape and then turn to BDSM, using it as either therapy or, much worse, a way to punish themselves. On the outside, they can look like a masochist, and he or she can even seem serene, as if they're getting what they think they deserve. And if you don’t know how to see the difference between that and arousal, it will only get worse with time.

"Oh! It's nothing like that. Fuck. Um."
She's hesitating again.
"Let's just say he was brought up to believe one thing, but he actually doesn’t. His father says one thing is wrong, but it happens to be what Brayden feels toward, ah, someone in particular."

I exhale loud
ly, both relieved he isn't a victim of abuse and…a little aggravated because Evangeline's speaking in riddles. But appreciation makes itself known; she's protective of her boyfriend, and that’s admirable.

Though,
if I were to venture a guess, I'd say Brayden grew up hearing his father's no doubt demeaning thoughts on homosexuality and bisexuality. It makes sense, especially if Brayden wants a Dom who is a man. There might even be attraction, which could cause issues with what he's supposed to think—according to his father. It's not like that type of man is a rare breed. My brothers are like that, too. Men are men; they're supposed to provide, be strong, and only like pussy.

"
Brayden knows what he wants, Mark,"
she adds softly
. "He's just struggling to come to terms with it. I know I don’t make sense—"

I cut her off again, though gentler this
time. "You do make sense. And I promise I'll take all of this into consideration."

"Thank you so much."
Her relief is evident.
"So, we'll see you tonight? Seven o'clock?"

"Sharp."

"Sharp,"
she echoes with a smile in her voice.
"Bye."

"See you soon." I end the call.

Making my way inside the restaurant, I greet my accountant and Brent, my gym manager, the two people whom I trust with my company. It's a small chain of gyms around the city, and it affords me the luxury of not needing to worry about my bank statements or whether to buy a cheap brand of cereal or the one I like. I won't say the company runs itself, but it does run without me. The only thing I need to do is meet up with Tara and Brent once a month to make sure it's all good.

With that steady paycheck, I can work as much or as little at Switch as I want, but it's a job I enjoy. That’s why I accepted the responsibility when Nicholas needed someone to be in charge of the bartenders. It also provides free membership—a definite perk.

*

I'm no
chef, so by the time our evening is about to begin, the takeout I've ordered arrives. It's what I do unless we're talking cereal, scrambled eggs, burnt toast, and mac and cheese.

After paying the delivery guy, I spread the containers out on the kitchen table, hoping Evangeline and Brayden like Spanish food.
Beers and sodas follow.

Being hungry as fuck, I grab one of the tapas servings and eat as I absentmindedly walk through my condo to adjust the lighting. Dimmed low is good for tonight. It
'll create a comfortable atmosphere in my already homey place. A three-bedroom apartment. Old wooden floors, walls in warm colors, furniture made of sturdy, dark wood. It's a bachelor pad with a touch of "my mother interfered." And I got lucky with this place. In San Fran, like so many other major cities, you don’t ever turn down an apartment. There's no such thing as, "Nah—it's in my price range, but it's too big; let's look around some more."

When people die, real estate agents send flowers thanking them for a new gold
mine. They're like vultures. But yeah, I got lucky. A friend of my dad's wanted to get out of the city, so I headed straight to the bank to sign papers. 'Cause even as financially independent I am, you'd have to be a millionaire to own a condo with a private rooftop terrace. 

A rooftop terrace where I plan to make Brayden and Evangeline scream one day.

Presumptuous? I'm not so sure. We just might fit together. D/s relationship, strictly speaking. Of course. No love—bullshit like that.

When the doorbell rings again, it's seven PM on the dot, and I nod to myself, pleased, and walk straight for the hallway that separates
the kitchen and living room from the two bedrooms and the master suite. In the hallway, there's also a guest toilet and a too-fucking-small laundry room. I curse it every time I'm in there, because it wasn’t built for a man of six foot four.

Opening the door, I'm granted with the sight of two unbelievably attractive people on their knees
. Eyes downcast.
Motherfucking hell
. We didn’t discuss this—for them to greet me this way, I mean. I haven't told them what to wear, either, which means…they're only out to please me.
Fuck me
. Warmth courses through my body as I let my eyes drink them in.

The black lingerie set, stockings included, Evange
line's wearing makes my mouth water. The push-up bra and panties, both in the same see-through material, are lined with black fur, matching the pointy kitty ears on her head.
My little kitten
. And on her feet she wears black ballet flats. Demure. Sexy and cute. Not sexy and superior. Good choice.

T
he only thing missing, I note as I step out into the hall, is a tail. But I'm more than happy to provide one for her. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a butt plug with fur for a tail similar to the kind lining her lingerie.

A voice in the back of my head whispers that she's missing another item, too
: a kitty collar. One that says "Master Cooper's kitten," I decide right then and there.

Glancing over at Brayden, I'm just as satisfied with what I
see. He's only in black silk boxers—not as elaborate an outfit as Evangeline's, but equally sexy.

Before I walk back into my
condo, I pick up two discarded jackets, pairs of jeans, a set of sneakers, and one duffle bag. All of it is dropped on the floor just inside the door; focusing on my two subs is more important.
Understatement
.

Squatting down to their level, I inspect them for traces of arousal, and I'm happy to find several. Brayden is
semi-hard beneath the silk, and his chest heaves with rapid breaths. A few locks of dark hair have fallen down his forehead, so I can't see his eyes, but that’s all right. For now. And Evangeline…oh, she's too horny for words. My mouth quirks up; I see how her nipples strain against the sheer fabric, how goose bumps appear on her skin, how badly she wants to press her thighs together, and how a pink flush spreads over her chest and cheeks.

"
Very beautiful." I reach out to cup her left cheek. It almost blazes with heat, and knowing that any of my neighbors could walk out in the hall at any moment only makes it hotter. Maybe not the cheek, but sure as hell the situation. "So…" My free hand goes to Brayden's jaw, and I brush my thumb over the slight stubble. "If Evangeline is my kitten, does that make you my puppy?"

He shudders, and when I look down, I see the bulge growing slightly in his boxers.

This is a perfect opportunity to learn what they like, because I don’t think they're into the same things. They're two individuals, even if they come as a pair. Taking a guess, I'd say Evangeline has only fooled herself into thinking she's not into pain. I saw that last Sunday at my brother's house—the thought intrigues her as much as it scares her. I doubt I'll ever call her a masochist, and that’s a good thing seeing as I'm not a sadist, but yeah, I think she gets off on a fair amount of it. And Brayden…the jury's still out on that one.

"You may stand," I say and stand up myself. Unlike their incredibly appealing getups, I
'm in black leathers and a T-shirt. Bare feet. Nothing special. But what I have planned is. And I'm ready to get started. So, I usher them both inside, close the door behind me, and then position myself in front of them. "First of all, thank you for this." I kiss Evangeline on the forehead and gather Brayden close, draping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm definitely pleased." In fact, I might make these outfits their standard ones when we play in public.
When
. Not if. "Secondly, I'm Mark until I say so. Not Sir. Understood?" They nod. I crack a grin. "I won't punish you if you do call me that." I'm only saying this because my title seems to come naturally for them. "But it's not necessary. We're just going to have dinner now—get to know each other a little better. I want you comfortable, and I want you to feel that you can talk about anything without asking. All right?"