Hanging On 2: Surreal Neal [Awakenings 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Michele Zurlo

  “If you don’t have a local address, use the one you had in Atlanta.”

  “I’m staying with my aunt. She lives in town. I walked here.”

  That took care of the parking issue. Sensual Secrets’ location in Royal Oak meant that employees needed to use the parking garage. Being within walking distance was a huge bonus for Neal. Drew didn’t pay employees very well until after they’d put in six months and proven themselves.

  “Do you think Chef will change his mind about letting me start today if he knows I’m already settled in?”

  I considered this. Drew didn’t like surprises when he was working. “Bothering him now will only piss him off. He hates training new people, so springing it on him isn’t a good idea.”

  “Understood. Thank you, Mistress.” Neal put his pen to paper and started in on the forms.

  “You can’t call me that.”

  He lifted his gaze, challenging me for the first time. “Why not? You’re a Domme. You deserve that much respect.”

  “But I’m not your Domme.”

  “You’re not Chef’s Domme either. How does that work, exactly?”

  He’d gleaned that much from meeting us twice? I sat on the edge of the desk, parking myself over him and establishing my authority. Submissives could sometimes become unruly when a Domme refused to top them. If he needed an ass-kicking, I had no problem delivering it—as his boss. I wasn’t his boss, but Drew would back me up on this.

  “Neal, that’s really none of your business.”

  He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  From the way he bit his lip, I knew he was swallowing another respectful address. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to tie him up and flog him first, but I wanted to kiss him while Drew watched.

  I backed off, rounding the desk to sit on the other side. “What’s your story?”

  The only indication he heard me was a hesitation in the flight of his pen across the page. “I went to Brazil with my Master. After a year, he released me. He returned to the States, and I stayed there. I always liked to cook, so I put all my energy into that. I met Deke when he came to the restaurant where I worked, and here I am.”

  He delivered his speech with practiced ease. It was fairly emotionless. No chef ever talked about cooking without showing emotion. Drew got excited over the prospect of making breakfast. Sometimes that wasn’t enough to make me want to get out of bed.

  “He stranded you there?”

  Neal shrugged. “Pretty much. I made it work.”

  He was a survivor. I could relate to that. I folded my hands and gave him my undivided attention. “How old were you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  I’d been nineteen when someone who was supposed to love me had destroyed my world. Like me, Neal had built something from nothing.

  “Neal?”

  He looked up, one brow lifted politely as he waited for me to continue.

  “You can call me ‘Mistress’ when we’re alone.”

  He didn’t quite smile, but he looked pleased.

  “If you want, I can introduce you to others in the BDSM community.”

  This time, he shook his head. “I’m not looking to put down roots. I’ll be here until I learn what I need, and then I’ll move on.”

  My heart went out to him. He’d been hurt badly, and now he fiercely guarded his heart. He might be willing to give me the respect he’d accord to any Dom or Domme, but he wasn’t offering anything more.

  Later that night, as I lay snuggled next to Drew, I counted my blessings. I had a wonderful man who hadn’t given up on me when I had done everything I could to push him away. I felt loved and appreciated every single day of my life. I’d found the dream. Not many people had that.

  “Drew?”

  He jerked, evidence that he’d been drifting off to sleep. “Hmm?”

  “I think Neal’s been hurt.”

  He didn’t say anything for several moments. Just when I was about to shake his shoulder, he spoke. “Hurt? What do you mean?”

  “He said he went to Rio with his Master. His Master released him and returned to the US, but he left Neal in South America to fend for himself when he was nineteen.”

  “So you assume he’s emotionally scarred?”

  The way he made it sound, I’d made a leap, but I knew better than to doubt my instincts. “It was the way he said it. He reminds me of the way I used to be.”

  “Closed off? Emotionally unavailable?”

  Coming from anybody else, I would have been upset. Drew had earned the right to call my kettle black. “I offered to introduce him around the BDSM community, but he declined. He said he planned to be here long enough to learn from you, and then he was going to move on.”

  He was quiet, lazily stroking my arm and lower back as he thought. At last, he kissed my forehead. “Honey, I don’t know what you want me to do. There’s no magic that makes someone suddenly get over past trauma. It took time and tremendous effort for me to get through to you. Even then, you dumped me about eight hundred times.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t give up on him?”

  The room was dark, yet I sensed the expression on his face as if all the lights were blazing. He was confused. “Give up? What are we trying to do?”

  I wanted him in my playroom, but Drew had prohibited that kind of association. Still, I had to do something to help him. “I think we should extend our friendship. Show him that not everybody is a douchebag. He can count on people who won’t let him down.”

  “You want to invite him to dinner? Maybe we should have a dinner party? I’m not sure I trust us, Sophie. He’s damned attractive, and when you and I decide we want somebody, we usually get them. What if we end up charming his pants off? He could quit and leave, and I don’t want to think about what could happen from there.”

  I didn’t either, and not for purely selfish reasons. I truly wanted to help Neal, and I think Drew did too.

  Chapter Six

  Sophia

  Two weeks had passed since we hired Neal. Drew and I had invited him to several dinner parties, but he always issued a polite excuse. Drew was impressed with Neal’s culinary skill and professionalism, but we were both frustrated by the wall rebuffing our attempts to socialize with him.

  In an unprecedented move, Drew asked Neal to come to the house to assist in filming an episode of his show. It was the first time Neal accepted an invitation from anybody at Sensual Secrets for anything.

  Drew’s kitchen was huge. The open design included two dining areas—one formal and one informal—and a sitting area. The sitting area didn’t have much furniture because Drew had to keep it clear during the filming season for the crew and equipment. Right now, huge lights and screen were set up to capture Drew in this homey atmosphere.

  Every time I saw his show, I couldn’t help but notice all the places we had sex. We weren’t in the habit of running up to the bedroom when we were in the mood, and so we’d fucked on virtually every surface in that place.

  Drew, of course, scoured and sanitized daily. He was fanatical about cleanliness in his kitchen.

  I answered the door for Neal. He was the last one to arrive. Dressed in khakis and his unbuttoned white jacket, he looked every inch the professional chef. The yellow Sensual Secrets T-shirt under his jacket brought out the highlights in his sable hair.

  “Come on in,” I said. “The crew is set up and Drew’s almost out of makeup and hair.”

  He stared at me. “Makeup and hair?”

  I chuckled at his surprise. Drew always took meticulous care of his appearance, and that included cosmetics. “It takes effort to always look that good on camera.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Nothing could induce me to wear makeup.”

  “Noted. You won’t be on camera, so that’s not a concern. Drew wants to see you. He’ll have a huge list of instructions, half of which he’ll scratch in half an hour and do himself. Don’t feel like it’s personal. That’s just how he operates. He wouldn’t have a
sked you here if he didn’t have confidence that you are a fantastic chef.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Given his standoffishness, the address took me by surprise. I had only seen him once since that first day, and we’d been in the Sensual Secrets kitchen.

  Hearing it gave me pointy nipples. He had a great voice, and it resonated pleasantly through my senses. I led Neal to the set and left him with Drew.

  I didn’t always stay to watch filming. Despite what the finished film looked like, unless it was a live show, the process was quite boring. How many angles did they need to film of Drew taking a pan from the oven? Given his demographic, just point the camera at his ass. It was a great view, and it’s what his fans wanted to see.

  Ginny was there, as she owned half of everything and produced the show. It amazed me how a person who had to be hounded to pay the bills for her business could run such a tight ship on the set.

  Drew’s partner was a petite woman. She was pretty, with short dark hair that she wore in a pixie cut. She was Sabrina’s younger sister, and the two looked very much alike. She’d been Drew’s best friend since their freshman year of high school. He’d tried to kiss her. She’d nailed him in the balls, established her preference for women, and the pair had been inseparable ever since.

  Today I wanted to see Neal at work. I parked myself in the breakfast nook. All the good views were blocked by cameras and lights, so I had to be content with watching from the wings.

  Ginny sat next to me. “Hey, stranger. You haven’t been to the shop in a while.”

  “I’ve been busy.” The old owner of Elysium had accepted our offer, and the last two weeks had been a flurry of paperwork and meetings with lawyers.

  “I know. Exciting stuff. Lara and I might go check it out after you guys change it up.”

  I nodded. Ginny and Lara played with light bondage, but that was all. I wasn’t sure they’d like Elysium.

  “So, what’s the story with the new guy?”

  I gave her a strange look. Drew shared almost everything with Ginny. I found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have told her about Neal.

  She interpreted my expression correctly. “Not that. I mean, aren’t you guys thinking he’d make a nice third?”

  “No. He’s an employee, and Drew said he was off-limits.”

  Ginny made a knowing sound. “Sabrina said she was coming over later today.”

  Sabrina sometimes came to me when she wanted to be worked over and Jonas didn’t have the time. As a teacher, he had summers off, so I didn’t see her too much until school was back in session. As it was the middle of September, Jonas had gone back last week. With the stress of the sale, Sabrina had asked me to pencil her in for this afternoon. I never turned her down. She was a joy to flog.

  I acknowledged Ginny’s statement with a short smile.

  “You should invite Neal to stay for dinner after the shoot is done. I bet he will. Then he can keep Drew company while you take Sabrina downstairs. Seeing two beautiful women go off into a dungeon has to break him.”

  I didn’t want to break him. “I’m not going to seduce Neal.”

  “I didn’t say you should seduce him. I’m just saying that if you lay everything out in the open, then the ball is in his court.”

  “You have a devious mind, Gin.” It was one of the things I loved about her. “At any rate, I’ll invite him to dinner. We’ve asked before, but he always refuses. Like you said, he and Drew can hang out while I beat your sister.”

  One of the production staff called Ginny over, and I was alone. As things got underway, Drew and Neal entered the kitchen and began prepping the food. Drew shot orders at Neal, and it didn’t take long for me to understand why he liked his new assistant. Neal seemed to anticipate Drew’s commands.

  As Drew listed the ingredients he wanted diced and chopped and measured, Neal had a cutting board out and his hands were already in motion. The two communicated with minimal talk, coordinating their efforts as if they’d been doing this for years. They were stunning to watch.

  It was the smoothest prep I’d ever witnessed. The episode went off without a hitch.

  Afterward the crew stowed their materials, and we were alone by the time Sabrina was due to come over. Neal lingered, cleaning dishes and wiping counters.

  Drew and I had a silent conversation with a look, coming to an agreement. He leaned against the counter opposite Neal. “Thanks for everything today. You did great. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have you here next week for filming.”

  Neal threw his dishcloth on the counter next to the rinsing sink. “Sure. This was more fun than I thought it would be.”

  I was under the impression that our silent conversation had been about asking Neal to stay for dinner. Before Drew could take issue with the fact that Neal thought working with him wouldn’t be fun, I chimed in. “Neal, we’d like you to stay for dinner. Maybe you guys could discuss the menu for the next show?”

  Drew shot me a look. I knew he had all the shows for the season planned out, and he never consulted anybody else about his menu. I lifted my shoulders, but not in apology.

  Oblivious to the looks flying between Drew and me, Neal nodded. “Okay. Dinner sounds good.”

  The doorbell rang. Sabrina was here on time, as usual. The woman didn’t have it in her to be late, and I liked that about her. I headed toward the hallway. “I’ll get that.”

  She looked fabulous. Her dress was striped with monochromatic blues and sheer white. It was loose enough not to chafe when she wore it home, and it cinched at the waist, hugging her curves invitingly. Her long brown hair hung in loose waves halfway down her back. Mostly her face drew my attention. Her gaze was downcast, demure and utterly submissive. On her neck, she sported a slave collar, a thick circlet of woven metal that had an O-ring dangling in the front. She looked happy, even though she was stressed. Taking a leave—whether it was permanent or not—suited her.

  Jonas stood next to her, which was unexpected.

  “Hey.” I addressed him first. “I didn’t know you were coming. Are you staying for dinner?”

  “No. My parents have the kids for the night, so we’re going on a date.”

  I stepped back, inviting them inside. Jonas made Sabrina come inside first, and then he followed her. As I closed the door, I furrowed my brow and caught Jonas’s eye. He never accompanied Sabrina when she came to me. I was essentially Plan B—available to flog her when she wanted it and Jonas wasn’t able to do it.

  “Did you want to reschedule?”

  He shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to watch.”

  I had no problem with him watching. It would be a new experience for Sabrina, though, and I wondered if she would be able to relax the way she needed with him in the room. “That’s fine.”

  “I might do more than watch.”

  It had been years since I’d shared a scene with Jonas. As my mentor, he’d taught me most of what I knew. “Okay. What kind of scene were you thinking?” I needed to know how much his presence would alter my plans.

  “You do your thing. I won’t get in your way.”

  That put my mind at ease. It was my playroom, but she was his submissive. “Great. Did you want to say ‘hi’ to Drew beforehand? You might not be in a social mood afterward.”

  Jonas nodded. He guided Sabrina to the kitchen in the rear of the house where we found Drew deep in conversation with Neal. Drew had a turnip in his hand, and that worried me. I’d been able to get him to drop the idea since the night of that barbeque party, but now it looked like he’d found a kindred spirit.

  “I love turnips. They have a wonderful bite to them. How about a turnip and carrot slaw? Do you have any jicama? I know a great dressing.” Neal’s eyes were lit with excitement.

  I groaned. “Drew, if you need anything, I’ll be in the dungeon.”

  Neal looked up from the cutting board, interest blazing from every facet of his stance. He eyed Jonas and Sabrina warily. “You’re
not going to cook with us?”

  “Not this time. I’m going to flog Sabrina. Make something good because I’ll be hungry afterward.”

  Drew snorted and chuckled. He knew how horny these sessions made me. Generally he made himself available afterward, gladly reaping the benefits.

  My dungeon had a homey feel. Drew didn’t like settings that were dark, and he frowned on too much metal and leather. I wanted items that were easy to disinfect. To that end, he’d gifted me with custom furniture.

  I had the usual items—a Saint Andrew’s cross, a torture bench, a bondage bed—but they weren’t the usual pieces. For starters, the cross was part of the headboard for the bed. My torture table looked like a vintage piece of French furniture. In fact, the entire room looked like it had been lifted from a Provençal boudoir.

  I didn’t care. This was Drew’s taste, and I loved it because I loved him. This room was as much as expression of him as it was of me.

  Jonas had never been in it, though Sabrina had. I could tell she hadn’t warned him because she kept darting her eyes in his direction. The closer we got to the room, the more she checked his reaction.

  Or she was insanely nervous about having him watch. He’d never done that before, either.

  “I want you to take her farther than usual. Put her in subspace and keep her there a while. I want to observe her, and I may join in at some point.”

  I understood what he meant. When flogging a sub, sometimes a Dom or Domme became so wrapped up in the rhythm and power that we forgot ourselves. Domme space was just as seductive as subspace.

  “Okay. You’ll stop me if I go too far?”

  “Yeah.”

  We’d reached the door of the dungeon, which I kept closed and locked. When my brother visited, he often brought his twelve-year-old brother-in-law Zach, who loved to explore the house.