“Yes.” His answer was quiet.
Cassandra hid her surprise well—or so she thought. Slowly, she lifted a hand, running it through his hair and trailing her fingertips over the back of his neck. With the other, she brushed his lips, dropping small kisses to his broad jawline. His skin was free of stubble and smelled of aftershave. How did he manage to keep it so smooth hours after shaving?
He scooped his hands under Cass’s ass, lifting her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The marble elevator was cold against her back, but as his weight came down on top of her, she couldn’t care less. His lips crashed down onto hers and the kiss was just as needy on his end as it felt on her own. His tongue delved inside, running along her mouth and lips. He slipped inside of her easily, gliding in and out in hurried thrusts. Gone was the master who held total control, and in his place was the passionate man Cassandra had been slowly falling in love with over the course of her training.
“I’m going to—” Cass took a moment to catch her breath. “Can I co—”
“Don’t ask,” he grunted, cutting her off with a searing kiss. “Don’t fucking ask.” Sweat trickled down his neck into the open section of his shirt, and Cass ran her hand into it, burying her face in his musk. Her orgasm came quickly, squeezing him inside of her, and he groaned as her tremors clamped down around his erection. His hands dove into her hair, pulling her neck back, and he licked a path up her neck to her mouth. His body tensed and his stream of heat jetted inside of her.
In that moment, he wasn’t her master; she wasn’t his sub. He was just a man, overwrought with desire for the woman standing in front of him. The change was overwhelming and joy tore through Cass. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he loved her.
She knew it.
3
“Do you know how long my training took?” Dane’s voice boomed through Cass’s house and she grunted, lifting the heavy box from inside her basement, carrying it up the stairs. “Two months! That was it.”
Noticing her struggle, Dane rushed to her, taking the box from her arms and hoisting it onto his shoulder. His face softened before he continued. “I’ll get the boxes, Cass. Why don’t you go unpack the serving trays?”
“I don’t mind,” she said, bending to grab the next one.
Dane took Cass’s hands and guided her back upstairs. “Seriously, they’re heavy. I can set up for tonight if you want to go get ready. Get a massage. Pamper yourself.”
Cass sighed. “I’m not really a pamper sort of girl.”
Dane laid the box down in the foyer, pulling Cass in close to his body. His stubble scraped the side of her face and he buried his nose in her hair. “Tell me again why I can’t be the one to train you? Why did you have to go hire this guy?”
Cass shrugged out of his embrace, grabbing her bottle of water from the side table. “Dane, we’ve been through this. I don’t feel that way about you. We’re friends. I don’t want that to change.” She swallowed before continuing. Sure, Dane had introduced her to this life, this group. But that didn’t mean she owed him anything. “I can start paying the membership fees instead of hosting these parties if you need me to. It’s not like I can’t afford it—”
Dane swatted her suggestion away with a flip of his hand. “No, of course not. Not after all you’ve done for me.” There was a catch in his voice and he averted his gaze to the floor. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you—”
“You don’t know that,” Cass cut him off quietly, rubbing circles along his upper back.
“I do. I do know that, actually.” The hoarse whisper constricted in Cass’s throat and she squeezed his arm. Dane moved away, grabbing another box. “You sure he’s not taking advantage of the situation? Of your new status in the community?”
“Of course not!” The lie blurted out before she could stop it, and Cass took another swig of water to avoid those glaring eyes. “He is very good at his job. I’m learning so much.”
Dane snorted, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh. “And this whole thing about him thinking you might actually be a dom? You’re still going forward exploring this?”
Cass swallowed. She couldn’t quite find the words, so instead she nodded.
“And that’s something you’d want?”
Pins and needles coursed over Cass’s body. Jesus, what did she want? “I don’t know.” Her answer came out as a whisper. “I don’t take to being bossed around in my everyday life. That much I do know.”
Dane took a step closer, the tight-fitting cotton T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest and biceps. A smile tugged at his lips. “But in the bedroom?” He quirked an eyebrow.
Heat flooded Cass’s cheeks. Dane was attractive. Hardworking. With sandy brown hair and bright eyes, he was the epitome of “sexy blue collar.” She could be happy in a relationship with him. He was playful enough with the lifestyle to be adventurous, but not so much that he would be dangerous. And yet, somehow, it was the thought of that danger that turned her on the most. “I-I think I would enjoy aspects of the lifestyle within the bedroom.”
Dane kept advancing on her slowly until her back was against the wall. “Would you enjoy spanking me? Tying me up? Whipping my nipples with a leather crop while my arms dangled from above, bound?” Cass swallowed and her body tightened at the thought.
Dane’s eyes widened. “It does appeal to you?” He looked Cass up and down as though he didn’t recognize her.
“Speaking purely as one friend to another—yes. But so does the thought of me being spanked and bound, so I dunno.” Cass pushed off the wall and walked to the other side of the room. She busied herself wiping off nonexistent dust from her bookshelf. “I said from the beginning, I just may not be cut out for this lifestyle. It’s fun at times, but I don’t know that I can imagine living every day this way for the rest of my life.” At least not with anyone other than Master.
Dane nodded, his tongue running along the seam of his lips. “I have to check on the caterers. They should be here around seven. I have a client to stop in on, but I should be back shortly after they arrive.” Cass could feel his approach, his voice getting louder, his body heat wrapping around her despite the fact that he was still an arm’s length away. “I’m leaving tomorrow for a job in Boston for a couple of weeks. Let’s talk when I’m back, okay?”
Cass nodded. “I’ll leave your scarf at the front table tonight with the hostess.”
Dane opened the door, glancing back over at Cass. “I hate to even ask—but I’m almost empty and I need …”
“You’ll have more tonight,” Cass answered, emotion squeezing in her chest. “I’ll leave them downstairs, taped to the inside of the washing machine.”
Dane’s smile, though slight, still sent warmth spiraling through her. Though he didn’t send electricity coursing through her body like her master did, she cared about him. Loved him, even. And wanted nothing but happiness for her friend. He drummed his fingers against the door frame. “Thanks, Cass. And—if being a dom is your thing, I hope it makes you happy. Honestly.”
Cass arched a brow in his direction. “Honestly?”
He shrugged. “I’ll work on it—but yeah, if it makes you happy. I mean, hell, it’s worked for me all these years.” He sent her a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it used to.
Cass examined Dane, standing there in her entryway. “You sure it’s made you happy?” Because if there was ever a person in her life who didn’t seem to know the meaning of happy, it was Dane.
He sighed, pushing his arms into his jacket. “It’s as close to happy as I’ll ever be, so yeah, I’m sure.”
4
The party was building downstairs, a growing hum of chatter and glasses clinking and music. Looking in the mirror, Cass slid her teardrop earrings on. Normally during the masques, Cass wore her hair up in an elegant twist or something equally refined. And she almost always wore black. Tonight? Tonight was different. Her scarlet satin dress crossed along one shoulder and clipped to the
bodice with a gold brooch. The Grecian style gown flowed to the floor, and Cass matched the red hue on her lips. Her hair flowed uncharacteristically down in soft waves that fell past her shoulders. Her gold heels matched the brooch in a complementary metallic splash.
It was amazing how the smallest makeover can transform oneself into another person entirely. Cass did a little spin in the mirror, catching her reflection over her shoulder and giving herself a fierce smirk. Tonight she wasn’t Cass. She wasn’t the anxiety-ridden woman who worked too hard and brought the office home with her every night. Tonight she was Cece—dominatrix and sex kitten … no, not kitten. Kittens were soft and cute and cuddly. She was a tigress. Fierce. Dangerous. Predatory. At least until one A.M. she was. And then she would transform back into a sheep.
But that’s what these parties were all about: illusion. Every face would be covered with a mask of some kind. Not a single real name would be spoken; in fact, anonymity was the main ingredient to these parties. It was a luxury that everyone here got—except Cass.
From the other side of the room, her iPad pinged with an incoming message. Since the iPad was reserved for one man and one man only, the noise was now associated in her gut as being synonymous with orgasms, and the flutter of excitement was one she never got over. She tried to tamp down the giddy feeling that immediately rose.
Lifting the tablet, she ran her glossy fingernail across the screen, bringing it to life. Her jaw twitched as she scanned the three-sentence e-mail:
Something came up. I’m sorry I can’t be there. Don’t hate me.
All of those earlier jitters dropped into her stomach like a heavy sack of sand. Not even a few hours ago she had been celebrating their major breakthrough. And now? He was running. That’s what he did, right? He hid behind his mask, his power. Because in reality? When it came to what truly mattered? He was powerless.
With a gulp, she sat in one of the club chairs set up near her bedroom bay windows, iPad in her lap. Tonight was supposed to be her night. She was supposed to take control, and here he was, depriving her of the opportunity. Even when she was supposed to be the one in charge, she was still reliant on him.
She stared out the window feeling as empty as this big, cold house she lived in. Three stories and for what? For just her? It was depressing. Her breasts pinched against the bodice of her dress as she inhaled a deep breath. Tonight was a transformation and about taking chances. And up until recently, she never would have dreamed of revealing her raw emotions so blatantly. Her fingers flew across the screen before she had the sense to stop them.
Get the fuck over here tonight. I don’t take excuses. And I don’t waste my time on timid men. If you don’t come tonight, don’t bother showing up ever again.
With another deep breath, she hit send. A chill ran down her spine and an odd feeling of being watched buzzed over her body. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and goosebumps raced across her flesh. With a surreptitious glance around the room, she made sure to move only her eyes. It seemed improbable that someone had snuck into her bedroom and been hiding there this whole time. Improbable, and yet with her life lately not impossible. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing was disturbed. Except perhaps her mind. And just as she was going to resign herself to paranoia, a glint outside caught her eye. A black mask and the reflection of a streetlamp off a lens glass. She’d know that glare anywhere, thanks to years of nurturing Jessie’s hobby of photography.
“You’re in the frame!” Jess would yell to Cass as they went on their hikes together. She waved a hand, scrunching her nose, and Cass would laugh, hopping farther to the left.
“Now?”
Jess would sigh and roll her eyes. “Yeah, but whatever. Guess it’ll be a portrait instead of a landscape.”
The phrase had become Jess’s mantra anytime Cass stuck her nose too far in Jessie’s business. She’d offer Cass that all too familiar eye roll when she’d comment on her clothing choices, her study habits, her college applications—and simply answer with, “You’re in the frame, Cass.”
She leaned against the windowsill, narrowing her eyes to get a better look.
But the person knew the moment Cass had spotted him. Or her. The glare was gone in a blink, and as much as Cass searched the perimeters, sweeping her gaze around the street below, she saw nothing more. No more masked person. No more lens glare. But she felt it. Whoever that was, they weren’t gone. Not for the night and certainly not for good.
Gripping the material between two clenched fists, she pulled her curtains closed and rushed to her closet. Something unusual was going down tonight; she could feel it in the depths of her bones. Everything was different, from the last-minute change of where they were meeting to the very fact that Master would be a no-show, to Dane’s complete shift in attitude. Life was changing and she was in store for something tonight.
Throwing the closet doors open, Cass pried the floorboard up, a fingernail snapping back along with the creaking board. “Shit,” she grunted, plunging the finger into her mouth and glancing over her shoulder once more. Shock waves reverberated down her arms and her belly trembled with a new fear that hadn’t been there moments before. When Master was around, she felt safe. Even if the truth was anything but, her life, her well-being felt better in his presence. Except for her heart, of course. But maybe it was time to stop relying on others. That’s what being a dominant was about, right? Control. Taking charge. And claiming your life, along with that of anothers.
Her mind wandered to Jessie: she had done that. Been down that road long ago in caring for her sister. Master’s words rung in her mind. You were born to be a dominant. You simply were thrown into the position before you were ready.
Cass dove a hand beneath the floor, checking for her money. It was there. Along with her passport. Her hand hovered above the passport … she could leave. Tonight, now. Leave here and never look back. But her mind slid again to Jessie and tears brimmed in her eyes. They would just find her sister—her kryptonite. Tearing the skeleton key from around her neck, she shoved it deep into the velvet satchel as well. Everything that needed to be unlocked was, and having it around her neck was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Especially not tonight.
There was a creak from her bedroom door and footsteps entered the room. Strong, masculine footsteps. One, two, three … and they stopped.
Cass’s breath stalled in her chest. She slid the floorboard back over the gaping spot as silently as she could, popped to her feet, gave the board one final stomp into place, and grabbed a knife she kept between her garter and her thigh. Whoever was here for her wasn’t taking her without a fight.
5
“Hello?” A soft but gruff voice called from the doorway. “Cece?”
Cass’s spine went stiff at the sound of her alias in the BDSM party world. “Yes?” She peeked her head out of the walk-in closet, relief flooding her when she saw Sam walk into her room, shutting the door behind him.
“Oh, thank god,” she gushed, sliding the small knife back into its sheath beneath her dress. He wore a mask, but she would know that man anywhere. She had known him since he was a boy, after all. She had spent two decades—hell, closing in on almost three decades—watching as he played with her little sister. Jessie and Sam had begun as friends, morphing into enemies on the playground once gender became an issue for kids. She’d watched as their middle-school crushes had transformed into a romantic relationship. Only when their parents died, Sam had disappeared. And not long after graduation, Jessie took off, never once looking back at Sam. Hell, she barely looked back at Portland at all. Cass never quite knew what went down between them, but death was hard to deal with at any age. Let alone in the throes of puberty. And Sam was a good man. Rough around the edges but good nonetheless.
Cass certainly couldn’t blame Jess for leaving; she understood the desire of leaving. There had been a time in her late teens when she’d had the same fantasy. Run from Maine and never come back. But when their parents died, Cass no longer
had the luxury of choice. Not if she didn’t want her sister to end up in foster care. And in that time—that odd age where she was adult enough to be a guardian but not enough to rent a car—she had fallen back in love with Portland. The beaches were beautiful, downtown was lively—well, so long as it wasn’t winter.
“A whole dead fish is the entry ticket this time, huh?” Sam said, smelling his hands. “We’re all gonna smell like shit the entire night thanks to you.”
“Shit?” Cass asked, “or pussy?”
Sam winced, dipping his hands into his tuxedo pockets. “Oh, dear god. My ex-girlfriend’s big sister did not just use the word ‘pussy’ in front of me.” Pulling out a small device, he stared hard at it with squinting eyes before giving a satisfied nod and placing it back into his pocket. “Should I take this to mean I should be looking forward to a home-cooked fish dinner soon?” His question was pointed, his eyes glittering with the loaded question. He wasn’t asking about a meal—he knew. Knew the reason the ticket to enter the party tonight was a whole fish.
Cass’s gaze roamed the room; that feeling of someone’s eyes on her was stronger than ever.
“Cece?” Sam whispered. “Everything all right?” When she didn’t answer to her alias, he dropped his voice even lower than a whisper, if possible. “Cass?”
Cass shook her mind back to the present. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“We were supposed to touch base today, but I never heard from you. Had to find out the fish thing through other contacts all on my own.”
She shrugged, putting on her best nonchalance. “I was held up. At the office,” she added quickly.
Sam took a step toward her, his eyes glancing about the room. It was subtle … the slight scan for clues. “This arrangement of ours only works if you’re honest with me. I can’t protect you if you’re hiding information. Now—these fish. Are they for a transport?”
Wicked Shots Page 3