The
Master’s
Exception
By
Veronica Angel
The Master’s Exception
by Veronica Angel
Copyright © 2012 by Veronica Angel
All rights reserved
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebookstore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This story is dedicated
to my creative partner,
the true Master.
Thank you.
To have you close
Against my side
Melting into me
Skin to skin
My soul
In ecstasy
Would reach out
To touch yours
Sighing inwardly, I took note of the enormous crowd waiting to be seated for the lunch hour as I tied on my apron. Good thing I'd taken my break a little early today. The combination of hunger and lack of sleep was never a good one for me, and I'd pulled an all-nighter working on my book. Stifling a yawn, I tucked a wayward strand of light brown hair back into my braid and returned to work.
Catching the eye of my co-worker and best friend Grace, I gestured that I was ready to take over my tables. She nodded and winked with a wicked grin as if she was privy to a dirty little secret. There was only one thing Grace found that interesting , a hot guy. Scanning my usual tables in the more secluded area of The Red Monarch’s dining room, I found the only possibility. A tall man in an expensive looking suit sat at my last table, head down as he examined the menu.
Slowly making my way towards him, I had a sudden rush of anxiety. Dealing with attractive men had never been my strong point. The last pathetic excuse of a relationship with my bastard of an ex had done nothing but make it worse. Taking a deep breath and straightening my apron, I looked down at the top of his head. His dark blonde hair was just short enough to stand at attention, but still long enough to run your fingers through it. “Hello, my name is Chloe Nascent, I’ll be taking over for Grace as your server this afternoon.”
Setting down the menu, he looked up at me with the most soulful pair of green eyes I’d ever seen. Of course, they had to be green. I’d always had a weakness for men with them. Looking into those eyes, I swallowed and suddenly lost all train of thought.
He smiled slightly, only one corner of his mouth lifting, the expression not reaching the rest of his face. This man was sex embodied and he definitely knew it. Taking his time in answering, Mr. Sex carefully looked me up and down. As his eyes met mine, I had the sudden image of him in between my legs devouring me. Licking my lips, I quickly pushed the image out of my mind, found my voice and asked him if he was ready to order.
He smirked in a sinful way and simply said, “Surprise me Chloe. For some reason I find myself trusting that you will know exactly what would please me.” Mr. Sex held my gaze with his smoldering eyes as he handed me the menu. His words sound like he was referring to something much deeper than his lunch order.
“Sounds like a plan then. I’ll bring you the best thing on the menu.” I tried to not to fidget as he continued to examine me with a ridiculously intense gaze. Reaching up to loosen his burgundy silk tie, he leaned back in his chair slightly while unbuttoning his suit jacket. His waist was narrow, his chest clearly well-muscled.
“Are you on the menu?” I felt a slight flush creeping up my neck at the suggestive question. For some irrational reason I was determined not to let him fluster me. This man was obviously used to throwing his weight around, and I’d be damned if he was going to get a reaction out of me. The problem was, as he leaned back even more in his chair I was overcome with a barrage of rather X-rated thoughts, my lower abdomen tingling in response. “I’m Spencer by the way. Spencer Tate.”
Obviously he wasn’t expecting an answer so I collected his menu, unable to keep myself from smiling a little as I did so. As presumptuous as the question was, I still found myself feeling flattered and frankly more than a little turned on. I noticed him studying the angel wing tattoo on the underside of my wrist with open curiosity as I took the menu from the table.
When I returned with his meal he took one look at the New York Steak and twiced baked potato and smiled his approval. “You are an angel, Chloe. I couldn’t have chosen better myself.” He sliced into the meat, the way he handled the knife deftly made him seem powerful and completely in control. Taking a bite, he closed his eyes in enjoyment, savoring the taste. I tried not to let my mind wander down the gutter at his little moan. “Mmm. Delicious. Seems my business partner was right in his recommendation of this place. I’ll be returning every day while I’m in town I bet.” He chuckled slightly.
“Oh, so you’re here on business then?” Why was I making small talk with Mr. Sex? Stupid, stupid, me. At my interest, his face took on a different expression. I suddenly felt like a caged bird being appraised by the household cat. What was it about him that gave me the distinct impression that he was the predator and I was the prey? Strangely, I found I didn’t entirely mind the thought, being caught by him was quite an enticing prospect.
“Yes, my business partner runs the office here in San Diego. I monitor things from my home up North but every so often I stay in town to touch base with him and monitor things.” I noticed he didn’t offer his exact line of work. For some reason I found myself itching to ask him twenty questions. Biting my lip to keep from doing so, I refilled his water while nodding and smiling politely, pretending not to care.
Just as I realized I’d been standing there much too long for normal waitress, patron interaction I felt his hand touch the back of my leg ever so softly as I bent to top off his drink. I froze, feeling every nerve in my body start to tingle. As he slowly ran it upwards and slid his hand underneath the hem of my skirt I shivered. Then it was gone, just short of grazing my ass in their lacy boyshorts. I should’ve felt outraged, I wanted to slap him across the face indignantly for his out of line behavior, but I honestly felt no anger, only pure unadulterated lust. Shit.
As I turned to face him, fully prepared to read him the riot act for his indiscretion, his eyes met mine. They smoldered, the green seemed to darken in color, and I recognized the dilation of his pupils as proof of his arousal. “Please forgive me angel. I felt compelled to touch your skin, if only for a moment. I seem to be drawn to you in an irrational way.”
Swallowing slowly, I tried to formulate an appropriate response. The use of the name angel was literally melting the walls around me. If he only knew what that meant to me. Finding no words, I took leave of his table and fled to the kitchen to cool myself off. Hating the fact that I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck as he watched me retreat. I needed a minute to compose myself away from his heated, watchful gaze.
As if on cue, Grace approached just as I was slamming the water pitcher down on the service counter with more force than necessary, her cute little red-haired bun flopping to the side in an endearing way. Knowing my cheeks were probably flushed I looked down. “Hey, what’s going on with you Chloe? You okay?” I did my best to compose myself before answering.
“Fine, perfectly fine.” I snapped a little too quickly. I hurriedly refilled the water pitcher for something to do and grabbed a few more table settings. I felt myself flushing even more at my attempt to avoid the question, feeling the path he blazed with his finger
tips being permanently fused onto my skin. I looked up and met my friend’s eyes. “It’s just that guy, he’s under my skin Gracie. Fuck.” I muttered.
She smiled knowingly and giggled a little. “He’s got the eyes doesn’t he honey?” Unfortunately, Grace knew all about my predilection towards green-eyed men. “There’s just something about him isn’t there?” She said thoughtfully, gazing out at the tables and appraising him as he consumed his steak with an almost primal hunger. The man just oozed sex appeal no matter what he did.
I thought about telling her how he had touched my leg that way, then for some reason thought better of it. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt private, sacred almost, which made absolutely no sense having just met the man. How was I feeling this kind of intimacy with a perfect stranger? “Shit, there’s more than something about him Grace. God, I can’t seem to resist him.” I threw over my shoulder as I went back out to the dining room to check on my tables.
Every day Spencer ate a meal at the little cafe where I worked. For four days he arrived with the lunch crowd, then on the fifth it was during the dinner hour. I had found myself pining for his arrival, wanting to see his face, and his lean body clad in that predictable suit and burgundy tie. Something about him screamed safety and security in the ever-present chaos of my mind. I couldn’t explain it. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame and I didn’t want to question why. All I knew was I needed to know him, be beside him, something he had was the answer to my needs.
That night when he arrived, I was ready, waiting for him. Knowing I should be ashamed at my brazen behavior, I slipped him a little paper with my phone number, just in case he was leaving town that evening. Looking up from his meal he met my eyes and smiled a wicked grin, pocketing it and giving me a quick wink. Reaching out as I grabbed his empty plate, he stroked my wrist softly where the angel wing tattoo was. Lightly grasping my wrist so I couldn’t pull away, he traced the line of the scar beneath the design. Obviously, the meaning behind it hadn’t escaped him.
For some inexplicable reason that only endeared me to him more. Loving that he cared enough to even notice. Feeling tears prick the back of my eyes unexpectedly, I smiled softly at him. “I have no idea why I’m giving that to you. But it feels right.” I told him, not knowing how else to explain my actions. He smiled back slowly, for once managing to look humble and unassuming. Stroking the raised scar on my wrist lightly again, he released it and pocketed the little paper in his suit pocket.
“Chloe, my angel, it feels right because I understand. I know we’ve only just met but I feel you, your soul. It speaks to me.” A tremor ran down my spine at his chilling words. They should’ve frightened me, but somehow I knew exactly what he meant. Something about him spoke to me too, and not just his gorgeous eyes, face and well-muscled body. I felt I needed him, needed to know him, on some deeper level.
I found myself smiling, the warmth of Spencer’s words spreading slowly throughout my body. Here was a gorgeous man, randomly coming into my life and offering to know me on a deeper level. I needed to let go of the fear, not everyone was out to hurt me. Perhaps he just wanted to enjoy me, maybe he was just as lonely as I was in my little one bedroom apartment with my dead end job as I struggle to achieve my dream at the age of thirty. Well, from the looks of him, he clearly lived in a more impressive residence, but for some reason none of that seemed to matter but the feeling he gave me inside.
He called me that night. We talked for hours, the night turning into dawn as we shared and laughed. This man had depth, soul, and an intensity that drew me to him inexplicably that much was true. But he was also a Master. A term I knew little about until I’d researched it online as we spoke over the phone. He was a man who proclaimed to live his sexual life by a strict set of self-imposed rules, only engaging in relationships where the woman bent to his demands, his will. I knew this should bother me, but the more I looked at the photos and blogs, the more aroused I became at the thought.
Was this something I could participate in? Could I bow on bended knee, obey him unquestioningly, accept his discipline, and indulge his every whim? I found myself eager to try, curious to know if I had it in me, and wondering if this newfound desire for dominance over me sexually was a result of my past or of the emotions this man was eliciting from me.
When he asked me for a date the second time we spoke on the phone I had no choice but to say yes, even as my heart raced in nervous anticipation at the thought. I dressed that Saturday evening in my favorite red cocktail dress, my finest white lace lingerie adorning my body beneath. I didn’t stop to question why I’d taken extra care in order to remove every hair from my lower body with Nare so that I was soft and smooth. As I put on my favorite white lace cheeky panties and push up bra, I shivered, wondering if he would see them. We had spoken extensively about the nature of his sexual habits, and my entire body was hot and achy with the promise of learning more.
Despite having just been in town, he rented a hotel room in the heart of the city so he would not have to drive all the way to his home in San Louis Obispo that night. Secretly, I hoped we ended up there after dinner, and I found myself growing wet at the images that flashed through my mind as I put the finishing touches on my makeup and hair. I had never felt like this about a man, the raw attraction I felt for him completely overtaking my mind. I had virtually no idea what to expect, would he want to tie me up and ravish me, test my weakness right away, or was that to come after several dates? I had never dated anyone into the bdsm scene, and despite my research this week, felt completely unsure of what to expect.
I was ready fifteen minutes early. Sitting down with a glass of white wine at the little dinette in the middle of my kitchen, I looked around with a critical eye. To Spencer I’m sure this would look close to poverty but it was enough for me. Nothing was worth living the hell I had endured in the lavish house I’d shared with my ex-husband. Despite my best efforts, the memories came flooding back as they always did with vengeance when my mind was unoccupied. His fury, the shouting, the sour smell of whiskey on his breath as he came close. The sting of his hand across my face as I was chastised for simply breathing. Warm blood as it gushed into my mouth when my nose was broken. Being pushed to the ground and hit even harder for it staining the carpet.
Closing my eyes tightly against the images was only symbolic, they still burned brightly in my mind. Squeezing my lids together, I began the breathing exercises that prevented the panic from overtaking me. Breathing in deeply and deliberately, I whispered the word love to myself, exhaling slowly with the word peace on my lips. Over and over as my hand found it’s way to the scar on my wrist, massaging it as I struggled to bring my mind back to the present.
The doorbell rang just as my breathing began to steady. Immediately I lept up, grabbed my purse and hurriedly made my way to the door. Stopping quickly on the way to examine my reflection in the small bathroom just off the entryway, I decided it was as sexy as it was going to get. A dark golden shadow accentuated the hazel brown of my eyes, and my normally stick straight brown hair fell in loose waves down my back.
When I opened the door I was immediately flooded with the overwhelming power of his attraction. Dressed in an unassuming pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt, he projected nothing but fuck-me vibes as he stood there on my welcome mat. As his eyes scanned my appearance from head to toe deliberately, I could feel a tingle travel across my skin, as if he was actually touching me. His eyes locked with mine and I shivered slightly, amazed at the amount of desire he could get out of me standing several feet away.
Gulping as my mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper, I asked him, “Did you want to come in?” I watched as his gaze wandered over my shoulder to the apartment behind him looking slightly bored. That was a definite no, I thought smiling a little.
“Actually angel, I’d rather get to our destination if that’s okay with you. I find myself eager to have you in my clutches.” He raised his eyebrow slightly, but didn’t smile. The effect wa
s all at once sexy as hell and just the tiniest bit dangerous. Stepping closer, he brushed his lips across my forehead softly for a moment, his nearness and the smell of him unfurling lust within my abdomen that radiated all the way to the tips of my fingers. His hand grasped the back of my neck gently as he did so, the subtle demonstration of power even more attractive for reasons I clearly didn’t understand.
He would have a sports car of course, a metallic-red top model BMW coupe. Absentmindedly I noticed it was the exact color of the tie he had been wearing the first day we’d met. The paint job was outrageously shiny, the lines of it sleek and sensual. It fit him perfectly. He opened my door and ushered me into the passenger’s seat like a true gentleman. As he shut me inside the car, the smell of new vehicle, leather, and something that was distinctly his alone surrounded me.
When he climbed in on the driver’s side and shut the door I suddenly felt a little apprehensive being in the cramped space of the car so close to him. He started the engine and we sat there for a moment as it purred quietly. The stereo had been left on, and it blared a rap song, the words nothing short of being blatantly pornographic. I put my seatbelt on trying not to focus on the lyrics. An image of Spencer on top of me, my legs spread wide and tied to a bedframe as he pounded into me went flashing through my mind.
He seemed to feel my arousal and looked over at me speculatively. Once again, I felt like something he was hunting, as he looked me over slowly. Instead of fear, I only felt intense arousal, practically panting, as my beautiful white lace panties grew damp. I was truly fucked, in all sense of the word and he knew it by the smug look on his ruggedly handsome face.
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