by Willow, Jo
“Ayla, why were you with Melody in that tawdry strip club tonight? You seem to be of sounder mind and made of better quality.”
“So do you Pierce, yet you were there. Why do we do the things we do most of the time?”
She shrugged, intriguing me further.
“Why indeed. Did you know what she was going to do?”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled, giving me my first glimpse of that alluring laugh.
“I never know what she’s going to do. She’s my closest friend and asked me to come with her, just like she asked Dorothy. We’re loyal people and we smelled trouble. I would never allow a friend or loved one to go through trouble alone - especially in the frame of mind she was in. Anton really did a number on her. She didn’t need to be alone.”
Her words struck a chord. I understood loyalty to the detriment of one’s self. I’d march through hell if need be for either one of my brothers. They were my closest friends as well and I never thought twice when Anton told me where we were going for Deacon’s bachelor party. I knew as well as he did that it would not have been Deke’s first choice in destinations, but Anton’s heart was in the right place and he’s not a very original soul. Anton firmly believes in tried and true methods as they pertain to everything. Predictable? Very. But Deacon and I adore him anyway. That’s why I found myself in a strip club and subsequently a jail cell, with my friends and family.
I leaned over and took a chance. I put her hand in mine.
“You’re a Sub are you not?”
“I was at one time, but that was years ago.”
“Are you interested in the lifestyle?”
“As an ongoing lifestyle? No. As a sporadic practice? Perhaps. It would depend on the Dom and the expectations involved. My last Dom was vicious on occasion and I have no intention of going back to that.”
Without delving into details, I continued.
“It’s not something I practice on a frequent basis and until tonight...”
I gave her a pointed glare and she swallowed loudly.
“...it was something my family and friends were unaware of. That’s another rule Ayla. This thing is private. It’s not to be discussed or alluded to in public. It is not to be discussed in private with your friends either. If this happens between us, it is strictly between us. Understand?”
Her baby blues stared into mine and I couldn’t break her gaze. I’d have to work on that if I planned on being her Dom’.
“No Sir.”
Wait. Did she just say, “No Sir”?
“No? What’s confusing Ayla?”
“I wasn’t aware I was applying for the position, Sir. You act as if you’re considering a relationship between us. I wasn’t aware that I’d inquired about one. Perhaps I’m the one that needs to consider the possibility.”
That pushed me back a step or two. I rarely read situations incorrectly. I assumed that by her calling me, “Sir”, she was interested in that type of relationship with me. I’d gotten it wrong? Highly doubtful.
“You consider all you want to Ayla, but I will tell you this. If you indeed called me, ‘Sir’ in public, in front of my family and extended family, with no consideration of my privacy or a relationship with me, then I find I must be insulted and disappointed in you as a person.”
Her gaze narrowed and I saw the fire that existed behind those eyes. Fire, I could work with.
“What? You think I insulted you by addressing you with respect? You, are a piece of work Pierce Sloan. I’m going home now.”
She stood without allowing me to reply and that was the first time she confused me.
I saw her home safely and returned alone. I spent a sleepless night turning our encounter over and over in my mind until I found it to be an unsolvable puzzle. In a matter of months, the puzzle would grow in its complexity until the only way I could ever hope to solve it, would be to get involved neck deep. So I did.
Chapter Two
The family assumed that we were together. Ayla seemed like the discrete type, so I was fairly certain they were working on assumptions. For my part, I’d taken a major step back.
Christmas came and went and aside from Melody’s questionable gift of a course in “How to be an Effective Dom’” taught by Dom Masters at a local private club, it came and went with little fanfare. Christmas at my family’s house was always an event, but with the addition of new female family members, my folks pulled out all the stops. Anton was the only wet blanket and that was because he’d decided he was ridding himself of Melody. It’s worth mentioning that he’d made this same determination at least two dozen times previously. Thus, he was the only one present - besides Melody - that was taking him seriously.
This brings us to the disclosure. I call it that because without it, the subject of Ayla and me might be a moot point. Her less than submissive demeanor and her endless array of smart-mouthed comebacks had begun to lose it’s charm and I was ready to concentrate on other interests. One of them was Lily Baxter.
Lily and I met a fundraiser put on by a rival company intent on bringing the best of Researchers together for a common goal. Every three years we decided on a new project, this year it was affordable technology to provide water sources for drought stricken regions of the world. A lofty goal indeed, but with our combined resources and funding, we as a consortium were ready to take on the challenge.
Lily was there and we’d spent three days together both during and outside of seminars. We had more in common than we were aware and our conversations were easy and comfortable. She also had a natural willingness and desire to please. Something that I found immensely appealing.
I’d had a few weeks to mull over my approach, when Dorothy called and invited Anton and myself to dinner one Friday night. Anton had already scheduled a date with the questionable Liza, who had caused so much trouble between himself and Melody. After a prolonged conversation in which Anton presented a wobbly case at best as to why it was a “good idea” for us to invite dates to go along, we agreed to accept the dinner invitation. I promptly called Lily, who promptly accepted the invitation to accompany me.
Have you ever had a moment of clarity in which you know, without hesitation or doubt, that something you are about to undertake has no choice but to end in disaster? Against your better judgement, you hold onto hope as if your will alone can see it through, only to recognize that there’s an iceberg heading straight for you, and with it comes another moment of clarity. That clarity is the realization that the only thing left is the S.O.S. signal, and the prayer that someone will hear it and come to assist.
My friends, I’m here to tell you that the answerer of prayers has a wicked sense of humor and a straight forward flair for justice.
Do you know what would have saved our collective asses that night? A simple question. All we would have had to have done, was ask Dorothy, “Is anyone else going to be there and is it okay if we bring dates?”. That’s it. If we’d done that one thing, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Perhaps not, but we didn’t give ourselves the chance to figure it out.
I walked in with Lily, Anton walked in with Liza, and shortly thereafter arrived Ayla and Melody. It took me half a breath to understand the setup. Dorothy had meant for THEM to be our dates and was hoping for some sort of reconciliation.
I was hoping that I could get my brother out at the end of the night, relatively intact. The odds were sixty-forty against.
Ayla was a lady, as I expected she would be. I attempted to gain her attention, hoping to let her know how sorry I was for our embarrassing situation, but she refused to make eye contact. After the introductions were made all around, she shut down as far as I was concerned and I found that annoying. It was shortly after that that I realized that Lily was finding my continued efforts to attract her rival’s attention, annoying. Anton was being openly vocal as to his annoyance and Liza was just plain annoying from the second she arrived. The only person who seemed perfectly fine and actually having a good time, was Melody.<
br />
Melody started verbally poking Liza from the moment she arrived and drew attention to everything from her profession to her choice of attire and lack of class. Anton only understood half of the jabs, I’m sure. But that didn’t stop Mel’ for a second.
At one point, Ayla’s phone rang and then our evening went from third gear to fourth with turbo. Two very striking gentlemen showed up, one of whom was Ayla’s brother, Austin. He immediately made his claim on Melody known and I watched my brother go from aloof to crazed with jealousy in the time it took for Austin to kiss her. I’m fairly sure that only Deacon and I saw the change in Anton’s expression, but his feelings for the available Ms. Lincoln were no longer a secret. That was the beginning of the end for Liza.
My moment of reckoning came when Chase, Austin’s companion, zeroed in on Ayla. She’d been sitting next to me, rather awkward considering our lack of eye contact or conversation, when he stood several feet away and focused on her.
I felt the change in her posture as she waited. So this is what a perfectly submissive Ayla was like. I felt my skin grow warm and a pool of lust began to form. Chase looked at her and said simply, “Ayla, come here”. He held out his hand and she went to him without hesitation. I almost reached out to hold her back and I felt Lily stiffen beside me. She’d noticed the object of my fascination and that was the beginning of the end for Lily and myself.
There was no comparison from that moment on. Lily was elegant, gracious, and everything I believed my wife would have to be, should I ever choose to marry. Actually, she was all of that and more. The things we had in common were staggering in their numbers, but it didn’t matter. I could not take my eyes from Ayla.
In that one act of unconditional submission, my fascination turned to a passionate obsession. I had to know what it felt like to have her trust me like that. To come to me simply because I told her to, without question or hesitation. I wanted her to look at me like she was looking at Chase. I would take her from him if it was the last thing I ever did.
Through the course of the meal, I watched Anton and Melody spar as Deacon struggled to maintain control. Control? What control? The only thing that would have completed the circus, was if one of Deacon’s ex’s had chosen that moment to drop in unannounced. It would have been humorous had I not been a participant. Dorothy sat unaffected, watching the mini drama unfold in her dining room.
It didn’t take long for Melody to hit her stride and for Liza to understand that she was no match for Mel’s wit and sarcasm. Simply put, Liza was off Anton’s radar and her ego couldn’t handle the competition. It was obvious to everyone present that Anton and Melody were indeed a couple, despite their protests and denials.
When Liza had reached her limit, it was then that I had the rude awakening that Lily had as well. I knew that I’d done a less than adequate job of hiding my infatuation for the redhead that had bewitched me, but I’d never intended to hurt Lily’s feelings. I liked her. I enjoyed her company and had relished the idea of getting to know her better. All things being equal, it should have worked out that way. I hadn’t counted on my visceral response to Ayla and her mysterious relationship with Chase.
With our dates departure, things got interesting. Chase, Deacon and Ayla disappeared into Deacon’s den for a conversation that I had a feeling would impact all of us, and Austin and Anton struck an alliance of sorts. For the first time ever, I watched Melody stumble. This, was a development she hadn’t counted on.
Austin owned a bar and Anton was a barfly of sorts. He was familiar with Austin’s establishment and in record time, the decision was made to take the party elsewhere. Melody and I were stuck with few options and agreed to join them. Reluctant to leave Ayla alone with Chase, I had few options. Off we went to The Cheeky Monkey.
It was some time later, when Melody got a call that would change all of our lives for the foreseeable future.
Deacon was on the phone, giving me my first sense of foreboding. Melody pulled me outside and handed me the phone. I watched her anxious face as Deacon explained the situation in more detail than I’d hoped for. Chase was not Ayla’s lover, he was her protector. I don’t remember if that bothered me even more than the thought of stealing her from a suitor. When he explained who Chase was protecting her from, I had my answer. I decided on the spot that I was claiming ownership of the problem and the woman attached to it. My fate was sealed. Although I would never admit that aloud, I could not deny it to myself.
Plans were made and quickly put into effect. Ayla was moving in with me. She put up a half-hearted protest, but in the end, she saw reason. Anton moved in with Deacon and Dorothy, and Austin and Chase, much to Anton’s chagrin, moved in with Melody. Served him right. He’d dodged cupid successfully for months now, time to let someone else walk point. Still, I could see the emotions warring within my brother as he lost control of Melody and the situation.
As the months went by and events unfolded, a few things became abundantly clear. Tony Marconi was quite possible a psychopath with nothing to lose, and no one but myself suspected that his compulsive disorder now included Melody on a major scale.
Had he firebombed Austin’s bar? Probably. Had he threatened and then almost killed Melody? Without a doubt. Had she given as good as she got? Absolutely. This, in my opinion, fueled his need for revenge on a major scale. Melody had bested him twice and I believed the second time, she’d left permanent scars both physically and mentally.
Here’s “the thing”. If he’d gone to an emergency room with his injury, there would have been a record that he could have fallen back on in a court of law. He could have argued that she had consented to the tryst, as evidenced by her willingness to accompany him to his hotel room. There was no struggle and he had witnesses. He could argue that in the heat of the moment, she’d gone off the rails and injured him. He could have pressed charges and destroyed her reputation. His revenge would have been complete. Instead, he’d stayed hidden, thus bolstering her assertions that in fact SHE had been the injured party. She’d had the surgeries, the scars, and the photos to prove it. She’d made it known that should he be found, she would indeed be pressing charges. The die was cast.
I’ve brought you up to speed but for one thing. My ongoing relationship with Miss Ayla Warren.
From the moment she moved in, there was dissention in the ranks. Although I insisted that she call me Pierce, she continually called me, Sir. After attempting to correct her on several occasions, I began to think that she was doing it on purpose to wrankle me. Finally, I surrendered the point and allowed it to continue.
The first night, I gave her a tour of the Penthouse and told her to make herself at home. I deposited her suitcase in one of the guestrooms and went into the kitchen to fix us both a drink and to allow her some privacy to unpack and settle in.
I waited close to forty-five minutes before I began to be concerned. The place was large, but easy to navigate so I knew that getting lost was close to impossible. I left our drinks on the bar and started down the hallway to investigate.
My first stop was the guestroom where I’d left her. There were no signs of her anywhere. It was as if she’d never stepped foot into the room. I stepped back into the hall and paused to listen, hoping for a clue as to her whereabouts.
It was while I was standing there that I heard it. A familiar sound coming from of all places, my bedroom.
I walked the three doors down and stepped inside. Ayla was in my shower! I peered around the room, hoping to see something that might explain her actions. I was a man of reason and assumed there was a logical one for her intrusion into my personal space. Perhaps she didn’t realize that she had an ensuite bathroom of her own. Yes, that had to be it. I would forgive her this one faux pas, correct her misunderstanding, and chalk it up to experience. We’d laugh about it in the morning, to be sure.
I walked into my closet, looking for an extra bathrobe I could leave for her in case she had forgotten to bring one in her haste to escape her apartment. A good ho
st should always be prepared.
When I turned on the closet light, the first thing I saw was several dresses hanging opposite my suits, squeezed in amongst my dress shirts. Her shoes were lined up beside my own. Feeling more than a bit disoriented, I exited the closet and peered around my room with a new set of eyes. The shower played on as I began to open and close the drawers in my rather large chest and dresser. Her things were put away with mine. It was then that I noticed her suitcase standing alone in the corner. Ayla had moved in with me. Lock, stock, and garter belts.
I sat down heavily on my bed, unsure of what that meant. What were her expectations? What were mine? I was still emphatic that I hadn’t, as of yet, decided whether or not I wanted this type of relationship with Ayla. Yes, I had a profound physical attraction to her. But a shared personal living space? I’d shown her to a guestroom for a reason. I slept alone. I’d slept alone my entire life. What I was witnessing at that moment fostered the implication that those days of solitary slumber were behind me and I wasn’t sure if I liked that. I knew one thing, I did NOT like that she had made presumptions. That was completely unacceptable.
The longer I sat there, the angrier I became. How dare she! I took her into my home and my protection out of a desire to get to know her better. She’d taken liberties that I’d never allowed another to take. Even my mother had always respected my privacy. Perhaps I should tell her that in exactly those terms. Yes. If I explained it that way, she’d most certainly understand.
With my spare bathrobe in hand, I stormed into the bathroom as the water was being turned off. The room was foggy from the steam and in my anger over the situation, I’d forgotten my sense of propriety completely.
She opened the door of the shower and every argument I’d prepared left me. There she stood in all of her wet glory, a study in perfection. In my wildest dreams (and I’m ashamed to admit I’d had more than a few), I’d not prepared myself for the reality of her. I’d been with my fair share of women, but none as perfect as the woman that stood before me.
