At his house, she knocked as was her custom, but he shocked her by opening the door rather than waiting for her let herself in. The sight of him made her mouth water. He wore leather pants and a T-shirt that he’d tucked into his waistband. His hair was raked back from his square forehead, emphasising his piercing brown eyes. He hadn’t shaved, and that left an intentional scruffy look that made him look even more masculine. Damn.
“Shall we?” he asked.
The earth shifted beneath her stilettos. She was slightly early, but he hadn’t asked her to strip. He hadn’t performed an inspection. It was as if they were two acquaintances sharing a ride to the same party. After the way he’d trained her to react, his behaviour left her off-kilter.
He placed his fingers lightly at the small of her back as he led her outside to his waiting vehicle.
“You look nice,” he told her as if they were going out to a simple get-together, again, as if this were just two friends hanging out. Except for the leather pants. The leather pants said this wasn’t an ordinary date.
Until they passed through the town of Winter Park, the conversation was mainly idle chitchat. Because she couldn’t take the inanity any longer, she again suggested his company hold a charity fundraiser. She neglected to mention that Jennifer was contacting his brother about it.
“Do you just try to wear people down?” he asked.
“Is it working?”
“It might, except for the fact you’d ask me to be involved,” he responded, sliding her a sidelong glance.
“What if I promised you wouldn’t have to do anything other than show up?”
“You wouldn’t want any approval on the venue? Suggestions on the guest list?”
“Well, I would need you to—”
“There’s a dental dam in my bag,” he said.
“This is me shutting up,” she promised.
“About tonight,” he started.
“Yes?”
“I assume Evan C knows you’re coming?”
“He does. He said he’s looking forward to talking with me.”
“I also assume you want to play with him.”
Why did it feel as if she were betraying Master Alex? He seemed to be gripping the steering wheel very tightly, but that could be her imagination. “Yes.” Calling him Sir seemed strange given the subtle change in their relationship since this morning. And not calling him Sir seemed odd.
“I’ll give you the privacy you need with Evan C.”
Did that also mean he was going to play with some submissives? The idea made her grit her teeth, even though she told herself her possessive feelings were ridiculous. Never in her life had she felt jealous of anyone.
All too soon, they arrived at the Den. She opted to leave her coat and purse in the vehicle. A valet opened the door for her, then Master Alexander came around and offered his hand as she negotiated the uneven terrain. High heels and the Rockies were not a good mix. “But I still think it would have made a perfect photo op,” she said.
He ignored her.
Once they were inside, he said, “Please stay a bit behind me. Speak only when spoken to. Address men as Sir and women as Ma’am.”
“Yes, Sir.” Having him give her instructions made this a bit more comfortable.
Master Damien greeted them and invited them to grab a drink from the bar downstairs, and he asked her if she recalled the Den’s safe word.
“Halt, Sir.”
He nodded. “Enjoy your time with us, Ms Barton.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Much better behaved than last time,” he observed to Master Alexander.
She didn’t wince, and that alone showed her how far she’d come from her previous visit.
“Something to drink?” Master Alexander offered when Master Damien excused himself.
“Please, Sir,” she said. “Wine, maybe. Merlot. Cabernet. I’m really not picky.”
She followed him down the stairs. While he fetched them each a drink, she kept a lookout for Master Evan C.
She saw him in the corner, chatting with a sub who was wearing a purple wristband, indicating she’d been hired by the Den.
He looked so different from any other Dom here. Most were in black. He wore white. A bright red scarf was wrapped around his neck. He belonged on stage, rather than at a BDSM party.
Master Alexander returned with her wine and a bottle of water for himself.
“You’ll do fine,” he told her, raising his bottle in a salute to her. “You’ve learnt a lot. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I’m nervous as hell, Sir.” She sipped from her glass.
“Why?”
“Probably just the idea of playing with someone new.”
“It’s a good experience. Concentrate on pleasing your Dom. No matter who he is.”
When Master Evan C’s submissive left, Chelsea squared her shoulders.
“Go on, girl,” Master Alexander said.
On impulse she kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
He grinned, but he didn’t look happy. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
She moved away, and she looked over her shoulder, to make sure he meant it.
Master Evan C frowned a bit, evidently forgetting they’d agreed to meet. “Chelsea Barton,” she said, offering her hand.
“The PR chick. You’ve finally had some training?”
“I have.”
“Your manners suck.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t know how to address a Dom?”
That stung. “Of course, I do, Sir.”
“You want to go to a private room?”
Her heart leapt. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. “I’d like that, Sir.”
“Down the hall.”
Like a good sub, she followed him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Master Alexander. He was watching her. Damn, he was handsome. Guilt stabbed her as she gave a quick wave.
“Are you with me or with him?” Master Evan C asked.
“With you, Sir. Of course.” She followed Master Evan C down the hallway. The walk reminded her of the first night with Master Alexander. The same set of nerves that had assailed her then gnawed her stomach now.
“Get your clothes off and get your ass on the cross.”
“Uhm…are we going to talk about a safe word?”
“You one of them pussy girls? I thought you wanted to do business with me.”
She looked at him. His blue eyes were wide, unblinking, calculating.
“I’m not into being abused, Sir, not for anything or anyone.”
“Heard talk about you last time, that you scream so much you need a gag.”
She shuddered.
“Get your clothes off, bitch.”
Chelsea debated what to do. Master Alex had called her a slut during a scene, but the tone, the inflection had been different. It had been sexy and it turned her on. This was insulting. Before she could speak again, he grabbed her shirt, tugged it over her head and brutally squeezed her right breast.
She could barely breathe. The grip didn’t arouse her. She grabbed him around the wrist and said, “Sir, that hurts.”
“What? Your tit’s delicate?” He laughed. “Of course it hurts.”
“Please.” She dug her fingernails into his skin. “Halt.”
“What the fuck? I thought you’d been getting some training.”
“Yeah. I have. Enough to know that I don’t want a Dom like you. Let go of me.”
“You’ve been fucking stalking me, begging for this.”
She shook her head. “You’re making a mistake. I think you have talent. But I thought you were a different kind of Dom.” She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes, determined, damned determined, not to let the bastard see he was hurting her. “I said halt and I mean it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
He blinked. “Cock tease.”
She
refused to allow his words to goad her. What Master Alexander had said all along was true. Submission was a gift you gave, not something that could be demanded. There was a big difference between submission and a little kink, and an even greater distinction between submission and masochism. Master Evan C was more a sadist than anything, she assumed. And she had no interest in that. She dug her fingernails into his skin. “Take your hand off me immediately.”
When he didn’t let her go, she had another realisation. She’d allowed her career hunger to drive feelings in her personal life. You’re The Star would benefit from having Evan C on their client list. She’d fallen in love with the idea of a partnership with him. Her ambition had blinded her. “Last chance before I shout out the house safe word,” she said. “Take your Goddamn hand off me.”
He released her. The pain of the blood rushing back into her breast stole her next breath. “You know, Evan C, you have some natural talent. You’ll do well if you don’t allow your bad behaviour to fuck it up.”
“You giving me career advice?”
“I won’t send a bill.”
“You’re a tough chick.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She snatched her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head, pretending her world hadn’t changed in the last ten minutes. Everything she’d thought she wanted, hungered for, focused on, no longer mattered.
He wrapped his scarf around his neck. “I’ll find someone a bit more accommodating. Someone who isn’t fickle.” He strode from the room.
She took a moment to stop shaking before following him from the room.
As she neared Master Alexander, she overheard Master Evan C say, “You did a shitty job of training her.”
She kept her head high, as if she were wearing a posture collar. She’d done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t in the least ashamed.
“If she chose not to scene with you, I think I did an excellent job of teaching her about the important things.”
Chelsea almost cheered. Master Alexander—her hero.
Master Evan C walked, or rather stalked, to the bar and Brandy, whose face lit up when she saw him.
Master Alexander draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “What the hell happened?”
“I figured out I want nothing to do with him.” She smiled. “If it’s all right with you, Sir, I would like to go home.”
He nodded. Purposefully, he moved her towards the stairs, thanked Master Damien for his hospitality, then headed for the front door where he instructed the valet to bring the car around.
How could she have ever protested being treated like this? It was more like being a princess than a submissive. She wished every man behaved so courteously.
He reached across her to fasten her safety belt, then locked and closed her door. She stared unseeingly at the darkened landscape, her emotions in turmoil. She’d got what she wanted, or what she had thought she wanted. And so, now what? How did she go back to her regular life? And the idea of finding her perfect man was even more impossible than it had ever been. Where would she find someone worthy of her submission, and did she even want to give it?
She needed time alone. Lots of it.
Master Alexander waited until they had summited Berthoud Pass before looking at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing really to say. He has a different opinion of submission than I do.” She looked over at the man who had taught her so much. Since it was dark, his face was in shadows. That didn’t matter, though. She knew every plane and angle intimately.
“Are you hurt?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Not at all.” In fact she had more strength and courage than she’d ever had, gifts she’d received from her two-week journey into submission. “I’ve never been better, Sir.”
He took his gaze from the road long enough to cast a quick glance in her direction. “Seriously?”
“I owe you a lot, Sir. I wouldn’t have handled Master Evan C as well as I did without everything I’ve learnt from you.” She reached over to trace her fingertips down his arm. “Thank you.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed training you. And the fact you stood up for yourself makes me proud.” For a moment, he closed his hand around hers. When he pulled it away, she put on her brave face and pretended her heart wasn’t breaking. Facing down Evan C had been easy for one reason.
She was in love with Master Alexander.
Chapter Nine
“Are you out of your mind?” Alex sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and looked at his younger brother. Goddamn it. He knew how persistent Chelsea was. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that she’d take a backdoor approach? Gavin was younger, more idealistic, more outgoing than Alex. The conniving vixen had gone behind his back, and now he was involved in an epic battle with his only sibling. He set his jaw. She needed to be turned over his lap and paddled hard. “A charity fundraiser is the last thing we need to be involved in.”
“I think she’s right. We need to get more involved in the community.”
“We make plenty of contributions.”
“Plenty that no one knows about,” Gavin countered.
Though they’d lost a number of clients when their sterling reputation had been tarnished, many, like Damien, had stayed. Doing something to restore some of the lustre might not be a bad idea, but Christ, there had to be something different.
“Our PR firm did a good job of damage control,” Gavin continued. “They just haven’t done shit since then. You can show up or not. I signed a contract with Jennifer yesterday.”
“Jennifer? Don’t you mean Chelsea?”
Gavin shook his head. “She’s an administrative assistant with You’re The Star.”
Chelsea really knew how to work a potential client. She’d refused to listen when he said no. Instead, she’d tried another approach. Clever girl.
Alex listened to his brother extol the virtues of the PR plan, including press releases and a social media campaign. But he realised one thing. It was a good idea. He still wanted to tan her hide, and he planned to do just that. And the fact she’d continued to try to land his business even though they hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks meant… What? Nothing? That she still wanted to work together? Was he just business to her? They’d had an arrangement for him to train her, and she’d done an excellent job.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that she hadn’t contacted him after the night at the Den, but he was. Half a dozen times he’d picked up the phone, but each time, he’d pushed the end icon before the call connected. He told himself she had only asked him to teach her about submission so that she could capture Master Evan C’s attention.
But when that hadn’t worked out, she’d probably returned to dating vanilla men. Over the years, he’d been involved with a lot of women, from sceneing, to training, to dating. They’d all had one thing in common. Submission had been natural to them. For Chelsea, it hadn’t been. He’d watched her struggle with the mental implications. She’d done well. She’d been a good, if not excellent, student. But there was no doubting the fact it didn’t come easily.
As he’d tried to teach her, kink—a little spanking, maybe some blindfolds and gags—was different from a BDSM lifestyle. Plenty of people brought a little spice into their bedrooms. If that was what she wanted, so be it.
That wouldn’t satisfy his desires, however.
He enjoyed the protocol associated with D/s. He liked to care for his woman, but he had expectations in return. He had no issue with them having a high-profile career. But only one person could be in charge in a relationship.
Gavin snapped his fingers. “Earth to Alex?”
“Yeah.” He leant forwards, over his desk. “Sorry.”
“I was saying that all you need to do is show up and do the meet-and-greet. I’ll handle the planning on this end. Fucking stop scowling, will you?”
He listened to Gavin ramble for a few more minutes. Hi
s younger brother had already set a date—after checking the corporate calendar—and agreed to the venue, which You’re The Star had secured at no charge in exchange for tons of promotion. His Chelsea Barton was a savvy businesswoman.
His.
That thought stunned him.
He’d taken her to the Den because he’d agreed to, not because he’d wanted to. Watching her and Evan C head down the hallway to a private room had sent a surge of hot blood through his veins.
He’d grabbed a beer from the bar and spent a few minutes talking with Gregorio. He’d said that the Den often fielded requests for trainers and wondered if Alex was back in the business. He’d said he wasn’t. Chelsea was enough for him.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
“I stopped listening five minutes ago.”
Gavin stood. “Don’t be an ass about this, got it?” Without another word, he left Alex’s office. Gavin slammed the door to punctuate his point.
Alex picked up the phone and selected Chelsea’s name from his list of contacts.
Not surprisingly, he reached her voicemail. He followed with a text message, giving her five minutes to respond.
At four minutes and fifty seconds, she called. “It’s Chelsea,” she said, her voice quiet, and quivery, as if with emotion.
He knew he could be making that up. She might be in the middle of something, maybe a meeting, perhaps afternoon traffic. But she’d called him back in less than the allotted time. He told himself that meant something. Or at least he fucking hoped it did. “You won.”
“No,” she countered. “Monahan Capital did. The kids who will benefit also won.”
“You went behind my back.”
“I did the right thing,” she countered.
Always the fighter. “You have a lot to answer for.” He pictured her kneeling up, awaiting his punishment.
“And who’s going to hold me accountable?”
Silence hung between them, thick, palpable, laden. Had she issued a challenge? Or was it a rhetorical question? He was generally a man of action, and trying to figure out what she meant gnawed at him. He didn’t want to misstep, but he’d phoned her with the intention of seeing her again.
On His Terms Page 16