Under a Moonlit Night

by Lynn Lorenz

  “Wait.” Rhea stopped her. She looked back at the screen, deep in thought. How many times had she thought about what she’d do when she'd meet him again? Planned exactly what she’d say and do? Could she really let this chance slip her by? “No, leave him be. He's a paying guest after all.”

  Shelby narrowed her gaze at Rhea who gave her a sweet smile back.

  “What are you planning?” Shelby asked, a knowing eyebrow raised and her voice full of skepticism.

  “Why, Shelby, you wound me! I’m not planning a single thing.” Rhea batted her eyelashes at the other woman who simply snorted back. “But I thought I’d walk the floor to make sure everything is in order.”

  Rhea dropped her booted four-inch spiked heels to the floor.

  “Rhea Gracefield,” Shelby warned. “Don’t go scaring the population just to take shots at that man.”

  “I would never do such a thing. I’m just going to say hi to a few people.” Rhea winked as she ensured her bustier and butt-skimming satin skirt were in place.

  “Yeah right, and my daddy was a Yankee.” Shelby rolled her eyes as they both left Rhea’s office.

  “I mean, what kind of Domme would I be if I didn’t welcome our newest sub?” Rhea winked as she vanished into the crowd. Shelby would know better to shout after her. It wasn’t done in any safe BDSM club across the world, and it certainly wasn’t done here.

  It didn’t take long for Rhea to spot her prey. That’s how she thought of him, because this wasn’t her usual trip, where she would find a toy or two to play with for the evening. No, tonight she had other plans altogether.

  He wasn’t hard to spot, standing head and shoulders above everyone else, head shaved, and tattoos covering his bare arms. Rhea purposely kept downwind until she stood right behind him.

  He only wore butter-soft, black leather trousers, boots, and a white ribbon, the sign of his open submission, around his bicep. Softly, she blew against his back. It took a second for him to realize.

  Rhea swallowed a half smile as his shoulders stiffened. “On your knees boy.” she used her best and most authoritative voice. She shouldn’t have been impressed by how quickly he, and those with him, fell to their knees at the sound of her voice or the sight of her.

  With a tap on the inside of his knees, he spread his legs wider apart. Someone had trained him well, Rhea thought. Her jaw clenched, grinding her teeth. She took a step forward with a foot either side of one of his legs, so her lower body pressed to his back. With slow intent she leaned forward, ran a hand over his shoulder, and around across his chest. She didn’t stop until her lips were against his ear.

  “What made you ever think you could come into my club, Carter Jones, without having to deal with me?” she said barely above a whisper.

  “Rhea,” he said on a breath.

  With quick force she reached down and slapped his butt, making him jump.

  “This,” she tugged at the white ribbon, “means you get to call me Mistress, boy.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” he answered automatically.

  “Now tell me. Did you really think you wouldn’t have to pay the price of entering my territory?” she asked with a nip on his shoulder. Maybe she was a little rougher than she would usually be, but Jones was like her. She knew what would hurt a full human would never hurt a wolf shifter, not people like them.

  “I didn’t know this was your club, Mistress.” Jones answered.

  Rhea slapped his butt again.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy, you. I know you’d have scented me a mile off. Yet here you still are. I wonder why?” she nipped his shoulder again before licking the bite. Goose bumps rose over his skin, and Rhea smiled.

  “Please.” He spoke so softly Rhea doubted those around them heard.

  “Please?” Rhea asked as she stepped back from him, ensuring no part of her body touched him. “Oh don’t worry, boy, you’ll be begging before I am done with you. You think you’re…” she walked around until she stood in front of him. With a finger under his chin she tipped his face up until he looked at her. “…man enough to come with me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Jones didn’t miss a beat. “If the Mistress thinks she can handle me then I am happy for her to try.”

  Someone gasped behind her. Rhea simply turned and walked away. She didn’t command him to follow or stay where he was. They had played this dance more times than she could count. The years may have separated them, but she’d no doubt the giant of a man on his knees would be on her heels begging for her attention before she made it to the door that lead to the play rooms.

  Chapter 2

  Jones was trying his damndest to keep his heart in his chest.

  When Patrick invited him here a few weeks ago, he'd come along because he needed somewhere to vent his frustration and sorrow. This past year his Alpha had met, and mated, the woman of his dreams. Jones didn’t begrudge him that, not in the least, but now another year was starting, spring had sprung and Jones was still alone without the other half of his soul. But that all changed—his sorrow vanished as soon as he’d walked into the building and caught her scent. The fragrance that was so her, sweet with an acidic snap, nearly brought him to his knees.

  She hadn’t been in the club then, his green-eyed dream, so he kept coming back time and again until she found him tonight.

  “You have been gone a long time, boy.” When she spoke to him, he wanted to shout from the roof tops. He’d feared that she would make him leave, even refuse to speak to him. But she hadn’t done any of that. Rhea Gracefield had simply done what she'd always done, dominated him. Damn, he missed her.

  “My Mistress wasn’t there when I came back.” Nope, she hadn’t been. He’d been forced to leave when the Alpha of his pack found out he liked to submit to her. Christophe had turned on him, and sent him away to the army to become “a real man.” Jones always thought she’d be there when he came home. She hadn’t been. It crushed his heart to hear Christophe forced her out, not like he’d done to him, but completely out-casting her.

  Jones had tried to find her over and over again since, but Rhea had her father’s skill of being able to disappear in plain sight. If she didn’t want to be found, he’d never find her.

  He’d almost given up hope of ever seeing her again. Now here she was within touching distance.

  “You made sure of that.” Rhea said as she led him into a darkened room. Jones frowned at her back.

  “What?” he asked. Rhea turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

  “What does my mistress mean?” he corrected himself.

  “It’s obvious whomever’s been training you the last few years didn’t do a very good job if you think you have the right to question me.” She frowned and took a menacing step toward him.

  The move should never have intimidated him—man of his height, strength, species for crying out loud—but it had him stepping back away and casting his eyes to the floor, a sign of submission.

  “I apologize, Mistress,” he added quickly.

  “Do you have the same safe word?” She asked as she stepped into his space, forcing him backward, until his back was pressed against the wall.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he nodded, still not looking at her.

  “I’m interested to see what tricks you have learned since we were last together, boy. Are you up for a little game or two?” she asked. Was he up for a game or two? Dear God above, right now, he was harder than he could ever remember being. If she asked him to run naked through the club covered in candy floss, he would do it just to stay with her, in the hopes she would allow him to touch her, kiss her, fuck her.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he nodded.

  “Then why do you still have your clothes on? You know my rules.” She snapped her fingers at him. Jones moved quickly and stripped his trousers off. He hadn’t worn any underwear. In a matter of seconds he stood in front of her hard and naked except for the white ribbon around his arm.

  “Much better.” She rewarded him with a soft
kiss on his chest.

  When she took a step back it took all of his submission training to not reach for her, and pull her back into his arms.

  “Chess is still your safe word; I wonder what else is the same?” she mused out loud.

  “I will do all that my Mistress commands,” he said as he fell to his knees. Rhea huffed a laugh at that.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy. Unless you have changed vastly in the last years, I don’t think you've lost the contrary nature. I remember the times I had to punish you for your behavior. Already I've had to spank you twice, because you've been disobedient.”

  Jones admitted to himself she had a point there. He might like to submit but if he was going to do that, she sure the hell were going to have to earn it. He remembered more times than he could count that he’d pushed Rhea's buttons. Neither of them really understood what they were doing, but both knew together they were so good.

  “Would my Mistress have me any other way?” he asked with a quick quirk of his eyebrow.

  Rhea stepped closer, until she forced him to look up at her.

  He didn’t look away; she seemed to be searching for something in him. He kept nothing back. He let her see everything.

  “What I want,” she said finally, “is you on that bed, on your back with your wrists by the headboard in ten seconds or so help you.” She took a step to the side and started to count. “One, two, three.” Jones moved, making it to the bed and positioning himself, as she’d commanded.

  “Nine, ten. Good boy.” She smiled at him as she came to stand by the bed. Heat blossomed inside him at her words. He always loved pleasing her.

  She moved to secure his wrists to the headboard with cuffs he hadn’t seen. Just as quickly, she immobilized his ankles.

  “You do make a pretty picture.” She told him as she glided a finger down his body, pulling a shiver from him.

  “Hmmm, I do enjoy when you do that. I wonder what else I can do to make you shiver.” Without warning she leaned forward and took his hard erection into her mouth until he tapped the back of her throat.

  “Sweet mother!” Jones roared as the sensations zinged around his body. With a long slow lick she pulled away from him.

  “Tut tut, naughty boy, I don’t remember saying you could speak?”

  “Please Mistress.” He panted the words. She’d barely touched him and already he was ready to come, and come hard.

  “Oh, do you think a little pleading will make me softer on you?” she asked as she unzipped her skirt and shimmed out of it. Jones panted, watching her every move. Next she slipped out of her thong, before slowly—too slowly for Jones’ peace of mind—she unhooked the side clasps of her bustier.

  When she stood in front of him, gloriously naked, Jones pulled against the metallic cuffs holding him.

  “Silly boy, that bed is made to keep a bear shifter at my mercy. Do you really think a little old wolf will get free?” she asked. Jones growled low at the idea of another man or shifter, laying hands on her. “Hmm. I see you don’t like that idea at all.” Rhea said as she crawled up on to the bed and lay next to him on her side.

  “So you would really hate it if I told you what I did to that bear shifter in this bed.”

  Jones groaned. She was going to kill him.

  Chapter 3

  Rhea had such plans for his body, such delicious torture. She pressed her length against his side, and leaning forward, spoke softly into his ear.

  “Maybe I should just show you what I did to him.” She allowed her claws to peek out on her fingers so she could run her hand slowly down his shoulder. Stopping to flick sharply at his nipple, she brought it surging to life, sitting up for her attention. She carried on her caress, moving down his body to stop short of his raging hard on.

  “If you come before I give you permission, I’ll be very unhappy, boy,” she warned a second before she wrapped her hand around his cock.

  She didn’t call back her claws. If he was anything like the boy she'd known before, he would rather she didn’t. In fact she remembered a time when he begged her to bite him right there. She ran the tip of one claw over the base of his cock, scraping it against the throbbing vein. Jones sucked in a breath through his teeth, and grew harder in her hand.

  “Hmm, seems I can still play you like a musical instrument, boy,” she breathed, leaning forward to suck his nipple into her mouth.

  In the years since she’d seen him last, Rhea had not been a nun. Perhaps she hadn’t been as active as some, but she couldn’t remember a single person whose body felt like his did against hers. If she’d been one of the snooty cat shifters, she was pretty sure she would have been purring by now.

  When he’d known her before, she’d been an untrained mistress, dabbling in things she didn’t really understand. But it was different now. Mistress Rhea knew exactly what she could do, how much pleasure she could pull from a body, as well as how much pain.

  She continued to stroke his erection while sucking and nipping at his chest. It didn’t take very long for Jones to lose a little control and start to thrust into her hand. Rhea let go. She moved back so no part of her touched him.

  “Tut tut tut.” She shook her head as if what she was about to do was out of her control. “Has it been so long you have forgotten my rules, boy? Answer me.”

  “Mistress, please,” he pleaded. A slight movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. With a narrowed gaze, she reached up to the cuffs holding him prisoner.

  “I told you a bear couldn’t get out of these. Did you think I lied? Is that it? You think I’m a big liar, boy?” His movement stopped.

  “No, Mistress,” came his reply.

  “Lying to me again? That’s three times now, boy. You know what happens when you piss me off this much, don’t you? I’m sure you remember what happens when you displease me.” With a quick flick of her wrist she hit the catch that released his wrists from the cuffs. She moved quickly, releasing his ankles and then climbed off of the bed.

  “Mistress, please!” Jones sat up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her moving away from the bed. Rhea said nothing; she looked down at his hand on her arm and waited.

  It took a moment before he released her.

  “Please, Mistress, I’ll be good,” he pleaded as he followed her across the room. Rhea ignored him as she pulled her clothes on. He pleaded so prettily but she would not be controlled but a sub, not even one she was slowly realizing had more power over her than she was comfortable with.

  Rhea didn’t look at him as he dragged on his own clothes and followed her out the door.

  Damn him and his baby blues!

  She fumed, as angry at herself as she was at him. She’d gone looking for him to torture him a little before she threw him out. How the hell had she ended up naked with him tied to the bed?

  She could feel him behind her. Shelby caught her eye; with a slight frown the other woman asked if she needed anything without speaking the words. Rhea shook her head and continued on to the VIP area, reserved for the owners, and long-standing members only.

  Rhea didn’t stop until she was seated in her chair—the one Shelby had nicknamed The Throne. She sat down facing the rest of the club. Jones didn’t miss a beat as he dropped to the floor next to her chair and sat back on his heels with his hands clasped at his lower back.

  What was wrong with her? She should have stripped the skin off of him one piece at a time. It had taken two years for her to find a place she felt safe after That Bastard, more commonly known as Christophe to the idiots of the pack she once belonged to, had given her two choices—submit to him, crawl, and beg like he’d seen her make Jones do, become his own little plaything—or suffer through being outcast. Rhea hadn’t given it a thought when she had chosen being an outcast.

  No matter the pain and fear she had to suffer when she was forced from her home and everyone she’d ever known, she would rather go through that again before she would let Christophe touch her.

  Now, here she was eigh
t years later, joint owner of a very successful private club, a confident, composed woman of the world. A Domme who was sought after, for crying out loud. Yet less than an hour in his company, and already she was acting like the stupid twenty year old he’d left behind.

  She took a deep calming breath. She was a lady in control. She did not lose her temper, not ever, and she refused to begin now.

  “Mistress R!” Rhea turned at the sound of her name.

  A very pretty little female sub came to kneel in front of her. Rhea felt the aggression coming off Jones as the new arrival placed a hand on Rhea’s knee. He didn’t like others touching her? Well that was just tough!

  “Minx, is there a reason you’re yelling at me like a fish wife?” she asked the blonde at her feet.

  “I need your help. Please help me.” The woman pleaded as she batted her eyelashes at Rhea. A quick glance over the sub’s head found her master. Someone Rhea had always found and heard was a kind, considerate master. Not a man to hurt someone unwilling.

  Alec simply rolled his eyes at her as he stood with arms folded over his chest.

  “My master is mean, and won’t let me have my prize,” she pouted with practiced grace.

  Rhea sat back more relaxed. Ah, now, that was more like it.

  “Has someone hurt you?” She turned at Jones’ question. The soft sub had gone and in its place was the man who had been trained by the Army Special Forces.

  Chapter 4

  “Hurt me? Oh yes? Every day if I’m a good girl!” Minx smiled. Rhea raised her eyebrows at the pair before looking back at Alec, who was no longer lounging by the bar.

  With a bored sigh, Rhea brought the other woman’s attention back to herself, not that she was jealous … nope not Rhea, not at all…

  “What did you do Minx?” Rhea asked.

  “I didn’t do anything, Mistress!” Minx gave her best innocent look … the one Rhea caught her practicing in the ladies bathroom sometime.

  “Minx, I grow tired of this conversation.” Rhea sighed. She rested her head on her hand as she leaned on the arm of her chair.