by Various
It pleased her to have found such a hospitable environment. Usually when she traveled, she took care of business or crashed in her hotel room. But often that was because she had a strong relationship with a submissive back at home. One that muted any interest she might have in playing in a strange place. Now, unfortunately, the one she had been so comfortable in, had exploded, burning her with the fallout, and she still wasn’t sure why.
With the holidays approaching, she didn’t look forward to facing the festivities.
She might have relaxed more if Rafe hadn’t made it his business to stay within a foot of her wherever she went. He never intruded on conversations or got in her face in any way but he was always there. Right where every nerve in her body could snap to attention at his presence.
In the middle of exchanging pleasantries about the area with a woman who had sub written all over her, the woman broke off in the middle of a sentence. "Oh, look." She pointed over Bree’s shoulder. "Emilio’s going to make some kind of announcement. Maybe we’re going to have an event."
"Here? Right now?"
But the woman didn’t answer her. Instead she tried to move closer to hear.
"Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?" Emilio stood on a footstool, drink in one hand, waving the other. "I have a brief announcement."
Oh, please. He’s not going to give me a mass introduction, is he?
She wanted so desperately to be low key. Blend in as one of the crowd. Hang out with like-minded people where she didn’t have to be on guard with everything she said. She didn’t know him but she hadn’t gotten the sense he’d be the type of person to embarrass her that way. She held her breath and waited.
A warm hand landed on her shoulder and Rafe’s breath caressed her skin as he murmured in her ear.
"Relax. This is nothing to get uptight about."
Bree took a sip of her drink and made an effort to relax.
"I’ve had a lot of requests today," he began, "to have an event tonight." He looked at a couple standing a few feet away from him. "Sara and Drake will perform in the dungeon shortly after nine o’clock. After that, as usual, there will be a limited number of rooms available for private play. First come, first served. Everyone is invited. As usual, we’ll stop serving alcohol by six o’clock." He started to step down, then stopped himself. "Oh, and in case anyone’s hungry, I’m having the grill set up on the other side of the house and we’ll be doing steaks and chicken. So eat hearty, drink sensibly and get ready to party."
Bree turned back to the woman next to her. Dina Something. "He’s having the event here? In his house?"
Before Dina could say anything, Rafe answered for her.
"One entire wing of the house is a dungeon, with a big playroom and four private rooms."
Closer than friendly contact, his torso pressed against her side, while his body heat seeped through her clothing, warming her flesh like the caress of a sensuous bath. Her mouth dried up again, and her pulse beat a frantic tattoo. For a very brief moment she wondered what it would be like to be a submissive to this man. As soon as the thought popped into her head she pushed it away. She didn’t have a submissive bone in her body. She didn’t even need to question that.
Did she?
In her present state of mind she didn’t think she wanted to find out. Except Rafe, practically glued to her body, disrupted her thinking process and her common sense.
Still, he’d peaked her curiosity with what he said.
"You mean you all come here to play rather than go to a private club? Or even a public one?"
Lightly touching her arm he guided her to the edge of the crowd and onto the grass, away from the hum of excitement.
"Most of us here are very private people. And we like a certain type of environment."
"Classy." She guessed.
He nodded. "There are some public dungeons in San Antonio and Austin but most of us avoid them. It’s not only the décor; it’s the situation, too. A lot of us have to be careful who we run into."
"I can understand that, but isn’t there a private club in either city?"
"One really good one in each, as a matter of fact. But again, this particular crowd likes its privacy."
Bree looked at the people around her. "So everyone comes here to Emilio’s? Doesn’t it get a little crowded?"
He laughed, and the sound vibrated through her body.
Damn!
"He has events like this once in a while. Usually it’s a small crowd and by invitation only. Today, the crowd you see is made up of the regulars. The core of our group."
"That makes me an interloper." Bree was suddenly uncomfortable. She took a step back from him, suddenly desperate to put some space between them, and looked toward the parking area. Maybe she should be smart here and leave.
Rafe studied her face, his gaze so piercing she was sure he could see all her sudden uncertainties bubbling deep inside her.
"Not at all." One corner of his mouth crooked up in a lopsided grin. "When you posted your message, Emilio had the opportunity to withhold an invite. But he checked you out and whatever your reference told him, must have convinced him you’d fit in with the group." He waved at the crowd of people talking and drinking, nibbling from the snack trays. "Some of the folks in this group here have a similar setup only smaller. And others prefer the privacy of their own homes. That’s why the munches we hold are so important. They provide an opportunity for folks in our lifestyle to meet since we don’t have a common club to hang out at."
He took a swallow of his drink and Bree couldn’t stop herself from staring at the play of his muscles in his throat. She had an unwanted desire to lean closer and lick the heavily tanned skin. Could almost taste the flavor of him.
Holy crap!
"I’m guessing it’s different in—where did Emilio say you were from? Chicago?"
"Uh, yes." She gave herself a mental shake. "We have two very upscale private clubs, and the members are very carefully screened. Very few people invite others to play at their homes, unless they’re in a relationship. Or the beginning of one."
The image of her last visit to the club at home, slammed into her, Chad bound and chained beneath a spotlight bracketed by Marie Delong and Nadia Varek. Two women who made a habit of poaching on other Domme’s territory. What had they said to Chad, done to him, given him to convince him to betray her that way? Would she ever forget the sight of one woman taking his cock in her mouth while the other played with a vibrator at his ass? She shut her eyes, hoping to wipe the image from her mind.
"Did I say something to disturb you?" Concern edged Rafe’s voice.
"No. No, not at all. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. Three long days of meetings took a lot out of me." She set her empty glass on a low table. "I probably should be going."
But Rafe stood so close their bodies touched, crowding her space, a man larger than life.
"Tired?" That penetrating look stabbed into her again, peeling back her outer layers of protection. "Or having second thoughts. Stay a while, Bree. The party hasn’t even started." His gaze burned into hers. "You might find it relaxes you even more."
Bree had the feeling he knew exactly why she wanted to leave. Was fully aware of his effect on her. Leaving would be the smartest thing she could do. The seductive presence of this powerful Dom overwhelmed her and took her in a direction she’d never thought to go. She didn’t want to take another sub, or God forbid, be someone else’s sub. She was pretty damn sure she didn’t lean that way. No, relationships of any kind were off the table for her, until she could be sure of protecting herself.
But persistent seemed to be Rafe Morales’s middle name, and his effect on her seemed to rob her of sensible choices.
"Stay for dinner and the beginning of the performance," he coaxed. "If you don’t like what you see and you’re really tired after that, I’ll make sure you get home okay."
She had to grin at that. "Won’t that be difficult? I’m staying in Austin and y
ou live—in San Antonio, I’m guessing?"
He laughed again, that low, penetrating sound that unaccountably made her pulse pound in every available spot.
"Whatever it takes can be arranged," he assured her. "Leave everything to me."
"I think that might be a little too dangerous," she told him, then regretted her words the moment they left her mouth.
He put his mouth closer to her ear. "I have a feeling you like dangerous, Bree Donovan."
Her breath caught in her lungs and she couldn’t seem to get enough air. She needed space but couldn’t make her feet move.
"Maybe we should get something straight." She held his gaze, to demonstrate she wasn’t what he thought her to be. "Before you get any misconceptions about me."
"I can hardly wait to hear," he teased.
"Seriously, Rafe. I thought I made it clear earlier. One, I’m not here to play today, only to hang out with some like-minded people. Two, if I were to play, it wouldn’t be as a submissive, and I can’t help but think you already know that."
"Oh, I got that. There isn’t a submissive thing about you." He bent his head closer to hers again. "But wouldn’t you like to find out, just once, what it’s like on the other side of the coin?"
She wet her lips, noticing the flare of heat in his eyes at the swipe of her tongue across the plump flesh. "I--I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it." She forced herself to somehow take a step back. "But at any rate, I don’t think today would be the day."
"Never say never," he told her. "Besides, you might see something that really turns you on."
Oh god, I hope not. That’s not why I’m here. I’m having enough trouble trying to figure out my reaction to this man as it is.
"Come on. I’ll introduce you to the performers. They’re a really nice couple."
This time, instead of merely guiding her by her arm, he threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her through the crowd. Heat surged through her body and there went her pulse again. Bree had a feeling she’d found big trouble and hadn’t a clue what to do about it.
Since she claimed to be a take-charge person, why didn’t she take charge? A good question for sure, but she didn’t seem to have any answer.
Chapter Two
Dinner was served on large picnic tables in the side yard. Rafe introduced her to Sara and Drake, who greeted her warmly. Although neither of them wore a collar, from the vibes Drake gave off, he made it obvious he was the sub and might as well have worn a sign that said owned. Bree told them she looked forward to their performance, then allowed Rafe to guide her to one of the tables. It surprised her when he chose not to sit with her.
"I’ll see you later," he whispered before moving to another table. "I thought I’d let you chat with some other folks for a while.
Bree managed to relax, mostly because he had put some distance between them, allowing her to engage in idle conversation with those at her table.
Could he possibly be giving her some space? Why? Or maybe he thought she should have some time away from him, to see what she might miss? Damn! But the people he introduced her to were friendly and pleasant and asked the usual questions—where are you from, are you top or bottom, do you belong to a club. That kind of stuff. She noticed the bar had closed down and the only things being served were soft drinks, water, iced tea and coffee. It pleased her to see that this crowd followed rules of responsibility. No alcohol if you were going to play. People needed to be accountable for their actions.
She chatted politely with the people around her, smiling, nodding when appropriate, trying to lose herself in the situation. But even though Rafe sat two tables away, she couldn’t be more aware of his presence. It stunned her that she could still feel the imprint of his touch on her skin, the sound of his voice vibrating through her, the heat of his body surrounding her. Even with Chad, who she’d had such a strong emotional connection to, she didn’t remember feeling any of those things except during their playtime.
It had to be her rocky emotional state doing it. She had not only been unprepared for what happened with Chad, she’d been thrown by her intense reaction. Bree Donovan was a controlled individual, a respected talent in the architectural world, a highly admired Domme noted for having her act together. But somehow, this time, she couldn’t quite seem to bring the frayed edges of her life together. Maybe it signaled she needed a drastic lifestyle change.
"We’re moving inside now."
She looked up at the sound of the voice. Yes, there he stood, right behind her. Again. Her gaze swept the table and watched as the others pushed back their plates and rose from their seats.
"Would you like to come along with us, Bree?" the woman who’d sat across from her asked. "Sit with us?"
"I’ve got it, Thea," Rafe said.
The woman looked from one of them to the other, curiosity plain on her face, but she merely smiled and moved away.
"You don’t have to babysit me."
"Maybe I wanted to make sure you didn’t turn tail and head for the parking lot as soon as everyone went inside."
As he talked, he guided her forward with that light touch on her arm again.
"Did I look like I’d bolt?"
"Maybe. Don’t worry, you aren’t broadcasting signals. I thought you looked, oh, let’s say, a little unsettled. I want to make sure you relax and enjoy yourself."
"Have you been appointed my tour guide?" She joked, even as she allowed him to move her along.
He bent his head toward her in the way he’d done earlier. "I have a feeling you don’t need a tour guide at all. Maybe a new set of directions."
She stumbled at his words. Did he suggest what she thought he did? Impossible. She’d never even considered taking the role of a switch, a bottom instead of a top--testing things out from the other side of the coin as he’d suggested earlier. Could the aftermath of the Chad situation be screwing with who she was? And how could a man she’d only met this afternoon, even sense that about her?
"Easy," he said.
They were inside the house now, moving slowly with the crowd. To distract herself Bree looked around. Magnificent pieces of what looked like oak, upholstered in colorful fabrics, furnished the massive room. A stone fireplace climbed one wall and a painting of a proud stallion hung over the mantle.
"El Matador," Rafe told her when he saw what she studied. "In addition to cattle, Emilio breeds top quality quarter horses. El Matador is a prized stud. Brings in top dollar for cover fees."
Bree felt as if he spoke to her in a foreign language. She knew so little about this area beyond its cultural history. Certainly she hadn’t been a fan of Westerns or immersed herself in the lore of the cowboy. Maybe that’s why Rafe’s larger than life presence affected her so strongly. And maybe she should have done a little studying about the place, before she got in her rental car to drive here.
"I feel like an idiot," she confessed. "I should have at least known more about my host today."
He grinned. "But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of teaching you." He paused. "That and maybe a few other things."
She tried to think of how to respond, but they were already out of the living room and moving down a hallway to a set of carved double doors. Emilio held one of them open, smiling at his guests as he waved them in.
The moment she stepped inside Bree halted, astonished at what she saw. Here, in a private home, sat a dungeon that rivaled that of not only her own private club in Chicago, but any others she’d ever been in. One side of the huge room was divided into play areas, with chains, a St. Andrews Cross, a padded spanking bench and other accouterments. Comfortable chairs and couches lined the wall for observers.
But two thirds of the room, belonged to the performance area. Bree took in every detail. Spotlights shown down from the high ceiling, illuminating the raised platform in the center of the area. An intricately constructed punishment stock, its bars waiting to lock down on ankles and wrists, had been set up on the low stage. Chairs were arranged in
circular rows around the performance area for maximum viewing pleasure.
Bree wanted to hang back, take a seat in the last row, and she hoped Rafe didn’t try to urge her forward. To her surprise, however, he guided her to a seat in the back, the section closest to the door. She wondered exactly what thoughts turned in his mind, then decided to quit second guessing everything, at least for a little while. She’d come here today to lose herself, to heal a little, forget the pain she carried around with her. She should make herself relax into this and enjoy the show.
And do her best to ignore her strange reaction to Rafe.
In some clubs the dungeon master announced the performance and the players from the staging area. In others, the announcement came from hidden speakers, signaling the audience to gather. Emilio seemed to prefer the first method, as he strode out to the platform, a wireless mic in hand. Like Rafe, he seemed to be totally at ease with himself, the ultra-confident Dom, always in charge. Yes, she could definitely see him managing that magnificent stallion or a sub with spirit, with equal ease.
For a moment Bree wondered if she found herself suddenly attracted to the strength of a Dom, why hadn’t she had the reaction to Emilio that she’d had to Rafe. But she shook it off. This wasn’t the time or place to let her brain take over and delve into puzzling questions, not when she wanted to simply enjoy a performance. Lose herself in that.
"Thank you all again for coming to our afternoon munch and staying for tonight’s performance." His voice resonated throughout the room. "You know Sara and Drake. They have performed for you before to your enthusiastic response. Tonight they have a little something different for you." He let his gaze roam over the crowd. "Tonight, Sara, the Domme, is going to take the submissive role. And Chad, her longtime sub, is going to take the upper hand for a change." He grinned widely. "I think many of you subs in the audience have thought about that now and then. Right?"
Laughter ran softly through the crowd.
"They discussed this at length with me and rather than conduct their little experiment in private, they chose to do it before all of you. So, if any of you subs sitting in the audience think you might like to switch now and then, here’s a chance to see what it might be like."