Misadventures with a Master

by Meredith Wild

  Misadventures with a Master

  A Novella

  Meredith Wild

  Mia Michelle

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About Meredith Wild

  About Mia Michelle

  Coming Soon from Meredith Wild & Angel Payne

  Excerpt from Blood of Zeus

  More Misadventures

  This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2019 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Cover Design by Waterhouse Press

  Cover photographs: Shutterstock

  * * *

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Chapter One

  Katherine

  I’ve been to Crave a dozen times, but I’ve never been as overwhelmed as I am right now. I’ve seen him here before, but I’ve always avoided his gaze. I certainly never knew his name. Now that I do, it suits him. Demitri Nicoloff is enormous. His presence…everything about him. He’s one of the most intimidating people I’ve ever met, which is saying a lot.

  All my life I’ve lived in DC, a city that thrums with power and influence. My best friend’s father happens to be the President of the United States. Mine is the Attorney General. If either of our fathers were to find out about tonight at the club or the rules we love breaking all too often, we wouldn’t be able to see through the Secret Service agents assigned to keep us out of trouble.

  And the only thing standing between us and a massive amount of trouble is Charlotte’s bodyguard. The very one who’s whisked her away to talk, leaving me here alone with this man who’s looking at me like he wants to eat me.

  We’re tucked into a private sitting area in the back of the club. Demitri sits on the adjacent couch and leans back as a server brings him a glass—a lowball filled with amber liquid.

  “Can I get you something?” His accent rolls off his tongue and skitters across my bare skin, a hot pulse like the one at his neck as he slides his gaze over me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, though a shot of anything would certainly take the edge off.

  The server disappears, and Demitri brings the drink to his lips, taking a small swallow.

  “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I cross my legs and then my arms, the most defensive position I can muster.

  He cocks his head a mere centimeter. “I’ve seen you here before.”

  “And I’ve seen you. So what?” My presence couldn’t have been that remarkable, but part of me preens a little that he recognizes me.

  “What are you frightened of?”

  His bold question throws me more than his domineering presence.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” I snap.

  He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything about me…

  “If you’re not afraid, why don’t you uncross your arms? I won’t bite.”

  I tense my jaw and contemplate his request. I’ve just met him, and I’ve hardly been warm. After a moment, I relent. I exhale a sigh, unfold my arms, and convince myself to lighten up. Charlotte should only be another minute, and then we can get out of here before anyone finds out we sneaked away.

  “And your legs.”

  My jaw falls open at Demitri’s last request, which is undeniably laced with sexual innuendo.

  I cross my arms tightly again. “I don’t think so.”

  He stares, and my God, it’s a look made of blue-eyed steel. Strong, impenetrable, unequivocally dominant. It’s all I can do to keep my body’s reactions contained, schooled to appear unaffected, when everything he’s doing is affecting me. His thumb collecting a stroke of dew on his glass. The deep, rhythmic breathing that ripples the suit that I have no doubt was tailored to accent every obscene muscle in this powerful man’s body. But it’s his stare that’s pulling me apart at the seams.

  When I come to the club, I watch, and it thrills me. I’m propositioned, and even the refusal gives me a buzz I’ve never experienced. But for all the highs I come here for, nothing measures up to this moment under his gaze.

  The music transitions to another song and seems to pull his attention away. He turns his head toward the crowded club and the half a dozen scenes playing out. I’ve lost him.

  My heart does something—a half beat, a pause, and then a panicked rush of fast ticks. It hurts. Something about his lack of attention causes physical pain in my chest. So much that I’m uncrossing my arms…and my legs.

  “Take off your panties.” His eyes meet mine again briefly. “No one here cares if you bare yourself to me.”

  I should tell him to go to hell, but that quickly his attention is somewhere else. Somewhere deep in the crowd, away from me. I bite my lip, hard. I can’t believe what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m trailing my hands up the edges of my dress. Reaching under, I hook my thumbs over the thin straps of my thong and, slowly, drag it down.

  Every inch the garment drags down my legs is a prayer…

  …answered when his gaze flickers back to me.

  A breath of relief rushes past my lips. Then my panties are on the floor, dangling off one of my ankles, while my pussy throbs like it never has before.

  His eyes hold me there. He’s not undressing me. He’s undoing me, a tractor beam of intensity right to the heart of me. I can barely breathe.

  “You like attention.” He lifts his glass to his lips and takes a slow swallow.

  I nod. Because, yeah, I like it.

  “When it comes from you,” I admit, immediately regretting my honesty. This club is wall to wall with Dominants looking to play, and no one else has affected me this way.

  A slight squint in his left eye. “Will you entertain me, then? Will you show me something worth watching, kitten?”

  Kitten? My whole body heats. Why do I want to purr at this man’s feet when he says it? I should be outraged and walk out of here, with or without Charlotte.

  But I can’t. My knees tremble even as they begin to part. For him. For his steely will that I want to bend to for reasons I can’t comprehend.

  His tongue takes a seductive sweep across his bottom lip. “Krásná,” he murmurs.

  Chapter Two

  Katherine

  One year later…

  I’m fire starved of oxygen. A rosebud locked in frost.

  I’ve spent my life in a cage, cloistered by politics and social maneuvering. A prisoner to expectation. Yet I’d give anything to be a certain man’s slave. I can’t breathe, can’t bloom until he makes me his.

  My breath fogs the car window. I slash lines through the condensation, the freezing air outside seeping into my fingertip. Details of the world beyond flicker through. I’m almost there.

  A year ago I
wouldn’t have recognized the woman I’ve become. That was before I discovered Crave. Before Demitri ripped the inhibitions clean off my body the first time he undressed me with his icy-blue eyes in the club that fateful night.

  My skin heats with the mere thought of staring into them. The cab slows to a stop in front of the hotel entrance. He’s only steps away now. Waiting for me with a plan. He always has a plan.

  I pay my fare and hurry toward the entrance as quickly as I can in my stilettos. Thick snowflakes have begun to coat the sidewalk. Holiday bells ring faintly in the distance, and warm white lights wrap around the trees lining the busy street. The ambience tugs at my nostalgia for something more intimate. Someone to share a little of that magic with. But Demitri is too calculating for fairy tales. He’s far too focused to let anything as superficial as a holiday distract him from getting what he wants. All I can do is hope it’s me he wants tonight.

  I take the elevator up and pause in front of the hotel room he reserved for tonight. I lift my hand, resting it silently against the door.

  “Tonight,” I whisper with a short nod.

  Tonight will be the night. It has to be.

  I exhale and hover the keycard over the sensor. It flashes green with a beep, and my heart does a hard thump as I open the door. Darkness fills the hallway leading into the suite. I walk toward the light inside.

  Demitri paces into view. His tall, broad frame makes a daunting shadow on the opposite wall. His physical strength doesn’t frighten me because he’s never used it against me. If anything, I ache to know how he could.

  He speaks into his phone, disrupting my budding fantasy. His tone is loud and brusque. I have no idea what he’s saying, but the conversation sounds tense.

  The door closes loudly behind me, and he halts his pacing. His gaze travels up and down the length of my body, warming me from the inside out. He rattles off more of his conversation in his native Czech, his tone a little less angry.

  My focus is trained on his expression as he continues to pace. His light skin and hair, his chiseled features. A jaw that could cut through ice…and his lips. Full and framed with the promise of unimaginable pleasure.

  I slip my heels off, one at a time. He lowers himself into the chair in the corner of the room. He doesn’t have to say a word. One look and I know what he wants.

  I walk toward him and kneel, ensuring my knees are a few inches apart and my mini dress is pulled high and taut. I place my palms on my thighs the way he likes. I resist the urge to stare up at him like a puppy and instead focus on the floor. At his dark leather shoes. The peek of gray socks that’s shadowed by the deep-blue suit pants he’s wearing. I’ve only ever seen him in a suit. He runs Crave, and while it might be a sex club, he’s professional as hell as about it.

  “Čau,” he finally says before hanging up. He closes his eyes, sighs, and opens them again. “Kitten.”

  I smile. “Sir.”

  He runs his thumb back and forth over his lower lip, looking more pensive than hungry suddenly. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

  “It’s just a little snow. It’ll take more than that to keep me from our lessons.”

  His brows wrinkle. I’m not sure what it means, so I look down again. This time I focus on the pattern on the chair’s ruffled upholstery. Gold and blue. Expensive. Not like the red leather at the club. There’s no thumping beats here either. No depraved acts on display. Just us. The sound of our breathing. My heart beating in time to the pulse between my thighs. My thoughts drift to the first time I set eyes on Demitri there. He had no less effect on me then.

  “What are you thinking about, krásná?” Demitri’s voice is gentle, like a caress. I close my eyes and feel it skitter across my skin. Beautiful.

  “I’m not allowed to say,” I murmur.

  We’ve been meeting this way for nearly a year. Every few weeks he arranges for lessons I’ve come to live for, anticipating each one like a child waits for Christmas. He’s claimed damn near every spot on my body with his thick fingers and his gifted mouth. Without a doubt I’ve enjoyed every minute, but I’m teetering on the edge of desperation now. He won’t tolerate begging, otherwise I’d chain myself to the bed until he took the last of me, giving me the ultimate gift.

  He’s silent a moment. “You can tell me your thoughts without begging.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but my lips are trembling and I fear my voice will too. My thoughts are an avalanche threatening everything I wish tonight could be.

  He glides his foot over the carpet, between my knees, adding pressure to one side so I spread a little more for him. Then he lifts the toe of his shoe to touch my sex through my panties. The contact is blunt, the perfect amount of pressure to send a hard hit of desire through my veins. I inhale sharply.

  “Answer me.” His voice hardens with the command, which only makes me crazier.

  I curl my hands into fists. I’m so wound up. It’s been too long like this. What more do I need to do to show him my dedication? My commitment to being his and only his?

  “I—I can’t sleep, Demitri.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I swallow hard and wince at the disapproval in his tone. “Sir.” Fuck. Always with the rules. “This is torture.”

  “Is it? Do you think you know what torture feels like, kitten?”

  For me, that’s the only word that can sum up this agonizing journey to pure submission.

  “All I can think about is what it’s going to feel like. I’m obsessed with it. I can’t think straight. I can’t hold a conversation with someone without fantasizing about it.”

  He shifts forward so he’s resting his forearms on his thighs. I fix on the sexy way his arms look under the rolled-up sleeves. His skin is a peachy white, his blond hair too light to compete with the corded muscles that run over his incredible body—the body I’ve yet to fully see and appreciate.

  “What do you fantasize about?”

  I blink out of my lusty appraisal of his physical attributes and cast my gaze down again. What if he’d taken me that first night at Crave? What if Charlotte hadn’t interrupted us to take me home? Would I still be here, feeling as desperate as I do?

  He tilts my chin until I’m staring straight into his hard gaze. “Use your words.”

  My lips thin, and I struggle to harness the pent-up frustration that’s ready to bubble over. “I want you to fuck me, Sir. Is that clear enough for you?”

  He pauses a beat. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Positive.” A flutter of hope blossoms somewhere deep inside me that he’s even asking.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to make love to you instead?”

  My jaw falls open before I snap it shut quickly. Our conversations always revolve around the mechanics of this relationship. My training. His expectations. My routine insubordination. Love never comes up, but one mention of it tonight drains me of my complaints. Love is a frame I’m too afraid to see this relationship through.

  “I want what you want,” I say, barely hearing myself.

  “No.” He draws his hand lower, cuffing the column of my throat gently. “No, you don’t.”

  “I want to please you.”

  He purses his lips slightly and leans back in the chair, taking the gift of his touch with him. “You crave the pleasure I give you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  He has the audacity to smirk. How can he be so impossibly gorgeous and infuriating at once?

  “This isn’t about pleasure.”

  I throw my arms up, breaking my pose. “Then what is this about?”

  He chuckles softly before the smile fades. He seems thoughtful and suddenly distracted. He brushes a dot of lint from his pants, absently stroking his thumb over the place where his obscene thigh muscle meets his knee. God, how I ache to touch him, to discover him in all the ways he’s discovered me. Run my tongue over every inch—

  “Peace.”

  “Huh?” I lift my gaze from the f
antastic bulge between his legs to his eyes.

  “This.” He gestures between us. “You on your knees. Me here, expecting you to be without having to say a word. This isn’t about your pleasure or your orgasms, though you have no idea the satisfaction they bring me. This is about your submission. The peace it gives you. The emptiness it creates in your thoughts. The trust it demands. Submission is the main course. The orgasm is just dessert, kitten.”

  I sigh and slump my shoulders in defeat. I get it. At least I think I do, but I’m too frustrated right now to detach from the physical longing he’s inspired and get my head in the right place. If he would just take me, make me his once and for all, I could finally be the good girl he wants. The best little sex slave he’s ever had.

  And he’s had them. Before I’d been introduced to Demitri, I’d seen the other girls from the shadows of Crave, kneeling at his feet, staring up at him with doe eyes and wet pussies, worshiping him like a king the way I am now. How could I blame them?

  “Submitting to me means I’ll fuck you with my mind before you’ll ever feel my cock.” He says the words almost absently. Almost like he’s said them before to someone else who was once begging at his feet.

  I’m jealous and furious and aching. I’m a fucking mess, and it’s entirely his doing.

  “Then fuck my mind, Demitri. I don’t care what you do. Tie me up. Flog me. Mark me. Just…take me. I’d beg you all night for it, but you hate when I do.”

  He tsks, his gaze melting over me like warm chocolate. “You have so much to learn, kitten. I don’t play that way. And for the record, your begging satisfies me deeply. I just don’t want you to waste your air when it won’t sway me right now. You’ll have lots of time to beg, and I’ll enjoy it thoroughly when the time is right.”