“What if I could make everything better?”
“What do you mean? How?” she asked just as the elevator doors opened.
“Trust me?”
“I just met you,” she replied shocked.
“A fact I am looking forward to remedying.” He grinned.
Chapter Two
Andrea Sharp was too embarrassed to even contemplate what the tall, muscular stranger meant by that. It was bad enough she’d had one of the shittiest days of her life, but to blurt out her problems in front of a man she knew nothing about, well, she wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear. She tried to contain the tears, but when she looked up into his soft blue eyes, it was impossible to stop the flood. Taking a deep breath, she tried to collect herself, ignoring her disheveled state, and ignoring his last remark.
He was quite good looking, and when she’d first seen him, he had literally knocked the air from her lungs. Too bad he would never go for someone like her. The pretty ones never did. A bum magnet to the core, she attracted every deadbeat, lowlife, and momma’s boy ever born and from the sounds of things, she was about to kick bum number seven out of her life. She still could not believe that Walter had taken her card number and had a field day with QVC. Who did that?
To make matters worse, when she told her father why she needed the money, she’d opened the door, to “I told you so.” Growing up as the only daughter of a small-town preacher from Nebraska, she’d endured hell and damnation when she informed her father she wanted to go away to college. To make matters worse, after she received her acceptance letter to NYU, her father spent the next month preaching the evils of the modern world and what could happen to a young innocent, when subjected to the bowels of hell.
She did not have the heart or the spine to tell him she had already experienced the “bowels of hell” with Franklin Ginsberg in the back of his beat-up Chevette.
Of course, when the time came for her to leave, her father had cried like a baby, and told her to call if she ever needed him, but she never had, not until today. She thought asking her father for the cash she needed to do this assignment was the most humiliating thing she had ever had to do, but standing before this stranger, crying in front of him, well…that had just topped her list.
She did not know why she cared if he saw her cry or not, it was just something about him. He seemed strong and virile, like a man who could get the job done, yet there was an underlying danger about him, something sinister that called to her on some deep level.
Reaching for her bag, she noticed that he already had it in his hands.
“You don’t have to carry it. I can do it,” she muttered softly. His eyes hardened a bit, and for the first time in her life, she wished she had not opened her mouth.
“You worry about your purse. Follow me,” he said gruffly, leading the way. Not knowing what to do, she followed the man, hoping he knew where he was going, because she was lost.
The Pleasure Cave was a massive building, boasting five levels. Level one consisted of the welcoming room, reception, the media room, and the restaurant and bar. Decorated in dark tones, the red, black, and white motif was complementary, giving the first level a dark but warm feeling. The second level was completely wall-to-wall rooms. Set up like a hotel, the colors were light and airy, almost welcoming, even though it was in a BDSM club. The third level was training rooms and apartments belonging to the residents of the club. She was never told what was on the fourth floor, but the entire fifth floor belonged to the owner, Gabriel Sexton.
After some research, she knew the club had a sixth level, well, a basement level that was not advertised. It was that level, the dungeon, which she was really here to see.
A couple of months ago, her editor had called her into her office, and asked if she would be willing to do an exposé on a private club that was attracting thousands of wealthy and influential customers, like bees to honey. For someone who wrote columns about the latest shoe trends, she jumped at the chance to do some real investigative work. After that, she began learning everything she could about the club, even e-mailing the owner for an exclusive look on the inner workings of the BDSM world. It took some persuading, but when she finally received the okay from the club owner, she’d packed her bags and headed out.
This exposé was supposed to be the big break her career needed, but after the shitty start, she could feel her career and her job slowly going down the drain. Feeling dejected, she followed the good-looking man, as he maneuvered the halls of the hotel level. Damn near bumping into him, she stopped just in time before she collided into his back. Watching as he placed a black keycard into the door’s locking device, she gasped when he swung the door open.
The room was huge.
Dark-tinted windows lined the far wall, letting the occupant look out, but denying access to look in. A dark gray rug was centered underneath the black leather furniture that made up the living room. Steel side tables and a dark wood coffee table finished off the room. A large plasma television took up the majority of one of the walls while framed pictures of instruments she had never seen before lined another. To her left stood a long black dining table with a silver bowl sitting in the middle and six black leather-bound chairs.
She followed the man further into the room, and saw a full chef’s kitchen. A bar with four steel stools sat empty underneath.
“This way to your room,” he said.
Nodding, she followed quietly taking in the opulence of the place. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to afford this room, and she sure as hell knew that her editor would not comp her travels. She was quickly getting in way over her head.
She watched as he entered a room and the lights flickered on. When she walked in behind him, she gasped. “I can’t afford this.”
The bedroom was unlike anything she had ever seen. A very large four-poster California king sat in the middle of the room. The bed sat upon what looked to be a soft fur rug. Silver sheer fabric draped the bed, giving it a magical feel. It was a bed made for love, and by the size of it, could easily sleep more than two. Two nightstands sat beside the bed, each with a glass lamp with dark silver shades.
When he placed her bags on the bed, she stepped back, shaking her head. “This can’t be my room.”
“It is if you want it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need a room, and I have one. The club is booked solid. We are hosting our annual talent show. The rooms have been booked months in advance. When you didn’t arrive before check-in, the club rule is to offer the room to another customer.”
“Even if I called and said I was running late?”
“Yes,” he said straight-faced. “You picked a busy time to come here.”
“I had no choice.”
“I see. Well, the room is yours if you want it. You do want it, don’t you?”
She did not know what to do. Looking at the man before her, she wanted to trust him, but there was something about him that scared her a little bit, and after the piece of crap she’d just dumped she really was not ready for another bum magnetic. However, looking at him, she did not think he was one. He was something altogether different, only she did not know what he was yet, and that scared her too.
“My name is Quinton Hightower. I live and work here at the Pleasure Cave. If you are unsure, call down to reception and ask. I am sure they will vouch for me,” he offered, handing her his phone.
“I don’t think that will be necessary. My name is Andrea Sharp.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Andrea. Have you ever been to a BDSM club before?”
“No, this is my first time and I’ll admit I am a little scared.”
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
She grinned and sighed. “If the room is still available, I’d like to stay.”
Quinton smiled, and walked over to her. “I knew you had spunk. I’ll let you get settled, and when you’re done, you can come out into the living room. I will go over so
me ground rules.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Yes, Master,” he rebutted.
“What?” she asked confused.
“When you address me in this club, you will respond with ‘Yes, Master’ or ‘No, Master.’”
“Why?”
“That’s what I am. The club has rules, and they need to be adhered to.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, her face heating. She knew she was blushing and she could not stop herself. There was just something about him that made her insides tremble and her body ache, but mainly she wanted to obey him.
She watched as he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. Falling onto the bed, she sighed. “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Three
Quinton lounged on the leather couch in the living room, and wanted to smile. Her face had been absolutely priceless when he instructed her to call him Master. If he could have framed that look, he would have.
He knew she was stuck, with no rooms available, and left with little or no choice but to accept his hospitality. The only problem he foresaw was that he wanted to keep her. It was an odd sensation. One he would like time to think about and dissect, but with her about to come into the room, he did not have the time. Pushing aside the unfamiliar notion, he quickly replayed the scene in the elevator, making sure he remembered every detail.
There was something special about this woman, and he could not put his finger on it, but when he’d held her in his arms, and she’d smiled at him, he’d just known that she belonged to him. Never one to believe in love at first sight, he stood firmly with the group that thought love was a chemically induced endorphin reaction of the body’s production of pheromones.
Boy had he been wrong.
Looking into her eyes for the first time, something had burrowed into his heart and rooted itself so deeply, he thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. It had taken everything in him not to grab her and make her his right there in the elevator. Thank God for his self-control, because without it, he knew he would have scared the woman shitless.
He was not like other men who could dazzle and ooze charm. He was just Quinton Hightower, older brother to Justice, even if it was only by four minutes, a retired service member and master of his craft. His strong sense of order in a world of chaos helped him achieve balance. Without it, he’d watched several times as his world came crashing down around him. At a low point in his life, he had found and met Gabriel Sexton, a man so much like himself, it was easy for him to accept Gabriel’s guidance. Before he knew it, he had moved to the small town of Treasure Cove and started working for Gabriel.
He enjoyed the simplicity of the Pleasure Cave. It offered what most jobs did not, a stress-free workplace. It was not that he did not like stress. He just didn’t handle it well. He had made a life for himself at the Pleasure Cave, one he loved, and then his brother had shown up.
Justice Hightower was a comedian, a loafer, and an annoying relative he could not rid himself of, no matter how he tried, and he had, several times. Where he was quiet and reserved, his brother was loud and obnoxious. Quinton loved his brother, but sometimes he wished he would take life a little more seriously.
He heard her moving around in the room, and shifted in his seat. He wondered what his brother would make of the little woman. Though they had never really discussed the implications of one of them finding a permanent submissive, he did know they had similar tastes, and for some reason, Quinton could not wait for Justice to meet this woman, because he wanted to keep her.
Now, he just had to figure out how to go about securing her to him for all time.
Quinton watched as she quietly walked into the room. He could not help but notice that even though she wore very little makeup, she was a real beauty. Her long flowing red hair cascaded down in waves and her face was lightly covered with freckles.
Stunning.
She had changed from jeans into a lavender summer dress that hid the one single attribute that adorned her luscious body…her breasts. Andrea’s figure was that of a woman who was in her twenties. Her breasts were easily a C cup, possibly a small D. At five foot four, maybe five, Andrea had a narrow torso. Her hips were full, and her round buttocks filled out the dress quite nicely. The dress she wore hid her legs from the knees up, and it was obvious by looking at her calves, she had great gams, but the dress did nothing for her ample breasts.
Quinton could also tell by her demeanor that she was a natural submissive, a trait that he desired in all of his sexual partners. He suspected that she was untouched, which made her even more desirable. His cock twitched, as he discreetly looked her over. He wondered if his cock would even fit inside her delicious body. Not that he cared, because he was more than willing to try.
Over the years, Quinton had only found one woman who could accommodate his whole cock, let alone his brother’s. Gifted or damned, depending on how he thought at the moment, the Hightower men had massive cocks. His alone was at least nine inches with a circumference of three and a half inches. His brother’s cock was bigger. Thus, finding a willing submissive was not easy. Once they got a good look, they generally ducked for cover and snuck out before their appendages even touched them. Of course, he did not blame them. He did not want to hurt anyone. He just wanted to get laid every now and then. However, even that was far and few in between.
Most of his submissives were only able to take two-thirds of his cock inside their pussies. However, he thought, with Andrea’s full hips and tiny torso, her young pussy might be deep enough to take his full length inside her. God, he hoped so. His cock was itching as it was to get inside of her.
“You look lovely, Andrea,” he said, watching her shift uncomfortably in front of him. He was happy to see that she was nervous. He wanted her off-balance.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you what?”
“Master.”
“What brought you to the Pleasure Cave, pet?” he asked.
“Research of what it’s like to be a submissive.”
“And what are you looking to find out?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know it’s what you want?”
“I don’t.”
“I see,” he said shifting his legs. “Well, Andrea, while you are here, you will abide by the club rules. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she whispered, never looking at him, her eyes firmly looking down.
“Yes what?”
“Master.”
“I want to see what I am getting myself into. Disrobe,” he said firmly in a low tone. He wanted to smile when her head popped up quickly, shock and fear emanating from her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“Disrobe. I want to see what I will be working with. I want to inspect you.”
“But, I’m here just to do research,” she stammered.
“And you will. However, as a submissive, which is what you are, if I was to allow you to leave this room, unescorted without a collar around your neck, the other Doms would snatch you up quickly. Now, this club boasts some of the best dominants in the area, but this week the club is hosting several from out of town. Since I do not know these men I would not feel right throwing you to the wolves, so to speak. Therefore, for everyone’s safety, and with your permission, I would like to be your Master for your stay, if that is acceptable with you.”
“Can I ask you a question before I give you my answer?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t hit, do you?”
“That depends on what you mean, Andrea.”
“I mean, you won’t get angry if I make a mistake, and hit me.”
“No. I will not take my anger out on you, ever. But, just so we are clear, if you disobey me, speak out of turn, or do something that I believe will harm you in any way, I will punish you, but never out of anger.”
“All right then, I don’t know why, but I trust you. I would like for you to be my Master while
I am here doing my research.”
“Good. Now I have a right to inspect my property. Disrobe.”
Her shaky hands began to unbutton her dress. Within seconds, the garment fell silently around her ankles, leaving her dressed only in a cream-colored push-up bra and panties.
“All of it,” he ordered firmly, watching her fingers fumble, as she began to remove her bra and panties. He wanted to go to her to relax her, but he knew if he did, she would be lost to him. As a dominant, it was his job to enforce, but not diminish. Going to her now would only signify his reluctance to be the man she needed, and Andrea needed a Master.
Deciding it was time to put her to the first test, he said, “Crawl toward me, then stand with your legs spread and arms out, away from your body.”
Her face reddened from embarrassment, but she did as directed as she crawled over to him. Sitting on the leather couch, he had already moved the coffee table out of the way, giving her plenty of room to do as he ordered.
Quinton decided to give Andrea the reason why he was putting her on display. “I know this is unusual and a little scary. However, I need to make sure you are free of marks and I also need to see what needs to be done to you.”
“I don’t understand,” she meekly replied. Quinton knew that Andrea did not understand the first thing about being a submissive, but since she was here to research this lifestyle, he figured it was best to delve right in.
“As a submissive, the first thing you are required to do is present yourself to your Master. Now, some submissives call their dominants Sir, but I am Master. I have been a Master for over ten years now. As such, when you present yourself, I require you to do so completely nude. This gives me a chance to look you over and see if any modifications need to be addressed.”
Breached [The Masters Series 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2