Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Day’s over. Head on in,” Ben shouted from Raoul’s patio.
Groans came from the dozen teenage boys on the beach.
“Here you go, Bronx.” A boy pitched the Frisbee into the waves. “Get it one last time.”
Bronx barked happily and charged into the surf.
“These are good children.” Raoul joined Ben at the railing. “I’m glad they could all make it here.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the boys started up the steps toward the house. Sunburned, sandy, scruffy. Some had more tats than clothes. More piercings than money. A few of them looked as if they’d murder their grandmothers and rob a 7-11 on the way home.
Yet, as Bronx pranced out of the water, Frisbee held high, every single boy cheered. Each gave the dog pats and scratches as he trotted past them on the steps.
Ben accepted the Frisbee and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Thanks, Bronx. You did good today, buddy.”
If there were therapy dogs for unhappy teenagers, Bronx would be a natural. Even the quietest kid blossomed under the retriever’s attentions, and the dog had become an essential member of the group soon after Marcus recruited Ben.
The original bunch had been kids in Marcus’s martial arts club.
The sensei there had offered some at-risk teens free lessons, hoping the discipline of karate would benefit them.
Marcus started the outings, partly for fun, partly to acquaint them with various careers.
Then his friends had stepped in. Now, some of the kids worked for Andrea’s cleaning business, some in Beth’s landscaping company.
Somewhere along the way, Ben had been roped in. A few months ago, he’d taken a handful to an art gallery and later on a photo expedition.
Last month, the boys had visited Raoul’s offices to learn about civil engineering…and to design bridges on the high-tech software.
Today’d been simply to have a good time.
Ben had enjoyed himself as well. Kids were fun—all of them, from the terrifyingly small ones like Z’s Sophia to this batch of rabble-rousers. He wanted children of his own, someday. Didn’t matter how many as long as the number started at two.
Anne didn’t even want pets in her life.
No, that was inaccurate. She was changing. And fuck knew, she loved children. As with plants and pets, she’d just never thought about having her own.
How far could he push her before hitting a wall?
“Y’all fetch your bags, grab water, and line up at the door,” Marcus ordered from the living room. He counted off boys as Raoul tossed them bottles of water.
“Thanks, Raoul.” “Thanks, Ben.” “It was great.” The chorus of farewells and gratitude continued as the teens headed out the front door and to the rented mini-bus. Undoubtedly, they’d party all the way back to Tampa.
“Thank you for hosting the invasion, Raoul.” Marcus stopped in the door to keep an eye on the bus.
“It was a pleasure, my friend, and an honor. Here—one for you.” Raoul tossed over a bottled water.
Marcus caught it. As Raoul headed into the kitchen, Marcus turned to Ben. “Thank you for—”
“Don’t even start on that gratitude shit, Atherton.” Snorting a laugh, Ben nudged the lawyer out the door. “You know I have as much fun as they do.”
As Marcus jogged to the bus, Ben raised his hand to the boys and got back a burst of whistles and cheers.
And that was that. He glanced at the clock and winced. Time to get a move on.
Kim was in the kitchen. “Hey, Ben. Raoul went out to the patio. He said his ears were ringing.”
“Got that.” Noise and boys—inseparable. “Do you have an old towel I can use on Bronx? He’s covered in sand, and we’re driving to the Everglades after this.”
“Of course. I’ll bring one out.”
When Ben went out the French doors to the back, he found Raoul at a table in the shade.
Off to one side, Bronx was lapping water from a wide, foot-high, terra-cotta fountain.
Hell of a fancy pet-waterer. Something so pretty would look just about right on Anne’s deck. Maybe in a ceramic blue.
Ben looked around. “Where’s your dog?”
Raoul grinned and pointed under the table to where Kim’s dog was sprawled out, dead to the world.
“Poor bastard,” Ben said. “It’s a lot of work to protect and serve—and play—all at the same time.”
“He takes his guard dog duties quite seriously,” Raoul agreed. At a rocky point in their relationship, he and Kim had broken up. Worried about her being alone, he’d bought the highly trained German shepherd for her.
Today, although the dog played on the beach with the group, Ari remained vigilant. Any time someone approached Kim, the dog’d charge up the stairs to the patio…just in case.
Who knew when some skinny fifteen-year-old might go berserk and lay a hand on his mistress, right?
“If you are not in a hurry, please, join me for a beer before you leave.” Raoul motioned to a seat across the table. “I’d like to talk to you.”
Some problem with the boys? The drive could wait a bit. “Sure.” As Ben sat, Kim appeared with a towel.
“Thanks, Kim.” When Ben whistled, Bronx trotted over to get wiped down.
Kim turned to Raoul. “Drinks, Master?”
“That would be good, gatita, thank you. Dos Equis, I think, for Ben.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Wine for you if you wish. I think you have more than earned it today.”
Under her Dom’s appreciative smile, Kim flushed a pretty red and simply glowed.
His voice lowered, and he murmured something to her.
Feeling as if he were intruding, Ben concentrated on de-sanding his dog, then waved him under the table to join Ari for a nap.
As Bronx flattened out with a soft sigh, Kim returned from the house with a tray. She handed an opened Stump Knocker to Raoul, a Dos Equis to Ben, and took the glass of red wine for herself.
“I sampled your Brooklyn Lager at the Shadowlands,” Raoul said. “Dos Equis is as close to it as I have on hand.”
“Good choice.” Fuck knew he didn’t want Raoul’s favorite beer—the stuff was so malty it was almost black. He raised his bottle to both his hosts. “Thanks.”
Nodding in reply, Kim picked up a chair cushion, placed it on the ground, and with her drink in hand, gracefully settled at her Master’s feet.
As a slave would.
Ben frowned. Was that behavior what Anne expected of him? Even with guests present? If that was what she wanted, he’d do his best…but the idea made his skin crawl.
“This way you look…” Raoul drank some of his beer and set the bottle on the table. “This is what I wish to speak of.”
“You don’t like the way I look?” What the fuck? Helping with the boys required good looks?
“No, no. You are frowning because my sumisita is here. At my feet.” When Raoul laid his hand on her shoulder, Kim rubbed her cheek against his wrist.
Ben straightened as the Dom’s intention became clear. Anne would be the topic of discussion. How could he politely refuse? “Listen—”
“My friend, I do not usually interfere in business not my own, but you are new to the lifestyle. I am…concerned…you might be in over your head. As I am familiar with Master/slave relationships, perhaps I can answer some questions?”
Was every Shadowlands Master going to butt into his affairs?
Ben took a drink, stalling for time. Because, maybe, Raoul had a point.
Over the last few days, Anne had kept him close. Because he’d…lied…to her, she was worried about him. He couldn’t object. Hell, even more than the sex, he got off on their long talks. She’d served as a Marine. Been deployed. She got what he was talking about.
Trouble was, she was his Mistress. He was her slave. And that…power exchange…never let up.
He was starting to wonder if he really could do that shit. Forever.
But some people could. He put his beer on the table and studied Kim.
She’d set the wine beside her and was still. As calm and peaceful as a person deep in meditation, yet she held herself ready for whatever Raoul wanted her to do.
She was a slave.
Was Ben willing to go as far as she had? His gut was saying no. “She do that all the time?” Ben nodded at Kim.
“Actually, no.” Raoul stroked her hair. “And yes. She enjoys the calmness of high protocol after events. And I wanted you to observe formal Master/slave dynamics in a home setting.”
“But normally you don’t do this…stuff. Sitting at your feet and not talking?” Anne got off on the formal protocol shit though.
“Kimberly is always under my command, Ben,” Raoul said gently.
“At home, the rules are loosened for comfort, so she is free to speak, to sit, to dress as she wishes…unless I wish otherwise. I often wish otherwise. This is because, as with electricity, when the power between two poles is not equal, a sizzle is created.”
A sizzle, huh? Well, he and Anne enjoyed an excellent sizzle in the bedroom. But elsewhere?
Kim sat with her eyes closed, and as her Master petted her like a cat, her contentment was obvious.
Ben wasn’t sure he’d be as damned content.
Drifting, Kim tilted her head under her Master’s touch, feeling like the gatita—little kitten—that Master R often called her.
His big hands were powerful. Deadly. And ever so gentle with her.
His callused fingers trailed over her cheek and down to tug her collar slightly, letting her know she could rest against him.
She counted on that. Her Master was her anchor.
Whether the ocean was peaceful or stormy, he was there for her.
Although he’d reluctantly taken her as a slave to help bring down a human trafficking ring, neither of them had been willing to separate afterward.
Master/slave was what worked for them both.
But now…now she was making him unhappy because he wanted to marry her.
Considering she was his slave, marrying him should be a no-brainer, right? But after a childhood of watching her mother suffer within matrimonial bonds, marriage looked too much like a trap. Being a wife was far scarier than being a slave.
But with Raoul, she was learning she could handle scary.