“It’s that kinky shit boys do with other boys, right? With the horse-hair butt plugs?”
He laughed warmly and grinned. “Fuck, you’re hot. It can be that, yes, but pony play can also be women as ponies with grooms—those people handling them—who are either male or female.”
She shifted, uncomfortable with the heated flush that swept over her cheeks, and glanced around to make sure no one else was near enough to overhear this particular conversation. “All right. So what? You like dressing up women as horses? That’s weird. Not sure it’s my thing.”
“I do like it. I like a woman who shows off for me and knows she can captivate an audience. Eating apples and sugar cubes off my…palm,” he murmured, petting the paper down her arm to her wrist. “You aren’t obligated to join me. I just have a feeling you would really have a great time. I promise if I get you flowers, they will be fancy enough that even you wouldn’t dash them against the wall or stomp them.”
She swallowed and looked at him. All the smart-ass remarks she had to throw back melted off her tongue as he reached out to cup her cheek and bowed forward to brush a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth.
“Come to me tomorrow night. I’ll make you a queen.” His eyes twinkled as he smoothed a rough thumb over her lips.
He glanced over one shoulder and winked before gliding around the building and out of sight. Somehow she managed to clutch the envelope and only realized it after watching him walk out of the store. “Fuck me running.”
Flirting with him softened her anger with Ursa. But the arrival of the flowers sent her into a renewed tailspin. There were more of them this time. Dozens of big, champagne-pink roses in a vase twice as large as the others. She thought of what Cowboy had said to her as she threw the crystal and foliage against the wall. It wouldn’t take much for her to fall for flowers. They only had to have her name on them. Not To my princess.
Fucking, undeserving Ursa.
Rain began to fall as she crushed another bud under her foot and tore the heads off the others. All the while she thought how much she hated all the attention being lavished on the other woman. Today she’d reduced Ursa to tears, which was a start, but she needed to drive a wedge between her and Leo.
It would be easy.
Vans only needed to plant some mistrust. Ursa would believe that the handsome stud would go for Vans. It had happened before when Vans tried to set Ursa up on a blind date. The guy wanted Vans so much, he’d told Ursa in the middle of their dinner before walking out on her. Vans couldn’t help it if she was gorgeous. It wasn’t her fault. She’d never wanted that guy.
Strange how the guy she actually wanted wouldn’t give her the time of day. Leo Wolfe was her type of guy. Strong, powerful, wealthy and in control. That’s the only type of man who could handle Vans. He was wasted on a chubby, meek girl like Ursa.
Vans caught Ursa on the way out, amused that Leo wasn’t there to pick her up. It was the absolute perfect setup. She laid the lie out for Ursa and the woman took it all. Unfortunately the plan was not flawless. Rather than agreeing to get in the car for a ride to her dump of an apartment, Ursa tearfully refused and ran for the bus stop.
She sat in her car, glaring at the arrival of the knight in shining armor—Leo—as he happened to intercept Ursa. That pretty much fucked up her whole plan. Through the windshield, she watched them and guilt gnawed at her like a rotten tooth. They really were sweet together. Why couldn’t she just be happy for Ursa?
Vans deserved to be happy too. She didn’t want to be alone!
Chapter One
Maybe she should go away with the cowboy. At least she wouldn’t be by herself. He didn’t need to be perfect if he were just a distraction. She had to pull out of this plunge.
Feeling unsettled with that realization, she turned her attention to the envelope and opened it.
Your Highness,
If you’re reading this, you’re one step closer to agreeing to escape with me for the weekend. I’m looking forward to seeing you without your walls up, exposing your vulnerable side. Trust me, no one will hurt you unless you ask very nicely. You will be among friends at this event.
First, let me explain that you are a guest under my care and your actions will reflect upon me during your stay. While I enjoy your sharp little tongue, I hope you can show the house owner, that is House Mistress, respect. I will provide you an outfit for your stay and it includes a mask. Yes, a mask. You are required to wear it anytime we are outside the suite, but inside it we can toss such novelty aside. It’s to protect our identities if we decide to be less than modest outside the room.
At any time, if you feel uncomfortable in any way, either physically or emotionally, you need only say the safe word—mushroom. If you use the safe word, anyone on the house staff will take care of the issue. You are not to do anything that makes you feel uneasy or at risk. You know your own limitations but must communicate them. You are not to proposition anyone for company and if anyone requests your attention, I ask that you tell me before you agree to go with them and I will collect my token from you and release you from your obligation to me.
I have no expectations other than having a good time. I know my desire to dress you up like a My Little Pony seems strange to you, but I hope you will come around to the idea and see how erotic it can be.
Dragon
Dragon?
She found a wooden disk wrapped in a green ribbon with the stamp of a dragon burned into it. She was admiring it when the limo pulled up. Dropping the token back into the envelope, she stared at the silver Rolls Royce. A chauffeur dressed in a stylish black tux complete with cap stepped out into the rain and strode around to the passenger side, peering at her car curiously.
Fuckity fuck!
She swallowed down her heart and got out of her car, feeling foolish, underdressed and awestruck. Under the brim of the hat the driver smiled as she moved toward the Rolls.
“Lady. Mister Conte hopes you’ll enjoy the comfort of his car for the drive. He’ll meet you at the house at the proper time.”
She stared inside at the creamy, leather interior and then glanced at the smiling chauffeur who was obviously enjoying her shock. She snapped her mouth closed and glowered at him, pretending she was thirteen again and going to polo lessons with Father. She was born to this lifestyle. It had only been denied her because her mother was a slut.
“This should serve very nicely,” she said as she moved closer.
“And you know your word, ma’am?” he asked, offering her another envelope.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She peeled her eyes away from the iced bottle of champagne and arrangement of red roses tucked beside it.
“The safe word,” he said helpfully.
“Mushroom. I guess.” Her nose crinkled and she felt absolutely foolish. She hesitated and then took the envelope. “Is he for real? Mister Conte, I mean.”
“Yes, ma’am. Very real.”
“Your boss?” she guessed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Wow. She felt a barbed twist of guilt for what she’d done to Ursa as she slipped into the comfortable leather seat. Stuffing away her shame, she opened the invitation.
The heavy linen card was imprinted with a golden snowflake and the words Winter Wonderland 2015.
Welcome to our Winter celebration at the Tahoe house. As this is your first introduction to one of my parties and to the lifestyle, I trust you will conduct yourself appropriately as your patron has assured me you will. As a guest, you are here on the invitation of your patron and, because I respect him, I am waiving the usual screening process.
The game is played this way—you will accompany your patron for the weekend and wear his offered token. It need not be sexual in nature. There will be other activities in the atrium, pool, gardens and public areas.
Guests are discouraged from propositioning key holders (patrons). It is your obligation to behave with dignity and respect the wishes of the patron(s). No other patron(s) / guest
s may molest you without his and your consent.
While outside your suite, you are required to wear your mask and it is suggested that you communicate with your partner(s) to firmly understand your comfort in maintaining the secrecy of your identity. You are not allowed to force your partner(s) to reveal themselves to you, nor should you ever feel compelled to expose yourself. You or your partner may break the bond of the token at any time for any reason without question. The house requests both parties act with respect in such matters or risk expulsion from the house.
You have been provided your token and safe word. Do not change this word for the length of your stay as the house and staff know this belongs to you and it will safeguard your partner and yourself. Should you or your partner(s) find yourselves in a situation where either is uncomfortable, only speak the word and find a doorman who will see to amending the situation. The house does not tolerate bending or breaking the ethics of consent. Be rough, be joyous and be safe.
She sipped the champagne, smiling at the pink ace of spades on the label of the rosé. He had exquisite taste! There were chocolate-dipped strawberries and a note was attached to a small bouquet of roses.
My queen, a royal sovereign requires a king she can worship without shame, fear or reservation. Come kneel at my feet and you’ll never look back.
“So cocky!” she hissed, squinting at the perfect, crisp handwriting. It didn’t match the rough, filthy cowboy who’d haunted her at the shop. His words resonated in her, making her stomach tighten in delicious spasms she’d never felt. This wasn’t a fumbling boy. This was a man who knew what he wanted. For the first time in almost a month she could muzzle the green-eyed monster.
A box sat in the seat beside her, wrapped with a bright-blue ribbon that reminded her of his eyes. Grinning, feeling like it was an early Christmas, she pulled the bow open and took the top off the package. Inside nestled an elaborate sequin-covered mask. It rippled with blues and greens like flowing water, and at the temples flared a pair of gossamer fairy wings. The rest of the outfit matched the theme—flimsy gauze-like silk fabric with sparkling gemstones affixed to it.
“Pony play or fairy play?” she murmured to herself and pulled the corset out. It was made of leather, dyed brilliant azure and green to gleam like metal. At the bottom lay a pair of pumps with tall heels, embellished with delicate flowers on the sides and over the toes and a strap that would close around her ankle.
It made her feel strange, looking over the heels. Cinderella must have felt that way. She cuddled one of them in her hands, frowning at the label on the bottom. Jimmy Choo, size 7. Her size. All of it overwhelmed her and she curled into her seat and stared out the window at the traffic. Tahoe house. It was going to be a very long drive.
She dabbed at her tears and sipped her drink and wiggled her feet into the beautiful new pumps, admiring them at the end of her long, shapely legs. Oh yes, I was meant for this. This is the way it should be.
They stopped at a hotel where she would freshen up and change into the clothes, and after packing the box again, she stepped out and scanned the parking lot. There was certainly an abundance of fine, fancy cars parked there. As she followed the chauffeur to the hotel room she spotted the Bentley.
That motherfucker and the fat bimbo were here too? The green-eyed monster took no time waking up and shuddering the cage of her ribs with massive jaws. She hugged the box against her chest and scanned the hotel but it wasn’t like she could find him.
The chauffeur noticed her pause. “Are you feeling all right? Would you like me to carry the package for you?”
“No.” She shook her head and hugged the box a little harder.
The man’s mouth curved into a slow smile. “As you wish. If you need anything, I will be standing here until you are ready to depart.” Face averted, he stepped aside from the door to put his spine against the frame, standing at attention.
As she moved past him, she admired the broad shoulders and confident stance. Something vaguely familiar about his profile nagged at her as the door closed behind her.
Most of the costume was easy to put on. Aside from the mask, the rest of it hardly covered her. Only the corset offered some challenges. She had it mostly laced up when a knock rattled the door. “Ma’am, if you need any assistance…”
Sighing down into her breasts, she strode to the door and flung it open. The kind chauffeur wore a simple black domino mask now and smiled at her impishly before making the turn-around movement with his hand. She did so, presenting her back to him, and he deftly finished the lacing.
“You’re awfully good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he murmured. His breath tickled her shoulder.
“Do you ever go to these parties?” she asked, glancing over and meeting his eyes through their masks. She hadn’t noticed before how very blue his eyes were either.
“Sometimes,” he answered, brushing a knuckle along her arm from shoulder to elbow. “Do you like the clothes, lady?”
“Yes,” she breathed, feeling her eyebrows draw together. She blinked at her driver. “Wait…are you—” She couldn’t believe she’d not paid more attention to him. Now that he was so close to her, touching her, she could swear he was the cowboy. Those eyes and their electric intensity were not something she could easily forget. But shaved and clean and…he was a driver? But—
“Don’t forget your token,” he murmured, attaching it to her shoulder without meeting her eyes. “We should get you into the car. Leave your things here. We’ll return for them at the end of the weekend.” Stepping away from her, he moved to stand stiffly beside the door with an amused little smile.
She squinted at him but his gaze was now fixed across the parking lot. Son of a bitch. She was so confused. He turned before she could say more, his long legs carrying him toward the parking lot again.
It wasn’t the Rolls he led her to but another limo, a newer one. He waved off the doorman so he could whisk the door open for her and hand her inside. His fingers lingered on her hip just a little too long.
She jerked a look over at him and he smiled. Azure eyes twinkled under the hat and mask as he winked. Her mouth fell open on questions but he drew away. The door closed sharply, thumping her bottom. As she stumbled forward, a chorus of bright laughter greeted her.
“Hey,” she greeted the strangers, arranging herself between two women in costumes twice as elegant as hers. The one in silver feathers looked like a dove. The other wore the golden headdress of a lioness. Someone offered her a glass of champagne. It did not compare to the Ace of Spades she’d enjoyed earlier.
“First time?” Lioness asked her, green eyes looking down her nose at her, raking her with cold judgment.
Oh yes, Vans could handle that just fine. She lifted the glass to her lips, remembered Stepmother’s cruel haughtiness and sipped. “Just giving it a try,” she said primly. “I don’t really think playing dress-up is my thing but…why not?”
“It is cutthroat,” Lioness informed her. “Tell her, Dove.”
Dove, slim and regal, also looked down her nose at her from the other side. “The patrons can be brutal. You have to behave yourself and make sure you get the safe word in case things get bad. Unless you’re a real pain slut, it can be a bit much. Just watch yourself. If a guest has their eye on a particular patron, it can get ugly.”
“But the rules say—”
The women filled the limo with their tittering laughter. When it stopped, Lioness pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “Oh, you are adorable. The rules only work when they are followed. It doesn’t stop anyone from bending them enough to get what they want. Or some people aren’t in public play spaces when bad things happen. No one to cry out to while you’re being beaten.”
“But that’s not—”
The women laughed again.
“So cute. You really are a Girl Scout. Precious delicate Faery. Well, do play your hard-core weekend, dear. Then you can go back to your PTA meetings and cookie baking,” Li
oness said, her green eyes glinting. “Stay out of the way of those who live this full-time. You’ll get your lovely little ass hurt. Understand me?”
Vans felt the insults slide off her as she lifted her glass in a toast. “Let’s just make sure you don’t fuck with me. All right? You might be hot shit here at your play party, behind a mask, but don’t think I won’t tear it off you and find out who you are and ruin you in the real world if you get in my way. Do you understand me?”
That shut them up and she looked around the interior. Their self-important smirks fell away and they regarded her with wariness. Good. Fucking uptight bitches.
She put the glass aside without taking another sip, flicking her fingers to indicate it wasn’t good. Instead she turned her attention to the window, her thoughts in tangles.
Did she want a hard-core weekend? Was she a pain slut? The questions didn’t horrify or shock her, she simply didn’t know. No one had ever dared try anything like that with her. She would have stomped some nuts if someone had tried to hurt her. Thoughts of Cowboy not just trying it but doing it made her feel flushed and needy.
Hurt me, a small, eager voice dared him.
She checked the token, adjusting it so it displayed the dragon. A woman gasped and she looked up to see Lioness gawking at her. Dove shifted away slightly. She held their gazes as though she understood their response. They didn’t know who they were just fucking with.
To be fair, she wasn’t sure who she was fucking with either.
Chauffeur? Cowboy? Someone else completely?
She was out of her mind to do this!
The house they pulled up to was not a house at all. The massive lodge was more like a resort, tucked against the backdrop of the lake and surrounded by trees. When a hand extended in to guide them out, she took it first, ignoring the indignant huffs from the others as she made it into the fresh air first.
Taming the Brat (Forbidden Secrets) Page 2