Breathless by Cara Dee
“Will you beat me without knowing the reason?”
That’s the question I ask when I go to clubs to seek out Sadists.
Most men say no immediately. They see the flags my question raises and walk away. They’re the good guys. They’re the guys who adhere to safe, sane, and consensual. They wanna be aware of the risks and cause no harm.
But I’m not looking for a good guy.
I’m looking for punishment.
The strobe lights hit me as I reach their table. The heavy, industrial music is deafening, and my head is swimming with images of grief, fire, and accusation. I hear the piercing tone of a machine letting me know that I have to tell my two kid brothers that our sister’s heart will never beat again.
Maybe these two twin Sadists will help me. The only thing bigger than River and Reese Tenley is their reputation. They better not let me down.
I ask my question. I ask if they’ll beat me without knowing why I want it.
They give me a stone-cold onceover, and I don’t know if it’s River or Reese who responds. He has a menacing-looking tattoo on his neck.
“Sure. It’s your funeral.”
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Excerpt:
“Tell us what pain you’re looking for.”
Oh, I could do that. I could definitely do that.
I sat down across from them and took out my lollipop, gesturing it between them. “Who’s River, and who’s Reese?”
Neck Tattoo was clearly the talker. “I’m Reese.”
Reese, all right. Christ, they were hot. Hotter up close.
“Do you recognize me?” I had to ask. No matter how “exclusive” they liked to call their own group of kinksters, they still had nearly 150 members.
Reese’s mouth twitched slightly. “We know who you are, Shay.”
Well, okay, then. I wasn’t gonna assume.
“I like severe impact and extreme degradation,” I said.
The other guy, River, seemed to find that amusing for some reason. It showed in his eyes, and he exchanged a glance with his brother.
No words, just a quick look.
Reese smirked faintly and eyed me. “If we had a nickel for every time we’ve heard a masochist say they want anything extreme… Most people don’t know severe pain.”
I wasn’t most people, and I wasn’t going to let myself be intimidated by their superior asshole behavior.
“Are you sure you’re not just looking for a bit of flogging?” Reese wondered.
“Are you sure you have a dick to go with that big-dick personality?” I asked in return.
He offered a full-fledged grin at that. Then he sat forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Tell you what. We’re not actually looking for a temporary plaything in the city. But if you’re interested in coming out to the house in Mclean so we can brutalize you the way we like, let us know.”
Brutalize.
That word did something to me. It weighed heavier and carried a promise, because you didn’t throw it around for shits and giggles. They were serious.
I wanted to be brutalized for my failures.
About Cara:
I'm often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there's so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There's a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve. Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There's time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
Stalk Cara Dee here: https://www.caradeewrites.com/stalkcaradee
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