Logan would never touch her again.
He couldn't. The cost was too high.
* * *
Standing beside the table where the two men had eaten, Alayna studied the glass door through which they had exited moments before. She fingered the business card in her hand. One of them had left the card on the table.
The atmosphere in the small café had sizzled with an unseen electrical pulse the moment they'd entered. Both men exuded alpha dominance at its finest. Their mere presence never failed to make every fine hair on Alayna Valerian's body stand on end. Never before had she experienced such a state of arousal as she did when they were around.
No, she corrected herself. Not they. Him.
When the men entered the restaurant an hour earlier, his eyes had met hers, and then the two men had taken their regular table by the window. They'd been coming into Valerian's Root for months, but they had yet to engage Alayna in anything more than casual conversation. Yet while patronizing her establishment, she noticed that neither one seemed to take his eyes off her. The intensity of their combined stares was heavy; she could sense it even when she wasn't looking at them. It kept her body in a state of stimulation, which shocked her. No other man had ever had that effect on her.
She couldn't put her finger on it, but something in the way they looked at her always made her lower her eyes after just a few seconds. Her cheeks would heat. Her breasts would swell, her nipples puckering into tight, painful buds. Try as she might, it was impossible for her to ignore what occurred between her thighs when they looked at her. Her panties became so damp it bordered on uncomfortable.
Gentleman Number One had the strongest effect on Alayna. He wore his long dark hair past his shoulders, sometimes pulling it back into a single ponytail. Silver ran through the wavy locks. Her fingers itched to feel the silky strands between them. His distinguished yet rugged features made her estimate his age at ten years her senior. Broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his black T-shirt, and the muscles beneath rippled as if seeking her touch. The denim that clung to his lower half left nothing to the imagination, and her mouth watered at the thought of him sliding his thick flesh past her lips.
Frissons of excitement and arousal had zinged through her body when he'd clutched her earlier to prevent her from falling. As he had held her against his muscled frame, his touch had been firm, confident, and it made her suspect he could be demanding if he chose. She wanted to feel his demanding caress, found herself desiring it with intense need.
She wasn't embarrassed by what the man did to her libido, but she would never tell a soul how she wanted nothing more than to have the man cart her off and ravage her. Though she knew nothing about him outside of his regular lunch order, she envisioned him living in a dungeon designed for pleasurable torture, similar to the ones described in her favorite erotic romance novels.
No, she could never tell anyone that deep down inside, the quiet, shy, and conservative Alayna longed to explore her inner wild child. Those were the secrets she saved for her nightly fantasies. With a blink of the man's dark brown eyes, she felt naked. Just a look brought the repressed wild child within her to the surface. His natural, clean scent mixed with the subtle woodsy cologne he wore teased her senses from the time he arrived until the moment he left. The man was six feet four of deliciousness she found herself craving to sample.
His counterpart was the complete opposite. Although standing the same height, Gentleman Number Two was lean and carried an athletic build. Alayna was thankful her sister spent most of her time in the kitchen as the culinary creator of the outfit, because Gentleman Number Two was just her type. Blond curls, baby blue eyes, with an air of danger thrown into the mix. Alayna could almost picture the exchange if Ariel should ever come out front and spy the muscled stranger. Ariel's angelic expression would take on that of a kid on Christmas morning at finding her heart's desire under the tree.
Alayna often found herself wondering what the two men did for a living. Their attire on most days was a cross between Wall Street tycoon and mafioso capo. An air of mystery mixed with a hint of danger drew the attention of anyone around them. She preferred them dressed as they were today—casual, in jeans and T-shirts.
Alayna looked at the business card in her hands. It was plain white cardstock, no colorful picture or any other sort of indicator as to what business it was tied to. Larger, embossed script was centered on the front with the identity of the proprietors aligned on the left in the same raised lettering but in a smaller size.
A MASTER'S GIFT
Submit to your sexual desires.
PROPRIETORS
Master Logan Abram
Master Dane Reese
“Masters?” she mumbled. “Of what?”
She flipped the card over and found a Web site address, along with a log-in code and password in a handwritten scrawl.
For a fleeting moment, Alayna thought to run out after them, assuming one had left the card accidentally. But, knowing the two men always brought their dishes up to the counter when they were finished eating, today she had been surprised when they simply stood up and left. She'd thought it odd as she watched them walk out.
Alayna usually tried not to gawk at them while they enjoyed their meals, but she always remained aware of their movements. Today she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary to have precipitated a change in their routine. It seemed out of character from what she'd learned of their typical behavior.
Suddenly it dawned on her that one of them might have left the card on purpose. Had the dark-haired man left it for her? Her desire to get to know him amplified.
The card felt like a weight in her apron pocket as she continued to stack plates and wipe down the table.
An hour later, with the chaos of the lunch rush behind them and the front door locked up for the day, her thoughts wandered, and her fingers toyed with the card in her pocket. Her mind raced with curiosity until she couldn't take it any longer. She had to check out the Web site written on the back of the card.
“I've got paperwork to catch up on,” Alayna announced to Sadie and DeeDee, two of the café's staff members, who were going through the closing cleaning practice. “I'll be in the office if you need me.”
“Sure thing,” Sadie replied.
Once in her office, Alayna pulled out the duct-taped office chair and sat behind her scarred-up desk. After wiggling the mouse to bring the screen on the monitor to life, she opened her Web browser and punched in the address written on the back of the business card. Seconds later, a log-in screen appeared. She keyed in the information provided on the card and pressed Enter.
Welcome, Ms. Valerian. Master Dane Reese has granted you unlimited access to A MASTER'S GIFT. Please enjoy your visit to our Domain.
A couple of seconds passed, and then the welcome screen faded. In its place, a picture of a blindfolded, bound woman appeared.
A tingle raced up Alayna's spine, and she shuddered.
Explore your submissive nature and revel in developing a higher sexual awareness.
At the hands of your master, you will be encouraged to embrace your submission. You will learn how to give pleasure to your master, and in doing so, bring pleasure to yourself.
Alayna navigated through the various pages of the Web site and gained some education on Domination/submission and BDSM. She'd never explored the practice before. The About page outlined in detail the premise of what A Master's Gift was all about. Though they offered training for the variety of levels and practices of the lifestyle, the establishment's main focus was to teach clients to heighten their sexuality and sexual awareness.
Alayna had to admit the graphic images and descriptions of the variety of acts depicted turned her on. She fantasized it was her bound and helpless, learning the pleasures of sexual submission. Intrigued by everything she saw on the Web site, she was awed that membership to the exclusive club was by invitation only.
And she'd been invited.
But why? Did she have what
it took to be a dominant in the world of Domination and submission? She chuckled. No, she didn't. There wasn't a dominant bone in her full-figured frame. No, Master Dane must have invited her because he'd seen something else in her. After visiting A Master's Gift Web site, she suspected she knew what.
A submissive.
But was she submissive? A peacekeeper, yes. A people pleaser? Perhaps to a degree. She didn't thrive on conflict, but that didn't make her a pushover. Did that make her submissive? If so, she wasn't sure how she felt about her submissive nature being apparent to a man like Dane Reese, whoever he was.
As she scanned deeper into the site, Alayna came to realize submission was an action of personal strength. To overcome internal resistance, a submissive had to take charge of his or her desire or need to maintain personal control in the creation and delivery of all personal decisions.
But could she submit to just anyone? According to what she read, it wouldn't be to just anyone. If she didn't currently have a partner, she would be paired with a master worthy of her needs. And as the submissive, the decision to consent would be completely hers to make.
Would she be comfortable putting her trust in a man to see to her sexual pleasures? She wasn't so sure about that. Hell, she had enough trouble getting herself off. If she couldn't do it herself, how in the world would a stranger meet those needs?
Alayna wondered if the man with the long salt-and-pepper hair would be a dominant match to her submissiveness. She didn't want to submit to just anyone. But for him…she might.
“Hey, Al. I'm going to need some more jicama and—ohmigod!” Ariel screeched behind her. “You're surfing for porn. You dirty girl,” she teased, wagging a finger as she came around the front of the desk.
The chef's coat she wore was as pristine as it had been when she'd donned it that morning, while the apron tied around her waist was smeared in an array of colors and textures from the lunchtime fare. It would find its way into the laundry before Ariel began cleaning the kitchen; she changed smocks several times a day to maintain a professional appearance when she came into the seating area. Her short, usually spiked hair—a shocking shade a pink these days—poked out around a black bandana covered in skulls and crossbones.
“It's not porn,” Alayna said in defense. “It's—”
“It's BDSM. Very nice, Al. I didn't think you had that naughty streak in you.” Ariel dropped into the chair across from Alayna's desk.
“You know about this stuff?”
“Well duh. Who in their right mind would want to settle for regular old vanilla sex when they could experience shake-the-rafters-till-the neighbors-call-the-cops spontaneous sexual combustions?”
Vanilla sex? Shake the rafters?
Leaning forward, Ariel reached for the flat-screen monitor and turned it so she could see it as well. “There are different degrees and levels of the BDSM lifestyle. The important thing to remember is it's all about trust. There's a little something for every appetite, from hard-core caning and flogging—you know, for experienced enthusiasts—down to less intimidating activities for the novice, such as light bondage. Oh and let's not forget those folks into exhibitionism and voyeurism.”
“Oh no, let's not forget them,” Alayna said. “Who the hell are you?” Though Ariel was a woman, it made Alayna uncomfortable that her baby sister had knowledge in the BDSM world.
When the hell did she grow up on me?
After hijacking the mouse from Alayna's right hand, Ariel began to click her way through the various pages. “Wow. This is an exclusive club. Membership by invitation only. You've been invited?” Glancing over, her green eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity. “How'd you get an invite?” she asked. “Please tell me it was the handsome twosome that comes in here nearly every day and sits over by the window. That stud with the long hair can't take his eyes off you, Sis.” Ariel waggled her eyebrows, which were tinted a shocking shade of pink to match her short, spiked hair. “How come you've never jumped his bones? He's hot for you.”
“You've seen them?”
“Well hell-o! Who could miss those two?” she asked.
“True,” Alayna said, reclaiming the computer mouse from Ariel.
“I wouldn't mind sinking my teeth into the ass of that blond,” Ariel purred before running her tongue over her lower lip. “How come you've never introduced me?”
Alayna shot her sister a sheepish grin. “I haven't even introduced me,” she admitted.
“That's lame.”
“Give me a break, Ari. I'm not as forward as you.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “Besides, maybe I'm waiting for the right man to come along. One who's looking for an old-fashioned sort of woman. A woman who doesn't mind allowing the man to be in control. There's nothing wrong with that.”
The raised-brow look Ariel shot her gave Alayna cause for pause. Was it warped of her to yearn to depend on and follow the lead of a man? Did that make her weak? She didn't think so.
Alayna clicked on the last page she had left to peruse. When it opened, she found herself staring at the two men who regularly ate lunch at the café. She gasped.
The blond was Dane Reese, the man who left the business card for her to find. Worry and confusion creased her brow. Did he want her as his submissive?
Her attention focused on the image of the man who sent her pulse skyrocketing and made her panties damp. Logan Abram.
Logan.
Master Logan, she silently recited over and over. Alayna liked the way his name sounded in her thoughts. She fully intended to test it aloud once she was alone.
“Well?” Ariel's pink eyebrows lifted in question.
“Well what?” Alayna repeated, giving her sister a sideways glance.
“You're going to call and make an appointment to check it out, aren't you?” Ariel asked.
Could I?
“Nah, that's way too far out of your comfort zone, isn't it, Al?”
“What do you mean, out of my comfort zone?” Alayna scowled.
“Exactly what I said.” Ariel shrugged and leaned against the desk. “When was the last time you actually went out on a date?”
“I've had too much—”
“Yeah, same excuse you've been making since Mom and Dad died. That was ten years ago.”
“I have other responsibilities.”
“You've had excuses.” Ariel held her gaze.
After a moment, Alayna squirmed in her chair. She didn't realize her actions were so transparent. Ariel was right; she'd been making excuses for too many years.
“You needed to finish school. The café was our only source of income—”
“I've been out of high school for nine years and finished off my degree five years ago.”
“And you should have taken the different job offers to train under those chefs who requested you.” Alayna knew damn well her younger sister's talents in the kitchen were wasted working alongside her at the café. With her talent and her bachelor's degree in culinary arts and restaurant management, Ariel had a chance to build her career at any restaurant she wanted.
“Puhleease.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “If I had any interest in training under one of those misogynists, I'd have gone in a heartbeat. But Valerian's Root would have been a nightmare if I had left.”
“I would have been able to take care of things,” Alayna retorted.
“Al, you're my big sister and I love you, but we both know that's bullshit. You can't boil water without setting the stove on fire. If I wasn't running the kitchen, you'd have killed off all our customers with ptomaine.”
Alayna snorted in amused agreement. Her sister did have a point, and she couldn't very well argue against it. “Still, you should have—”
“And you could have walked away ten years ago, Al, when you were being scouted by that advertising firm in LA.”
The surprise must have shown on Alayna's face, because Ariel simply shrugged.
“We've both made decisions because we love each other, Al. This time yo
u need to think about you and only you.” She leaned forward in her seat and grinned. But regardless of Ariel's words and accompanying smile, the glint in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. “Come on, big sister,” Ariel continued, lowering her voice to a sexy purr. “Wouldn't you like Master Logan to strap you down and make you his sexual submissive?”
Yes.
“Do you wonder how his big strong hands would feel as they touch you, demanding your complete submission?”
Y-yes. She shivered at the unladylike thoughts flickering in her mind.
“No doubt a man like that knows exactly how to bring a woman earth-shattering orgasms,” Ariel continued.
No doubt at all. Alayna continued to stare into the eyes of the man on her monitor. Even though she was studying only a picture of him, the intensity in his eyes was overwhelming. If she thought it possible, it felt as though he could actually see her watching him through the LED screen.
“Don't you have work to do?” Alayna asked, suddenly uncomfortable that her younger sister had hit the proverbial nail on the head. The nerve of Ariel, deliberately pushing Alayna's buttons like that.
“Yes. And you have that call to make.”
“I'm not making any calls. I need to place a couple of orders for supplies and work on payroll. Which reminds me, what do you need jicama for?”
“An idea I had for a salad.”
Alayna groaned. “Another experiment? Go, go. I don't have time to worry about you trying out your crazy ideas on our customers.”
Ariel laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I'm going.” Tucking her thumbs into her armpits, she flapped her bent arms like wings and began clucking like a chicken as she left Alayna alone in the office.
Alayna hated to admit it, but Ariel had nicked a sore spot. Everything she had said about Alayna putting certain aspects of her life on hold was true. But that didn't make it sting any less.
Alayna's life had changed that night ten years earlier when she'd opened the front door to the two policemen who advised her of the car accident that took their parents lives. All of a sudden she'd been thrust into the role of guardian, where Ariel and Ariel's needs were top priority. Alayna's dreams had taken a backseat. At the time she had known it wouldn't be that way forever, but once that period passed, the timing had never seemed right for her to branch out and find her own path.
An Invitation: Alayna's Training Page 2
