Chapter Five #4
He thought about the little love notes he used to tuck under her plate every morning, and wondered if resurrecting that small ritual would soften her heart or send her into a tailspin of volatile emotion.
The way his luck was swinging, she’d smash the plate into his face like a custard pie, then chew up the note and spit it out for good measure.
Reaux tottered gingerly toward the bathroom, finally gaining a true appreciation for exactly how a sub felt after an anal play scene, and relieved himself without too much humiliation.
He washed the sleep out of his eyes and, rather than risk Violet’s wrath by retrieving his toothbrush from her room, simply borrowed hers.
Feeling more like himself despite the lack of deep sleep, he padded back out into the hallway, almost colliding with a tall, curvy female. “Morning, Vi—who the hell are you?”
A pair of thin, pale brown eyebrows lifted in surprise.
They’d been so viciously plucked, there was hardly anything left.
Murky green eyes surveyed him in a slow up-down movement that set alarm bells ringing in his head.
“Good morning to you too, handsome. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone; the Mistress isn’t usually an early riser… or blessed with company.”
Reaux frowned. “Ever?”
The woman shrugged. “Not in the year she’s been here. I service this section of cabins nearly every day and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a man here.”
How curious. He folded his arms across his chest. “How do you service this cabin?”
“This one in particular? The Mistress has specific instructions—I leave breakfast in the kitchen, light the fires, tidy any rooms that require it. A cleaning crew comes by before lunch and cleans if the Mistress is out.”
“I see.” He stroked a finger over his lower lip thoughtfully, not unaware of how her eyes followed the movement. This new information was pleasing, to say the least. “Do you spend much time in the club yourself…” He checked the name tag on her dress, just above her breast. “…Darlene?”
She preened as though the question was an invitation. “My time is my own once my shift ends. There aren’t any rules about club employees using the facilities or fraternizing with guests when the work clock stops.”
“Does the Mistress play with a lot of subs?”
Darlene pouted a little. “Only when she’s working.
She has a strict scheduling rule—she doesn’t play with anyone unless they have an appointment.
Can’t say I’ve ever seen her with a sub on her own time.
” She tried a flirtatious smile, a soft flutter of overly long fake eyelashes.
“Don’t be jealous, handsome. If you need something extra, I swing both ways.
I can top just as good as any of the Mistresses here. ”
Well now, didn’t that explain a few things? Violet hadn’t taken a lover during their first year apart—Francoise definitely would’ve reported something like that, and he’d been exceptionally thorough when vetting any of the men who approached her—and she’d been here for the second year.
Reaux smiled slowly, knowing damn well he’d just found a gaping hole in the foundation wall of her defenses.
She’d remained faithful to him, as he had her, and that…
that rekindled the dwindling hope in his soul for a peaceful resolution to this mess.
“Thank you for your interest, but alas, I am taken.”
The housekeeper simpered, edging closer to run her hand down his bare arm. “Don’t let the Mistress fool you into believing this is a permanent arrangement. She doesn’t do permanent. Hell, even temporary is a rarity. Why waste all this perfection on someone who won’t put it to good use?”
The smile fell away as righteous anger swelled like a tidal wave in his chest, pumping through his veins with every beat of his heart.
Shaking her hand away, he crossed his arms over his pecs and shifted his feet until he transformed from an easygoing sub into his rightful persona.
“When someone tells you he’s taken, you would be wise to listen.
Perhaps I am not a Master here, but back home, I am king.
Anyone who attempts to poach from another member in my club is a member no more. ”
“Well, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Patiently, he waited until she dared to meet his gaze, darkening it with years of practice until he knew his expression was black and cold.
He saw the nervous swallow, was sure he heard her throat click, and allowed a sharp smile to touch his mouth.
“Would you like me to demonstrate how dramatic I can be? I assure you, you will not enjoy it.”
Ah, now she was fully aware of what he was. The tone of his voice was chilling, a subtle threat delivered in an alluring accent. Danger and temptation, the downfall of many, merged into one.
Would she be brave and push him further, or—
No, she’d decided against aggravating him further, stepping back from the situation with as much dignity as she could muster. “T-That’s okay. I’ll, uh…”
He jerked his chin toward the door silently, watching relief flash in her eyes before she spun and hurried toward freedom. As she swung the door open, he called out her name.
Reluctantly, Darlene stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him.
“I think it may be prudent to request a change of housekeeper, oui?”
Those odd eyes searched his face, then she nodded quickly before making a swift exit. Luckily, she didn’t slam the door shut behind her; if she’d woken Violet, he might have been tempted to request a punishment for her that she certainly wouldn’t take delight in, whether she was top or bottom.
Still, once she was gone, his thoughts veered immediately back to Violet and the potential value of the secret she’d been keeping.
Honestly, he was able to admit he had no right to expect her to divulge it when he was barely two days back in her life, but it had been reckless of her not to—she possessed personal knowledge of his size and how he liked to fuck.
Their tryst earlier could’ve been disastrous.
The anger began to curdle again, this time low in his gut.
He could have hurt her, seriously hurt her. Remembering the sweet snugness of her cunt, how fucking deep he’d driven in that first thrust, the scream she’d tried to muffle… she wasn’t a virgin, hadn’t been for a long time, but Lord have mercy on his tainted soul, he felt as though he’d failed her.
It didn’t matter that he’d been acting in the capacity of her sub, that she’d retained control of what happened even though he was the one who snapped and instigated it.
It didn’t matter that she’d neglected to use a safeword, that she’d encouraged him to fuck her like… what was it?
A bitch in heat.
In his heart, in the core of himself, he was first and foremost a fucking Dominant. This brief sojourn into the other side of the lifestyle meant little when she endangered her physical and mental health simply to keep him under her thumb.
He lowered his arms, fisting his hands.
It was time to have a come to Jesus talk with his petite beignet, one where that equal footing he longed for began to edge into play.
Being submissive was a refreshing change of pace, he could admit, but he wasn’t sure how long he could cram himself into that role when it felt like a cramped pair of old boots, rubbing in the wrong places, causing irritation and raw wounds.
Both dominance and submission brought him peace, he was discovering. In different measures, affecting alternate parts of him, but dominance was engraved in his bones, inked into his muscles, carved into his soul.
Violet was about to be reminded of that fact, he mused as he approached the bedroom door. He couldn’t afford to let her rewrite their history by replacing her memories of him at his most powerful with ones of him in his weakest, incredibly vulnerable moments.
Before that, however, he wanted to see if she was capable of lying to his face.
Violet
The absence of coffee in the morning was a travesty.
It meant it was either too early for housekeeping to arrive and switch on the coffeemaker, or the unthinkable had happened and housekeeping was running late.
Given the fact she’d never had an issue with the service in the past year, she assumed her internal clock was as messed up as the rest of her, thanks to Boudreaux’s presence.
If she pretended all was right with the world, maybe she’d get another hour’s sleep and wake up surrounded by the magical fragrance she needed.
Unfortunately, her ability to pretend was dead and buried when she knew damn well the biggest pain in her ass was somewhere within reach—she could smell him, feel him beneath her skin, almost taste him.
It was infuriating.
“I know you’re awake, Bennie.”
She heaved out an annoyed breath. “It’s hard to sleep with an asshole watching my every move. This is just creepy, Boudreaux, and if I recall correctly, I warned you what would happen if you stepped foot in this room.”
When he laughed, she opened her eyes. It wasn’t submissive Reaux stretched out on the bed beside her; she knew from his tone alone what side of the couch he’d gotten out of this morning.
“What’s so funny?”
“This…” he murmured, reaching out to trail his finger over her breast, barely missing her nipple. “Flannel, Bennie? Cute and whimsical with all these little butterflies, but not what I expected from you.”
“Let me guess—you’d prefer a lacy camisole and matching flimsy thong.”
Reaux’s eyes darkened. “Naked is what I’d prefer.”
Oh no, they were not doing this again. Her pajamas were an excellent deterrent, but not infallible.
They’d already desecrated her bed once and, quite frankly, her body was regretting the foolish choice it made yesterday.
“How lucky for me that your preferences hold no water, Boudreaux. Make yourself useful and get the coffee started, there’s a good boy. ”