Fulfilled (5 page)

Brunette’s hands bound in front of her, Saracen careful to ensure the restraints aren’t too tight. Check. Hands secured to a hook in the ceiling, stretching brunette up onto her toes and displaying thin frame admirably and making it fully accessible. Check. Saracen picks up whip? No, that would be a flogger, tendrils of varying length and textures. Like Graham’s. Wields it expertly and with intent against brunette’s upper back then proceeds to strike every inch of her skin from her shoulders to knees. Check. No need to note the body parts in between. Check. Brunette gasping and moaning. Subspace? Research again. Check. Saracen impassive, totally in control. Check. Moves like a cat despite his size. Graceful. Kicks brunette’s ankles apart, but gently somehow. Check. Big hand between her legs, arm around her waist to support her. Thoughtful. Stupid brunette responds to stimulation and climaxes, if a scream of ecstasy counts for anything. Check. Saracen holds her effortlessly with one arm and releases her from ceiling hook. Lifts her and carries her from room. Doesn’t look at
anyone
. Check.

The clinical observation did not mitigate how skilled Master Jonathon was, how in tune with the sub to give her what she needed. She wondered if Master Trevor was as accomplished. Lois wanted that for herself.

“He’ll take care of her, Lois. She’s still pretty full of herself, but he’s pushed her past her denial. At least she knew she was struggling.”

Lois turned to look at Graham who spoke more quietly. “She and her Dom split over protocol, and she’s working on it. Master Jonathon took her on as a favor to her Dom.”

“So they aren’t a couple?”

“No.” Graham looked at her searchingly. “Are you thinking—”

She cut him off. “I don’t think so. He scares me.”

“Liar.”

She gasped and elected not to reply.

“Maybe a little,” Graham conceded, “but that’s not why you’re saying no.”

Lois shook her head and followed Graham when he shrugged and turned to leave the room. She overheard someone behind her make an interesting comment. “Spence didn’t fuck her. That’s unusual. Her Dom signed off on everything.”

She clutched that fact to herself. The Saracen could have had sex with the brunette but didn’t. Maybe he had other times, but she didn’t have to see it. She had yet to tell Graham because she just realized she could never share her man, Dom or no, and the Saracen spoke to her too strongly. If he trained her, she’d probably fall for him romantically and his job would make her crazy with jealousy. She needed her own Dom exclusively or this Lifestyle wouldn’t work for her. Maybe Master Trevor would be interested. Probably not. She was the only new face tonight, apparently, so he was bound to notice her. All her former insecurities came flooding back. Isolated, plain, and average Lois Wright. Wallflower. Homebody. She would never have what Kennedy had with Graham. She didn’t really belong here. Lois felt unaccountably sad and not a little sorry for herself.

She joined Graham in the room with the bar. Master Patrick came to sit with them and an invisible barrier sprang up around them. No one dared cross. She realized it was an informal interview and didn’t want to waste their time. She smiled at Master Patrick who instantly narrowed his eyes.

“She’s going to lay out a bunch of crap.”

Well, she was. She was going to smile prettily and say thank you and tell them she’d been mistaken. Maybe she could put an ad in the paper.
Over-the-hill nanny wants dominant man to love. Willing to learn how to submit. Apparently already ingrained. Fidelity a must.

“I’m sorry. I just realized I’m a one-man woman.” Did that even make sense?

“You don’t want your Dom involved with other subs.”

She stared. “Exactly.”

Graham interjected with a sly grin. “Not sure she wouldn’t be okay with it going the other way. Ménage intrigues her.”

Lois blushed so hard her cheeks ached with the burn. Graham was stepping over the line.

“No problem. We’ll work up a profile once you complete the interview forms and get a medical done. What?”

Lois had snorted. She knew Master Patrick didn’t like it. Graham didn’t come to her rescue this time, but then, he would hardly know. They weren’t
that
close to share
that
kind of thing, although he’d probably guessed. She swallowed twice then said it. “I’ve never been with anyone.”

Patrick reverted to that incredibly handsome man again. His smile reached his eyes, and he patted her arm. It felt comforting, not condescending or patronizing and she soaked it up. “You’ll still get a medical, Lois. It’s for other reasons, too. This Lifestyle can be taxing.”

Right. Floggings and hanging from ceilings and all. Orgasms. “Okay.” Where had her resolve to abandon this idea gone?

His eyes narrowed again and she hastily added, “Sir.”

They worked out the details for the interview, and Lois again followed Graham to the exit.

“Need the restroom?”

She did. She saw where he was pointing and took herself off.

* * * *

Jon tucked Marguerite into the bed in the member room. He’d provided the aftercare with almost unseemly haste. What the hell was the matter with him? This was his last session with this sub, and he meant to fuck her ass tonight in front of the other members to thoroughly remind her who was boss. Marguerite tended to top from the bottom, and it wasn’t purely bratty behavior. There was a streak of dominance in her. Daniel, her Dom, was a good friend of Jon’s, and this was their last attempt at reconciling. Daniel hoped for his sub to submit to Jon, wondering if submitting with a lack of emotional connection would help her recognize what she really wanted. Did she want Daniel who was immovable on the total submission issue, or did she want to move on and find someone else? Maybe someone who would switch? Jon felt badly for Daniel who loved the woman to distraction but couldn’t compromise. He suspected Marguerite couldn’t either. It was a mess, but he’d done his part. Except he hadn’t taken her anally. He knew why he hadn’t but didn’t dwell on it and make it more real.

He made certain Marguerite was asleep and comfortable before leaving her. The room monitor would let him know if she woke and needed him, but normally he’d stay with her for a while. But he had other business tonight and it might be too late. She might have already left. He strode to the meet-and-greet room. His entry hushed the crowd as it usually did, even here. He was used to it. He was big, black, and beautiful. He didn’t think about himself as being beautiful, but the label stuck. He heard it often, from female and male submissives alike, and sometimes from his fellow Doms who didn’t think he’d punch them in the mouth.

There was no sign of the little woman in the conservative outfit and the fuck-me shoes. Jon laid eyes on her the instant he’d entered the scene room. All the air squeezed out of his lungs, and his blood rushed to another place. She was just a little slip of a thing, fragile looking, although he knew women were rarely fragile. His fingers itched to release that bounty of treacle-colored hair and fist his hands in it, forcing her to take his kiss. And his cock. Those wide, soft-brown eyes and pillow of a mouth spoke to his tender side, the one he kept well hidden. She’d ogled him, ate him up with her big, innocent eyes, and his inner caveman lurched awake and damn near lunged for her. Their connection sang through the air, nearly visible to the naked eye. He actually had a brief fantasy of bearing her to the floor and taking her like some medieval warrior claiming his woman. No sub got away with that kind of attitude and action in the club, and for a minute his bewildered brain tried to sort out if she was a tourist or a Domme, until the Dom with her put his hands on her. Jon somehow managed to control his insta-rage and not tear the other guy’s arms off to beat him to death with them. And that was all the Dom did. Put his hands on her waist. He’d have put her on her knees, head on his boots for the duration. Until he calmed enough to not beat her ass raw. Then he’d have taken her off somewhere private to paddle her. Right before fucking her senseless. Possessiveness was a foreign emotion to Jon. He was thirty-three years old and had lived several lifetimes. Being a Navy SEAL did that to a person. He needed nothing more than the job and some male camaraderie. Sex was good, too, but possessiveness? Look at what it’d done to Daniel. His friend would be devastated when Marguerite let him down.

He’d completed the scene with Daniel’s sub, working on autopilot, steadfastly ignoring the little sub in the room. The one sub. There were others, but only one. It was insane, but he couldn’t fuck Marguerite in front of her. That wasn’t for her to see. And he didn’t really want to do it anyhow. He ignored her when he carried Marguerite out of the room for aftercare, but her proximity was like a brand on his skin. Shit. It was only during the aftercare, when he was certain Marguerite wasn’t going to drop, that he thought with more clarity. The sub was with Graham Alexander. And Graham was with Kennedy Johnson, now Kennedy Alexander. He’d replaced Alexander as house Dom, and while he didn’t know the other man well, he knew his wife would kill him if he cheated on her. She didn’t even allow him to train other subs! Possessiveness. See what it got a person, where it put them? So Graham was escorting a tourist. Because while she was a sub, there was no way…He quit thinking about it. She wasn’t in the lounge. He’d have to ask Patrick about her. He headed out.

“Spence.”

He whirled to see Alexander nodding to him from near the exit. He’d been so intent on finding that sub he hadn’t seen the other man. Graham approached him. Jon accepted the outstretched hand and didn’t exert
much
more force than usual in an attempt to bring the other guy to his knees.

“Alexander.” Where was she? There was no sign of her, although he’d scanned the hallway behind Graham, surreptitiously he hoped.

“Uncle.”

Jon immediately dropped Graham’s hand. Fucking school yard play. He manned up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Kennedy did that to me, too.”

“What?”

“The woman I brought tonight is in the restroom. I delayed as long as possible so you’d have a chance to meet her. Patrick saw it, too. But you’ll have your work cut out. She’s decided she can’t be with a Dom who’s with other women, even in a training sense.”

Jon stood, frozen in time and space. Someone tried to leave the room behind him, asked him to move from where he blocked the doorway, but he couldn’t. Not an inch. Fucking Doms. They missed nothing, unless maybe with their subs when they fell ass over heels in love with them. This whole damn club was a seething cauldron of love and lust and marriage and babies and shit. It wasn’t for him. He hated the emotional angst. Black and white, that was the ticket. No shades of gray for him. And she was white. Probably didn’t want a black man.

“You can self-talk all you want, buddy. It is what it is unless you intend to do yourself out of a chance of a lifetime. I didn’t expect it either, but I didn’t fuck with fate. I ran with it, and I’m one happy Dom.”

He finally found his voice and the ability to move, breaking the bottleneck at the door. He advanced on Graham who didn’t really retreat, but did step back to lean against the wall.

“I have to think on it.” Now, where did that come from? He’d intended to scoff and blow the whole thing off, but the understanding and total lack of amusement in Graham’s demeanor gave him pause. This was indeed serious shit.

“Talk with Patrick. She’s doing an interview.”

Jon nodded and floundered for something else to say when a presence at his side spoke.

“Hey, Graham. Got a minute?”

Trevor Braun shot him a sideways glance but clearly wasn’t waiting any longer to speak to Graham. Jon ran back through their conversation and decided it was cryptic enough to remain private from Trevor. Trevor didn’t seem to care if Jon heard him.

“You brought a sub tonight. Tourist?”

Jon didn’t growl, but it was a close thing.

Graham nodded. “She’s our nanny. Just getting into the Lifestyle.”

“Training or looking for a Dom?”

Jon had enough. “You know the drill, Braun. You check with Patrick.”

Trevor locked eyes with him, and the older man didn’t back down one iota. Competition. Competition? Shit. The tension thickened, and Graham broke it with a laugh and a comment.

“My nanny is coming this way. I’m taking her home. You might want to give her some room to pass. I’m not introducing either of you. The testosterone is thick enough to scare
me
.”

Jon didn’t want to move an inch, this time from choice. He wanted the woman to walk right into his space and press that little form right up tight against him so he could feel her and let her feel him. Trevor didn’t move either. The nanny slowed her pace and stopped several feet away. Her face was pale and her body taut with tension.

Graham reached out a hand, and she pattered forward to take it, eyes downcast. He and Trevor stepped back like a pair of well-matched horses, and she slipped by, tugged along by her boss. Jon tracked her progress out the door then stalked away without a backward glance at Trevor. He worked here and would get first audience with Patrick, but something told him the other man wasn’t backing down either. And
he
didn’t work here and was a paying member. Checkmate.

Lois sat quietly, hands in her lap, looking straight ahead through the windshield. When she came out of the restroom, the Saracen was talking to Graham, his bulk filling the hallway. Master Trevor stood beside him, also in the conversation. He wasn’t quite as big, but still a fair size, especially compared to her. Fine lines radiated out from the corner of either eye, eyes a dark shade of blue. His maturity suited his handsome face. Not that she’d been looking, but it was hard not to compare and contrast the two men. Total opposites and darned if she wasn’t attracted to them both. Not that they’d be for the likes of her. Lots of negatives here. She breathed through the familiar painful memories of never measuring up, never being good enough. She was confident in her relationship with children, and knew she was a good nanny. But being good at one thing didn’t exactly inspire her to believe she would be chosen as a submissive, Maurice’s approval notwithstanding. He just knew a pushover when he met one.