Chapter Six
Chapter Six
The next afternoon, in a fancy Miami hotel suite, perched on the couch, Sydney finished telling her two friends about the wild weekend at the Den, then at Master Michael’s ranch.
“Wait, let me get this straight,” Leaundra said, standing near the French doors that led to the patio and an ocean view. She had a glass of wine in hand, and her eyes were wide with shock. “You had a mind-blowing night with a hunky cowboy, and you freaking walked away without giving him your phone number? Girl, are you crazy?”
“You’re going to have to give us more details,” Jacqueline said. She was seated in a high-back chair and was drumming her fingers on the upholstered arm.
The three of them had shared an apartment in college, and they met up once a year to renew their friendship. None of them had changed much.
Leaundra loved men, the idea of being in love, shopping, and dining out. And not necessarily in any particular order. The first time they’d met, she’d said she was only attending school to meet a rich man and marry him. Senior year, she’d found a man who met her requirements. Right after graduation, she’d tied the knot.
Jacqueline, a trial lawyer, was the most successful of them all, at least by worldly goods standards.
“This is going to need more wine,” Leaundra insisted, walking across the room to pick up an oversize bottle with a twist-off lid.
Sydney knew the cheap pink stuff probably wouldn’t be considered wine by connoisseurs, but in their college days, it had been the only thing they could afford. It was sweet and went down easy. Money wasn’t as big of an issue now, but they still bought the same brand—probably more for nostalgic reasons than anything else.
She leaned forward and offered her glass for the refill. “I didn’t come here to discuss my love life,” Sydney insisted. “I want to hear about Leaundra’s upcoming wedding plans.”
“I haven’t turned into bridezilla this time. Well, at least not so far.” She refilled Jacqueline’s glass. “I’m hoping I’ve had enough experience to know what’s worth getting my panties in a wad for.”
True. Though Leaundra wasn’t thirty, this was going to be her third trip down the aisle. At least she’d traded up with each engagement. When she’d first seen the size of the rock on her friend’s hand, Sydney had reached for a pair of sunglasses.
“The worst that has happened so far is that his mother dragged me to a cake tasting. One of her friends owns a bakery. But really, matcha and black sesame?” She pulled back, as if appalled. “Green tea flavor for a wedding cake? Who does that?” She shrugged. “But what the hell? I’ve had vanilla with buttercream frosting before.”
“Last time was red velvet,” Jacqueline added.
“See?” Leaundra added. “I’ve been traditional, and it didn’t work. So green tea it is. At least it’s better than chili chocolate avocado.”
“Seriously? Avocado?” Sydney echoed, exchanging glances with Jacqueline.
“I kid you not. This is what my life has become.” Leaundra put down the bottle, then returned to her place by the window. “Please, I beg you, let me live vicariously through you.”
Obviously getting no reprieve from that quarter, Sydney turned to Jacqueline. “You’ve always got fantastic stories about perverted judges.”
“You’re not getting out of this,” Jacqueline said. “Later tonight I’ll tell you about Judge Samuels and what he was wearing under his robe.” She lifted her glass in a mock salute.
Sydney and Leaundra dutifully followed suit. They pretended to clink the glasses together.
After a sip, Jacqueline returned to the topic at hand. “We want to hear about Mr. Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down.”
“There’s not much to tell. He’s not any different from other guys I play with at the Den.”
“Well, we like those stories too, right, Lea?”
“Damn straight.” She nodded. “But this is significant, and don’t pretend it’s not. He’s the first guy you’ve gone home with since Lewis.”
“He was a loser,” Jacqueline added helpfully. “We should have tattooed a capital L on his forehead while he was asleep.”
Sydney grinned. There was nothing like hanging out with friends she’d known since her late teens.
“So, about Michael,” Leaundra prompted.
“Master Michael,” she corrected automatically.
“Hmm.” Jacqueline arched a carefully sculpted eyebrow.
“When you went to the Den, did you see that hunky piece of man, Gregorio?” Lea blinked. “I mean, he is single, right?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sydney replied, shaking her head. “You’re getting married. Remember?”
“Oh. Right. Walking down the aisle. I digress.”
“Yes. He was there.”
Lea fanned herself.
“He even had a few words with Master Michael about me.”
“And he approached you anyway?” Lea asked. “Brave man. I like brave men.”
“You like any men,” Jacqueline fired back.
Completely unoffended, Lea lifted a shoulder.
“So then what happened?” Jacqueline asked, returning them to the original discussion.
“We played, and after that, he invited me back to the ranch.”
“In the middle of nowhere,” Lea added. “And you spent the night.”
Sydney nodded.
“You met his goat. He cooked you breakfast. And you left without giving him your phone number.”
“Correct. And that’s the whole story.” She squirmed, wanting to move on to a different topic. At this point, Sydney was sorry she’d told them anything at all. But still, her emotions had been in such turmoil since she’d driven away from Master Michael that she hadn’t been able to keep the events bottled up inside.
Maybe going home with him was a mistake.
His house was huge, and it spoke of a commitment to something deeper than his own life. He was attached to the land and his family history. And he had an eye on future generations, creating a legacy.
When she’d escaped from the relationship with Lewis, she’d reinforced her choices to carpe diem, seizing the present moment.
Yet, a single night with the sexy cowboy at the Eagle’s Bend Ranch had turned her inside out.
Master Michael was a skilled Top. Dominant to his core, and he’d seen through her in ways no one else ever had. And he challenged her. No one else had discovered her fear of being left alone. Most likely it was because she’d never let anyone get close enough to learn any of her secrets.
So why you, Master Michael?
As she’d cleaned her condo and packed for her trip, she’d asked herself that question a dozen times.
During a restless night’s sleep, where she’d dreamed of that spanking and his final, deliciously tempting parting words to her, she’d finally admitted the truth to herself.
He was man enough to thrill her, and persistently Dominant enough to read her emotions and shatter her resistance.
She sighed, hating the realization, knowing it left her vulnerable to him.
Intuition blared in warning. But feminine hunger urged her to ignore her more cautious side and play with him a second time, despite her hard and fast rules.
“Earth to Sydney.” Lea snapped her fingers.
“Sorry.” She shook her head to clear it of the near-constant thoughts of Michael.
“Your story seems to be lacking some details.”
“I think that about covers it.”
“No, ma’am.” She took a sip of wine. “You left out the part where you got the welts on the backs of your thighs. I saw them when we were at the swimming pool.”
“You should become a private investigator,” Jacqueline said with a raised brow. “If Jack doesn’t work out—”
“John,” Lea corrected. “This one is named John.”
“As I was saying, if this marriage doesn’t work out, I’ll offer you a job at my law firm.”
“Hmm. I may take you up on it. Do I need a license or something?”
“Mostly you need to chase down obscure details and angles and check out people’s stories.”
“I’m good at that. Eye for details.”
“Nosy,” Sydney corrected, leaning forward to grab one of the chocolate chip cookies they’d snagged from the lobby at check-in. They’d split the cost of the suite three ways, and that was the only reason she’d been able to afford to stay at such a fancy place.
“So, about the welts,” Leaundra prompted.
“Tenacious, as well,” Jacqueline observed.
Knowing Lea wouldn’t relent—and was likely to circle back after another glass of wine when Sydney was even more willing to talk—she sighed. “At the beginning of the evening, we had a small scene outside at the Den to see if we were compatible.”
“Outside?”
“He had me bend over a fence.”
“Like your pants were down and everything?”
“My dress was lifted up.”
“Could other people see?” she asked.
“Was it okay with you?” Jacqueline wanted to know. Probably as well as Sydney, her friend remembered her fury that Lewis had done something similar to her.
“First, answering Lea… I doubt anyone else could see us properly. It was getting close to dark, and we were away from the main house.” Then she turned to Jacqueline. “This was consensual, which makes it entirely different.” And there’d been no deliberate humiliation involved. In fact, what he’d asked of her had rocketed a thrill through her. Even from the first moment they’d met, he’d appealed to her thrill-seeking nature.
“What happened next?” Lea leaned forward. “Did he spank you?”
Sydney took a bite of the cookie and washed it down with wine. Surely all the sugar would give her a toothache. “Yes.”
“And it was hot enough that you went home with him?”
“That could have been dangerous,” Jacqueline pointed out.
Over the years, Leaundra had stood on the sidelines and encouraged Sydney to do crazy things. Jacqueline would recite a list of concerns as long as a legal disclaimer. Before Jacqueline could go on, Sydney held up a hand. “Master Damien vouched for him, and before I left, he told me to call if I needed anything. He even offered to come and get me if necessary.”
“Could he have sent Gregorio instead?”
Rolling her eyes, Sydney laughed. Leaundra saved every conversation from getting too serious.
“Were you your normal, bratty self?” Lea asked.
“Hey!” Sydney protested.
“I’m sure she was guilty as charged,” Jacqueline added.
“Some friends you two are.”
“Chickie, who knows you like we do?” Lea demanded.
No one. Neither had judged her lifestyle choices, and they’d both listened to her sob over the phone when the relationship with Lewis had ended.
“So did he pretend you didn’t exist like Lewis used to?” Jacqueline asked.
“Loser,” Leaundra added.
“You two should take this show on the road.” Sydney took another bite of her cookie. “And his punishment was much, much worse than that.”
“Well that definitely means he didn’t spank you for misbehaving,” Lea observed.
“Worse?” Jacqueline repeated. “What could be worse than sticking you in timeout like he used to do?”
“Orgasm deprivation.”
“The beast!” Leaundra put her glass on a nearby table and fanned herself. “Seriously?”
“Most men I know are thrilled if they can make me come,” Jacqueline said. “I can’t imagine any of them trying to stop the big O from happening.”
Sydney finished off the cookie then brushed her hands together. These two were cheering her up. “Honestly, it sucks,” she confessed. “So frustrating. Painful, almost.”
“So then what?” Leaundra asked. “He has a ranch, surely he knows something about ropes.”
“He does.” She recalled him tying her to his massive bed. Then her wayward brain once again supplied an image of her being secured to his fence while he used a flogger on her.
“When do we get to the welts part?”
“Those were probably from his belt.”
Jacqueline shuddered while Leaundra did a little dance on her four-inch stilettoes. “I want to go to the Den with you again sometime.”
“You’re getting married.” How many times had Sydney reminded her friend of that fact?
“There is that.”
“So what went wrong?” Jacqueline asked, more seriously.
Sydney picked up her glass and rolled it between her palms. “Nothing.”
“Did you have fun?” Leaundra demanded. “Those welts sure make it look like you did.”
“Well…yeah.”
“But you did everything possible there is to do in one night? There’s nothing left? You used that boy up?”
“Well, maybe not,” Sydney admitted.
“Did he put anything up your ass yet?” Leaundra asked.
“Ah…”
“He did! Damn. So tell me again why you don’t want to see him again? You gonna let some other girl get him?”
Sydney took a big gulp of wine. The thought stung, though it shouldn’t have.
Leaundra crossed the room with the grace of a supermodel and pulled up a chair. It was as if her friends were forming a protective half-circle around her.
After taking a small, fortifying sip of wine, she slid the glass on the coffee table. Her friend’s persistent questions uncovered a deeper, more terrifying fear. “We’re a mismatch. He owns half of Colorado. I own a suitcase and a ten-year-old vehicle.”
“Chickie, you’re acting as if he asked you to marry him,” Lea protested.
“What’s the point in sceneing?” Sydney countered. “Nothing can come of it anyway.”
“Except a good time. And you should grab as many of those as you can.”
“But he wants me to be a submissive.”
“And you just want a good spanking.” Leaundra grinned, always telling it as it was.
“What does that mean, really?” Jacqueline asked. “I don’t understand all this bondage, spanking, discipline stuff. If it’s like the shit you went through with Lewis, you’re right to run away.”
“It’s not all like that,” Lea said.
Surprised, she looked at her friend. Though she’d visited the Den with Sydney, she didn’t know that her friend had experiences beyond that.
“I do a lot of reading.” As she smiled, Lea batted her fake eyelashes. “So anyway, tell us what Master Michael expects.”
Maybe she should have asked him for further clarification on what submission meant to him.
When she didn’t answer right away, Lea started guessing. “Housework?”
“He has a housekeeper.”
“That’s a point in his favor. Does he want you to do all the cooking?”
“I thought he made breakfast,” Jacqueline said.
Sydney laughed. She hardly needed to participate in this conversation. “He did. And it was yummy.”
“I’d marry any guy who cooked for me,” Leaundra said.
“You’re going to.” Jacqueline rolled her eyes.
“See?” Lea looked at the cookies, then glanced away and refocused on Sydney. “He doesn’t seem to expect service, right?”
“Actually, no. And he was a very good host.”
Lea grinned. “So maybe he wants you kneeling naked in the living room when he gets home from riding the range.” Then she frowned. “Or whatever it is that cowboys do all day.”
Sydney had no idea what he did, either.
“Anyway, you’re always the one who tells me that relationships, especially lifestyle ones, are all about excellent communication.”
At Lea’s pointed words, Sydney winced.
But in her usual way, Leaundra didn’t linger on her statement, something Sydney appreciated. “And Doms are supposed to be caring, aren’t they?”
“That’s what he said yesterday morning. Something about having my best interests at heart.” She wrinkled her nose. “Forgive my skepticism.”
“I know!” Lea went on, her eyes twinkling. “Jacqueline, you could draw up a contract for her. You know, with all the juicy details in black and white. And I can review it for you.”
“Hold on,” Sydney protested.
“Give her some negotiating tips, and this way, as we work on it, we get to know all the kinky things Syd is into.”
She’d known Lea long enough to realize she was at least halfway serious. “Absolutely no freaking way.”
“Like anal.” Lea was undeterred by Sydney’s protests. “Or paddles. Ohh…wax play? Are you down for that?”
Sydney shook her head. “Enough.”
“And we can add a rider that you want to be treated like a princess. No service or anything like that for you.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” Before she could change the subject, Jacqueline leaned forward.
“Honey, you spend too much time thinking about the future and worrying.”
Sydney scowled at her friends over the rim of her glass.
“We all know that Lewis—”
“Loser,” Lea interrupted.
“What a shithead. And more than anyone, I urge you to be cautious.”
Sydney nodded.
“But sometimes we—and I’m also talking to myself here—we let the bad experiences ruin the joy of the moment,” Jacqueline continued. “You’re always looking for the next big thing. What if, just for now, you focused on today? If you see him again and have a good time, great. If you don’t dig him or he turns out to be a jackass, me and Lea will kick his ass.”
Lea pretended to sharpen her fingernails into tiny knives. “For sure.”
“But don’t throw away the chance for a good time because you got a crazy idea that fucking leads to being collared—or whatever you call it in the lifestyle—or worse, marriage.”
Sydney and Lea both gasped. Generally it was Leaundra who made that kind of outrageous comment.
“What she said.” Leaundra grabbed a cookie, then sighed and put it back uneaten. “I’ve got another wedding dress to fit into.”
“I’ve already told you I didn’t give him my phone number.”
“He made it clear he wanted to see you again, so stop worrying about what if. Figure out a way to contact him.”
“Or, wait.” Lea snapped her fingers. “Since I’m a private investigator in training, I’ll call Gregorio and chat him up.”
“You’re getting married,” Sydney and Jacqueline insisted simultaneously.
“There is that.” Still, she eyed a chocolate chip cookie.
“And while we’re on that subject, you could listen to me, as well,” Jacqueline said, leveling her best courtroom gaze at Lea. “Just because a guy is good in the sack, you don’t have to marry him.”
This time, with a deep sigh, Lea gave in, grabbing a treat and taking a big bite out of it.
Then, thankfully, the conversation moved on to less fraught topics.
“I want to hear about the judge,” Leaundra said, after devouring a third cookie.
“You’ll never believe it. I didn’t.”
Intrigued, Sydney and Lea both gave Jacqueline their full attention.
“This comes from a court clerk. I usually dismiss gossip, but this is so damn good, I listened to every detail. For once, I don’t even care whether the clerk’s story is reliable or not.”
“Tell us!” Lea urged.
“We all know the judge is a cyclist. He’ll even ride to the courthouse on occasion. Evidently he’s been known to wear cycling shorts under his robe, instead of trousers.”
“Is he hot?” Lea demanded. “Those tight things show off the important stuff.”
Sydney rolled her eyes.
Without responding to Lea’s question, Jacqueline went on. “Apparently when he took off the robe in chambers, he forgot he didn’t have shorts on.”
“Get out!” Leaundra exclaimed. “The judge was naked from the waist down?”
“No. He was wearing a G-string type of arrangement.”
“Type of arrangement?” Sydney prodded. “What does that mean?”
Jacqueline’s lips quivered as she tried to fight back a grin. “Uh…trying to be delicate here. It had a pouch to hold the boys. And the other section was anatomically accommodating. Meaning the material stretches as you grow.”
“Do tell,” Leaundra encouraged.
“I guess he was filling it out, well, not all that impressively. He said it looked like a lime green worm.”
“A cock sock!” Leaundra exclaimed.
“Oh my God, no.” Sydney laughed. She’d seen a lot of interesting outfits at the Den, but nothing quite like that.
“If I’d seen his worm, I’d need therapy,” Jacqueline said. “I’d never be able to argue a case in front of him again.”
They chatted for a few more minutes before Lea announced she was famished—even after devouring a total of four cookies—and suggested they head downstairs for dinner.
This time, they enjoyed expensive cocktails poolside as they ate, reminisced, laughed, and spent more time discussing Lea’s upcoming nuptials.
“I think I want both of you to be my maids of honor.”
“We’ve each had a turn,” Sydney said, pulling a cherry out of her glass.
“Agree,” Jacqueline said.
It had cost them each a lot of money for dresses and to host her bachelorette parties and bridal showers. And just because it was the third time she’d waltzed down the aisle, didn’t mean Lea didn’t want the white gown and all the frills.
“I’m ready to attend as a guest,” Sydney said.
“No!” Lea shrieked. “I need my besties.”
Jacqueline sighed. “Okay. We’ll split the responsibilities this time.”
Lea danced in her chair. “Bachelorette party in Barbados?”
“Not if I have to pay half,” Sydney protested. “I’m on a strict budget.”
“Vegas,” Jacqueline said with the same finality she used in court when she said, “The defense rests, Your Honor.”
“But we’ve done that before.”
“Well,” Sydney pointed out reasonably, “You’ve also gotten married before.”
“We can stay at the Bella Rosa,” Jacqueline offered as a compromise.
The newest, hottest hotel and casino on the Strip.
“Fine.” She picked up her straw and stabbed it back into her glass. “But I want a bridal shower where my future in-laws live.”
Sydney narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Which is where?”
“Boston.”
Of course. One of the priciest cities in the United States. “I can’t afford many more of your marriages.”
“This one should be the final one.”
“Should be?” Jacqueline seized on Lea’s words. “What about the whole ‘till death do us part’ thing?”
“A mere a suggestion,” Lea said.
Sydney sighed and exchanged glances with Jacqueline.
“Okay,” Jacqueline relented. “Boston it is. But if there’s a fourth wedding, someone else has to be the maid of honor.”
“Third time’s the charm.” Lea crossed her fingers hopefully.
Beneath the table, so did Sydney.
After dinner, they strolled around the property then sat on the edge of the hot tub to soak their feet. Even though she complained of blisters, Lea refused to relinquish her dozens of designer heels.
Finally back in her room, Sydney fell onto her bed facedown.
Before drifting off, she grabbed her phone to shut it off so that no one tried to reach her stupid early—before noon—only to find a text message waiting.
It was from the Den, asking for her permission to share her phone number with Master Michael.
She grinned.
Her one-night stand was definitely determined.
Jacqueline’s words tumbled over in Sydney’s mind. “…Don’t throw away the chance for a good time because you got a crazy idea that fucking leads to being collared—or whatever you call it in the lifestyle—or worse, marriage.”
And even Lea had a point. All relationships, especially BDSM ones, needed excellent communication. She only wished she could be as forthright about her emotional needs as she was her desire to be spanked and flogged.
Feeling wildly, stupidly giddy, her hand trembling, she typed her answer. Yes. He’d gone to some trouble to track her down, and she appreciated it.
It wasn’t until the following night that she received a message from a Colorado area code with a number she didn’t recognize. She was grinning as she opened it.
There were no words, just a picture…of the stilettos Master Michael had promised he’d buy her to replace the ones his goat had absconded with. He’d positioned the red shoes on top of a box, and the studs that ran up the heels made her heart miss a beat.
Sydney was astounded, first by the fact that he’d remembered to replace her shoes, and she also appreciated that he hadn’t called and interrupted her vacation.
As she was looking at the screen, another text came through. This one had a picture of Chewie standing on a rock. There was a sign around her neck. Sydney had to zoom in to read the writing. Sorry I was baaaaaaaaad.
Sydney grinned. Master Michael had a terrible sense of humor. But it had obviously required a lot of work and creativity to get the photo. She had no idea how he’d gotten the four-footed, eating, thieving machine to stand still for so long.
She waited and waited, staring at the screen. Nothing else came through.
* * * *
The next morning, at the crack of ten a.m., the first thing Sydney did was look at her phone. No texts, calls, or emails.
But Master Michael successfully managed to make sure he occupied her every thought.
Dropping her phone beside her, she flopped her head back onto the pillow.
Someone pounded on her door. Nursing a bit of a hangover, she groaned at the obnoxious sound. “Go away!”
“Let’s go!” Leaundra shouted back. “We’re waiting on you for brunch. We’re starving, and the mimosas are waiting.”
She groaned. After last night’s consumption of cheap pink wine, nothing sounded worse.
“And we need time for shopping! Get out of bed before I come in there and get you.”
Sydney scooped her hair back from her forehead. “Ugh.”
“Be ready in ten minutes.”
How the heck did Lea manage to sleep so little, consume too much alcohol, and still have boundless energy?
“Syd?”
“I’m coming!” She climbed from the bed.
One time, during their college years, Lea and Jacqueline had stormed her room and dressed her, done her hair, and applied makeup. When they’d finished, she’d looked something like a fashion doll. The only thing they hadn’t done was pour her into one of Lea’s ridiculously short dresses.
If she wasn’t ready in ten minutes, Sydney had no doubt that Lea and Jacqueline would repeat their torment—safe word or not—and enjoy every moment as they cackled their way through the process.
With one minute to spare, she was ready, hair pulled back into a ponytail, a coat of mascara on her eyelashes, wearing leggings, a T-shirt, and a ballcap that she could use to block the annoying sun from her face.
“Are you a vampire?” Lea demanded when she emerged into their living room.
“What?”
“You’re pale, and there’s no way you’ll catch any sun unless you show some skin.”
“I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” She scowled and snatched up a cookie remaining from last night’s raid on the check-in counter.
After brunch, and having given in to the champagne cocktail that Lea had ordered for her, the trio headed toward some local shops.
Their first stop was a high-end lingerie store.
While Leaundra looked for a white garter belt and stockings, Sydney found a black pleated micromini latex skirt that would look fabulous with the new shoes that Master Michael had bought her.
She also purchased a bolero jacket made of the same material. It had a thick silver zipper and plenty of buckles.
“You’re looking like a chickie who wants to get some when she gets back to Colorado.”
“Does this mean you’re going to see him?” Jacqueline asked.
“I…”
“Did he contact you?” Lea demanded.
“Yes.” Grinning, unable to help herself, she showed them a picture of Chewie and the new, replacement shoes.
“Holy shit. If it doesn’t work out—”
“You’re getting married,” Sydney and Jacqueline interrupted Lea.
“I’m just saying.”
“Don’t,” Jacqueline warned.
In the end, Sydney also paid for Lea’s lingerie. “It’ll be my gift for the bridal shower.”
“Thank you!” Lea kissed Sydney’s cheek.
It would save her from buying a more expensive gift later because she’d run out of time to shop. Now she just had to land another gig in order to pay her credit card bill.
Toward the end of the day, while they were enjoying Italian food at a highly rated restaurant, Sydney checked her phone.
Nothing.
Alone in her bedroom, she laid out her two-piece outfit on the bedspread, snapped a photo of her ensemble, then sent the image to him.
Afterward, she and the girls took a moonlit stroll along the beach.
By the time she returned to the hotel, he’d responded, with a picture of his own in which he’d superimposed the shoes over her skirt and jacket.
They still hadn’t discussed seeing each other.
The night before her flight home, he sent a message showing a snapshot of a flogger hanging from the fence in front of his house.
And it wasn’t just any whip. It was a red one, the same shade as her new shoes. And, God help her, the same shade as she hoped he would turn her skin.
A shudder chased its way through her body.
Suddenly she wished she didn’t have to guide a multi-day hike along the Continental Divide when she returned to Colorado. Damn it. He was making it difficult to resist him.
For a million reasons, she shouldn’t return to the Eagle’s Bend Ranch. He was a Dom, not a Top, and he eventually wanted to remarry and have children. And she would never be a woman who wanted that.
But still, a wayward, wicked part of her was desperate to see him again.
Rationalizing that as long as he agreed that they were just sceneing, no harm could come from playing with each other, she replied with her return date, and she added she wouldn’t have cell signal for much of the upcoming time.
He answered that he was looking forward to seeing her whenever it worked out for her.
Her body tingled, making her wish the hookup would happen tomorrow.
A couple of days later, after she and her friends parted ways at the airport, Sydney traveled back to Colorado, becoming more excited for the future with every passing mile.
She only spent about twelve hours at her Evergreen condo, just long enough to wash her clothes then pack for the extended hike.
Sydney ended up spending the next few days being somewhat of a glorified cook and pack mule. Her clients were younger than she was and were on their honeymoon. They were focused on each other, and three was definitely a crowd. For the first time in years, she found herself lonely for the type of easy companionship that the newlyweds shared. And honestly, part of her time with Master Michael had been like that.
What would it be like if she enjoyed more time like that with him?
At night, she knew the couple was trying to be quiet, but the tent walls were thin, and the mountains were otherwise silent. She spent hours tossing and turning on her cot, fantasizing about Master Michael forcing her to yield to his will.
Not soon enough, the excursion drew to a close.
Under a cloudy afternoon sky, they returned to their vehicles at the trailhead.
The appreciative couple had tipped her a shocking amount of money. The envelope of cash would pay off her credit card and put her in a much better financial position to survive the lean period between the end of summer and fall activities and the beginning of the ski season.
She generally led some autumn mountain trips to see the aspen trees change color, but after the first good snow or wind event, that ended. As long as the weather held, she could still arrange biking or hiking, especially at Moab.
Often, she headed south and looked for other work, but this money would allow her to take an unplanned vacation.
She cranked up the music, trying to drown out the idea of having extra time to spend with Master Michael in late fall. After all, she hadn’t heard from him in days. And that caused even more crazy thoughts to collide. What if he had gone to the Den last weekend and found someone else to submit to him?
How had she gone from wanting a one-night Dom to fearing that he was seeing someone else?
When she was finally in cell phone range, she exited I-70 near a small coffee and ice cream shop.
The notifications screen was all but bare. Leaundra had left a voicemail with the tentative date of her wedding, a year in the future.
Sydney had a handful of emails, including one from the Den with a list of upcoming activities.
She also had a message from her friend Vanessa, asking if she was going to be attending an upcoming event at the Den where a new entertainer—singer Zephyr ‘Zeph’ Rockwell—would be welcomed into the club.
At one time, rocker Evan C had been used to provide the entertainment, but after he’d been an ass to Master Alexander Monahan’s new sub, Master Damien had revoked the star’s membership.
Along with several other people, Sydney had cheered the decision.
But that was the end of her messages.
There was nothing from Master Michael.
With a disappointed sigh, she dropped her purse on the console then headed inside for a mocha latte drizzled with raspberry syrup.
Figuring that Murphy’s Law would be at work and that she would have missed his call while she was getting her drink, she picked up her phone.
Still nothing.
Exhaling her frustration, she dropped her head against the seat back.
Then, with her phone close by, Sydney finished the drive home.
Back at her condo, she dragged in her backpack and went to toss it on the bed. But the outfit she’d bought in Miami was in the middle of the mattress, waiting. In her haste to meet the newlyweds, she hadn’t put it away. Now the sexy pieces seemed to taunt her.
She wanted to wear them for Master Michael.
The harder she fought to keep thoughts of him out of her head, the stronger the memories became. It was as if she could feel his belt scorching her skin. The welts that had adorned her buttocks and thighs after her time at the Eagle’s Bend Ranch had long since healed, and she craved new ones.
Tamping down her desires, she hung the outfit in her closet, then shut the door.
Afterward, she unloaded the car and stowed the camping equipment in the garage.
Even after she had spent a ridiculous amount of time in a much-needed warm shower, the damn phone remained silent.
Now what?
She reminded herself that a modern, empowered woman would contact him.
After stalling another hour, she grabbed her phone and scrolled to his contact information. Her heart thundered. Why did a simple telephone call matter so much?
Finally, gathering her courage, half hoping she’d get his voicemail, she touched the green icon.
“Welcome home, Sydney,” he said by way of greeting, his rich, gruff voice spilling into her ear. “Does this mean you want your pretty little ass reddened?”