Chapter 2 #3
Z wore his usual tailored black clothing, right down to the black leather, black-faced watch. He tilted his head in an invitation to join them. “Jacob, did anything of interest occur this evening?”
“No disasters.” Jake smiled. “I think you’ll lose Tanner from the trainees shortly. The Coltons plan to ask him to become a third in their relationship.”
“That would be a good match for all three,” Z said.
“Agreed.” Sam glanced behind them with displeasure. “Barge and Rainie, though. Not a match.”
“Not even close.” Jake’s brows drew together. On a different night, he wouldn’t have permitted the scene with Barge. She didn’t need lightweight play. “I’d say she’s in a rut. Doesn’t want to be pushed. Doesn’t want anything heavy.”
“Indeed.” The lines bracketing Z’s mouth deepened. “I need to carve out more time for the trainees.”
Jake shook his head, seeing the guilt drop onto the Dom’s shoulders.
The owner considered the trainees—hell, all the members—to be his responsibility.
“I don’t think you have more time available, Zachary.
” He deliberately used Z’s full name. “And you have new obligations, like a pregnant wife. Time to lighten the load and learn to delegate.”
Sam’s sandpapery chuckle held approval.
To Jake’s relief, Z gave him a wry smile. The best Doms saw themselves clearly—and had a sense of humor. “Perhaps so, Jacob. In fact, I think you should take over the trainees.”
“Me? I don’t—”
Gray eyes alight with amusement, Z squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not only equal to the challenge, but you would also enjoy it.”
“Maybe.” Probably. Jake held up his hand to stall. To think. After a minute, he said, “I might like being the Trainee Master, but I need to refuse.”
“What the hell?” Sam growled.
“The responsibility isn’t a concern.” Jake’s gaze drifted to Rainie. Since she’d come into his clinic, he’d had an…urge that grew stronger each day. Time to ante up. “I believe a Trainee Master shouldn’t meet a trainee outside of the Shadowlands. Which is why I’d prefer to avoid the job.”
Z followed his gaze, and a faint smile appeared. “I see. And respect your honesty. Will you have a problem working with her as a Master?”
“Not at all,” Jake said.
“Excellent,” Z said.
Sam shifted his weight. “Got a chore for you then. The girl has trouble refusing a Dom’s orders. Maybe she’s intimidated, maybe wants to please too badly, maybe both. I figured she’d conquered the problem, but”—he nodded toward the couch—“she’s lying instead of just saying no.”
Work with Rainie? Hell, yes. “I’ll take that project.”
“Very good,” Z said. “Thank you, Jacob.”
As the two men continued their rounds, Jake stayed in place, considering. “…trouble refusing.” Not good.
As a veterinarian, Jake was skilled in reading body language—although admittedly, humans were vastly more difficult. He’d never exceeded a submissive’s boundaries, spoken or not. But not every Dom had learned to read a submissive.
And even in a pick-up scene, a submissive and Dominant performed an intricate dance. To be fulfilled, the sub needed to give up control. Yet, a Dom had to trust that a sub would say stop if he pushed too far.
Sam, being a sadist, certainly knew the danger of a bottom lying to a top. Was he right about Rainie having a problem?
As he drank his water, Jake considered. When she agreed to scene with Barge, her body had been relaxed.
No conflict between her body language and her words.
But later, she’d refused a date and insisted she had to work.
At that time, her head had jerked sideways in unspoken contradiction.
She’d widened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Barge, a technique often used by liars to show their honesty.
Yes, she’d lied to Barge. If Sam was correct, she’d been uncomfortable saying “no” to a Dom.
The thought of Rainie caving in and doing something she didn’t like sent a trickle of anger through him. Knowing she’d lied didn’t make him happy either. His job—tonight—would be to change that behavior.
Jake tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. How best to achieve that goal?
She’d have to practice saying no…but in a realistically intimidating setting. One where she’d find refusing difficult.
He’d have to find more than one Dom to assist. She might find it easy to decline a stranger’s orders, so he’d create a tenuous bond between her and the Dom—and punish her for anything other than a firm no.
Plan forming in his head, Jake looked around and picked out the Doms he’d trust to follow instructions.
This is ridiculous. Rainie couldn’t put up with more of Barge’s bullshit. With some effort—stupid low-slung couch—she struggled to her feet. “I’m going to clean up.”
To her relief, Barge remained sitting.
She gave him a token bow. “Thank you for the scene, Sir.”
Brows drawn down in anger, he didn’t answer.
She turned away, annoyed more with herself than him.
She was totally a sniveling, spineless slug.
Why hadn’t she simply said she wasn’t interested in dating him?
That he did nice scenes, but she didn’t want anything else from him?
But no-o-o, instead, she invented excuses.
With a disgusted grunt, she shoved her hair back.
Thank goodness, Master Sam hadn’t been around. When he’d caught her waffling rather than giving a straight refusal, the sadist had given her a “lesson” by smacking her ass until she’d managed to spit out a resolute “no.”
She thought she’d learned that day. Apparently not.
Let’s not mention the backsliding to Master Sam, okay?
After a leisurely trip to the restroom—to give Barge a chance to leave—Rainie headed for the bar. Since Master Z had started hiring waitresses, she didn’t have any official duties. Right now, she wanted to go home. A quick word to Master Cullen, and she’d be free to leave.
Midevening, several club members had finished playing and sat at the bar socializing. Jessica perched on a barstool. Beside her, Master Z was talking to Mistress Olivia.
“Rainie. C’mere.” Jessica had always been curvy, but her pregnancy made her even rounder.
A while back, she’d abandoned her pretty corsets.
Tonight, she wore a low-cut green tank top with a loose-waisted vinyl skirt held up by suspenders.
Trust Master Z to attire his submissive in an outfit that would make even pregnancy sexy.
“Did you have a bad session? You seem unhappy.”
“Nah, the scene was fun. The glowing strands on the cat-o’-nine-tails were spectacular.” As she’d hoped, the flogging had been mostly a massage. If only Barge hadn’t been a putz afterward.
“The paddles flash pretty good too.” Jessica shifted her weight on the stool as if her bottom hurt. “I can testify to that.”
“Oh really?” Rainie glared at Master Z. He’d hit a pregnant woman?
“Don’t look like that.” Jessica wrinkled her nose. “He’d told me to stay put and I didn’t, so I got a few good swats.”
A few swats with a paddle wouldn’t hurt her. “Well, you actually do look better. Not so tired.”
“Nope. I’m good. Andrea made me sit longer after you left. And when I tried to restock the munchie tables, Z swatted my ass and planted me here.” With a pout, Jessica stroked a hand over her rotund stomach. “Yeah, planted. I swear, I feel more like a potato than a woman.”
Obviously hearing her, Master Z curved his arm around her waist, so his palm rested on her baby bump.
“If you want to compare yourself to a food, I’d say a peach.
Ripe. Succulent.” He kissed the curve of her shoulder and neck, and his resonant voice deepened.
“You’re beautiful, kitten, and I love you more every single day. ”
As Jessica’s eyes filled with tears, her hand covered her husband’s. Her Dom’s.
A disconcerting yearning shook Rainie.
I want that. Want it all.
But no. She wanted no husband or babies, at least not here in the Tampa/St. Pete area where her past would rise up and bite her in the butt.
She retreated a step and bumped into a body that was totally bone and muscle. Honestly, hadn’t men ever heard of padding?
Lean fingers gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “Just the person I was looking for,” Master Jake said.
Oh, this is just craptastic. Green eyes. Carved features. And a trimmed five-o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. She realized she was breathless. “Can I help you with something, Sir?”
“Mmmhmm. I’ve got some time, so we’re going to work together tonight”—he added the final word as if to let her know she was screwed—“trainee.”
“But I thought the trainees weren’t… No. We’re free to make our own choices tonight.”
To her dismay, Master Z turned to contemplate her for a long, long moment. “You haven’t the appearance of a satisfied submissive. Go with Master Jacob.”
Oh hellfire and hissyfit hyena shoes. “Of course, Sir,” she said obediently and looked at Master Jake. “Sir, do you have an assignment for me?”
“Let’s talk a bit.” He curled his hand around her arm, firmly enough that she felt controlled, carefully enough that she knew he wouldn’t hurt her by accident. On purpose, though…
Despite her avoidance of him, she’d observed him play, something he did frequently and well and with a variety of submissives. His BDSM skills appeared exhaustive. He well deserved the “Master” title he’d been voted into last summer.
And, from the way just his touch had melted her insides into liquid goo, she’d still underestimated him. Unlike the in-your-face authority of other Doms, Master Jake’s power was a lazy riptide, drawing a submissive under his command before she even realized she’d surrendered.
He steered her to a secluded area and pointed to a chair. As she settled onto the leather cushion, he drew the other chair around, so they sat face–to–face.
When his long legs bumped into hers, she pulled her feet up onto the chair.
A corner of his mouth tipped up and then he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, shifting right into her personal space.