by Sara Brookes
“Again that’s why I pay you,” Kochran said easily.
“Jesus.” Saint could barely contain his frustration. “Any time you want to enter the twenty-first century, Kochran.”
“All right. All right. Just tell me what I need to do.”
Saint growled quietly, wishing he could reach through the phone and strangle Kochran. “I have. Numerous times.” Even as he said it, Saint fired off an email filled with the set of instructions again, knowing full well they’d be repeating this conversation next month. “It’s a wonder Noble runs as smoothly as it does sometimes.”
“That’s because I pay people well to maintain it for me. You’re the one who took us into the digital age, buddy. I was perfectly content running off a few low-end servers.”
Saint rolled his eyes. “But you sure as hell are enjoying the profits.”
“Damn straight. How’s Boyce?”
“Better.” Saint noticed the convenient timing of the topic change. He wasn’t going to let his frustration about the computer system for Noble House go. Not when it was this important. Though Boyce was just as significant. They’d spoken a few times about the night of Boyce’s breakdown at the club, but not in great detail. “Right afterward was a little touch and go, but he recognized what happened and has been fine since. Upped his relaxation and focus time. Still hasn’t gotten back into the groove with his camera.”
Saint was hoping that was an issue that would get corrected soon. Boyce loved being behind the camera. Loved capturing all that life had to offer. The fact that the camera wasn’t permanently affixed to Boyce’s hand recently bothered Saint. That’s how he knew there was more going on inside his lover’s mind.
“He stopped by a few days afterward,” Kochran offered. “We had a long talk, worked out a few things, as I’m sure you’re aware of. He certainly had his shit together. Wasn’t sure after what happened, but he’s handling it well. And I noticed that you seemed to disappear as quickly as you appeared at the Keep.”
The night flashed through Saint’s mind in vivid color. He couldn’t hold back a smile despite the fact he’d been worried as well about Boyce returning to the club. “We ended up using the office room for some play time. Which is how I found out you haven’t changed the password.”
“And why the hell were you screwing around with the network when you should’ve been paying attention to Boyce?”
“He was...otherwise engaged.” The images in Saint’s mind shifted, his skin growing hot at the memory of Boyce buried deep inside Grae. A picture to be cherished for years to come.
“Ah, yes. The woman you introduced me to while Duality was playing. Quite beautiful. She’s been a virtual member for a number of years, if I recall. Nice to meet her in person. Will she become a regular visitor of the Keep now?”
Saint narrowed his eyes. “You knew she was a member when you met her that night?”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit. I hear it in your tone.” Kochran grunted. “The name sounded familiar. But no, I didn’t know she was a member, all right? When I got back home after our sets, I checked the membership list because her name kept running around in my head. Unlike you, I’m not jacked into the entire world and carry it around in my pocket. And I don’t know the entire list off the top of my head. That’s Enver’s department.”
Saint wasn’t certain he believed Kochran. The man was sly, and far craftier than he led most people to believe. Which is how he’d gotten to the position he had.
“You haven’t answered my question. Will she be a frequent member of the Keep?”
“I don’t know,” Saint answered slowly. “We’ve known her a long time, but I only found out that she was a member. And that she’s been watching us.”
“Voyeuristic tendencies are why most of the online membership join. So you’ve told me.”
He had. They’d shared several long discussions about it when they’d come up with the concept for the club. Initially, Kochran had insisted on maintaining the privacy of the establishment by keeping it off the grid, so to speak. But Saint had persisted, unwilling to give up on his idea to create a hybrid club.
So many websites out there catered to a person’s every desire. Why not have a BDSM club sell memberships to allow virtual access? It had taken a few months, but when Kochran had finally agreed, and Saint had set up the members-only section of the website, participation in the virtual side of the club had increased by nearly two hundred percent in the first month.
“She wasn’t comfortable with the public scene, but was fine in private. Most people who like to watch, like to be watched.”
“Sounds like someone just hasn’t taken the time to show her.”
Saint eyed the folder in front of him. “I think there’s more.”
“Oh?”
Saint flipped open her file again, skimming through the notes from former Doms he’d looked at so much he nearly had them memorized. “I don’t think it was only a concern for Boyce that made her show up. There is more underlying her motives. I think she wants something she doesn’t want to allow herself to have. Or thinks she doesn’t deserve.”
That was the part he hadn’t been able to arrow in on yet. He didn’t know what kind of relationships she’d had outside of the lifestyle. Or even if she’d had any to begin with. What had happened to make her feel as though she needed to erect this impenetrable wall?
“Wouldn’t be fun if the sub laid it all out on the line for us, would it?”
Saint hung up, still thinking about the scene. About how he’d felt watching Boyce with Grae the night she’d shown up out of nowhere. She’d surrendered so easily then. Hadn’t fought the moment.
But, at the club, Grae had been reaching for more while still not surrendering control entirely. Not surprising since this had been the first time they’d all been together in such a capacity, but Saint had purposefully denied her, right up until the very end when he inventively removed Boyce’s seed from her skin.
God, that had been so fucking hot.
Had Grae truly reappeared in their lives because she was genuinely concerned about Boyce, or because she’d finally gotten tired of watching something she wanted? She’d never come out and said she wanted to have sex with both men when they discussed limits. But she hadn’t not said it either.
Lots of meaning in the unspoken. The notes in her extensive file certainly indicated such a leaning.
Asking her would make things easy. They would be able to move on whatever her answer. But as Kochran pointed out—sometimes half the fun in this lifestyle was the head games.
The mindfucks.
And Saint certainly enjoyed that kind of play.
Chapter Eleven
Saint rattled his keys as he stood at Grae’s hotel room door. When he’d called the night before and asked if she was busy today, and if she wanted to accompany him on an outing, he hadn’t been certain of her answer. In the week since she’d appeared on their doorstep, she’d been as skittish as a kitten. As though she was always ready to bolt at the slightest noise, the barest nudge in a certain direction.
A sign he needed to tread carefully.
But so many things about Grae made him want to do the opposite. There was an undercurrent of that thing he couldn’t identify. The very thing he kept speculating about. So he wanted to get her in a one-on-one situation with him, remove Boyce from the equation. At least physically. Not because he wanted Boyce out of the picture—quite the opposite. Removing Boyce would allow Saint to arrow in on Grae. Allow her to focus on the non-play aspects Saint was hoping to reclaim with her. To turn an already established long-term friendship into something more robust. More emotional.
They could sort out the other details later.
Driven by those factors, Saint k
nocked. The door opened immediately, surprising him. “Were you playing Peeping Tom through the security glass?”
Grae’s creamy skin grew pink as she averted her gaze. His dick flooded with heat and snapped to full attention. Fuck. Eyes down. Skin flushed. The only thing missing was her balanced on her knees, waiting to serve a Master.
Focus, Templar. “Ready?”
“Sure. Let me grab my stuff.”
He stepped forward to prop open the door while she moved to the small desk in the corner. She was dressed for a casual day of relaxation. While Saint rarely paid attention to clothing, he couldn’t help noticing how she looked in form-fitting black pants, a gray and black striped top, and sable knee-high boots. He especially noted the fact her pants were so tight, yet he couldn’t see a panty line.
The thought of her not wearing underwear for their day out together strengthened his already iron-hard erection.
For someone who said she normally spent her waking hours wearing sweats, she sure knew how to easily veer in the opposite direction. The second she’d stepped into the office playroom at Noble House in that curve-molding power suit and sky-high heels, he’d known she was made for clothing that would show off her shapely figure instead of hiding it.
When she bent to retrieve a soft blue wrap, her pants pulled tight over her ass and confirmed there was nothing between her and the fabric. He was tempted to forgo the museum trip altogether and instead pin her to the bed and drag his fingers over the outline of her pussy lips for at least a few hours.
The restraint this woman forced him to wield delighted him.
Just as she reached him, her cell phone chimed with a soft melody. When she glanced at the screen, she frowned. “Damn. It’s the producer I’ve been trying to get ahold of since yesterday.” Surprisingly, she shoved the phone into her back pocket. “I’ll call him later.”
“No, go ahead.” He gestured her inside. “We’re not in a rush.” Saint didn’t believe in keeping schedules, except in instances where it was required. If he told someone he’d be there at a certain time, he was usually fifteen minutes early. Beyond his arrival time for picking up Grae, he had no plans that couldn’t be adjusted.
“You sure?” Grae asked even as Saint was moving fully into the room so he could close the door.
“Unless you plan to be on the call for a few hours?”
“No. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” She moved back to the desk. “Jackson, nice to hear from you.”
Saint listened to her side of the conversation for a time, intrigued with the back and forth between her and the producer. He wasn’t so much interested in what she was saying as with how she approached the situation. From what he could gather, the producer wanted a sweeping change to a scene because he felt like it, not because the scene wasn’t in line with the director’s vision. Which put her in a tight spot. One she handled beautifully by not raising her voice once during the phone call even though it was obvious she was getting frustrated.
Saint’s admiration for the fierce, capable woman Grae had developed into since college grew. When it came to her work, she was passionate and clearly wasn’t prone to allowing someone to strong-arm her into making a questionable choice. She fought for what she believed in with conviction and just the right amount of forcefulness necessary that made her a very valuable asset to anyone she worked with.
Twenty minutes later, Saint flipped on the cruise control as they sped down the highway, and relaxed. “The museum is about an hour away.”
“I’m really sorry about that. Jackson can be stubborn.”
“You’ve worked with him before, I take it?”
“Several times. Before and after I decided to go freelance. What he’s trying to change will cost him money and precious time in his release schedule. There’s nothing wrong with the sequence he wants redone.”
“So then why the arguments?”
“He’s stubborn, first off. And he should be, in this industry. But he only wants the change because he recently saw an action sequence in an upcoming movie that was way over the top. He’s convinced he needs to have the same thing. Never mind that the change makes no sense, storyline-wise.”
“He just wants to be competitive.”
“There are other inventive ways to gain attention in this market without copying your closest rival. This particular studio is famous for copycat films and the CEO is desperate to break away from that stigma.”
“The easy way isn’t always the best choice.”
“Exactly.”
Saint wondered if Grae realized if she’d tackled the conflict in her mind in the same manner, her life would go more smoothly. The way she kept trying to avoid her desire, asking without asking, without dealing with her issues head-on, was just as easily solved.
Doubtful. People too close to the situation rarely saw the big picture.
“I enjoyed hearing about your work, though. Hearing how you handle your customers. Being self-sufficient is a tough sell to begin with.”
“It’s hard. I don’t have the head for business I wish I did. Thankfully, I’m in a place now that I can afford to have other people handle the aspects I suck at.”
“Glad to know I’m not the only one.”
“So where is it you’re taking me again?”
“A museum just outside of Silicon Valley.”
“You don’t strike me as the ‘stand around and studying paintings all day’ type.”
“I’m not. That’s more Boyce’s speed. You’ll like this museum, trust me.”
* * *
True to Saint’s word, an hour later they arrived at their destination. Grae spun in a slow circle in the rotunda of the museum while Saint purchased their admission tickets. When he’d said he wanted to spend the day with her at a museum, she’d agreed because she’d been looking forward to spending time with him even if it was going to be in a stuffy, nearly silent establishment.
What she’d found when they’d arrived had been a riot of color and noises. Children laughing and playing with the museum’s hands-on displays. Signs encouraging patrons to ask questions. Get involved.
“Ready?”
She attempted to not appear too eager as Saint waved the tickets under her nose, but the way he smiled pleasingly, she knew she’d failed. They strolled through the large museum hand in hand, discovering new galleries that Grae couldn’t bear to rush through. Saint seemed perfectly content adopting her pace, answering her many questions. She could have easily just read the placards posted near each of the exhibit, but hearing his enthusiasm was infectious.
“How many times have you been here?”
“More than enough that I’m not willing to embarrass myself by telling you the number.” He pointed to the end of a long hallway they were standing in. “But I will say the section we’re coming up to is one of my favorites.”
A loud roar sounded just as they stepped around the dividing wall. A large group of children clapped as the noise grew louder. A swirling vortex ribboned through a clear enclosure that stood at least three stories tall. The museum worker positioned nearby smiled as he was encouraged by the children’s pleas to crank up the velocity of the churning winds.
Grae found herself drawn to the case, sharing the crowd’s interest for what was happening. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is. They’re trying to show the science the storm chasers use to get better data on what they risk their lives studying. The kids get an impressive display without realizing they’re learning.”
Grae thought about the movies made depicting the high-risk profession. Working on such a movie required complex computer graphics. “I don’t think I could do that, chase storms.”
“Sounds good in theory. But yeah, wouldn’t catch me out there. I’ll stick to the science of submission.” Saint winked as he tangled his
fingers with hers, and they continued exploring.
Grae waited until they were alone again, in a hall depicting the mechanics of artificial limbs. Certainly not as showy as the tornado display, but no less interesting. “How did you get into this anyway? Not the technology. That I understand. You were rarely without a computer all through college. So no real surprise there. I meant the lifestyle.”
As they passed a row of tall windows, sunlight flashed in Saint’s absorbing eyes. “Orgasms?” He chuckled at her wry smile. “The choice wasn’t the easiest thing to come to terms with. Luckily, I was in a relationship with someone who was willing to explore and learn with me. I didn’t know how to handle what I kept wanting or thinking about. For a long time, I kept it to myself because I was afraid of what Boyce would think about my desires.”
He gestured through the entrance doors, and they made their way across the street to a park. They wove their way through the trees to a row of carts where vendors were selling food. Saint bought sandwiches and drinks before guiding her to a picnic table tucked away in a circle of trees where they had some privacy.
“My thoughts were...are dangerous. If it was dirty, kinky, messy or naughty...I wanted it.” Saint shrugged. “When I finally found the courage to talk with Boyce, I learned he had some of the exact same thoughts. It wasn’t perfect, and we stumbled a few times along the way. But we found a stride we make work for us.”
Grae had wondered. “So the whole switching deal between you two isn’t an act?”
“No.” He spoke so surely that it was clear this wasn’t the first time someone had asked. “Alternating between Dominant and submissive suits our needs. And helps us better understand what the other person is feeling in any given scene. It’s not a choice that is right for everyone. Most people feel they have to identify as Dominant or submissive.”