by BJ Wane
“Absolutely not,” she returned in a clipped, affronted tone. “I pay my own way, Mr. Cavenaugh.”
“Then pay when you get the funds. Your employee is here, so you must believe in what I can teach you. And it is Sensei Cavenaugh or Master C, as you’d know if you were here.”
Another breathy sigh blew through the line. “I have to go. Thank you for checking back with me.”
Hope hung up before Miles had a chance to reply. Returning inside, he took a deep, steadying breath and concentrated on the sounds of activity emanating from the gym instead of how Hope’s tone had cooled before she clicked off. A quick glance toward the women’s class caught them lined in front of the mirrored wall practicing simple front kicks. Since it appeared the class was in good hands, he took the time to snatch a bag of chips from his desk drawer, hoping they’d appease one hunger. The other, the one that kept his abdomen in knots for Hope, wouldn’t be satisfied as easily, if at all. He supposed he needed to come to terms with that fact sooner rather than later.
Maybe it had been a mistake to visit this BDSM club by herself the first time, without the buffer of friends at her side, Hope conceded when she entered the dim interior of Chains. As soon as she’d ended the call from Miles, she decided to ask Krista for a referral to the club she and Dax were members of. She knew the couples now attended play parties on the mega yacht Zachary had deeded to all six of his friends, but since Krista mentioned trying to coerce Alessa into checking out the club, Hope had taken a chance Krista could still get her a pass. Her body’s quick response to the low, demanding growl in Miles’ concerned voice last night left her throbbing in all her special places and struggling to keep from rushing down the street to his gym just to see him, and that temptation needed nipping as fast as possible.
It’s not worth the risk, he’s not worth the risk. For the first time since Hope had found herself drawn to Miles, she tried to think of a good reason to gamble with the new life she’d forged for herself. It hadn’t taken her long to recall how she’d done that once, which was how she’d ended up in Miami alone. Before she dared travel the slippery curve in taking that path, she vowed to try another, safer route first. Only, her first quick glimpse of the scenes around the cavernous space made her question whether going this route would be any safer than putting herself in Miles’ hands and risking him, and the others, unearthing what happened in Atlanta. The memory of her one night at the club in Atlanta had been tarnished by the trauma of what happened when she returned home and had blocked the excited rush the atmosphere of intense, sexual play set off.
Pulse-pounding music with a hint of erotic lyrics blended with the sounds of slaps against bare skin and soft cries, heavy grunts and low murmurs. The distinct scent of leather didn’t disguise the odor of sex, a potent combination she recognized from that one other visit to a similar club. Krista’s referral and guest pass allowed her the freedom to stroll around and observe, but Hope opted to settle on a small sofa along one wall, aside from the center of activity, where she could watch without the pressure to get involved.
Less than an hour later, Hope was ready to concede defeat. Listening to Sandie and Krista talk about their recent sexual exploits had provided titillating fodder for her imagination and resurrected cravings, but every time her eyes landed on a woman bound for a Dom’s pleasure, she’d pictured herself in that position, with Miles being the one slapping her bare butt or running his hands over her quivering flesh. A few Doms had approached her in a friendly manner, inquiring about her visit, asking if she would like to play, and she’d politely turned them down. She’d come here to see about driving out her lustful yearning for Miles with someone else, anyone who’d be willing to work this ache out of her system so she could get back to normal. Six years ago, she’d risked everything to appease the unconventional desires plaguing her and lost, and now, with her body’s cold response to other offers, it appeared she was destined to lose again.
Chapter 3
Striding down the pier of the Gold Star Marina Friday evening, Miles was counting on a few hours playing cards with the guys to take his mind off his irritation with Hope’s stubbornness. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t consider taking the self-defense class given the attack she’d suffered a few weeks ago and that close call she’d had with the angry ex of one of the shelter’s guests just a few days ago. Something in her voice told him she was using finances as an excuse rather than a legitimate reason for putting it off. He had no doubt, when the grant money came through, she would come up with another lame attempt to stay away.
Lights shone from the enclosed center space on the main level of the mega yacht Zach had surprised them all with in August. As much as Miles enjoyed Chains, a BDSM club he’d been a member of for over ten years, the private play parties they’d indulged in on the yacht in recent weeks were more to his liking. Hanging with the gang of seven, as they’d labeled themselves, had always been preferable to mixing with a crowd of casual acquaintances.
Leaping aboard the three-tiered luxury vessel, he strode across the shiny teak deck and opened the door to the large gathering room to see Dax was the only one who hadn’t arrived yet. Since Jackson couldn’t make it in tonight, that left the Carlson brothers, Sean and Zach, to wave him over to the table in front of the curved sofa along the back wall.
“We haven’t started yet, so grab a drink and join us,” Zach called out.
“Got anything to eat?” Miles tossed over his shoulder as he walked over to the small corner bar they only stocked with alcohol when in port. The shades were up on the oblong windows along the arched upper portion of the walls, but anyone looking in wouldn’t see anything except a posh space meant for entertaining or lounging. Unless they were aware of the owners’ predisposition toward alternative sexual practices, no one would know the handles on the far wall would open folding spanking benches or that the two center poles were ideal to bind a woman spread between them.
Trevor shook his head, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked over at Miles. “You don’t think we’d be dumb enough to be here without something to keep you in a halfway decent mood, do you? Grab a couple of tacos out of the box there.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my mood as long as you don’t piss me off.” Or you’re a stubborn blonde who refuses to increase the odds of staying safe. Yeah, he’d been in more pissy, short-tempered moods since first clapping eyes on Hope Wallace than he had the entire year before meeting her. He snatched a beer from the compact refrigerator, piled three tacos on a plate and joined his friends.
Holding a taco in one hand, he picked up the five cards Sean dealt him, not liking how the game was starting. Zach decided to wait until he took a large bite of the filled, deep-fried taco shell to ask him, “How’d Sandie do last night? She said she enjoyed the class.”
Miles swallowed, slid three cards toward Sean to trade in and replied, “My new Sensei, Dean, is taking the class right now, going over some warm-ups and basics. I’ll step in soon and teach them how to fight back dirty. Sandie caught on quick, and so did Julie.” He glanced at his new cards then glared at Sean. “These are worse.”
The psychologist shrugged, unperturbed by Miles’ surly remark. “I just deal ‘em. Sandie and Julie both have bad memories to offer them incentive to learn how to defend themselves quick. You didn’t mention Hope or Krista.”
“Uh oh, he’s frowning.” Troy tossed in his hand without bidding. “Didn’t she take it seriously?” the cop asked Miles.
“Since she didn’t sign up, no,” Miles returned in a curt tone as he, too, threw in his cards.
“Hey, you guys are giving up way too easy. How can I take your money if you don’t bid?” Trevor complained.
“Deal with it, bro,” his brother returned.
Miles let the brothers’ banter snatch the attention off Hope, and him, and kept his eyes averted from Sean’s shrewd silver gaze. That man could read them like a book and didn’t shy away from delivering unsolicited advice whe
never he deemed necessary. He made it through the next hand, and pulled in the pot, before Zach asked about Krista just as Dax arrived.
“She might need a little extra coaching, and a lecture on the importance of what they’re there to learn. She seemed to take most of the instructions in stride and wanted to visit with Alessa more than put a lot of effort into learning the moves.” It didn’t bother Miles that his comments drew a frown from Krista’s full-time Master.
“Krista’s not taking it seriously?” The renowned heart surgeon took the empty chair next to Miles and nodded his thanks to Trevor as he dealt next.
“I’m saying I don’t know how seriously she’s taking it, unlike Sandie and Julie, who were really getting into the swing of things.” Miles let loose with one of his rare smiles. “Could be those two just want a back-up option for when Zach or Jackson pisses them off.”
Zach snorted. “My girl loves to get under my skin.”
“Only because she enjoys your retaliation,” Trevor smirked.
“I did teach her well, didn’t I?” Zach’s light blue eyes filled with humor and warmth, two emotions he reveled in a lot more ever since hooking up with his stowaway. “I’ll have her talk to Hope, if you want.”
Miles nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
“And I’ll have a word with Krista.” From the dark edge to Dax’s voice, they knew his word might be accompanied by a paddle.
“Speaking of staying safe for the women, our mystery Dom struck again, this time over in Tallahassee, and the woman ended up in the emergency room. He’s escalating.” Troy’s anger and frustration over not being able to get any leads on the man now responsible for three attacks on young, new players at different BDSM clubs came through in his clipped tone. Since the first incident took place in a club in Pensacola, the case had landed on his detective’s desk, putting him in charge.
“That’s three different clubs in three different cities. How the fuck is he doing it?” Miles growled. He grabbed his beer and took a long swallow to help wash down the instant anger that rose when he thought of the trauma heaped upon those innocent girls.
Trevor, usually the easygoing one of the group, scowled and explained with short, clipped words. “He’s a master at disguises and has the means to obtain several fake I.D.’s. He’ll be a bitch to prosecute, providing we even find him.”
Dax frowned at the D.A. prosecutor then switched his concerned gaze to Miles. “Krista got Hope a guest pass for Chains tonight, and I think she went alone. It’s a safe venue, but…” He trailed off when Miles shoved back his chair with a curse.
“God damn it.” Pivoting, he strode out of the room, leaped off the yacht and hightailed it down to the parking lot, fear, worry and anger warring together to propel him to the club, and the woman who was determined to wreak havoc with his good intentions.
The longer Miles stood there, watching Hope, the tighter his gut clenched. Knowing he couldn’t afford to become emotionally invested in a woman the way his friends recently had, had aided him in keeping his distance from her so far. The relief that swamped him when he entered the club and spotted her sitting along the wall, safe and sound, almost sent him to his knees. Regardless of that telltale response, he knew letting himself care enough to commit to one person would render him vulnerable to unleashing his full anger again if a volatile situation arose that jeopardized her safety. But he hadn’t counted on seeing the stark need and hint of submissiveness reflected on Hope’s face as she watched the scenes taking place in Chains tonight. Between investing himself in seeing she stayed safe and now the possibility she could accept, maybe even embrace, his dominant sexual control, Miles would be even more hard pressed to keep his distance.
She hadn’t moved from her seat in the thirty minutes since he’d arrived. Several members he’d known from frequenting the club over the years had approached her to ask about her welfare and interest, from what he could tell. So far, she’d declined offers to play, and Miles refused to examine the relief easing his tense shoulders every time Hope remained seated as they walked away. He had to make a decision; stand here in the darkened corner and watch her undetected until she left or offer to appease some of her curiosity by showing her around. His own curiosity about how far her interest went won out and he strolled toward her, wondering who’d erased the hard line he’d drawn years ago between playing with experienced submissive women and letting himself get involved with anyone beyond a night or two of sex.
One minute, Hope was envying the woman bound on a large padded X being pleasured by two men, picturing herself there with Miles lavishing attention on her bare body, and the next, her vision was blocked by his jean-clad, thickly muscled legs. With a sense of fatalism, she drew her eyes up over slim hips, bulging arms crossed over a wide chest, past a thick neck and up to his chiseled face set in granite hard lines that drew her eyes to his scarred cheek. His long hair, usually pulled back in a stubby tail, hung loose around his shoulders and clung to his neck and face; so damned sexy, her toes curled against the wood floor in response. The crossbones and skull tattoo decorating his right bicep peeked out of the black, short tee-shirt sleeve stretched tautly around his shoulders and arms.
She’d be damned if the bad boy image didn’t do it for her every time. Whether it stemmed from a latent response to her parents’ constant harping about staying away from certain ‘types’ of boys all through high school and even college, she couldn’t say. Hope just knew her heart stuttered every time Miles came within touching distance, and she couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Her panties had already dampened from her voyeuristic induced imagination, but that one second of awareness elicited a gush that wet them through.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to mask her surprise or her reaction to being this close to him in this sex-charged atmosphere.
“I’m a member. What are you doing here?”
She winced at the thread of anger underlying his otherwise calm demeanor. Damn, she really hadn’t thought this through. Hope had known the seven men she’d been introduced to through Sandie were members of this club, so why hadn’t she considered she might run into Miles here? If her intention was to rid herself of these urges without help from one of them, namely the man standing before her, this turned out to be an unwise choice. Then again, when it came to dealing with her wayward libido, when had she ever acted with a modicum of common sense?
“I have a guest pass,” she returned with a touch of defiance. “I wanted to see first-hand what Sandie has been going on about, is all.” She tried shrugging to disguise her self-consciousness, but from the arch of one dark eyebrow, she knew she failed.
“Now that you have, I’ll walk you out. I can vouch for the safety of this club, but there’s a predator hitting up BDSM clubs around the state who has already proven he can get past tight security. Until he’s caught, none of the clubs are safe enough to attend alone.” Miles held out his hand but she shook her head, not trusting herself enough to touch him.
“I’m not ready to go.” She was, but he didn’t need to know that, and from the way his eyes narrowed, Hope doubted he believed that statement either.
“I’ve been watching you for thirty minutes and you haven’t left that seat and haven’t accepted any offers from a member. If you’re not ready to go, I’ll show you around then escort you out. Either way, I’m not leaving you here unattended.”
Between the familiar stubborn set to his jaw and the growl of impatience in his voice, Hope knew he meant it. A part of her fretted this was a big mistake, but the other part, the one that had led her here tonight in the first place, rejoiced when she nodded and rose to accept his ultimatum. “If you insist,” she replied with a grudging tone she knew he couldn’t miss. She wasn’t about to lead him on and let him think she was accepting anything other than a guide tonight.
That proved difficult right away when the warm clasp of his hand on her elbow seeped into her skin. She’d dressed in her usual conservative style and wore a calf-
length skirt that draped around her bare legs with a short-sleeved, button-up blouse that fit loosely over her full breasts. The only thing she had in common with the other women enjoying the club’s amenities was her bare feet, a requirement, she’d been told upon arriving. Why she felt conspicuous was beyond her, but as Miles led her toward the back of the cavernous space, nodding at members he knew but not stopping to talk, she could sense eyes and speculation aimed her way.
Hope had been comfortable tucked away against the wall and obscured by the dim lighting but moving up close to the different stations reminded her how excited she’d been when she and her friends toured the club in Atlanta. It had been the first time in her adult life when sex had appealed to her, and when that Dom had given her a taste of what she’d been witnessing, and she’d responded to the pain and exposure more than she ever had to intercourse with her fiancé, she’d discovered she wasn’t the cold fish Craig often complained she was. Maybe if he had screwed her in something other than the missionary position and added a little foreplay into the mix, she would have fared better.
Just as before, Hope’s blood heated when Miles halted in front of a spanking bench and they were facing the red buttocks of the woman strapped face down on the apparatus. Her response was so quick, so fiery hot, she squeezed her thighs together to contain the rush of juices gathering at her entrance and leaned against Miles’ arm without conscious thought until he spoke above her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His low, demanding tone brought out goosebumps along her arms and urged her to answer.
Embarrassed, she shook her head and tried to shift away from him but should’ve known better. She knew enough about Doms to know they expected an honest answer to posed questions.
“Hope.” Miles tightened his hand on her elbow and gave her arm a small shake.
