Free Rogue by Julia Sykes

at me, a cool brow raised.
    “No, you can’t.”  He didn’t have to say the words aloud; his expression spoke volumes.  And damn it
     if it wasn’t true.  I couldn’t walk in these fucking heels.
    I crossed my arms over my chest, a decidedly sullen pose.  Especially taking into
     account that I was cradled in Derek’s arms like a child.
    “Put. Me. Down.”  I forced out each word through gritted teeth.
    He didn’t even deign to look at me.  “No.  I’m in charge of you for now, and I’m not
     going to let anyone see me neglecting my sub.  Allowing you to embarrass yourself
     by stumbling around my club isn’t acceptable.”
    “You’re embarrassing me right now!”  I fumed.  “We agreed to do this in private.”
    He blinked hard, and this time he did look down at me.  His gaze was still hard, but
     the lines of his face were somewhat apologetic.  He nodded once, allowing that I was
     right.  But he still didn’t put me down.  He kept right on walking, his long strides
     carrying us into the long hallway where the private rooms were located.
    As soon as he stepped into one and kicked the door closed behind us, he set me down
     carefully on my feet.
    My anger had been boiling just beneath the surface, and now that we were alone I couldn’t
     stop myself from unleashing it.  My hand shot out, my palm already tingling in anticipation
     of the satisfying impact with the smooth plane of his cheek.
    Somehow, he was faster.  He caught my wrist almost lazily, as though without a thought. 
     All his focus was honed on my face rather than the hand that had been meant to slap
     him.
    To my astonishment, he didn’t look angry.  Instead, his slight frown seemed almost
     pitying.  No.  That wasn’t right.  Empathetic.
    “You really are wound up tight, aren’t you?  You do need to release some tension,
     but there’s no need for violence.”
    “You’re planning on hitting me, if I let you,” I retorted.
    His grip tightened around my wrist incrementally, not to the point of pain, but a
     firm reminder of his superior strength.  Of his dominance.
    I dropped my eyes.
    “Yes, I would like to hit you, Sharon.  But that won’t be an act of violence.  The
     pain I want to give you is carefully measured and controlled to suit your needs. 
     It’s about our mutual pleasure, not about hurting you.”
    Our mutual pleasure.  I suppressed a shiver.
    His brows drew together.  “If you still think that’s what being a Dominant is about,
     then I don’t know if we’ll be able to work together.  I won’t have someone in my club
     who wants to cause others real harm.”
    “Of course I don’t want that!”  I gasped immediately.  The very idea that he might
     think I was some sort of sadistic bitch horrified me.  “I just…  I’m having a hard
     time wrapping my head around this.  From a submissive’s viewpoint.”
    His expression instantly softened, and he eased his grip on my wrist.  His thumb swiped
     across my pulse, making it jump in the most peculiar way.  A hint of his roguish smile
     returned.
    “I think you’ll get it soon enough,” he said with a confidence I didn’t share.  His
     eyes turned sincere.  “And I am sorry that I carried you in front of the other patrons. 
     We did agree to do this in private.  I didn’t realize just how restricted that was. 
     From now on, we’ll keep things strictly in the back rooms.  Okay?”
    It was my turn to raise a brow at him.  “Are you actually asking for my permission?”
    The ghost of his smile solidified.  “No.  I’m asking for your agreement.  Communication
     and trust are at the heart of a healthy D/s relationship.  It’s important that both
     partners agree on the parameters of that relationship.”
    I turned that over in my mind.  It sounded surprisingly close to equality.
    “Because you’re inexperienced,” Derek continued, “I figure we’ll take things as we
     go.  I’m not going to stop and ask