“I hate you,” she said, when he released her and picked up his briefcase. A sexy grin that made her want to bite his lips was his answer.
She donned slacks and a blouse, a variation of what she wore to work. It was comfortable and, more importantly, easy to shed. Then, finally, she was in her car and on her way to the New Orleans business district, allowing enough time to navigate the remains of Friday rush hour traffic.
All the way there, she struggled to focus on her driving, and mildly regretted telling Jon she preferred to drive rather than have him send a car. Normally, she didn’t feel like her blood was about to burn through her skin like paper and turn her into living flame while she was negotiating traffic.
When she finally pulled into the parking deck, her heart was thumping, her mind full of imaginings of what would happen when she stepped off the elevator at the executive floor of Kensington & Associates.
The sun was setting. Tonight it would be clear, she knew. Which meant the stars would be out, with a sliver of moon. A romantic night. A perfect New Orleans night.
After she found a parking spot, she opened the cream-colored paper of the second note. He could have sent the messages to her phone, but when it came to things like that, her hi-tech inventor always went old-school. And romantic. Her lips curved when daisy petals tumbled out of the folded paper onto her lap.
When you get off the elevator, your only identity is that of my submissive. You will not speak unless addressed by me or one of the other Masters. Go to the ladies’ room, and stand directly in front of the mirror. Take off everything but your collar, and put on the robe I’ve left you. They’re in the go-bag. Leave the robe open.
I know you’re wet for me, sweet girl. Don’t do anything to change that. There are four gifts from the others in a box on the table. Put them on. Then come to the board room, where you will circle the table once, showing all of us how beautiful you are. After that, you will kneel by the door until you are commanded to do otherwise.
I love you.
It didn’t surprise her that he would add that at the end, a reminder and a promise. She ran her fingers over the words, picked up the daisy petals and touched them to her lips, enjoying the silken feel of the slender pieces.
As far as being wet, he was right; she’d spent the day half-aroused. Now his instructions took her all the way there. Her body quivered with anticipation, the desire to be touched. Commanded.
Leaving the car, she went to the elevator, entering the family code that would take her to the top floor. Family. She took a breath. She was part of this rather unusual family of Dominants and submissives, whose interactions with one another would likely be considered wrong by others. She thought about how she felt with Jon, however, and knew those other people’s truths were not hers.
She’d had no worries about being on the parking deck at night, alone except for the few cars that had been there. She recognized Ben’s Mercedes Roadster, Matt’s BMW. Lucas had likely biked into work and would take a company car home. Jon’s vehicle was there, a sporty thing that was a hydrogen fueled prototype. Ironically, it was parked next to Peter’s gas-guzzling Hummer, making her smile.
But more than the reassuring evidence of their presence, she wasn’t worried, because K&A security was top notch. There were eyes on the cameras positioned around the deck. Anyone up to no good was sent on their way with a clear understanding that they would not be returning. A homeless person who took refuge in the parking garage was courteously escorted to the shelter run by members of Dana’s church, and given a bed for the night, as well as access to whatever resources they were willing to accept.
That thought caused an additional smile in her heart. Matt Kensington was known as a hard businessman. There was a ruthlessness to him that could give a girl curled toes, but he and the men who worked with him were generous with the blessings they’d achieved, never hesitating to act for those less fortunate who needed a hand getting back on their feet.
The elevator doors opened. She was looking at Janet’s desk, empty this time of night, but left as neatly ordered as she’d expect from Matt’s terrifyingly efficient admin. Janet was also a Mistress, a popular one, at their local preferred BDSM club, Progeny. But Savannah said Janet wasn’t involved with anyone outside the club, no personal attachments. Rachel wondered who might change that. Yes, she was a hopeless romantic, but she couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to find love, or at least staying open to the possibility, if it presented itself.
She heard male voices drifting down the hall. A husky laugh—Peter’s—came from the board room. She heard Matt respond—she couldn’t make out words, but when Jon and Lucas jumped in with their own input and Ben laughed as well, all of those different timbres ran velvet over her skin. They also set off butterflies in her stomach that fluttered right up into her chest. They were men whose voices carried those elements that would attract a woman’s attention. Masculine, confident, resonating alpha. But also kind and intelligent.
Standing there in the dim light projected by the off hours power saving fixtures, she was listening to men she was here to serve. Masters who would be treating her as a submissive from the second she crossed their threshold tonight. It added another quality to their voices, stripping off some of the top layers to a more primal level that made those butterflies become more manic.
Not in a bad way. It was the type of anxiety that tightened her body, readied it, and called forth the need in her that had stayed unmet so long. It could surge forth so powerfully, take her over, sometimes in bad ways. But that had been before Jon, when she had no compass for it, no way to channel it, so it had been chaotic energy, no control or direction. He’d been the missing piece, providing both of those things. Understanding the depth of her need, he’d engineered this tonight. Another chance to step deeper into this world, leave the debris of the past, the condemnations and judgments, even further behind.
Those condemnations and judgments hadn’t been easy to shake. Cole’s truth, that her desire to be a submissive was wrong and sick, still clung to her at times, dragging her down. Even now, after several years of marriage, every time Jon gave her a new room to visit in this world, she’d find herself hesitating at the threshold just like this. Warring between excitement and dark fear, where a part of her wanted to retreat, curl up and burrow, take cover before she could fail, disappoint.