by BJ Wane
“Are you going to stand there scowling all night, or join us?” Trevor called out as he started to deal the cards.
Taking a seat next to Miles, Dax picked up the five cards in front of him. “Where’s your brother tonight?”
“Stuck working late after another report of abuse, this one from someone at a club over in Tampa. It’s sounding like this guy isn’t staying long enough at one club to get caught, just long enough to gain a sub’s trust enough to get her to leave with him.”
“What the hell are the cops doing about it?” Miles growled as he tossed down two cards.
“Chill, Cavenaugh. I’m sure they’re doing what they can, especially if Troy’s on their ass.” Zach looked over at Dax. “I take it you three didn’t see anything last week?”
Dax shook his head, not wanting the others to hear he’d left early with Krista. It was bad enough Sean flipped him a knowing look before answering Zach. “No such luck, but the place was wall to wall people, difficult to even get through, let alone catch much.”
Trevor frowned. “That alone sounds like a violation. Did you pass it on to Troy?”
“I did,” Miles said, scowling at his two new cards. Dax almost smiled. Miles sported the worst poker face of all of them.
“Crowds, can’t stand them.” Jackson took a long pull on his beer as he traded in one card, his face a stoic mask. “This yacht’s perfect for me, Zach. Now I can have fun with my kink and the only yahoos I have to tolerate are you guys.”
They all chuckled before Zach said in a dry tone, “You better hope you have a crowd for your fundraiser and adoption day coming up.”
“Shit, don’t remind me, bro.”
Dax let the banter carry on without him, listening with half an ear as he folded his first hand. Talk of indulging their kink and eyeing the accoutrements around him stirred up images of Krista bound naked, those big eyes looking to him to assuage her needs. Neither the slow rocking of the mega yacht nor the constant lap of water against its hulls soothed the frustrated irritation with himself those scenes caused. On top of that, mention of the abuser who remained at large now had him worried his actions this past week would drive her back to a club alone. He hadn’t considered that possibility when he’d taken the coward’s way out and done everything he could to avoid seeing her again before he could come up with a decision on how to proceed with their relationship.
An hour later, his worry drove him onto the deck to try getting in touch with her, just to assure himself she wasn’t out risking more harm because of his callous actions. The marina was quiet this time of night, the pier lit with only a few lights. Standing under a sconce above the door to the enclosed gathering space, he pulled his weight and called the OR to get Krista’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Swearing under his breath, he felt no compunction about calling the nurse’s desk on the heart floor where he knew her best friend, Alessa, worked second shift. When she answered, he breathed a sigh of relief he wouldn’t have to jump through hoops to get hold of her.
“Alessa, this is Dr. Hayes. Would you happen to know how I can get hold of Krista Matthews tonight?” He used his most authoritative voice in the hopes of gaining her cooperation without questions.
There was a slight pause on the other end before she replied, and he had to admit he was glad she seemed to take a moment to consider what would be in Krista’s best interest—and just as happy when she decided that would be him. “She planned to go to some place called Chains when I spoke with her before my shift. I didn’t think she should go alone, but she has a mind of her own.”
“That she does. Thank you, Alessa. I just want to check up on her, make sure she’s okay.”
“I figured that, that’s why I told you. Good luck, doctor.”
Dax knew his friends well, and if he returned to the game to make his excuses, they’d either question his abrupt departure or he’d have to endure their speculative looks. Opting for the easy way out, he stuck his head in the door and called out a partial truth, “Got a call and need to run. Catch you guys later.”
Driving to Chains, he called himself every kind of fool. He’d been blowing hot and cold with Krista since he first saw her again and realized his long absence hadn’t worked to dull his feelings or curb his desire. His recent actions weren’t fair to her, and that was something he knew he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. At first, he had blamed her for not contacting Sean, who could’ve not only counseled her through her grief, but helped ease her back into the club scene when she was ready. But, since Kurt had entrusted her welfare to him—albeit without knowing about his feelings—the responsibility started and stopped at his door.
Turning into the parking lot of his old haunt, he vowed to come to a decisive way to deal with his obligation soon. When he parked and slid out of his car then saw Krista exit the club, the look of abject failure on her face told him ‘soon’ had just arrived.
The front door to Chains closed behind Krista, cutting off the throbbing beat of music that accompanied the low moans, sharp cries, and leather slapping flesh of BDSM play. But out of sight didn’t put another failure out of mind. Never in a million years had she thought it would be this difficult to submerge herself back into the swing of things. Granted, she’d still been a newbie by most members’ standards when she met Kurt, but the way she’d embraced the weeks of introduction she’d undergone before that, then savored submitting to her own Master, had led her to believe she would react much the same way this time around. Other than the recurring grief she still couldn’t shake completely, she didn’t know what had changed in her that kept her from responding like before.
You had no trouble submitting to Master Dax. That reminder got under Krista’s skin, and it didn’t help when she scanned the lot for her car and spotted Dax getting out of his. The quick, startling stab of jealousy as she imagined him inside with someone else caught her off guard. She’d never been plagued with that emotion before; why now? She stood rooted in place and watched him walk straight toward her with purpose etched on his dark face instead of surprise at seeing her there. Irritation bubbled over, eradicating her initial reaction. Wasn’t it bad enough she couldn’t even bring herself to accept another Dom’s invitation tonight without the memory of last weekend intruding? If he thought she’d turn around and join him in the club after the way he’d made it clear all week he wanted nothing to do with her, he had another think coming. She may still crave dominance and thrive on submitting, but she wouldn’t be a doormat for any man to trample on.
“Fancy seeing you here, Doctor Hayes,” Krista greeted him, proud of the way she could set aside the warm flush spreading through her body at his nearness well enough to keep her voice steady. She missed the easy rapport they’d shared before he left.
“I thought you realized how unsafe these clubs can be for a woman alone?” The rebuke, stated in his deep, firm voice, made her square her shoulders and curse the compulsion to sink to her knees in apology for displeasing him. It was yet another sign she’d waited too long to get her act together.
“It was never a problem before, I mean, before I met Kurt,” she clarified so he’d know she’d played before her marriage. “Enjoy your evening, Doctor.”
“Cut the crap, Krista,” Dax snapped, his frustration evident in the way he tunneled those long fingers through his ink-black hair and his green eyes glittered with that undefinable emotion she didn’t understand.
“I’m not the one who asked for a different surgeon to assist, Dr. Hayes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get home.”
“Wait.” The hand he laid on her upper arm burned her skin, her automatic halt at his command heated her face, and the ripple of longing going through her head left her deflated. It seemed she couldn’t win with him.
“Let’s talk. Are you familiar with Casey’s diner?”
The invitation took Krista by surprise and she sucked in a breath as hope dashed away the remnants of her annoyance with him. If he wanted to be just
friends, she’d take it. It would be better than the cool indifference he’d shown her the past few days. “Anyone who’s been out past 2:00 am on a weekend night has been to Casey’s.” The all-night diner boasted the best pie this side of Miami.
“Meet me there. Please.”
Since he was making an effort, so would she, Krista decided. What could it hurt? “Okay. See you there.” Stepping around him, she hastened to her car before common sense told her she was making a mistake and setting herself up to get hurt again. Since when did common sense have anything to do with her desires?
A fifties classic played from one of the table-side juke boxes as Dax led her toward a booth in the far corner. Cheap red plastic seats and plain white table tops was the extent of the décor, but the food and open friendliness of both the waitress and the proprietor standing behind the long, stool-lined counter was what drew the late-night crowd. Grateful for the privacy the tight corner offered them, Krista slid into the booth as Dax took the one chair across from her. At least the width of the table offered some space between them and she wouldn’t have to deal with the havoc his nearness seemed to toss her into.
“Tell me what went wrong tonight, Krista,” Dax instructed as soon as they’d given their order to the waitress.
“Why?” she stalled. Explaining she couldn’t stop thinking about him, comparing the Doms at Chains to him every time one had approached her, would give him more power over her than she was willing to do right now, at least until she knew he was through blowing hot and cold with their relationship.
One black brow arched up as he kept his eyes locked on hers and waited for a better answer. Shifting on the plastic seat, she looked away from that enigmatic gaze until he issued another order. “Look at me. You know better than that.”
Glaring at him, she bit out, “Yes, if you were my Master—which you’re not.”
Dax regarded the stubborn set to Krista’s chin and her words for a moment, weighing his options. He didn’t want to go on as they were, she deserved better from him. If there was ever a woman who needed to submit, it was her. And, God knew, if there was ever a person who needed to atone for past sins, it was him. Why not try to attain two goals at once? Helping her get over whatever hurdles she was having trouble with would go a long way to appeasing his guilty conscience, but it wouldn’t change anything else. He’d managed to suppress his strong feelings for her for two years before Kurt’s death, but he hadn’t been intimately involved with her other than that one time. He was either a glutton for punishment or a fucking martyr, he decided, because he’d known the second he’d seen her stricken face outside the club that he couldn’t turn his back on her again, regardless of the risk to his soul.
“I can be, to help you get back into the swing of things. You’re comfortable with me, maybe that’s all you need to break the ice.”
She wanted to turn him down, he could tell by the indecision flitting across her face, and he couldn’t blame her. His actions hadn’t exactly inspired trust, and if she knew the truth? There’d never be any type of trust or relationship between them again, and that didn’t bear thinking about.
“What… what’d you have in mind?” Hope underscored her hesitancy.
“A few sessions, some private, a few public. You can let me know when you’re ready to move on.” Seeing she wasn’t quite convinced yet, he added a tidbit he hoped played on her generous nature. “You’d also be doing me a favor. I’ve been off the grid for a while and don’t relish feeling my way with newbies or strangers I’d have to take the time to get to know.”
A small smile played around the corners of those soft lips and her eyes lit with humor, positive signs that set his heart to beating in a rapid tattoo of anticipation. “Eager to make up for lost time? Couldn’t find any place in Africa where you could order women around?”
“Unfortunately, the poor women in the places where we worked are only too familiar with having to answer to men, but not just when it comes to sex or when they agree. They aren’t given the choice of safewords or walking away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve known that.” The waitress set down their pies and iced teas, her timely arrival dispelling the sadness clouding Krista’s blue eyes. “That looks so good, thank you.” She beamed at the young girl.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your pie.”
“Lemon meringue, tart yet sweet.” Cocking his head, Dax thought the concoction suited her. “I prefer just sweet.”
“You can’t get much sweeter than Chocolate Silk. All right, we can give your suggestion a try.”
Dax stopped before taking the first bite he held up, and drilled her with a piercing look. He detected a touch of nerves in the way she slid her eyes away from him, and a hint of arousal in the flush spreading across her cheeks. The white, lacy, thin-strapped top that clung to her breasts revealed the turgid outline of her areolas, reminding him of something.
“Good. Let’s start with why you kept yourself waxed but have removed your nipple rings.” He took a bite, giving her time to swallow before answering.
“Master… Kurt gave me laser treatments so I didn’t have to bother with shaving every day or waxing every week.” She paused to take a bite of her pie, and he could see her weighing her words before answering the rest of his inquiry. He could tell by her hesitation she didn’t know what label to put on her deceased husband since he was technically no longer her Master. It didn’t surprise him how much he’d like hearing that title attached to his name coming from her.
“And,” he finally prompted, tired of waiting.
“The rings were another reminder of what I’d lost, but it hasn’t been that long since I took them out. The holes have only partially closed.” The spasm of longing that crossed her face told him she missed the jewelry.
“I’ll re-pierce them. They should heal quickly if they’re not fully closed over. I can do it when I pick you up Sunday.” He took another bite, enjoying the rich, creamy chocolate as he watched closely for her reaction to his assumption she’d make herself available when he dictated. When her shoulders relaxed and the slight tremor in the hand bringing her fork up to her mouth ceased, he breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared she still craved to have someone call the shots, which would make his temporary job as her Master both easier and harder. In all likelihood, he could have her ready to embrace any Dom within a few sessions. Then he’d have to walk away again, this time after having had her all to himself and under his control. Fuck, what the hell did I just get myself into?
“I didn’t think the clubs were open on Sundays,” she remarked as she shoved her finished plate aside and took a long drink of tea.
“They’re not. We’re going to spend the afternoon on a yacht. You’ll like it. Trust me.”
Trust me, said the spider to the fly. Krista couldn’t help but think of that saying as she followed Dax out to their cars, the excited pleasure tingling in all her happy places the only thing keeping her from telling him she’d changed her mind. His take charge control in the form of giving orders instead of asking made it easier to concentrate on what he could do for her—and to her. The depth with which she wanted to accept his proposal surprised her after the way he’d stepped back following last week’s over-protective but timely rescue, and she’d jumped at the chance to grab his offer before she could talk herself out of it. She just hoped she hadn’t made yet another mistake in her desire to immerse herself in the pleasures of submitting again, one that could hurt her a lot more than the cuts of the cane last week.
Chapter 8
After sending Alessa a text cancelling their Sunday yoga session, Krista searched through her clothes for something to wear to an afternoon boating excursion. She doubted she would remain clothed once they cleared the harbor, which reminded her how much she’d loved spending most of her time at home parading around naked under Kurt’s appreciative gaze. Wearing clothes all day again had been just one more thing she’d struggled with adjusting to. Entering the house after a stressful
shift then stripping right there in the entry had given her a liberating, pleasant feeling, and the approval that always entered Kurt’s eyes when he’d come home hours later never failed to produce a warm glow from the inside out. Of course, there’d also been the extra bonus of the ease with which he could tweak a nipple or swat her butt, she recalled with fondness.
She had been cold for so long following his suicide that just the thought of roaming around on the deck of a boat naked, with Dax’s glittering, green eyes watching her every move, ignited a volcanic rush of heat through her veins. There hadn’t been enough weekend chores for Krista to catch up on or a book or television show engrossing enough to keep her from fantasizing about her new temporary Master and what he might do. He had mentioned his friends, Zach and Sandie, were joining them, and she looked forward to meeting them, even if it surprised her to hear there wouldn’t be more people around. She’d assumed Dax would prefer playing among a larger crowd to help avoid making the day personal. If there was one thing she knew for sure about him, he didn’t do personal, at least not with her.
Krista chose a pair of white shorts and a lace-trimmed, light blue, summer tank top. After debating a bra, she opted to leave it off when she remembered Dax would be re-attaching her nipple rings. Pulling off her tee-shirt, she watched in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door as she swiped a finger over one nipple and it puckered in quick response to the light caress. She missed the feel and significance of her jewelry and the jolts of pleasure that would whip down to her sheath with the occasional snag her rings used to get caught up on. She didn’t look forward to the discomfort of having them breach the semi-closed holes again, but looked forward to all the pleasurable ways her Master could use them during their play to heighten her arousal.
