3
Sarah paused inside the doorway of the submissives’ lounge. All thoughts of the ache in her feet or the sudden appearance of Steffan in that finely-cut European suit vanished at the sight of Laurent and Carrie together on the longest of the two black, velvet-covered couches.
Laurent bent closer to Carrie’s ear and whispered something. They sat so close their knees touched. From the intimate bend of his neck toward her, the way his eyes remained riveted to her face, if Sarah hadn’t known they’d just met, she would have guessed they were lovers. He said something. Carrie flushed. So this was the man who wanted her to dominate him. After seeing her behind a pane of glass? Curious. Steffan was going to stick around and perhaps wanted in on it? Disconcerting. A group of abusers had lured Laurent? Enraging. She’d get to the bottom of that last one—soon.
“Hello, Laurent,” Sarah said softly.
He turned calmly and gave her a smile. “Mistress.” He stood giving her a full view of his well-proportioned chest. It was then she noticed Carrie’s hand attached to his. The young girl darted up and dropped his hand.
“Thank you, Carrie,” she said. “Laurent and I need to talk.”
“Mistress Sarah.” Before the girl could scoot by, Sarah gave her a reassuring squeeze on her arm. She’d done nothing wrong, and by the looks of Laurent, he had much practice seducing women. Carrie simply dipped her head and strode out.
“I’d like to speak with you privately.”
“Whatever you wish, Mistress.” For the second time today, a man presented his elbow for her to take. Most men in her sphere hadn’t let their formal manners slip—thank god—but the way Laurent offered his arm, with his head bowed and eyes downcast, she nearly melted. She hooked her hand over his bicep and let a small fantasy build—of him on his knees before her, a riding crop in her hand.
“What did Carrie show you?” she asked.
“She brought me here right away. She said you might wish to show me around yourself.”
She’d tell Alexander to give that girl a raise.
“So you haven’t seen the Masters’ private library yet?” Aside from each Tribunal member’s private bedroom, the hidden library was the most private spot in Accendos.
“I didn’t know there was one.”
“Then that’s where we’ll start.”
“Whatever pleases you.” Melt, indeed. They stepped out into the hallway.
“Laurent, here at Accendos, you don’t acquiesce to anything you don’t want to do. It doesn’t matter who is asking. You can ask me to show you the gardens instead or anywhere else. And, call me Sarah for now.”
His warm eyes met hers, flashing green and gold. “Sarah.”
She rather liked hearing her name on those full lips. “Good. It’s important we get to know one another as people before anything else can occur.”
“Where’s Steffan?”
“Enjoying the garden.”
“I believe it. He loves being outside.” He laughed softly.
“He told me about your family’s loss. I am so sorry.”
“Thank you.” His eyes lowered and then moved across the oil paintings they passed in the hall. “This is quite the place. Very different from other places I’ve been.”
“You will find a great many things different at any place Alexander is involved with. I understand you were with some people in Amsterdam. Who?”
He chuckled. “He told you, huh? Steffan is protective.”
“He’s a good Dom.”
“He says you’re better.”
She doubted that given the size of the ego she’d just encountered. “That wouldn’t be wholly true. Let’s say we’re equals, but, we don’t suffer fools in our realm. If Steffan had concerns over someone, then I have to report it.”
“Honestly, we weren’t together that long. It was a small fetish group. They called themselves the Masters of X.”
Oh, Jesus. She stifled a laugh. Someone had been reading too much BDSM fiction, and not the good kind. She’d tell Alexander. He would ferret out the mysterious Masters of X.
They strode through The Library’s grand doors. Laurent paused before a stern-looking Mistress Seraphina and a man on his knees that Sarah didn’t recognize. Carrie knelt next to him, his cock in her hand, her eyes downcast. None of them paid any attention to the fact they had an audience. Sarah recognized the moment as a punishment.
She turned her eyes to Laurent whose eyes locked onto the scene. “What do you think he’s done?” she whispered.
“Displeased her.” Beautiful color glowed in Laurent’s cheeks and his hazel eyes filled with longing. “Having another submissive hold his cock when all he wants is his Mistress’s touch is a reprimand.” Laurent’s voice was hushed, reverent.
That answer pleased her to her core. She dropped her hold on his arm and held out her palm. “Take my hand,” she said.
He engulfed her smaller hand in his, the heat and softness instantly sending a pang to between her legs. She loved so many things about men—their single-mindedness, the hardness of their bodies, and their size, everything larger than her. Yet she prized their strength the most. When they submitted to her, these creatures who could easily overpower her but chose not to, it fed both her own power and her sense of purpose.
Hand in hand, she and Laurent climbed the circular staircase that led to the gallery down which was the door to the Masters’ private library.
Once through the door, Laurent paused in awe. “I never would have guessed this was here.”
“Yes, it’s tucked away like a secret.”
He pointed to the fireplace stacked with wood, ready for a fire. “Would you like me to light that? I was a pretty good scout growing up.”
“Not now. Come sit with me.” She took one of the two, large leather chairs before the fireplace and crossed her legs.
He’d tried to sink to his knees, but she stopped him. She patted the seat across from her. He might not be comfortable being at eye level with her, but the more equal position was necessary. She wasn’t taking him on—yet.
“Now, I understand you wanted to meet me?”
“Oh yes.” He swallowed. “I understand you don’t have someone … and I might be able to help with that.”
She’d heard this offer countless times. “I’m not seeking anyone permanent right now, but—”
“Why not? Oh, sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “That was impertinent.” The urge to drop to his knees poured out of his pores. His hands curled over the edge of the stiff cushion, his eyes studying the carpet pattern.
“Kneel for me.”
His long lashes flicked up and then immediately down to the floor at her sudden command. He sank to his knees, and a sense of wishing to protect this strong yet vulnerable creature soared through her. Was her sudden need to watch over him truly because of him? She barely knew this man. Perhaps she just had some banked desires itching to get out. She had been working a lot lately.
“Your English is quite good.” His speech tinged with a Spanish accent added to his allure.
“Thank you. Everyone in Sweden learns English. I also speak Catalan. It was my mother’s native tongue.”
The sadness on his face wrenched her heart. “That will be very useful here. Alexander enjoys an international crowd.” She placed the pointed tip of her shoe under his chin and raised his face. “Laurent, what do you need?”
“May I do something for you?” he asked.
“And what would that be?” She lowered her foot.
“Nice Valentino’s.” He said without hesitation and traced a fingertip alongside the arch of her pump. “May I give you a foot massage?”
“You may.”
He slipped her foot from her shoe. “Elegant feet.”
Flatterer. Except the sincerity in his face couldn’t be denied not to mention the strength in his thumb as he kneaded her arch. He pulled on her toes one by one.
“Mmmm, I like that.” Forget a lavender bath. She could sit in this cha
ir having him do that for an hour.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“Oh?”
After he placed her foot on his thigh, he liberated her other one from her shoe. “I saw you a second time at Club 501. Last year. I wasn’t with Steffan.”
“Why you didn’t come and say hello?” It had been unwise for her to stop in to the Club, but she’d felt compelled to revisit for some odd reason. She chalked it up to her need to prove she had no lingering effects of her previous encounter there.
“I would never. I would wait to be introduced properly.”
She smiled at his formality. Oh, this man was either incredibly perceptive or truly sincere. She’d take either. Very few subs were anticipatory anymore. So many brats in our world.
“May I tell you why I wanted to meet you now?”
“I’m interested in everything you have to say, Laurent.”
“Steffan trusts you. I had never seen him play with another before … that night.” They both knew which night he referenced, which thanks to Steffan’s ambush, showing up here unannounced, she couldn’t stop thinking about.
She leaned back into the hard leather cushion and fought the urge to close her eyes. His fingers were magic. “Were you jealous?”
“No. I was privileged. You and Steffan were good together. I realized how I’d been gifted with watching two of the best people one could know in our world. I’d be honored to be a part of your life in any capacity you see fit. Time slips away so quickly, and I don’t believe in wasting any more of it. If you really think about it, our lives are so short.”
Were they? Contrary to what most believed, she’d always felt time crept along. The only time it didn’t was when she scened. Then time suspended. She wouldn’t mind suspending a little of it with this gorgeous creature. His face resembled one of the cherub statues that Alexander had outside in his gardens—angular cheekbones without being hard, inviting full lips, a head of tousled curls. If a man could be called lovely, he would be.
“Would you like to scene with me? Alone?” Her own words shocked her, but he looked so … accessible—yes, that was the word—kneeling at her feet, his hands removing all tension from her ankle to her toes. What was the harm, really, in exploring the possibility?
His answering smile warmed her head to foot.
“Yes, I will consider you, Laurent,” she answered his unspoken question. “So long as you understand, I can only offer you a temporary situation.”
“I’d take anything you wish to offer, Mistress Sarah.”
“Anything?”
“I don’t believe in depriving oneself. It would be my honor to submit to you, to give you whatever you require for as long as you need.”
She sighed. “Steffan mentioned you weren’t good at setting limits for yourself.”
“I believe in fulfilling my purpose. Mine is to serve, and I know who I wish to serve.”
No wonder Steffan couldn’t bear to be left out. If Laurent had been hers, she wouldn’t have allowed him to cross the street without her. His willingness was endearing but also dangerous. Talk about catnip to an unscrupulous Dom, and there had been far too many of those cropping up lately. Perhaps, temporarily, she could help this man who seemed borderline desperate to belong to someone. Laurent could also help her move past this sudden Steffan sighting. Steffan’s appearance in that gorgeous suit should not have rattled her to this extent, despite the memories he’d unearthed, despite his invasion into her weekend plans. Scening with the handsome sub could be an admirable diversion and derail any lingering doubts about her decision to put her time with Steffan behind her. She could redirect this whole situation. With that thought, her composure returned. Not difficult at all.
She pulled her foot free and stood. “You can rise. I’ll escort you back to Carrie who will help you find Steffan. Seraphina is probably done by now. She’s quick. I’ll think about your offer and talk with Steffan, see if he’s willing to observe.”
“I believe he’d do anything you asked.”
She chuffed. “We’ll see.”
She was about to ask the man to sit on the sidelines, not a natural environment for someone as dominant as Steffan—but he had asked to be involved. How about two someones? Okay, she’d let him watch, but that was it. She’d let her control slip that fateful weekend with him, acted like any other normal, hot-blooded woman. Now, she felt her resolve weaken once more in his presence—and that would never do.
She’d worked hard to design her life, not be pulled in whatever direction life threw at her. She had everything she needed—a profession she adored, wonderful friends and Club Accendos when she needed to burnish off the edge. The price for such freedom was having occasional bouts of loneliness, and she had male subs lined up, waiting for her interest. Right now, the one before her made that persistent hollow feeling lessen a bit. That alone meant something, and she’d explore—on her terms, with rules and procedures in place. They’d be vetted as new Accendos members, she might play a little with Laurent, and no one would get hurt—not on her watch. Decision made, she slipped her feet free of Laurent’s care.
Returning to The Library, she left him with Carrie. She caught sight of Steffan still in the garden as she strode through the breezeway to Alexander’s office. He stood with his back to her, staring up at the statue of Pothos. Steffan was taller than she recalled. He turned suddenly and caught her gawking at him. He smiled and dipped his head but made no move to come to her. For long minutes she stood there, his striking blue eyes holding her in place with an unblinking stare. She had to force herself to breathe. Empirically, he was handsome, different from Laurent, but beautiful nonetheless.
When she finally did rip her attention away, instead of heading to Alexander, she turned to head to her room. If she hadn’t needed a long soak in a tub before, she certainly did now. Perhaps the warm water would melt away her memories of Steffan out of his suit. Despite her decision to right the balance between them, she didn’t lie to herself. He could impact her again. She was going to have to shore up her defenses, starting with retreating to her room to think, to plan, to strategize.
4
Laurent leaned back on the park bench overlooking the Potomac and sipped his cappuccino. The homeless man at the other end of the bench eyed him suspiciously but stuck his grimy hand in the bag Laurent had handed him anyway. No way would Laurent eat a pastry in front of someone who desperately needed help. Besides, he didn’t know many people in DC yet, and the guy seemed as good as any to talk about the dark-haired mistress he couldn’t get out of his mind.
“Her name is Sarah,” he told the man.
The man grunted and stuffed the croissant he found between his lips—or Laurent thought so. Who could tell with all that gray and yellow facial hair spiking in all directions?
“Means princess.” Crumbs blew out of the man’s mouth. The guy brushed at his tattered pants.
“It fits.” The meaning did fit. The woman didn’t have an ounce of diva in her, but she certainly presented quite the package. That perfectly tailored white blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, those torturous Valentino pumps, her hair pulled back into a long cascade of chestnut waves, it all created the vision of someone who understood how to present herself powerfully. He understood Steffan’s inability to take his eyes off her, and how she would appeal to him.
Laurent unscrewed the top of his small Evian bottle and handed it to the guy who greedily drained it.
“Bless you,” the man said before rising and toddling off to god knew where, his maniac mutterings trailing behind him.
There I am but for the grace of God. Watching him stumble to evade other pedestrians, Laurent almost jumped up to force the man in the direction of the homeless shelter he’d passed earlier. Steffan’s voice echoed annoyingly in his head. Let go.
Laurent sighed. “So many people with money here and they still can’t figure this one out.”
He’d counted the number of homeless in the park—thirty-s
ix men and women. If Steffan hadn’t intervened, he could have been living on the street himself, and now he paid close attention to those wanting. He glanced down at his watch. He had an hour to kill before meeting Steffan and the realtor to look at yet another house in DC they might buy. He’d convinced Steffan that purchasing a place was better than renting. He wasn’t so sure that one year was going to be enough time here for any of them. Sarah proved more suspicious of them than he’d expected.
He closed his eyes and fixed his mind on thoughts of that dark-haired woman he’d hoped—no, prayed—he could call his Mistress. When he first saw her at Accendos, he’d been trying to help Carrie with some advice. She strode into the room with such confidence the urge to fall to his knees and beg her to accept his service sprang up so hard he’d nearly done it. Serving her, pleasing her, would require ultimate submission, something that turned him on, body and soul. He wasn’t the only one affected by her presence. Steffan didn’t have a submissive element to his personality, but Laurent noted his friend’s strong reaction to her. He watched her with a lust-filled reverence he’d never before seen in the man’s eyes. Steffan’s desire for her hadn’t waned one bit since Laurent had been riveted by them co-topping that redhead. Days later, he’d asked Steffan about her, wanting to know what about her had intrigued him enough to play with such a powerful Domme.
“She’s my equal,” he’d said. “Or I’m hers.”
That wasn’t a small thing for Steffan to admit. He loved his friend, but Steffan had an arrogant streak as wide as the river he now stared at. Yet Steffan had let Sarah slip away. Because of me. Steffan and his honor, he thought ruefully. It rivaled his self-confidence. The man really did need to learn to multi-task.
Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Page 3