I know what he means; a well-traine

I know what he means; a well-trained sub is a beautiful thing. Still, something excites me about taking a woman to that place. The journey is sometimes more gratifying than the destination.
“It’s more fun than you might think.” My thoughts drift to my newest conquest, and my heart rate kicks up a notch. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s just now six. My nervous little kitten is probably entering the club next door, heart pounding and eyes wide. Imagining the fear and uncertainty swimming inside her arouses me.
“You too busy for lunch next week?” Reece asks, his eyes still on the women before us. “It’s been too long.”
“Never too busy for lunch. Just come downtown to my office.”
“Sounds good, man.” He claps me once on the back.
Reece, despite not understanding my preferences and tastes, is the closest thing I have to a best friend. I have work acquaintances, friends, and even a roommate, but none of them know about my lifestyle. Reece knows all about my past and supported me through the shittiest time of my life. He’s the one who introduced me to this life.
“I have an appointment to get to,” I say, rising to my feet. “But I’ll see you next week?”
“Count on it. I’ll need to hear all about your newest plaything.” He grins at me unevenly.
“Not a chance. You know I don’t kiss and tell, like you.”
“Or spank and tell.” He smiles again. “Have fun tonight.”
“I always do,” I say, tipping my head before heading to the door.
Immediately upon entering, I congratulate myself on choosing the Dakota. It’s perfect, swamped with a sexually-charged energy. Moody jazz floats through the air, and dim lighting casts faint shadows in all the corners.
When I spot her, my stride falters. But only for a second. Holy fucking hell. Anyone watching wouldn’t know my entire world just got knocked on its ass. I’m not usually one for keeping secrets, yet the moment I see her, I know what must be done.
Fixing a cool expression on my face, I start toward her again.
She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take a moment to drink her in. Her cocktail is half full, and her hand is gripping the glass. She’s nervous. And questioning herself. She takes another sip and her shoulders relax.
Good girl.
I approach her from the side of the bar—and with her eyes trained on the front door, it’s not the direction she’s expecting.
“Bookworm?” I ask, though I know it’s her. I can smell the scent of nervousness and desire on her.
She turns to face me, her expression a puzzle. “Yes,” she says softly after several tense moments.
I take a minute to survey her. She’s petite, just like I imagined her. Brunette. Big blue eyes whose gaze drifts between mine and the floor as if she doesn’t know where to look. There must be some goddamn mistake, because there’s no way she’d need any help attracting a man. But if it’s my help she wants, I won’t refuse her.
“May I?” I ask, pulling out the seat next to her and moving toward it. She’s timid, and I need to remember my manners.
“Please,” she says. “I’m Brielle.”
“No names.”
“Everyone calls me Brie, though.” She twists her hands in her lap.
“Sweetheart?” I say, and her gaze darts up to mine. “I said no names.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She swallows down her nerves. “But what should I call you?”
“You may call me Dom.”
Our gazes connect, and a flash of desire pools low in my spine. Fucking hell. This should be interesting.