Joshua Lars stroked my lips with his own as if he’d known them forever. His capable hands—those of a master sculptor—swept over my shoulders and shoved my red Alexander McQueen dress past my hips and over my feet to puddle on the floor. Languid and thorough, he made me feel as if I were a masterpiece he sought to mold.
As his intoxicating scent swam in my head, he unfastened my bra and tossed it to the floor. I hadn’t recovered before he raked his tongue up the column of my neck. I began to tremble in erotic anticipation.
From the time he’d pressed me up against the door of his studio and kissed me senseless until the breathless moment we’d begun tangling in the sheets, Joshua’s eye had darkened, now a piercing shade of jade. His body, all sinewy and taut, hovered over mine. The muscles of his biceps bunched, and I quivered at the feel of his steely erection that lay hot and hard against my belly.
Wheat colored hair fell over his brow. When I reached up to brush the strands away, he clasped his hands around my wrists and raised them over my head, pinning me to the mattress. As he did, a sexy smile tugged the corners of his lips. My belly clenched.
His Dominant gesture made me catch my breath. The need to submit surged through my veins. I hadn’t been beneath the command of a Master for years. Still I could no longer accept this.
I struggled against his hold and tried to break free of his grip, but he shook his head. “Easy, Mellie. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was like aged brandy, soothing my anxiety. “Tell me, little one, are you what I hope you are?”
His actions, his ragged whisper, put a chink in my armor and made the burning pulse of surrender rise inside me. “What exactly is it that you hope I am?”
“Don’t play shy. You know what I’m talking about. When you stared at the sub statue earlier, the glow on your face aroused my suspicions. But when you started to cry… well, it was as if you’d opened a window to your soul. I keep catching glimpses of it, but it’s elusive; like smoke. There one second - gone the next. It’s almost as if you’re trying to deny your feelings.”
What. The. Fuck? Out of all the men I’d been with not a single one had ever sensed the sleeping submissive within. Yet, ninety minutes with the renowned Joshua Lars, and his Dominant radar saw straight through my painstakingly constructed walls.
His lips brushed mine in a feathery-light kiss. “I want to taste your surrender.”
His words unnerved me. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. “Stop talking and fuck me.”
To throw him off my submissive scent, I arched my hips and rubbed my pussy against his cock, aiming to coax him into a down-and-dirty, dazzling, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am night. I could handle straight sex. Diving into BDSM waters—especially with Joshua—would be like jumping off a cruise ship without a life vest. I didn’t need or want the mind fuck.
Lifting my head, I tried to force him to kiss me. He reared back with an arch of his brows. Disapproval lined his face. I’d never have the upper hand with the man, and it should have scared the hell out of me. Instead it turned me on even more.
This is going to be tricky.
“Ah ah ah, play nice, pet. I won’t allow you to top me. We’re going to take the path that’s got you so skittish because it’s the same one that has you wet and ready.” He bent and nuzzled his lips close to my ear. “I can smell your cunt, little one. It makes my mouth water.”
I didn’t know what to say. He pinned me with a dissecting stare. His breath fluttered over my lips. Unable to look at him without wanting to melt in surrender, I cast my gaze to the golden patch of hair between his flat nipples. I couldn’t risk him seeing those submissive parts of me I’d hidden.
“Yes, that’s the one. My, my, what a gorgeous little thing you are.”
His low, raspy praise sent lashes of fire dancing up my spine. It felt as if the devil himself had licked me with his scorching tongue.
Cinching both of my wrists into one hand, he skimmed his other down my body, pausing to roll each of my beaded nipples between his fingers and thumb. Shards of electricity shot south and gathered behind my already throbbing clit.
“Your safe word is fantasy, because that’s what you are—a fantasy that’s been plucked straight from my dreams.”
Lord help me. The man had seduction down to a science. Combined with his potent Dominance, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run for my life.
Desperate to keep this encounter as vanilla as possible, I scoffed. “What the hell is a safe word?”
Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, pet. Lie to yourself all you want, but I’ve already seen everything I need to.”
He bent and pressed his lips to mine with a kiss so explosive it stole my breath. Surrender, like a long-lost blanket enveloped me, and for one brief moment I didn’t care if he saw through my mask or not. The need to please him cracked my walls, and the stroke of his demanding tongue had my submission seeping through.
My mind was still spinning when I felt the cool tip of his latex-shrouded cock slide between my heated folds.
“Yes,” I gasped, arching in willing compliance.
With a feral growl, Joshua thrust deep inside me as a cry of pleasure-mixed-pain tore from my throat. Blessedly endowed, he filled and stretched me with a captivating burn. Struggling to relax my passage he withdrew, only to impale me once again. My packed pussy fluttered and rippled around his shaft. A low groan of delight rolled off his tongue and vibrated onto mine. Squeezing my wrists—almost to the point of pain—he emphasized his control, and it sent my heart soaring.
Joshua plunged in and out of my clutching cunt in a slow and steady rhythm. Arching to meet his thrusts, I held nothing back. The sounds of gasps, grunts, and slapping flesh filled the room. Tearing his mouth from mine, he gazed down at me. Sweat dotted his brow and his red swollen lips glistened. The epitome of rugged beauty and command, Joshua drew me in even deeper with the fiery lust dancing in his eyes.
“Are you going to be a good girl and ask for it, little one? Beg nice and pretty for me?”
Giving a quick nod, he thrust even deeper. Crying out, I wrapped my legs around his waist as every thick inch of him throbbed inside me. His glorious torture was sublime. Exhaling a savage hiss, he began dragging his bulbous crest over the sensitive bundle of nerves in a slow decisive rhythm. As if orchestrating a symphony, the swell grew to a turbulent crescendo sending lightning ricocheting through my cells. I cried out again, letting the sinful blaze burn me alive as he unleashed his potent sexual skills.
“Harder, Joshua. Please, fuck me harder!” I begged.
And he did. Hard…fast… and unrelenting, like a freight train thundering down a mountain slope. Joshua drove in frenzied thrusts as if his life depended on it. Sweat dripped from his face, mixing with mine as our harsh animalistic sounds echoed in the room.
Wedging a hand between us, Joshua strummed my clit with just the right amount of pressure. My moans turned to screams, morphing into keening pleas that he’d allow the swell to pull me under and annihilate my blistering need.
“Now,” he bellowed. “Come for me, Mellie.”
Right on cue, as if eight years had been but yesterday, I responded—like I’d been trained—and shattered at his command. Rocked by the force of my powerful orgasm, dark spots formed behind my eyes. Pounding into my channel like a man possessed, Joshua suddenly froze. Fixed deep inside me, he let out a deafening roar before pummeling my cunt in a torrent of erratic strokes; he followed me over.
Releasing my wrists, he dropped to his elbows. Panting, he pressed his face against my neck. Our coupled muscles twitched and pulsed until the sexual buzz faded. Easing from my pussy, Joshua collapsed to the bed alongside me. Both of us covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the heady scent of sex lay like a heavy blanket around us.
It took several long minutes before our ragged breaths slowed and evened out, and all the while I lay staring at Joshua. His eyes were closed and a serene, sated expression lined his face. I wanted to pinch myself.
I just had sex with Joshua Lars.
Sex my ass! The man fucked your brains out. And did a righteous job of it, too.
The little voice in my head was right. No lover before him had been capable of enticing an orgasm of that magnitude. Clearly, Joshua had more impressive talents besides gifted hands. Studying the sharp features of his handsome face, his rugged jaw line and the light blonde scruff covering his chin, I smiled. His golden hair, now dark and wet, lay plastered to his head. Still, he looked like sin on a stick, and I’d have no trouble whatsoever taking him on for round two.
As if reading my mind, he opened his eyes. A quirky smile played over his lips. “Oh yeah, we definitely need to do that again, but give me a minute. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
I laughed. “You’re not the only one, Sir.”
Sir? Sir? Where the fuck did that come from?
Joshua didn’t bat an eye at my reply. Obviously, he was accustomed to being called ‘Sir’ by someone—maybe a whole lot of someones. The inward prick of jealousy surprised me, but I was more concerned at how easily the honorific ‘Sir’ had rolled off my tongue. Unnerved, I realized that Joshua had picked the lock and opened the Pandora’s Box of my submission. A knot of fear began to unravel, and a surge of panic-laced adrenaline exploded through my veins. I leapt from the bed as if it were on fire.
“Where are you going?” Shifting, he raised up on one elbow. A quizzical expression lined his face as he watched me race around the room.
“Bathroom,” I replied curtly. Gathering up my dress, thong, purse, and shoes I raced away.
“Wait,” he called to me. “I thought we were going to—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I slammed the double doors of the bathroom shut and locked them. On shaky knees, I stepped into my dress, clutching the sink to steady myself. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I froze. My lips were red and swollen. My cheeks flushed in a ‘just fucked glow.’ Still taut, my dusky nipples tingled from all the attention Joshua had bestowed with his fingers and teeth. The elegant coiffured bun I’d worn to his showing was now wild and disheveled in vivid aftermath of how his urgent hands had snarled through my mane. Outwardly, I wore all the markings of a woman well satisfied, but gazing at my eyes, I could see the terror stamped within. A new, more potent wave of alarm slammed through me. I’d allowed Joshua Lars and his Dominant charm to touch me too deeply.
“Jesus, Mellie. What the fuck are you doing? Get your shit together and get the hell out of here,” I mumbled to my reflection in the mirror.
Stepping into my thong, I grabbed my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Scrolling an online search engine as I tugged the tiny scrap of material to my knees, I dialed the number of a local cab company. Tucking the phone against my shoulder, I fumbled through my beaded clutch plucking out the invitation as a gruff man answered. Rattling off the address, I swiftly ended the call, shoved everything back in my purse, and finished yanking up the thong still abandoned at my knees.
A thunderous knock landed on the other side of the door. Jumping, I yelped in surprise.
”Mellie, open up,” Joshua demanded.
“Just a sec,” I called out, my voice cracking with anxiety.
“Mellie?” he pounded once again. “Don’t make me break this fucking door down. We need to talk.”
Talk? Oh hell, no. There was absolutely nothing I wanted to say to the man.
“Open. Up. Now.”
I bit back a whimper. Shit! Why did he have to use that imposing Dom voice, now?
“Okay,” I snapped. Cursing under my breath, I chided myself for letting him awaken my dormant submissive longings.
Slipping on my fiery red stilettos, I yanked the door open and instantly wished I’d kept the sucker shut. Joshua stared down at me wearing nothing but his black tuxedo pants and a nipple-hardening scowl. His commanding mien nearly took me out at the knees.
When he opened his mouth to speak, I raised my hand and pushed past him, surprising him into silence.
“Thanks for a wonderful time, Joshua. I had fun.” The tone of my voice was so dismissive, I couldn’t help but cringe inside. I couldn’t even look at him. Coward. Plucking a business card from my purse, I held it out to him. “If you’re ever in Phoenix, give me a call.”
When he didn’t take the card or utter a single word, I looked up at him. Both brows were arched in disbelief, and his eyes were steeped in ‘Dominant censure.’ Yes, the man had that look perfected, which further fueled the riot of panic inside me. He wasn’t happy. The barbs of shame for displeasing him pricked at the sub inside. She all but screamed to fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness—while the pragmatic parts of me wanted to reach up and slap him across the face for breathing life back into the woman I’d put to death.
“Really? You’re actually going to tear out of here like your ass is on fire and not tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s time for me to go.”
Liar.
A noise of disbelief rumbled in the back of his throat.
“I had fun. We got to burn off some stress, but it’s late, and I’m tired. Besides, I need to get back to my sister’s house. She’ll worry.”
“Worried, huh? Does she always treat you like you’re a teenager?” he chuckled in disbelief.
I flashed him a sarcastic smirk and shook my head.
“You have a cell phone, right?”
“Of course.”
“So don’t you find it ironic that it hasn’t rung once since we came to the loft?” He cocked his head and stared into my eyes, delving far deeper than he had a right to. “Tell me what this is really about, little one.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hissed. “I’m not your little one. I’m no one’s little one.”
I tensed as Joshua clasped his hands on my shoulders in a gesture meant to calm. World War III raged within and I had to force myself to stare at his face and not cast my eyes toward the floor.
Shit! His very touch seduced my submission and threatened to reduce my walls to dust. He was living, breathing kryptonite to my self-restraint, and it pissed me off.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I planted my fists on my hips. “Look, Joshua, the whole Dom/sub thing isn’t for me.”
“Okay. I can respect that. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re dressed and running out the door like…” He frowned. “Like… I’m a one-night stand.”
Busted. While I had no intention of making a love connection with him or any other man, I’d established internal rules about one-night stands. Knowing I’d have to cope with the onslaught of guilt afterward, I usually kept my hormones in check, shying away from casual bed-hopping. Not the case with Joshua Lars. No, star struck, I’d tossed my principles out the window and bedded the man without a second thought about the consequences for my actions. Shame would come—probably in the morning, if not sooner—and I’d have to swim my way to the top of my remorse. But first I needed to find a tactful way to get out of there without crushing Joshua’s fragile male ego even more.
“It’s not like that at all,” I lied… again. “I… It’s simply time for me to go before my sister files an Amber Alert,” I replied with a forced chuckle.
Joshua’s sour expression didn’t change. Obviously he didn’t find my poor attempt at humor funny in the least.
“So you say, but I still don’t buy it, my frightened little bird,” Joshua challenged, stepping closer. “At least let me drive you home.”
“Frightened? That’s crazy. I’m not the least bit afraid of you.” At least not physically. Emotionally, you scare the beejesus out of me. “Really, I’m fine. I would never ask such an inconvenience.”
“You didn’t ask… I did, and it’s not an inconvenience,” he whispered, inching closer still. “Let me drive you home, Mellie.”
“Ah, I already called a cab.”
His body tensed at my rejection. “I see. When do you go back to Phoenix? I’d like to see you again before you leave.” His words were clipped and matter-of-fact.
“I’m… I’m not sure. Ah, maybe a week or two. Give me a call tomorrow. Maybe we can arrange it before I go.”
Stepping back, I put some much-needed distance between us. It was either that or strip off my clothes, release the bulge beneath his straining zipper—dammit, why did I have to look at his cock—and wrap my body around him again. No. I couldn’t afford to do that. He’d crawl so deep inside me that I’d never want to leave. My only salvation was to bolt for the door. Get as far away from the intimidating artist as possible, and never go back.
“I will.” He smirked. Striding toward me, he leaned in close. His warm breath fluttered over my ear and I trembled. “You can run, Mellie, but you can’t hide.”
“Only children run away, Joshua. I’m not a child,” I scoffed.
“No, you’re definitely all woman. But you’re definitely running away from what you truly are, and we both know it.”
I opened my mouth to refute him, but snapped it shut. I’d lied enough to the man. “Good-night, Joshua. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Spinning on my heel, I all but ran to the door. Wobbling down the stairs trying not to fall, I raced outside, sucking the cool night air into my lungs. Peering up and down the street, goosebumps prickled my arms and anxiety pumped through my veins as I mentally willed the taxi to appear.
What the fuck?
Joshua had waved some Dominant magic wand and presto—every emotion I’d buried raged back to life in a fiery conflagration of confusion.
As a cab pulled around the corner, the sound of a slamming door behind me split the night. I jerked a glance over my shoulder to see Joshua striding toward me, the statue of the kneeling woman gripped in his hand. His unreadable expression disturbed me.
“You forgot something,” he announced evenly as he thrust the delicate sculpture toward me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t thinking…I…”
“No, you were too busy running for your life.” He scowled.
“I… it’s… a… so generous of you,” I sputtered, taking the fragile piece from him. “Thank you so much for… everything.”
As I struggled to string a damn sentence together, a ghost of a smile tugged his lips.
“I’ll be in touch with you soon, little one.” Leaning in, he placed a chaste kiss on my cheek then stood back, watching until I was safely inside the cab.
I gave him a little wave as the taxi pulled away, and it took every ounce of strength not to turn and look back. Four blocks later my heart stopped pounding and my breath evened out.
Dammit, how the hell did you get yourself into such a cluster fucking mess?
“Prince Sheik Abbas,” I murmured, staring down at the statue.
~ Six Days Earlier ~
Startled awake by my ringing cell phone, I sat straight up in bed. The first thought that blasted through my brain was the fear something dreadful had happened to my sister, Savannah. A rush of adrenaline shot through my system. My heart thundered in my ears. Blinking at the clock radio on my nightstand, the eerie green numbers illuminated three thirty-seven a.m. A whimper of terror seeped from my throat as I squirmed free of the twisted covers. Flipping on the bedside lamp, I squinted as I snatched up my cell phone.
“Hello,” I answered fearfully.
“Meelee? It’s Abbas calling. I have fantastic news.”
My shoulders slumped and panic slowly melted from my veins when I realized it wasn’t Nick or Dylan—my sister’s Masters—on the other end of the line. There was only one man on the planet that butchered my name so brutally…the same man who had zero concept of time zones outside his native country of Dubai.
“Your Majesty. Do you have any idea what time it is in the U.S.?” I moaned.
“I do not think you understand what I am saying to you,” he continued, ignoring my question. The lilt of his sensual velvet accent soothed my jagged nerves. “I have wonderful news to share, Meelee.”
Scrubbing a hand up my forehead, brushing the hair from my eyes, I blinked several times, attempting to adjust to the bright light that filled my room.
“Yes, I’m listening, Abbas.”
“Joshua Lars is back!”
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my heart skipped a beat as I sat up straight. Abbas had my undivided attention.
“Meelee, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Joshua Lars?” I repeated as a streak of anticipation rocked through me. “Where? When?”
“Sheecago. It will be his first exhibit in five years, Meelee. Is this not the best news I could give you? I want his art, Meelee. You will go for me and purchase them. Yes?”
“Of course,” I replied absently. “An open exhibit? When? Do you know the date?”
“I have all the information you need. That is why I called.” He all but purred in my ear.
“Why haven’t I heard anything about this?” A flash of irritation ignited within.
“It is private. Joshua is only giving this treat to his special customers. And I, of course, am his special customer.”
“Indeed you are, Abbas. How do I get an invitation?”
“I will see that it is arranged for you. Now listen carefully. You must buy it all for me, Melee.”
I choked back a snort. “Surely you realize they won’t let me purchase everything, your Majesty. I don’t know yet how many pieces he’ll have up for sale.”
“There are many pieces, Meelee. I have sources that tell me this. Joshua has…. how do you say? Ah… hibernating since the death of his wife and daughter.” Abbas spoke softly, as if honoring the artist’s loss.
“Which gallery in Chicago? And when?” Yanking open the drawer of my nightstand, I shoved my over-worked vibrator aside and snatched out a pad of paper and a pen.
“Christian Joyce Gallery. Thursday... next Thursday, Meelee. At seven o’clock,” he informed.
Christian, you little son of a bitch! That prick hadn’t breathed a word of this to me. Oh, his frilly little princess ass was all mine!
“Thank you, Abbas. I actually know him. I’ll call him when the gallery opens and make sure I’m put on his guest list. Unbelievable,” I whispered trying to wrap my head around the unprecedented news. “I’ll start making arrangements right away. Is there a monetary ceiling you’d like me to stay under?”
“Oh, Meelee. Money is insignificant.” For Abbas it was. The man had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and wouldn’t that just suck? “No limit. Abbas will pay any price.”
“I understand.”
“My heart thanks you, Meelee.”
“You’re welcome, Abbas. I’ll call you from the gallery with a total.”
“No need. I took the pleasure and wired money to your account so you can purchase many treasures for me, Meelee. You will keep the rest. It is to show you many thanks.”
I almost choked in astonishment. “Thank you, Abbas. That is overly generous of you.”
“That will make me pleased. Now, one last question. When will you come to me and be one of my wives?”
I snorted. “We would fight day and night, Abbas. I don’t like being told what to do. Besides, I’m lousy when it comes to sharing my man with others.”
“But I would make you feel like my one and only, Meelee. You have special place in my heart. It would be an honor to own you.” His voice teemed with seduction.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Being part of a harem held as much appeal as a sardine milkshake. “Good night, Abbas. I’m going back to bed.”
“Dream of me, Meelee.”
“You know I will.” I chuckled and hung up.
Wow! Joshua Lars… out of seclusion. I shook my head. This was going to knock the art world flat on its ass.
Climbing out of bed, I padded to the bathroom before making my way to my office to boot up my computer. Four hours and two pots of coffee later, I called Christian. With a saccharine sweet chastising, I busted his gay little balls for not informing me of Joshua’s comeback. Christian was contrite in a whining-groveling sort of way. After vowing he’d never leave me in the lurch again, along with a promise to overnight an invitation, I accepted his apology and hung up.
Five minutes later I had my airline ticket booked; however, finding a room proved more of a challenge than I’d expected. Every metro Chicago hotel was booked for some stupid festival. Squandering another two hours perusing design articles online, I finally picked up the phone.
“Sanna?”
“Mellie? Oh, how bizarre. I was just thinking of you.”
I couldn’t help but smile. My little sister had blossomed from a wallflower into a vibrant woman since falling in love with two men… her Masters. A pang of envy pierced my heart. Never in a million did I suspect that Savannah would be attracted to the BDSM lifestyle, but her total transformation proved she’d found her bliss. She was no longer a quiet, shy bookworm. Dylan and Nick had helped her break free of her chrysalis and she’d blossomed into a stunning, submissive butterfly.
I was happy for her; happy that her path hadn’t ended in a fiery death, like mine.
“Uh-oh, what did I do now?” I teased.
“Nothing, dork. I just miss you. You’re not packing to go anywhere soon, are you? I’d really like you to come to Chicago for a visit.”
I sensed a hint of desperation in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just… it’s nothing.”
“You’re what?” My over-protective sister DNA zipped to high alert. “Did Dylan and Nick do something to you… something they shouldn’t have?”
“Oh, good god, no!” she shrieked. “I’m just missing you. After you broke up with Enrique I thought you’d come for a visit so we could drown your heartache in a gallon of ice cream. But you never came… you just got more wrapped up with work.”
“I got swamped with clients. Besides, I was the one that called it off. There wasn’t any heartache it was mostly relief. He got way too serious. I told you that.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you were with him a long time—a lot longer than any of the others.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled sarcastically. “You make me sound like a bed-hopping bimbo.”
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” Savannah scolded before her tone turned gentle. “I’m sorry, I’m just hyper emotional these days for some weird reason.
“Don’t sweat it,” I reassured. “So tell me what’s really bothering you?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I have everything a girl could want. My life is beyond perfect. I just miss you and want to spend some quality time with my bestie.”
“Well.” I paused. “What are you doing this Tuesday at three fifty-five in the afternoon?”
“Nothing, why?”
“I could use a ride from the airport, oh, and a place to crash—if you think Dylan and Nick won’t mind.”
“Here? In Chicago?” She gasped.
“Yes,” I giggled. “There’s a private art showing Thursday night. I’m going for a client.”
Savannah let out a scream so loud I had to yank the phone away from my ear. Not just one scream, but a whole bunch of them. Suddenly, I heard the thundering voices of Dylan and Nick demanding to know what was wrong. It took my excited sister several long seconds to explain why she was coming unglued.
“Mellie?” Nick’s deep authoritative voice sent a shiver up my spine. He wasn’t my Dominant, but he wielded the type of power that scraped the submissive in me.
“Yes?” I replied in an unusually timid tone.
“Next time you decide to come for a visit, would you please warn me or Dylan first? Savannah’s screams scared ten years off our lives.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
“It’s okay. I’m just messing with you,” he chuckled. “So, when are you coming?”
Relaying my flight info, I blocked out his assertive mien and shoved the silly submissive sentiments from my head.
“Excellent. We’ll be there to pick you up,” he assured before passing the phone back to Savannah.
Chatting about my visit, anticipation and excitement grew contagious. Soon we were laughing more than talking. I realized how much I missed my sister and the special bond we shared. It had been a long time since I’d seen Sanna…far too long.
“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” she gasped. “Leagh and Tony… you remember Leagh, right?” she asked, pausing long enough for me to issue an affirmative grunt. “They’re getting married on Saturday. You’ve got to come to the wedding with us. It’s going to be a huge lavish affair and the reception they’ve planned is over the top.”
I bit back a groan. Ugh. Weddings. Monogamy. Happy ever afters. Commitment. It all made my skin crawl. Why anyone would want to tie themselves down to another person for their entire life was beyond me.
“Sanna…”
“You’re going.” She ordered. “I’m not leaving you to sit here all day so don’t try to weasel your way out. Oh, and then after the reception Tony’s going to formally collar her at the club. I really, reallyyyy want you to come with us. Please. Say you’ll go?”
The BDSM club; Genesis. On some of my past visits I’d accompanied Savannah and her Masters to the club. Exposing myself to the power exchange stung and left me feeling a bit like a third wheel. While their friends were always warm and welcoming, I had to focus on making small talk to keep from getting drawn into the BDSM acts playing out around me. Genesis was the only lifestyle venue I’d set foot in after burying my submissive yearnings and walking away from my former club in Kansas City. For the most part I’d succeeded, but every time I stepped inside Genesis, my desires ignited with a vengeance. My conflicted emotions consumed me so deeply I felt as if I was fighting a forest fire—one teaspoon of water at a time.
A ripple of apprehension crawled up my spine. Did I honestly want to subject myself to that level of turmoil again?
“I don’t know Sanna. I’m not sure I’m up for all that gooey, sticky love crap. Besides, I don’t know how long I can stay.”
I’d actually planned to remain in Chicago for a couple of weeks. I hated lying to my sister; she deserved better from me. But I didn’t want to confess my aversion to the BDSM club, not when she derived so much pleasure from it. I certainly didn’t want to own up to my spineless decisions after the horrific break up from my former Master. Sharing the level of devastation after he’d removed my collar—in front of the entire dungeon—then whipped it around the neck of a brand new sub was totally out of the question. There was no way in hell I’d admit my cowardice to Sanna. She’d be crushed if she ever found out that I’d left her, the dungeon, the lifestyle, and my home out of shame. I wouldn’t do that to her.
“Oh, pleeeeease, Mel. Please. It’s going to be a blast. Don’t be a party pooper. Say you’ll go with us. Pleeeeease!”
“Christ Almighty. Stop begging or I’ll text your Masters and tell them to spank your ass.”
“Promise?” she giggled.
“You’re incorrigible,” I laughed. “Okay. Okay. Don’t start screaming again but I’ll go to the wedding and I’ll go to the damn collaring ceremony.”
Ignoring my warning, Sanna let out another cry just as piercing as the first.
“Dammit, kitten. Stop doing that or we’ll get out the rice.” Dylan’s voice echoed out in warning, that time.
“I’m sorry, Master, but… I can’t help it.”
“We’ll be more than happy to help you, precious,” Nick threatened. “With a big red ball gag.”
#
Four days later, they met me at the airport, as promised. Savannah rushed to my arms with a smile so wide I thought her face would split. I held her tight as we both swiped at our tears of joy. Emotions flooded through me. There was nothing more comforting than the unconditional love of my sister. We’d relied on each other for years after surviving the tragic death of our parents. It had been a heart-breaking time in our lives, but we drew strength from one another and grew to be more than sisters—we became best friends.
Guilt swamped me in an ugly veil as I held her in my arms. If I had been a stronger person, I wouldn’t have left her and moved… err, rather, ran away to Phoenix. Tangled in my own turmoil, I’d convinced myself that she was an adult capable of living independently after she’d graduated high school and enrolled in college. When in reality, staying in Kansas City, dodging phone calls from worried friends while trying to remain invisible to various lifestylers on the streets wore me down and ate at my self-confidence. My former hometown held too many memoires—each one a slap in the face—reminding me that I’d been a fool to believe the lies of a wanna-be Dom and control freak.
It was pointless to wallow in guilt. I couldn’t go back and erase Davis Walker—master manipulator—from my past, even if I’d wanted to. But oh, how I wanted to.
Pushing the depressing thoughts from my mind, I kissed Savannah on the cheek. After giving Dylan and Nick each a big hug we retrieved my luggage then headed to their house on the shores of Lake Michigan.
“Come on, let’s grab some drinks and sit out on the deck,” Savannah suggested after I’d unpacked my suitcases. “We can catch up on some gossip. Maybe I can sweet talk the guys into fixing us dinner.”
“Sounds great.” I nodded. “You know they’re spoiling you rotten, right?”
“Yeah,” she giggled. “But I spoil them right back.”
Dylan and Nick possessed mad culinary skills. The men had no business being in construction. The two could make an even bigger fortune if they tossed off their hard hats for chef’s hats and opened a five star restaurant. They were that amazing.
As Savannah and I wound our way into the kitchen, I stopped and stared, like I always did. For a woman who could barely boil water, the extravagant room—with every top of the line appliance imaginable—simply overwhelmed.
“Every time I walk in here, I imagine myself having a nervous breakdown trying to heat up a can of soup.”
Savannah laughed, then reached into the fridge and grabbed a couple of diet sodas. I followed her out to the deck. The summer sun warmed my skin, and a gentle breeze blew through my hair, as we caught up on the latest gossip in our lives.
“And to think, you gave up living alone in that cramped, over-priced, two bedroom apartment for all this,” I teased.
“I know, right. What was I thinking?” she laughed then reached out and clasped my hand. “Oh, Mel, it’s so good to have you here. I’ve missed you so much.” Her eyes filled with tears and I felt my brows draw together tightly.
“Sanna, what’s wrong? Tell me…”
“I don’t know!” She threw up her hands and released a nervous chuckle before wiping her eyes. “I think I’ve got a wicked case of PMS going on.”
“Ahh, okay. That I understand.”
I sat up and leaned over, wrapping her in a tight hug. Boy was that the wrong thing to do. She didn’t find comfort in my soothing actions; she simply broke down in a fit of gut-wrenching sobs.
Dylan and Nick stepped onto the porch. Their expressions of concern were identical.
“Kitten?” Dylan softy whispered, as he knelt down next to her chair.
“Hormones,” I whispered to him with a knowing wink.
“Aww, princess,” Nick purred as he bent in close, easing Savannah from my arms.
“I’m sorry for being such a hot mess, Masters,” she sniffed.
A mischievous smile curled over Nick’s lips. “We like it when you’re a hot mess. We like it even more when we’re the ones making you that way. Look at me.”
Savannah raised her head and gazed up at him. The love that reflected in her red-rimmed eyes was blinding, and my heart nearly burst with happiness for her.
“We love you, precious. Raging hormones and all.” Nick smiled as he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “We want you to be happy, and if you’re not… then you need to tell us and we’ll fix it.”
“I am happy, Master. I love you both so much,” Savannah sighed as she flashed a look over her shoulder toward Dylan and me. “You make me feel like a princess.”
“You are our princess, and we love you. So put a smile on, kitten,” Dylan urged, dancing his fingers up and down her arm. “Your sister’s finally here. It’s time for happiness instead of tears.”
Savannah gave a resolute nod and forced a watery grin.
“Good girl,” Nick praised before kissing her softly.
Good girl. A shiver slithered up my spine at his Dominant words. Being surrounded in an atmosphere of BDSM always played havoc with my head, and shoving my submissive longings down wasn’t going to be a picnic. I’d find a way to cope. A few weeks of having the lifestyle slapping me in the face wouldn’t kill me. Besides, spending time with my baby sister would be well worth it.
When Savannah finally settled down, Dylan and Nick grabbed a couple of beers and joined us on the deck. We sat and talked, laughed and teased. Dylan was as smart-assed as ever with his quick comebacks and taunting jabs, while Nick, the quieter one, enjoyed baiting his friend simply to rile him up. Both made it blatantly obvious that they loved Savannah with every cell in their bodies. The maternal concern I’d harbored in regard to her relationship with the two men had been put to rest on my first visit. It was reassuring to see the three were still blissfully happy.
As the sun ebbed below the horizon we drove to a quaint Italian restaurant for dinner called Maurizio’s. I was surprised to see several familiar members from Club Genesis dining there as well. Shoving down the niggling urges within, I painted on a self-assured smile, inwardly drawing my armor tightly around me as Savannah re-introduced me to their friends.
Glancing toward the bar, I spied a hunk of a man—built like a lumberjack—smiling as he swaggered towards us. He zeroed in on me like a hawk circling a field mouse before extending his hand to me. Placing my fingers in his broad palm an electric sizzle raced up my arm.
“Hello there, gorgeous. I’m Scotty. What’s your name?”
“Mellie Carson,” I replied, flashing him a daring smile. Never one to walk away from a challenge, I met his carnal stare with one of my own.
“Really?” he replied with a confident, wolfish grin.
Before I could counter with a sultry comeback, Nick whisked me toward the other side of the restaurant to a table where a smiling couple sat eating.
Nick introduced Tony and Leagh, the pending bride and groom who were to marry in a few short days. The man looked vaguely familiar as my mind flashed back to him sporting a tight black security T-shirt at the club. I recognized Leagh immediately. The first time I’d met her, she’d gone by the name Dahlia, and had been with a much older Master named George. When Savannah phoned to tell me George had died, I remembered how heartbroken I’d been for poor Leagh. But watching her with her new Dom, I realized that not only had her heart healed, but she’d gone through a huge transformation. No longer sassy and brash, she projected a self-assured poise and serenity about her, all but glowing beneath Tony’s tangible adoration.
A flicker of hope whizzed through me. Leagh had been given a second chance at happiness and submission. Could I, too, be that lucky?
Get real. Pining over power games won’t make you happy. No, everything I needed I provided for myself. Not many women had the opportunity to make an obscene amount of money doing what they loved. Cultivating my own happiness was empowering, and I didn’t need a man to do it. So what if I left dozens of short-term relationships in my wake? I lived my life without doling out promises, being tied to a collar, wedding ring, or marriage license. I took pride in the fact that I’d orchestrated my life exactly how I wanted it to be, without apology. I had to stop wasting time allowing myself to fall victim to longings I couldn’t afford to let resurface.
Your life is perfect, dammit!
We sat and ordered dinner. All through the meal I caught Scotty checking me out, sizing me up, and luridly undressing me with his eyes. He didn’t seem to give off a Dominant or submissive vibe, which was a relief. No, the man appeared to be a regular old vanilla guy and the exact distraction I needed to clear my head of BDSM thoughts.
Encouraged by his attention, I flashed him several suggestive smiles; even going so far as to run my tongue up and down the tines of my fork when no one else was watching. Scotty let out a long, tortured groan, shook his head, and turned away. I had to bite back a laugh. Toying with the poor, horny man was delightfully entertaining.
When dinner was done, Scotty approached the table with four small glasses of bright yellow liquor. Bestowing a bold and scandalous wink, he set one of the cordials down in front of me.
“Limoncello, in honor of your first—but hopefully not last—visit to Maurizio’s.”
I flashed him a coy smile. “Thank you. I’m flattered.” As I lifted the glass to my lips I noticed a phone number scrawled on the napkin he’d set beneath my drink.
“You’re quite welcome,” he smiled before bending close to my ear. “I get off work at two. If you’re still awake, give me a call.” Tapping his finger on the napkin, he flashed a wolfish grin.
“I might have to start drinking coffee,” I countered in a sultry whisper.
“I hope you do.” His reply sounded low and hungry.
Gazing at me for several long seconds, Scotty jerked his head, as if remembering we weren’t alone. Embarrassment fluttered over his features before Scotty darted a glance around the table then cleared his throat.
“How about some dessert? We’ve got New York Cheesecake. Maybe some Crème Brulee, or a piece of our decadent chocolate mousse cake?”
I didn’t miss the knowing smirk Dylan and Nick shared between themselves before the two declined dessert.
“Thanks, but I’m stuffed,” I replied with a shake of my head.
“I’d love some,” Savannah replied, grinning at me like a schoolgirl. “Cheesecake please.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back.” He nodded then turned and swaggered toward the kitchen. I couldn’t help but stare at his tight ass or the way his well-worn jeans hugged him so perfectly.
“For crying out loud, Mel, you haven’t been in town twenty-four hours, and already you’re setting hearts on fire,” Savannah teased.
“Trust me. It’s not his heart that’s on fire, unless it’s slipped down between his legs. The only thing I’ll be doing at two in the morning is snoring and drooling.”
“That’s an attractive picture,” she snorted.
Scotty pushed past the swinging stainless steel doors, carrying a thick slice of cheesecake. As he made his way to our table, I watched, appreciating the way the muscles on his arms rippled and bulged. No doubt the man spent hours at the gym honing his sculpted body. Savannah turned to see what I was staring at then let out a smothered chuckle.
“Bet you five bucks you end up setting your alarm,” she teased.
“Nah. He’s a hottie, all right. But all I want tonight is sleep. Tomorrow? Well… who knows, I might need to come back here for lunch,” I whispered as he drew close and placed a mountainous wedge of cheesecake in front of Savannah.