by Skylar Kade
His car rolled down the long drive, soundtracked by Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”, then burst into a wide-open clearing with a jaw-dropping view of the surrounding mountains. A large rustic structure took up the right half of the clearing, with most of the rest devoted to parking. More cars filled the lot than he’d expected for a Friday afternoon, but if other Angelinos had had weeks like his, maybe it wasn’t that big a surprise.
Parking his car, he wondered what the large building held. Yes, he’d heard other kinksters rave about the private club, but he’d been to his fair share of upscale establishments before. What set this one apart?
The answer sauntered across the parking lot, seeming to come from nowhere and heading for the front door. The woman’s body hit him like a wrecking ball. Every sense went on high alert and his heart jacked up its beat.
Jet-black hair spilled around her shoulders in soft curls, obscuring her face. Her arms were crossed as she walked, as if warding off the mild day’s nonexistent cold. Slumping shoulders drew more attention to the beautiful hourglass shape of her back, her body encased in a flowing, black dress that clung in all the right places. She looked tall, maybe eye level to his chin, though maybe that was her black combat boots. Not fragile—supple. Warm.
And crying. Her shoulders were shaking as she turned away from the building, facing him head-on. His demolition experts had nothing on that look. He wanted to kiss her reddened nose, wipe the tears from under her eyes. He popped open his door and headed for her.
The woman’s eyes widened and she froze, a deer in the headlights.
Car door open, keys still in the ignition, nothing mattered but this woman. He approached slowly, not wanting to alarm her. “Are you okay?” His voice echoed through the parking lot, though they weren’t that far apart.
The dress swirled around her knees, tossed by the wind whipping around the mountaintop. The soft neckline of her dress draped around her full breasts. His palms itched to cup them.
She nodded, letting her hair once again hide her face, which looked like it was made of the finest bone china. “Shitty week.”
He took a few steps closer, then paused. He saw faint tan lines on her wrist, barely there, that looked like she’d been wearing a bracelet cuff for some time. “Is he really worth crying over?”
Her pink lips clamped shut, then opened. “Look, thanks for your concern, but, really, it’s none of your business.” She swiped aside her hair to reveal twilight-blue eyes cracking with anger.
Her defiance stroked down his chest and reached for his growing erection. “I’m sorry, but when I see a submissive alone and crying, I make it my business.” He invaded her personal space until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, but she didn’t back up. All traces of her dejection were gone. Good.
The wind pulled at her curls as she jabbed a finger in his chest, like she was digging straight for his racing heart. “I’m not a submissve.”
Her nails weren’t painted or manicured, not high maintenance like many women he’d dated. He found it refreshing. Authentic, like her anger. “Not a submissive?” He grabbed the hand that had poked him and raised her wrist to the light. Her pupils dilated and her breathing tightened. Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip and Damien had to restrain a groan. His thumb stroked along her inner wrist where her pulse was jumping like a living thing trying to escape. “How long did you wear his ownership bracelet while you weren’t a submissive?”
She tugged at her wrist. A halfhearted attempt, since her other hand was clenched halfway to touching him. Being the ever-helpful Dominant, he closed the space between them, pulling her wrist up to his lips and laying a kiss on the pale flesh of her pulse point.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.
In response, he let her go and stepped back. “I’m proving a point.”
She swayed toward him before scowling and taking her own shuffle backward.
Her cocked eyebrow made him ache to play her until she begged to submit. She was a sassy thing and they had some chemistry crackling between them—something he certainly didn’t have with Lara, his demo bottom. “If you’re not a submissive, then I’m the Pope.”
“That’s your point?” Her jaw ticced and when her hands fisted on her hips, it made her dress strain across her breasts. She looked beautiful when angry.
Through sheer force of will he held his ground, keeping the distance between them. “No, sweetheart, the point was that you’re not crying anymore.”
Her eyes spit every insult her lips seemed unable to form. It only made his cock harder. He replied with his most guileless smile, which only seemed to infuriate her. With a clench-jawed scream, she pivoted away and headed for the woods.
“See you later,” he called as she retreated. Yeah, coming up to Maison Domine early had been a good idea. He’d need the extra time to learn more about this mystery “not a submissive” woman.
Who the hell did that asshole think he was? She stormed to her cabin, thankfully set back from the parking lot. From the front window, she could just make out the trunk of his sleek black car and the door to the main building. Unable to peel her eyes away, Cam studied the man who’d distracted her from her tears.
His muscles shifted his black T-shirt, strong shoulders flexing beneath the fabric as he bent into the driver’s side of the car.
He moved around the car, which interrupted her from running off with that fantasy. With precise movements, he removed a laptop bag, duffel and matching rolling suitcase from his trunk. What, was he staying a whole week?
She’d probably have to see him again, wouldn’t she?
Despite his infuriating behavior, she grudgingly admired his rangy frame as he headed for the entrance. Hot damn, the things his dark jeans did for his ass should be illegal. Cam imagined him pumping into her, his strong hands pressing her wrists into the bed as that muscled body brought her to orgasm, over and over, forcing her submission in all the best ways.
Good thing she hadn’t taken note earlier, or she might have forgotten herself during their little encounter. She was a sucker for tall men. He didn’t have the bulky build of many Angelinos, or their signature sun-bleached hair and overly tanned skin.
No, his light-brown hair had flopped across his forehead, long enough that she could grab it and hold on while he kissed her senseless. Her stomach flip-flopped at the vision. No—no more Doms. And with her current track record, he’d probably just want someone to clean his house. But her growing lust played against the voice of reason—he’d been more dominant in two minutes than she’d ever consistently gotten from Shawn.
She told the horny bitch inside her to shove it, clinging to her initial instincts, even if he probably kissed like a sex god and his hazel eyes had seemed to tunnel straight through her eyes and into her subconscious. Torturing herself, she watched him stride across the lot, her heart leaping when he paused, turned in her direction and gave her a little finger wave. Self-assurance and certainty poured off him. Anger and desire warred once more, but only for a moment. That was not happening.
Instead of running after him, like that traitorous part of her wanted to do, she flopped onto the bed and reached for the bedside telephone. Hitting zero for the front desk, she waited as the phone rang once, again, then was finally picked up.
“Hello, one moment please,” a male voice answered. Oh God, he was probably at the check-in desk, being helped at that very moment. As if the phone line somehow connected them, her skin pricked under his imagined gaze. Pressure built on the back of her neck until she could almost feel his hand gripping her there. She hung up the phone, ending the moment, but not getting her answer about room service.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d only had a protein bar for breakfast and had skipped lunch. Fuck. Once she’d gotten on the road to Maison Domine, the week’s exhaustion had slammed into her and she hadn’t wanted to do anything except sleep once she arrived.
And though that
three-hour nap had invigorated her, it hadn’t made her less hungry. Now she’d have to dodge that man to go get food.
Cam rolled her eyes. That was the submissive thinking that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, worrying about propriety and protocol and staying in her place. Screw him. She’d go get food, mingle and ignore him when their paths crossed. Righteous anger inflated her and she was about to stalk over to the main cabin and tell that man he didn’t control her—
The phone rang. She grabbed the handset. “Yes?”
“Be a dear and order room service, would you? I would like to test out the speed of delivery. The menu should be in one of the kitchenette drawers.”
Kat had the most uncanny timing. Camille slumped against the bed, secretly glad she didn’t have to go out. “Sure.” She took in the room once more, settling on the bookshelf overflowing with paperbacks. Maybe she’d stay in, read for fun that evening. Relax.
“Also, I sent your spa schedule for tomorrow to your phone. I assumed you couldn’t leave it behind.”
“You’re a goddess.” She padded out of the bedroom and into the main area of her cabin. The whole place had small, homey touches without looking too much like an interior designer had her overdone way with it. Couches faced each other instead of a TV. A small bistro table provided seating just outside the little kitchen, which had a minifridge, coffeemaker, sink and antique storage cabinet.
She looked for the menu, riffling through various drawers. “I can’t thank you enough. I’m already feeling more relaxed.” Aside from her brush with him, everything had been relaxing, or would have been under more ideal circumstances.
“Just give me your unbiased opinion of the new room and I will be in your debt.”
Doubtful, but she learned on her first visit not to fight Kat when she wanted to do something kind. The woman was more stubborn than any Dom. Menu in hand, she thanked Kat and agreed to have a late brunch with her in the morning. By then, she vowed to have her shit together enough that Mr. Inappropriately Sexy wouldn’t ruffle her feathers. This vacation was for her to get some closure from the kink scene, lay low and relax, not get entangled in another messy relationship that begged for her heart to get broken.
Content with her plans for the weekend, she ordered dinner and dessert before snagging a book and heading to the little back porch to read while the sun set.
Chapter Four
Maison Domine’s single public room was impressive. Unlike most clubs he’d visited where the public room took up the main space, Maison Domine focused more on private, intimate spaces. Kat mentioned she’d converted the basement showroom of the old hunting lodge into this space, complete with a staging room through a door at the back, a raised platform in the middle of the main wall, comfortable seating around the immediate stage area and theater seating to fill the rest of the room. With the help of her assistant, Javier, Damien set up one of the massage tables in the front third of the platform and situated a long, narrow table along the back wall. One by one, he unpacked his toys, getting a jolt of anticipation from each.
For him, and for most instructors he knew, the thrill of teaching was a reward unto itself. When that performance led to intimate, sexual aftercare, it was supreme—something he’d only briefly experienced. His eyes squeezed shut in regret mixed with relief.
Natali had seemed like the perfect submissive, helping out during his demonstrations and showing obeisance at all times. Younger Doms at their New York club had praised his skills and the chemistry they had. Everyone else, namely Evan and their close-knit group, had kept their mouths shut until Damien saw the reality for himself. Once he caught on that her “true submission” was driven by greed instead of love, he cut things off. Since then he’d kept the two parts of his life separate.
Something about teaching triggered his most possessive instincts—the exhibitionist thrill of being the center of attention, the ego stroking of being an expert, the pliable woman giving herself over to him—all of which intensified a sexual connection. But after things had fallen apart with Natali, he realized it was safer working with submissives who belonged to other Doms. He could teach, share his knowledge and still get some of that cathartic release that came from topping a beautiful sub. He just didn’t need to put his heart on the line while doing so.
Kat breezed in, breaking his reverie. Thank God, because his jeans were getting uncomfortably tight, despite his morning stroke in the shower. He’d hoped it would purge his impatience and his preoccupation with the raven-haired woman who had stalked his dreams.
“Damien, it is looking good in here. Is there anything else you need from me?”
He set his last blade on the table. “Nothing aside from a willing demo partner.” Preferably one he had no attraction to.
Kat waved aside his concern. “Do not worry about it. She is here and ready to help out.”
His phone vibrated in his back pocket and he hit a button to send the call to voice mail. He would have left it in his room, but last time he’d done that his brother had reached out to him midbreakdown and he’d missed the call. If the caller left a message, he’d check it immediately. Otherwise, it could wait.
“Thanks, Kat.” He pulled out his now-still phone, saw the flashing Message Waiting and gestured with it. “Sorry, I need to check this.”
With a little wave, she flounced out, grabbing Javier on her way. Damien headed to the back room. The call was from Evan, so he dialed back without checking the message. His partner answered on the first ring. “We’ve got a client on the line. He wanted to talk to you about the Newport Beach RFP.”
“This is really poor timing, Evan.” He paced the small room, two steps alongside the overstuffed couch, one step to the shelving unit along one wall, then back again. The far wall was lined with empty hooks, spaced to hold a variety of impact-play toys.
“I know, but it’s Kingman on the line.” That stopped him. Kingman owned the management company that had taken their proposal. Until now, they’d only dealt with the project manager. “It’ll take an hour, tops.”
He didn’t really have a choice. “Okay, give me one minute then conference me in.” Setting his phone on Mute, Damien jogged through the demo space, down the hall and upstairs, hoping to catch Kat before she’d gotten too far. Seeing the door to the check-in office open, he hurried across, his boots thumping on the wood floors.
Kingman calling, and on a Saturday, could only mean good things. Getting this project would be a prestigious way to make their entrance into the LA development scene. He knocked and Kat flung the door back, her eyes glistening with impish glee. Over her shoulder, a shirtless man knelt next to her desk chair, his hands shackled behind his back. Red welts scattered across the tan skin of his back and deep breaths shook his body. Boy, she worked fast.
“’Allo, Damien.” She gripped the door and he saw the metal tips she wore on her index and ring fingers. He held his position, assuming Kat wanted her boy—Javier, he strongly suspected—to feel the bite of erotic humiliation having another man witness his submission.
He didn’t apologize for interrupting. “I have a work call to take. I’ll be back down by noon, but we may start late, so I can’t walk through the demo with this girl you have and get her set up.”
She left the doorway and sauntered back to her boy. “I will get her set up for you.” She dragged her spiked fingers down his spine, from neck to tailbone. “My boy will sit here and wait for me, non?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Her bare hand tufted through his hair and he rolled his cheek against her thigh.
“Such a good boy.” Her attention returned to Damien. “This is good for you?”
He managed a curt nod, entranced by their chemistry. Kat had always been an anomaly, often acting with the assurance of a seasoned Domme—sometimes, though, he caught the flare of arousal in her eyes when a nearby submissive received a particularly sharp command. However she oriented, she was a Mistress to be reckoned with. “Indeed, Mistress Kat.” He tip
ped an invisible hat to her, getting a wily grin in return, before taking his phone off Mute and booking it to his room, introducing himself to Kingman on the way upstairs.
Around 11:15, Cam entered the main building, thankful the lobby was empty. She’d regained her resolve overnight, but she didn’t want to test it once more against his force of will, not yet. After a long day in the spa, she’d be more relaxed and ready for the challenge. But not today, not when nightmares of threats and stalkers and violence so vividly reminded her of her poor judgment and made her ache for a physical outlet for all that anxiety. She boxed away her desire, shoving it into the back of her mind in the deepest recesses of her “sub closet” where she stored all her untimely and unwanted frustrations.
She’d gotten a text from Ian letting her know that nothing out of the ordinary happened at work on Friday and that he’d stopped by her apartment to check her mail. Nothing there either.
Cam looked around the lobby for any sign of Kat, then checked the time on her phone. Not too early, but she still had a couple of minutes. She settled into one of the plush hunter-green chairs in the lobby, tucking her feet under her. Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her hoodie and she grabbed for it, on edge and waiting for some kind of bad news to arrive. She didn’t trust that the threat letter was an isolated event and her nightmares last night had brought back all her worries.
A new email. She toggled to the program, sinking against the chair when she saw it was from Shawn.
SUBJECT: I hope you’re behaving
Fury blinded her. Though she wanted to chuck her phone across the room, she opened the message instead. Nothing. Just the subject line. He’d probably meant to send it to his current submissive. She bit back an ugly sneer, not wanting to be that person. After all, she had been rethinking their relationship for months. While his quick replacement of her burned, it was more a blow to her ego than a betrayal or abandonment. Besides, behaving would have had her on hands and knees, scrubbing or stain removing or polishing something in the house. And wasn’t a spa day a hell of an improvement on that?
