“That might result in another round of cock sucking,” Bonnie said with a laugh.
“And you have a problem with that?” Matt said to his wife with a lift of his eyebrows.
“Absolutely not, Sir,” Bonnie said emphatically, still smiling.
“Let’s not bother with permission, right, guys?” Matt suggested. “It’ll get too confusing.”
“Agreed,” Liam said, and Martin, too, nodded his consent.
The three women lay down carefully on their backs on the bed, their heads toward the wall, their beautiful, bare pussies on full display. Allie was sandwiched between the other two. They all shifted and winced a little as their tortured bottoms made contact with the mattress. Once settled, legs bent, knees spread, they exchanged glances with each other, sharing secret, telepathic communications with their eyes.
Liam watched, entranced with their beauty and fascinated at the differences in style as each girl rubbed and stroked herself. Lauren was the first to come in a series of low, animal grunts, her face twisted in a sexual grimace, her eyes squeezed tight. Bonnie was next, her dark eyes fixed on Matt’s as she took herself to completion with a long, trembling sigh.
Allie was left, still stroking and rubbing, her face a mask of concentration. Liam experienced a sudden qualm, recalling her past history and her difficulty in orgasming on command, especially with others watching.
At a gesture from Liam, the other two girls pulled themselves to a sitting position. He lifted his chin toward the guys, who also correctly interpreted his silent communication. They stepped forward and extended their hands to their girls, who allowed themselves to be pulled upright, leaving Allie alone on the mattress.
Liam sat on the mattress beside her. He placed his hand on her throat, sliding his thumb and forefinger in place just below her jaw. “Come for me, sub Allie,” he murmured with soft but quiet insistence. He tightened his grip around her throat, his fingers sending a primal message of dominance that made her gasp, her eyes flying open, the pupils dilating as she stared at him.
Almost at once, she began to tremble, her eyes locked on his, her breath now a pant, her fingers flying. With a cry, she bucked, her hips lifting from the bed, her hand moving furiously between her legs. Then she collapsed back against the mattress, her hand still buried between her slender thighs.
There was a hush for a moment, and then everyone began to clap and laugh. Allie’s eyes flew open once more, splashes of red moving over cheeks already flushed from orgasm. She met Liam’s eye, and he smiled widely at her, lifting his thumb in approval. She sat up and tossed back her hair, her natural sass returning. “What? You’ve never seen a girl come before?”
~*~
The six of them sat at a table in the club’s kitchen, drinking orange juice over crushed ice as they talked over the incredible scene. All agreed it had been a phenomenal success, with Allie its star performer. Though she was embarrassed to be the focus of so much attention, Allie couldn’t deny she was also pleased, and more than a little thrilled to have been a part of it all.
She couldn’t remember ever being happier in her life. Liam sat beside her, his hand light on her thigh, his eyes warm with love each time their gazes met.
There was a natural lull in the conversation, and then Liam tapped lightly against his glass with his fingernail. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a grin, “if I may have your attention please.”
They all regarded him expectantly, Allie included.
“Allie isn’t the only one with a surprise gift tonight. I have one of my own.” Liam reached into the duffel under his chair and brought out a small oblong box wrapped in thick blue paper, a white bow affixed at its center. He handed the box to Allie.
Excited and intrigued, Allie pulled at the paper, tearing it away. She opened the lid, expecting a necklace. But when she lifted the tissue paper, she saw, not a necklace, but a beautiful leather collar, dyed a rich burgundy red. There was a delicate padlock at its center made of high-quality rose gold, fashioned in the shape of a heart. The tiny key was still in its lock.
She lifted the collar from the box and held it up for the others to see. As they all voiced their admiration and approval, Allie turned to her Dom. “Oh, Liam,” she exclaimed. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so lovely.” She stroked the impossibly soft leather, her neck actually tingling with the need to feel it against her skin.
“I had it made by the leather master who did Bonnie’s collar,” Liam said, beaming happily. “It came out great, right?”
“Master Taggart surpassed himself with that one,” agreed Matt. “Bonnie, I’m going to have to get you a new collar. That thing is gorgeous.”
“I like this one just fine,” Bonnie said, fingering her collar. “But I’d be happy to have a second one,” she added with a laugh.
“I want one,” Lauren said with a mock pout. She turned to Martin. “Get me one of those, darling.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Martin replied with a laugh. “Though that’s Sir darling to you.” He turned to the others with a sardonic shrug. “Let ’em come, and it’s all over.”
Ignoring the banter, Allie handed her beautiful collar to Liam. She leaned her head toward him and lifted her hair. Liam placed the soft leather collar around her neck, buckling it into place behind her head.
Allie sat back, deeply content. She stroked the soft leather and touched the delicate, heart-shaped padlock.
Liam reached toward her and plucked the small key from its lock. “I’ll hold onto this for safekeeping,” he said. His eyes softening, he reached for her face and stroked her cheek with two fingers. “You already have the key to my heart.”
Surrender to Me
He’s a loner who’s not looking for a submissive… She’s a kickass tough girl who never found a Master… And then they meet…
Rylee Miller, independent, strong and in control, seeks intensity of experience in all things. She plays hard, both professionally as a swimmer and Jiu Jitsu pro and in the BDSM scene when she needs to unwind. She craves hardcore sadomasochism and believes erotic suffering is just another challenge to be overcome.
Taggart Fitzgerald, aka Leather Master, is a world-class whip and leather-gear craftsman. A highly skilled and sexy Dom, he’s also a brooding, intense and self-contained man. He takes what he wants from women, keeping his heart firmly out of the equation.
When they meet on a video shoot for BDSMConnections, their intense, visceral connection stuns them both. The Leather Master is intrigued by Rylee’s staunch assertion she’s not a submissive. Is she lying to him—or just to herself? Or maybe she has never learned to truly surrender.
With Taggart’s dominant, sadistic side and Rylee’s sensual, masochist mindset, they should be the perfect pair. But accepting her true nature may not be easy when the Dom she’s falling for is a man so damaged by a past filled with pain that he’s unable to trust in love. Or maybe it’s that he has never learned to surrender to his heart.
Chapter 1
No question about it. Mistress Alice knew how to throw a party, and that Friday night was no exception. A professional Dominatrix, she kept a stable of pretty boys, several of whom were walking through the small crowd, dressed only in black leather codpieces and slave collars, carrying trays of sparkling champagne and various bite-size hors d’oeuvres.
Rylee Miller rubbed her wrists as she glanced appraisingly around the main room. She already missed the rope her scene partner had bound her with before treating her to a nice, stingy single-tail whipping.
There were a few people she didn’t recognize at the small, exclusive BDSM gathering. One man in particular caught her eye. He was ridiculously good-looking, an underwear model type of guy, with eyes so blue you wondered if he wore contacts, a chiseled jaw artfully stubbled and lots of sun-kissed blond hair tumbling over a high forehead. His black leathers looked new, and molded perfectly to his slender but well-muscled frame. Not her usual type, but a nice piece of eye candy.
As if
feeling her gaze, the underwear model suddenly looked directly at her. Despite the cluster of adoring girls flanking him on all sides, he mouthed something in Rylee’s direction: I want you.
Rylee lifted her eyebrows. Obviously, she wasn’t very good at lip reading.
Whatever he had said, the man broke away from his admirers and approached her. “I’ve been watching you all night, willing you to come to me.”
“Why didn’t you just come to me, then?” she retorted with a small laugh, though she could feel heat licking across her cheeks.
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose I thought I could will you to my side, but I can see now, my hypnosis skills are lacking, at least from across the room.” His accent was British, smooth and oh so posh. In spite of herself, Rylee was charmed.
“I’m Simon. Simon Barrister, recently of London, temporarily of Portland.”
“Rylee Miller,” she replied.
Simon seized her hand and, instead of shaking it, brought it to his lips. The guy was too much, and yet Rylee was charmed.
A nearly naked sub boy approached with a fresh tray of champagne. In one deft movement, Simon grabbed Rylee’s empty flute and replaced it with a fresh one.
Rylee put the glass back on the tray. “Thanks, but no more for me,” she said. “I was just about to leave, actually.”
“No,” Simon cried. “You mustn’t go. Not yet. Stay, lovely lady, please stay, just a little longer or, I swear, my heart will break.”
Though the guy was over the top, Rylee couldn’t deny she was flattered. In spite of the fact she had to be up in five hours for a swim meet, she allowed Simon to push her back gently onto the sofa.
He sat beside her. An electric current zinged between them when his thigh touched hers. His aftershave smelled good as he leaned even closer. He took one of her hands in both of his, his blue-eyed gaze earnest. “There is nothing more alluring than a bound woman, rope wrapped around her feminine curves like a lover, her mouth open in a perfect O as she cries out from the stinging kiss of my whip. I love the tremble of her limbs, the flush on her damp brow, the pleading in her eyes.”
The words sounded especially sexy when spoken by such a gorgeous guy with such a lovely accent. What the hell—she could stay a little longer. Rylee inclined her head toward his. “More,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Eager to comply, Simon began to hold forth about the passion and poetry of erotic submission. Even though Rylee knew it was all a game, she sat back and enjoyed the moment. She liked watching his handsome face as he talked, his beautifully accented voice stroking all her senses.
Alice’s grandfather clock began to chime in the front hall, snapping Rylee out of the erotic reverie Simon had woven around her. The flirtation had been entertaining, but real life was calling.
Rylee stood and smoothed down her leather vest. “It’s been nice to meet you, Simon. I didn’t realize it was so late. I really have to—”
He reached up and grabbed her arm. “Say you aren’t leaving already,” he said imploringly, piercing her with his gaze. “Alice’s dungeon is calling to us. You would look so beautiful tethered and chained, waiting for the kiss of my whip.”
“Maybe another time,” she said.
As Marco, Rylee’s Jiu Jitsu trainer, was fond of saying: give a guy an inch and he’ll drive a truck through it. Engines revving, Simon said urgently, “Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow evening. I’ll reserve the dungeon for us. Please, meet me there. You and I, Rylee—we’re a different breed. We don’t need all that silly mating ritual nonsense vanilla people engage in. We both know what we want. Meet me here tomorrow at seven. I will be waiting for you.”
Rylee laughed. She had to give the guy credit for perseverance. “That’s really nice of you but—”
Simon touched her lips with his index finger. “No. Don’t say anything. You will either be here or you won’t. Either way, I will be waiting.”
Saturday morning, several cups of coffee and the adrenaline rush of rooting for her team got Rylee past her champagne hangover. She couldn’t get Simon Barrister out of her head. She had known guys like him before—guys who weren’t content with the attentions of most of the women in a room. They required conquest of all of them.
She wondered if he’d really be waiting for her at Mistress Alice’s dungeon. In the calm, rational light of day, she reviewed her mental list of Simon’s shortcomings—he was cocky and too pretty-boy handsome. He was a smooth talker—too smooth, which made her wonder what was hidden beneath the glib, confident patter.
On the other hand, she wasn’t considering a lifetime partnership, or even a date. If she’d met him at the beginning of last night’s party, instead of the end, she’d definitely have scened with the guy without all this deliberation. It wasn’t like they were meeting in a back alley or something. They would be in Mistress Alice’s dungeon. Alice would be nearby if anything went awry.
After the swim meet, Rylee went to the Jiu Jitsu center. Marco wasn’t there, but she found a partner and worked on her scissor sweep technique. While in the shower in the locker room after her workout, she continued to think about Simon and his invitation.
When she returned home, Rylee called Alice. After they exchanged greetings and Rylee thanked Alice once more for inviting her to her party, she said, “What do you know about that guy who was at the party last night, Simon Barrister?”
“Ah. The Brit. I can’t decide if he’s Jude Law or Paul Newman or the best of both of them rolled into one. And that accent, it’s to die for. I understand you’re meeting him in my dungeon this evening for a scene. How did you manage that, you lucky girl?”
“I haven’t exactly committed yet. Who is he exactly? How do you know him?”
“He’s Gordon’s friend.” Gordon, Alice’s brother, was also into the scene. “Simon works for Schuster and Allen, that international law firm that has offices in Portland and Seattle. Gordon met him back when he was doing a semester at Oxford.”
“So you don’t know him personally?” Rylee persisted, though if he was a friend of Gordon’s…
“I’ve never scened with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alice said with a laugh. “We’d fight over who got to use the whip. But let me tell you, he’s good looking enough that even I might consider bending over for the guy.” She laughed again. “Why? What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. I can’t decide if he’s too slick to be real. You know?” Rylee said.
“He’s offering to scene with you, not marry you.” Alice barked a laugh. “And if the scene isn’t to your liking, you’re the sub—you’ve got the ultimate control. Who cares if he’s real, honey, as long as he knows his way around a whip. If he doesn’t, I’d be happy to give the young man lessons, free of charge.”
Rylee closed her eyes, Simon’s handsome face rising in her mind as he brushed the back of her hand with his soft lips. Her nipples tingled pleasantly at the thought that that god of a man, for whatever reason, actually wanted her.
“Okay,” she said aloud. “What the hell, right? You only live once.”
“That a girl. See you at seven.”
When Rylee arrived, Simon was already in Alice’s sitting room, looking even better in a white button-down shirt and jeans than he had in black leather. He broke into a movie-star smile when he saw her. “Alice told me you were coming. I can’t tell you how delighted I am.” He came forward to take both her hands in his. “Are you ready, lovely girl?”
Rylee, with a glance at Alice, gave a small nod.
“Excellent. The dungeon awaits. You will go there now and strip naked. Wait for me on your knees, hands behind your head.”
Heat rushed into Rylee’s face, her nipples springing to attention. She shot another glance at Alice.
Alice, her lips lifted in a half smile, held up a thumb of approval.
Rylee blew out a breath, excitement pushing away any lingering misgivings. She left the room and walked the short way down the hallway to the dungeon.
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It was a typically equipped space with the requisite St. Andrew’s cross, spanking bench, bondage table and slave cage. In the center of the room was a freestanding suspension rack, a thickly padded rubber mat on the floor beneath it. In addition, there was a large wingback chair with a small end table beside it set off to the side.
Rylee took off her clothes, which consisted of her usual outfit of a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She folded and set them in a neat pile on the chair, her sneakers and socks tucked on the floor underneath. She had worn a pink, lacy bra and matching panties she’d been saving for a special occasion, and she was mildly annoyed that he’d ordered her to strip before he entered the room.
She knelt on the thick pad and assumed the position as ordered, her heart kicking up a notch as she waited for Master Simon to enter the room.
A moment later he did so, closing the door with a soft click behind him. He was carrying a large gear bag on his shoulder, which he sloughed off and placed on the floor. He said nothing for a long moment as he regarded her with a slow sweep of his very blue eyes.
His gaze fixed on hers, Simon slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was smooth, the skin almost glistening, as if he’d applied body oil to the supple muscles of his chest and six-pack abs. He really was beautiful to look at, almost too perfect.
“Stand up and extend your arms over your head,” he ordered as he approached her.
Rylee did as she was told, her nipples stiffening with anticipation. Her cunt moistened as Simon, standing so close she could smell his aftershave, locked her wrists into the cuffs that hung from the top of the suspension rack.
When he was done, he kicked lightly at her ankle with the toe of his Gucci loafer. He wasn’t wearing any socks. “Spread your legs so I can secure you properly,” he instructed.
Again Rylee obeyed his command, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
When she was fully locked in place, Simon stood and stepped back. “How do you feel?” He drew his finger along the curve of Rylee’s jaw and trailed it down her throat.
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