“Well, good luck with that. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
* * * *
In the dining room of the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, Dallas, Texas, late Christmas morning, Friday, December 25, 2015
Penelope Wilson was reaching for her mimosa at the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek at Christmas brunch. Her friends, Kathi Easton and Morgan Hunter, had just returned from a trip to the buffet table. They were seated next to the white, carved fireplace festooned with evergreens in the elegant dining room. The three friends had had Christmas morning brunch at the hotel for years. It was a girlfriends’ tradition. They had been friends since their freshman year of high school when they had all made the cheerleading squad, and had stayed close ever since.
After they started dating, Penelope had confided her and Jay’s foray into BDSM to them, and she had been surprised to learn that both girls had some BDSM experience. Even though they shared most of their sexual adventures, neither of them had ever disclosed that little piece of information until Penelope had spilled the beans.
“Well, are you guys excited about the trip? It should be a blast. We’ll have New Year’s Eve at the hotel and then a whole, wonderful week in the Florida sun.” Kathi looked excited. She had not been in a regular relationship for some time, although she dated and occasionally scened with some of the unattached Doms at the club. She was petite and curvy, with a mop of curly blonde hair, and worked at Dallas Memorial Hospital as a surgical nurse. She had her pick of doctors, but none of the single ones appealed to her.
“I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a busy end-of-year with a lot of my clients repositioning their portfolios. I haven’t had a break since Thanksgiving, and that was only a long weekend.” Penelope turned and smiled at Morgan. The tall, willowy brunette was a paralegal at a downtown law firm. Morgan had recently started dating a really good-looking fireman named Eric Johnson who was also a Dom. She hoped Morgan didn’t opt out of the trip that had been planned for some time. “Are you going to be able to tear yourself away from Eric?”
“Yes. It will be hard, but we’d planned this trip months ago, and he understands, as long as I don’t scene with anyone else.”
Kathi snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Like you would actually do that. Not. You’re as crazy about him as he is about you. This is crappy timing.”
“I have to admit, I’m a tad nervous about taking a trip with the Le Club group. You’re sure that Jay Fairlamb isn’t going, right?” Penelope felt her stomach plummet. She still wasn’t over that jerk, as hard as she had tried to evict him from her heart.
Kathi frowned. “I checked with Michael, whose office is coordinating the reservations and all. He said no, Jay is not booked on the trip. I even called again yesterday to double-check. All clear.” She looked relieved.
Penelope knew that Kathi and Morgan wanted her to hook up with someone new and finally get over Jay. She was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen. “Thank goodness. I would hate to run into him there after being so careful to avoid him all this time.”
Kathi frowned again. “I personally think you should have kicked his worthless ass instead of trying to avoid him. He might have learned a lesson.”
“I doubt it. Jay Preston Fairlamb teaches lessons. He doesn’t learn them. Anyway, I was too broken-up at the time to deal with him again face-to-face. It was bad enough hearing his voice on the phone until I got smart and blocked him.”
“You didn’t tell us he’d called you. I thought he’d just let you walk away without a word.” Morgan was softhearted, and Penelope knew she’d always hoped the whole fiasco was a misunderstanding and that they would get back together. Not fucking likely.
“Well, he did. He just watched me get in my car and drive away. I thought that said it all. I gave him everything, and he wanted to bring another woman into our relationship. I have nothing against a poly relationship, for someone who wants one. I didn’t want it for me, so I left.”
Chapter Two
In the Wilson-Easton-Hunter suite at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Thursday late afternoon, December 31, 2015
Penelope, Kathi and Morgan had opened a bottle of chilled white wine that had been sent up to the suite by management with a beautiful cheese-and-fruit tray. They were getting ready for the New Year’s Eve masquerade event for unattached Doms and subs in the Black Dahlia Club dungeon that evening. All participants were to be masked—costumes optional. Ha! Clothing was optional as well. The girls had decided to wear draped Grecian-style one-shouldered white silk gowns, representing the Three Muses. The gowns were embroidered with gold thread, closed over their shoulders with Velcro, and were open down the center.
“I’m excited. I wonder who we’ll meet tonight. The party is not restricted to Le Club members, only to unattached Doms and subs.” Kathi was fairly vibrating with excitement. “I’ve never scened with a complete stranger. I’ve always at least known the Doms from the club.”
“Well, I’m a little nervous about this whole idea.” Penelope had not been in a BDSM club, or a D/s relationship for that matter, since she had driven away from Jay five years ago. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“I don’t want to hear that, missy. You need to get back on your horse, as they say. You can’t let Jay Fairlamb put a crimp in your social life any longer. If you make a connection, you’d better jump on it.”
“I’ve had other relationships. Come on.”
“No. You come on. All your relationships have been strictly vanilla and lasted for one or two dates at the most. You haven’t been serious about anyone since Jay and you know it.” Kathi looked incensed.
“What about John Beckham?” She’d had one longer vanilla relationship since she broke up with Jay, and she’d had to visualize Jay laying his belt across her ass and remember the sharp sting to come, but she wasn’t going to tell the girls that. Needless to say, the relationship hadn’t lasted long. John had known someone else was in her head.
“Right. I remember. That lasted a couple of weeks at most.”
Morgan finally jumped in. “You’ve wasted five years of your life pining for that jerk. It’s time to move on.” She fingered the red rubber bracelet on her right wrist. “Does everyone have their white rubber Black Dahlia ID bracelet on? We need them to get into the club. And what about the colored hard-limit bracelets?”
The wide, white bracelet embossed with “The Black Dahlia Hotel” in gold letters contained a personal identification strip and permitted entry to the top floor where the BDSM club was located, as well as a GPS chip for guest location. Penelope and Kathi were wearing the green rubber bracelets that meant a sub was willing to participate in the club activities, while Morgan was wearing a red one that stood for non-participation. The Dominants—Doms or Dommes—wore one black band. The selection of thin, colored rubber bracelets signified a sub’s hard limits. The Black Dahlia Club Rules and Regulations booklet explained that the narrow rubber bracelets meant green for no anal play, red for no extreme whipping, purple for no extreme bondage, orange for no fire play, and yellow for no blood or knife play.
“Yes. I’m green. Plus a rainbow of hard limits.” She laughed nervously. “Good to go, and if I meet someone who interests me, I’ll give it a try. I promise. And don’t forget that the universal ‘safe words’ at The Black Dahlia are ‘red, yellow and green.’”
Morgan continued, “Well, I’ll be watching, and don’t think I won’t. I’ll have nothing else to do since I won’t be scening with anyone myself. I’ll just be missing Eric.”
The other girls laughed, and Penelope said, “If this club is as hot as advertised, you’ll be wishing you had your hunky fireman to put out the flames.”
* * * *
At the New Year’s Eve party in the main dungeon on the top floor of The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Thursday evening, December 31, 2015
Three expectant sets of eyes scanned the crowd milling around
in the dungeon. White-coated waiters were threading through the crowd with loaded drink and hors d’oeuvres trays. The party was in full swing.
Penelope’s eyes were wide behind her mask. Geez. She hadn’t seen anything like this in a long time—actually, ever. Guests were dressed in everything from formal wear and club wear to role-playing costumes from the hotel’s costume department. The club section of the dungeon had been decorated for New Year’s Eve, and the deep blood-red and dark-blue décor was opulent. The beautifully finished hardwood floors gleamed, reflecting the colorful costumes of the partygoers. The lights over the forbidding BDSM equipment had been dimmed, making the dark corners of the room mysterious. The lights would be lit and the dungeon opened for scenes after midnight. “Wow. Look at all these people. And the outfits. Yikes.”
Kathi scanned the crowd. “Everyone is masked. I had wondered if they would all actually wear their masks. There are some pretty spectacular male bodies out there. Check out that tall guy with the black jeans and cowboy boots. What a chest!”
“What do we do? Just stand around looking uncomfortable?” Penelope was starting to get really nervous.
“No, we’ll just make the rounds of the room and mingle, see and be seen. Later we can settle down in the sub’s corner.”
“Okay. You know more about what’s what than I do.” They started past the bar where a group of Doms were standing, checking out the room as well. “I feel like a side of beef at the butcher shop. I don’t know if I can do this.”
* * * *
Jay Fairlamb was perusing the crowd. He had toured the dungeon and theme rooms that afternoon. He’d visualized Penelope’s round ass over a spanking bench, waiting for the hot kiss of his belt. He remembered that the sound of his buckle being opened had been enough to make her wet, but the sharp bite of his belt on her ass had made her come. He knew he would have to work back up to that level, but it had made him hard just thinking about it—that, and remembering the satisfaction of commanding her with just a few hand gestures. He wondered if they would ever get back to where they had been before he’d fucked it up. He hoped so. He was going to do his damnedest to make sure they did.
Jay hoped he would be able to recognize Penelope before some other guy cut her out of the herd and corralled her for himself. He hadn’t counted on the partygoers being masked. And then he saw the Three Muses walking past the bar. That had to be them. The three of them were tight and always stuck together. Yes. The one with the streaky blonde hair piled up on her head was Penelope. He’d know that body anywhere—opulent boobs and ass with a small waist and long legs. He saw a glimpse of smooth, tanned leg between the folds of her gown. Shit, he felt the front of his jeans starting to get tight. She’d always had that effect on him, and it looked like that, at least, had not changed. He had no idea of how much Penelope might have changed.
He put his beer down on the bar and pushed into the crowd, following the three girls. He watched as they circled the room. He hadn’t been this close to Penelope in five years, and he was eager to make his move. He cut through the crowd and positioned himself in their path. When they reached him, he moved in. “Good evening, ladies. Happy New Year. Can I get you all a drink?”
Morgan smiled. “I think we could all use a drink.”
Jay flagged down a passing waiter and smiled expectantly at the three girls. “What would you like?” Morgan snagged a frozen margarita. Penelope and Kathi took Mojitos.
“Where are you ladies from?”
Kathi was the first to speak up as usual. “Dallas. And you?”
“Dallas as well.” He moved closer to Penelope as he asked them, “Would you care to join me in the lounge? I see some seats.”
“That would be nice,” the one wearing a red bracelet, who he was sure was Morgan Hunter, said. He took Penelope’s arm and ushered the group toward the cluster of leather chairs and couches along the window wall overlooking the dark beach. He surreptitiously guided Penelope toward a loveseat and sat down beside her while Morgan and Kathi took seats across from them. He grinned to himself. He was just as skilled as his brother when it came to cutting a female out of the herd. He had planned his moves since he had learned that Penelope was going on this trip with her girlfriends. He had imagined several scenarios in which he could get her alone, but the masked New Year’s Eve party exceeded his wildest plans.
His thigh grazed hers and a flicker of electricity like heat lightning shot up his leg. He could smell her perfume. It was the same light floral scent she had worn when they’d been together. He’d never forgotten it. He turned slightly to face her. It was a good thing he wore a mask. Not only would she take off if she knew it was him, but she’d likely bolt if she could see the predatory expression he could feel on his face.
“So, are you girls members of Le Club Longhorn?”
Kathi responded for the three of them. “Morgan and I are, but Penelope is our guest. And you?”
“I’m also a member of Le Club Longhorn. I hope you enjoy your vacation. It looks like the weather is going to be great.” Weather? What the fuck’s wrong with me? A whiff of Pen’s perfume and my mind turns to mush while my dick stands up like a flagpole. Jesus. He ran his hand down the smooth skin of her arm and looked into the startling green eyes that were all he could see behind the mask. Those eyes had haunted his dreams for five years. The last time he’d seen them, they were flashing with fury while salty tears streamed down her face. “I’d like to get to know you better, little one. Would you consider a scene with me tonight?”
Penelope glanced over at her friends as though she was unsure. He saw Kathi Easton give a slight reassuring nod to her friend. Apparently, her friends were encouraging her to step out of her comfort zone. Over the years, he’d seen pictures of Penelope in the society pages of the Dallas newspapers taken at various social functions. She was always accompanied by a different male escort. It didn’t seem as though she had settled into a permanent relationship. He was very glad of that. If she’d been in a relationship, she wouldn’t be at this party. Maybe he had a chance to straighten out this mess. He hoped so. He wondered how long he could keep his identity a secret. He shook himself out of his reverie.
“Uh, okay. I think I’d like that.” She sounded a little unsure, but he could work with that.
* * * *
Penelope shook her internal head. What the heck was she doing agreeing to a scene with a perfect stranger whose face she had not even seen? It was the guy in the black jeans and cowboy boots with the great chest that they had noticed earlier. For all she knew, he could have the face of a bulldog, although the dark scruff of beard she could see below the mask was intriguing. He had dark hair worn short. When he had run his hand down her arm, a frisson of delight had followed his callused fingers. She couldn’t remember when she had reacted so strongly to a simple touch. Maybe it was time to put it out there again and take a chance.
“Good. I was hoping you would say yes. Finish your drink. I see you’re wearing bands for no extreme whipping, anal, fire, breath, or blood play. Does that sum up your hard limits? Do you have any other hard limits or anything else you think I should know about?”
“Um, no. I haven’t done this—had a D/s scene—in a long time. I hope you’ll be patient with me.” She hoped she didn’t sound too needy or timid.
“Why is that?”
“I was in a relationship, but he turned out not to be someone I could trust and rely on. I haven’t tried it since.”
“I’m sorry. How long ago was that?”
“Five years.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to let that old hurt go?”
“Maybe. We’ll see what happens.”
It seemed as though he was trying to see into her soul when he looked into her eyes. “Come here,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you were hurt. Sometimes people make stupid mistakes they regret for the rest of their lives.” He pulled her into his lap and settled her up against that magnificent chest. “I want you to start getting used to m
e, to my touch on your skin. The dungeon doesn’t open for a while yet, so we have some time.” He slid his big, rough hand up the smooth skin of her leg. He stopped just short of the juncture of her thighs as he waited for her reaction. She didn’t pull away, and he slid his hand further up until he was cupping her mons beneath the silky folds of her gown. He gave it a firm squeeze. Oh, God. If only he would slide those fingers over her clit, she thought she might melt right there.
Kathi pulled Morgan out of her chair. “Let’s circulate, Morgan, and leave these two to get acquainted. Penelope, we’ll see you later.” The two picked up their drinks and walked off, leaving her in the stranger’s lap.
“What should I call you?” She wanted to cover her needy reaction to his touch.
“Let’s keep the mystery for a while yet. Just call me Master.”
They chatted in generalities while Master continued to torment her with his gentle touch. He didn’t reveal very much about himself, although he managed to pull some details about her life out of her. It seemed he was good about ferreting out information while skirting her own inquiries. Penelope had to admit that she was relaxing in his arms. He smelled terrific and his strongly muscled body cradled her close. He had smooth skin pulled tautly over well-defined muscles, and a narrow strip of dark hair ran down the center of his chest and under the waistband of his black jeans. She could feel his hard-on pressing against her butt. Yikes. He was a beautiful specimen, that was for sure. She really didn’t know what to think about the whole situation. For some reason, she felt safe with him, and there was really no reason why she should.
Master nuzzled his soft lips and strong jaw into the crook of her neck, and she felt him kiss the skin gently. He ran his tongue along her jawline. Oh, that feels nice. He raised one of his big, callused hands and turned her face toward him. His lips descended to hers. They were gentle at first, and then demanding. She was startled by the sparks that zinged through her system at the touch of his lips on hers. He deepened the kiss, and she fell under the spell of his strong mouth. She felt like she was slipping under crashing waves, and she struggled to the surface.
Penelope's Gift [The Black Dahlia Hotel 4] (Siren Publishing LoveEdge) Page 2
