Who needed men? Rainie grinned. She had her own hero—an incredibly smart, cuddly, four-footed hero.
* * * *
As the others in the bachelor party settled in, Jake shed his suit coat, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and stuffed his tie into his slacks pocket. Comfortable, he leaned back and stretched out his legs. For bar furniture, the burgundy-red, well-cushioned chair was fairly comfortable.
Around the table, the others followed suit. Marcus removed his silvery-gray pinstripe jacket. Galen hung his black suit coat as well as Vance’s over the back of a nearby chair. Holt dumped his behind him. Neither Raoul nor Nolan wore coats. But after assessing the size of the two men, doormen tended to ignore their less formal attire.
Jake was enjoying himself more than he’d anticipated. Well, aside from dying twice during the laser tag game earlier. Since the Shadowlands Masters were quite accustomed to exotic kink, the party hadn’t bothered visiting strip clubs. Instead, they’d taken over a laser tag facility.
Jake gave two of the grooms, Vance and Galen, a respectful glance. The FBI agents had headed up the law enforcement team—and had shot him dead. Jake’s team, consisting of ex-military men, had won by only one game.
After cleaning up and dining, the grooms and a few other Doms came here to check on the bachelorette party. Jake glanced around the crowded room. Supposedly, the women had picked this boutique nightclub for their last stop.
It was a good choice, actually. The DJ played music ranging from rock to metal designed to encourage dancing. Because Vance had selected a table in the elevated back section, the view of the ground floor was excellent—although Jake could hardly see his drink.
He glanced over at Marcus, one of the three grooms. “I didn’t think bachelor parties were supposed to rendezvous with the corresponding bachelorette one.”
“Be a shame to waste the opportunity.” Marcus gave him an easy smile. “The ladies get drunk and revved up. Can’t beat the sex.”
“And the women encouraged you to butt into their party?”
“Hell, no. They don’t know we’re here.” Galen’s smile was evil. “But my company specializes in finding people—even when they’re trying to hide.” Galen’s firm had a rep for delivering.
“I hear the trainees were on their own last night,” Vance said to Jake. “You were lucky our Sally isn’t one any longer.”
“I’d have to agree with you,” Jake said. The little brunette was adorable but a brat incarnate.
“It’s a shame about the trainee program ending,” Marcus said. “I found my Gabi. Maxie and Dara met their Doms through it.”
“Speaking of trainees, do you hear from Heather?” Raoul asked Jake.
Heather. He braced for the pain of remembering her but found only a distant grief. “Now and then. She’s doing well.”
“Good. And you, my friend?”
Jake smiled slightly, thinking of the night before. “Guess I’ve recovered. Women seem inviting again.”
Nolan King snorted. “If the last months were you in mourning, I’d hate to see you at full strength.”
At the chorus of agreement, Jake grinned ruefully. Okay, yes, he’d gone through a few submissives in an effort to forget the one lost. But the women had known he wasn’t interested in more than a fun evening. He tilted his glass toward the tough contractor. “Watch and learn, old man.”
Even as Nolan barked a laugh, Holt scowled at Jake. “When he rips your head off, it’ll splatter blood all over my good suit.”
“Beth will rescue me,” Jake said, enjoying the way Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “She likes me better anyway.”
Laughing, Holt edged his chair farther from Jake. Hell of a friend.
“Doubtful.” Nolan swirled his beer. “But since I like well-endowed women, I’ll sample Rainie instead.”
No. Fucking. Way. “You’re married,” Jake snapped. “Don’t you fuck with Rainie.”
As the men roared with laughter, Vance lifted his glass to Nolan. “And the King scores!”
Marcus grinned and told the others, “As a past Trainee Master, I do like the way Sheffield jumped to the trainee’s defense.”
And where the hell had his surge of possessiveness come from? Feeling like an idiot, Jake lifted his Kamikaze in a salute to Nolan. “I definitely jumped, you bastard.”
The Dom’s rare grin flashed. “Just so you know—if I strayed, Beth would wait until I was asleep, lop off my balls, and bury them in her garden. As fertilizer.”
Jake grinned back. Nolan’s little redhead was sweet, quiet, and had a spine of pure titanium. “I wonder what Rainie would do in a similar situation.” Might be good to know.
The forthcoming suggestions were far too bloody for peace of mind.
Galen added, “Being the vindictive type, she’d probably stuff everything down the garbage disposal afterward.”
Jesus. Jake could feel his balls draw up tight.
A second later, a commotion sounded at the door. Turning to look, Vance broke into laughter. “And there they are.”
Jake stared. Those were Shadowlands submissives? The group of women strutting in would look at home on a stripper’s stage. But, damn, they looked good. Hair out to there, eyelashes forever, deep red lips that made a man’s cock stand up.
He’d seen less makeup on drag queens, but there was no doubt these were females, considering the amount of skin they were showing. Miniskirts, mesh stockings, cleavage to rival the Grand Canyon. And somehow, they made it all work.
After a minute, he spotted Rainie. She looked like sex, super-sized. A miniskirt of shiny black flirted with damn fine legs. Her dark blue bustier had almost no back, so her tattoo ran up and over her right shoulder, leading the eye straight down to those incredible breasts. God, he’d never wanted to touch someone so much in his life.
He smiled ruefully. A Dom should know himself…and he had to admit she was the reason he’d stayed with the grooms rather than peeling off like most of the others.
As the women formed a small group, Jake noticed Ben, the Shadowlands security guard, had accompanied them. The combination of his massive bulk, rough-hewn face, and fancy rags made him look like a lethal pimp.
As Jake watched, the women split into different directions. Beth headed for the DJ, Rainie and another women—”Is that Mistress Anne?” Jake choked out.
“It is.” Raoul’s smile was a flash of white in the darkness. “I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.”
No lie. The sadistic Domme’s attire usually held an edge of threat. What she wore tonight was complete and utter seduction, Penthouse style.
“Wonder what brave subbie talked the Mistress into that?” Marcus wondered.
Every Dom at the table answered, “Rainie.”
Rainie hadn’t expected to have so much fun. But her unhappiness about work had been erased by the amount of alcohol in her veins and her rowdy friends. Although the party had decreased from the original fifteen, the remaining few were serious partiers.
Even now, Kim was siccing Ben into intimidating a couple to move away from a large table to a smaller one.
Uzuri and Beth targeted the DJ to get the correct tune loaded up. Their private exotic dancing class at the start of the night had given them the moves to only one song.
Rainie and Anne had their own task. Rainie asked, “Is this bartender mine or yours?”
“I need to have a look at him,” Anne said briskly.
Rainie grinned. The Mistress’d imbibed as heavily as everyone, but she sure didn’t show it. Despite black vinyl boots that put her close to six feet, Anne never made a misstep.
In contrast, Rainie had to concentrate hard to walk in a straight line. Swaying her hips helped—and garnered appreciative whistles.
“Holy Mother of God,” a man said as she and Mistress Anne wiggled their way through the throng around the bar. “Ladies, whatever you’re asking, I’ll pay.”
Anne ignored him and leaned her forearms on the bar so she could watch the bartend
er. Rainie did likewise, assessing his interactions with the customers. “Straight,” she judged.
“Agreed, but I think he’s mine.”
Rainie waited until the man’s gaze met hers. She got no tingle from his quick look. Of course, there was no foolproof way to differentiate Doms from submissives, but his gaze held no punch. So if Anne thought he was submissive, then this one was hers to coax. “Go for it, sweetie-peach.”
“Sweetie-peach?” Gripping the top edge of Rainie’s stiff bustier, Anne yanked her forward until their faces were an inch apart. “This is a fun evening, but, little girl, watch the manners. I prefer cock torture, but I’ll make an exception for pussy if annoyed.”
Note to self: never call a sadist cutesy names. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Although laughter lurked in Anne’s eyes, the Mistress would undoubtedly be even more amused if wielding a pussy whip.
When Rainie swallowed, she heard at least three men around them do the same. “Sorry, Ma’am.”
“Better.” Anne released her as the bartender approached.
“Ladies, what can I get you?”
“We have a request,” Rainie started with the familiar spiel. “We’re with a bachelorette party and—”
“That’s a relief,” the bartender said. “Got two cops at the end of the bar figuring on busting some hookers.”
Rainie concealed her flinch and the urge to flee, reminding herself she wasn’t an underage kid living with a drug dealer. She managed a smile. “No soliciting in our group, just an upcoming double wedding. We wanted you to serve a special drink shot for the brides, Gabi and Sally. It’s called the G and S Smackdown. If you agree to make it, we’ll talk it up and get people to order it.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. See we have—”
And then Anne reached over the bar and wrapped the bartender’s paisley tie around her slender hand. Rainie felt the blast of dominance accompanying the move, and when the bartender’s gaze met the Domme’s, his stubborn expression melted right off his face.
Anne slowly pulled him forward and said in her husky voice, “What is your name?”
“Lance.” His voice was hoarse.
“That’s a very nice name,” Anne said, and the bartender actually quivered. “Lance, it would please me if you’d make the shooters.”
“O-okay. Sure. I’d be happy to.” His expression said he wished she’d ask him for something more so he could do that as well.
Rainie’s smile faded as she remembered the night before and her absolute joy, right down to her toes, when she’d earned Master Jake’s approval. Why, oh why, did Jake Sheffield have to be a Dom?
After ordering champagne drinks and handing over the recipe for the G and S Smackdowns, Rainie followed Anne back to the table, getting four requests to dance and two offers of a monetary nature. She grimaced and checked her bustier to make sure she hadn’t popped out a nipple or something.
Nope. All good.
“Well, ladies.” She settled in beside Kim. As her weight left the high-heeled sandals, her tortured feet throbbed in relief. “This is the last bar on the list, so let’s give them a good show.” She glanced around the table. Even without dancing, they made a colorful group.
Kim’s short, short dress matched her icy blue eyes. Uzuri was in a skin-tight, red sheath that set off her chocolate-brown skin.
The brides-to-be had chosen white. Gabi wore a white leather miniskirt and sequined white corset. Her strawberry blonde hair now had a silver and blue streak to match the wedding colors. Sally was in a white leather minidress with cutouts that showed the sides of her breasts and hips.
Damn, she loved her girls. And so would the crowd. Smiling, Rainie edged back to survey the dance floor. Yes, there would be enough room for them to put on a show.
When she turned back, Gabi was lining up her prizes on the table…right next to the ones Uzuri had won. Good God.
Sensing a competition, Sally emptied her silver-striped party bag. A giant green dildo skidded across the table.
“Sally!” Kim hissed, a little too loudly.
Around them, conversations dimmed as eyeballs locked onto the array of sex toys.
“Hulkorama wanted out,” Sally announced innocently. “He’s too big to like being covered up.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” Gabi wrinkled her nose at the green-veins bulging all over the dildo. “That’s one ugly wanker. At least Iron Mania has some class.” Picking up a sleek, dark-red-with-gold-stripes dildo, she waggled it at Sally.
“Personally, I’ve always preferred American military heroes,” Rainie said, drawing her dildo like a sword. It was a gloriously garish red-white-and-blue, and dotted with stars. “The Captain here feels it’s his patriotic duty to serve right up to his last brea—uh, vibration.”
“Huh, good point.” Gabi scowled. “I bet Iron Mania has a vile sense of humor. I’m not sure I can take an evil vibe as well as an evil Dom.”
“Oooo, baby, that sounds like a story. What did Master Marcus do?” Uzuri asked.
“No wait—first tell us what you did to get in trouble?” Kim asked with a knowing smile.
Gabi pouted. “That stupid inflatable swan had a leak, so I was patching it, and I had the glue out, right?”
“Right. And?” As Uzuri absentmindedly toyed with the bulging veins on the green dildo, a man walking by spilled his drink.
“I just… Well, I glued together a bunch of the nipple clamps and gave the swan a pretty necklace.”
As the shrieks of laughter burst around the table, Gabi started to giggle. “You should have seen Marcus’s face when he saw the swan. Then when he couldn’t get the tweezers clamps to open, his face got all…” Gabi pulled her brows together and set her mouth into a line.
Kim’s head was planted in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Uzuri was holding her sides. Sally leaned against her for support.
Mistress Anne shook her head in disapproval…but her lips were twitching.
Rainie managed to gasp, “What did he do?”
“Oh, you know how he is…” Gabi lowered her voice and added a southern accent, “Well, darlin’, you got thayut swan all fancied up, ah do believe you should join it foah a party.”
“Uh-oh,” Uzuri muttered.
“E-zactilamente.” Gabi gave a decidedly drunken nod. “The bastard tied a butterfly vibe right over my clit, put me on the swan, and chained my nipples to that damned necklace so tight I couldn’t move.”
“Oh, ow,” Rainie muttered, folding her arms over her chest in sympathy. Nipple clamps were the worst.
“Yeah, right? Then he lounged by the pool, drinking his Grey Goose, and playing with the vibe’s remote controls. Oh Lord, I’m sure the neighbors could hear me begging—and by the time he let me come, I know they heard me scream.”
Rainie laughed so hard she had to push her thighs together to keep from peeing.
Next to her, Anne was grinning, but her expression was intrigued. Uh-oh. If the Mistress had a swimming pool, some poor submissive would be in for some rough pool sex.
“Ladies.” Kim’s attempt at sternness was ruined by her sputtering giggles. “Ladies, put your toys away before you get us evicted. Or before Ben blushes so much his face explodes.”
To the poor security guard’s horror, they all turned to look at him.
“Boy, you white people can really turn red,” Uzuri said in awe.
Rainie tried to smother her snickers by drinking and ended up almost choking to death.
“No dying during a party.” Mistress Anne gave her a well-placed whack between her shoulder blades.
The impact didn’t clear her airways, but the pain definitely did. “God have mercy,” Rainie wheezed. “I mean, Mistress, mercy.”
After nodding a polite acceptance, Anne smiled as the bartender himself delivered their order.
He set the shots and drinks around the table, saving the last for Anne.
She held up one finger to him to wait and st
ood. “Ready, ladies?”
They rose and then hammered their hands on the table to create a thundering drumroll.
With the others, Rainie lifted her tiny glass high. After downing the shot, she slammed her glass onto the table. A chorus of thuds came from the others.
Hands lifted, a screech erupted. “G and S Smackdown!”
“That’s for Gabi and me!” Sally yelled. She and Gabi leaned across the table and exchanged a lascivious kiss.
“Thank God, the grooms aren’t here,” Kim muttered to Rainie.
“No shi—kidding.” Rainie glanced over to see Anne holding the bartender’s face between her palms and saying, “You did very well, Lance. I’m pleased with you.”
“God, if the guy possessed a tail, he’d wag it,” Rainie said under her breath to Kim.
Kim huffed a laugh and touched the diamond-studded choker around her neck—the symbol of her relationship to her Master. “You know, when Master Raoul praises me, I’m exactly the same.”
The edges of Rainie’s happiness singed before she pushed her envy away. Kim had suffered, almost died before reaching safety with Raoul. Rainie planted a loud kiss on her friend’s cheek. “That’s good. You deserve every bit of the happiness you have.”
When Kim’s eyes filled, Rainie shook her head. “None of that, BFF.” She lifted her glass of champagne. “Ladies.”
The women looked up expectantly.
“To ex-trainees Gabi and Sally,” Rainie said, “who left behind a matchless legacy of brattiness.”
Under the cover of the clinking glasses and cheers, Anne resumed her seat. Her penetrating gaze settled on Rainie. “Speaking of brats, I still owe you a punishment for those bugs you put in my locker.”
Rainie jerked, spilling her drink. “No, I’m sure you don’t. Really.”
“Oh, yes. I do. But perhaps I’ll let Jake handle the matter.”
“What?” Just his name made Rainie’s heart rate increase. “Why?”
“I heard he enjoyed spanking you last night. I daresay he’d be delighted to get another chance.”
“No. No way.” The dismay—and excitement—was almost enough to drive the alcohol from Rainie’s system. “He’s… I don’t even like him.”
Show Me, Baby: A Masters of the Shadowlands Novella (1001 Dark Nights) Page 6
