Submissive's Journey (Masters of Blackstone Book 1), page 33
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Getting bumped to first class seemed a good omen, debunking the myth one must be dressed for success for such privilege—unless jogging pants and a dark turtleneck classified. She was dressed to blend in, dressed to snoop, comfort and warmth being only secondary considerations. She was only investigating the man, not stopping by for a chat.
Sipping wine, she didn’t regret being impulsive.
She considered calling Maxwell and Trevor from Savannah to tell them to not worry, and then just as quickly discarded the idea, knowing they would call Everett and alert him to what she was doing. She wasn’t even certain what her plans were. Expensive trip to make if all she’d planned so far was a quick drive-by.
Humming the Lone Ranger Theme song she started to softly sing alternate lyrics. “Fuckity-fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuckity-fuckity. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
She started laughing in her seat.
What was it Everett said the night he met her? Something about the amount of profanity she used? And a cane—
I am so fucking screwed.
She laughed harder. Knowing without a doubt she was a fucking impossible task.
She laughed so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks when she heard a concerned voice saying, “Miss?”
Julia opened her eyes to a concerned flight attendant and two annoyed passengers watching her. She apologized to everyone in ear shod, “Sorry. Sorry. Someone told me a joke…and I just now got the punch line. Really, it’s hilarious but I’ll be quieter now.”
She accepted a second and third glass of wine before landing. Flying first class was amazing. Eye mask, pillows, earbuds, blanket…and cookies too? The flight was perfect.
After debarking at SAV and hurrying through the terminal, she stepped outside to hail a taxi and realized it was snowing. She looked up at the sky then turned to read the signs. “It’s snowing? In Savannah?”
She shook her head. What the fuck?
She climbed into the back of a cab and handed the driver the address. He nodded his head. A black man, his mostly bald head ringed by a short stubble of tight, mostly white curls that made his dark skin even darker, he handed her the address back. “Historic District, Forsyth Park?”
He looked at her expectantly, expecting her to agree or disagree.
She shrugged. “Can you take me now, before I change my mind?”
“I can get you there, but are you sure you don’t want to stay at a closer hotel tonight? The roads are making travel difficult. It’s going to take twice as long—”
She held out a crisp hundred dollar bill.
He smiled and took her money. “Yes, ma’am. I can get you there.”
Julia settled back for the ride. The soft lights of the airport fading into dark night only to be plunged back into street lights as he merged onto GA-21 S.
“Oldest suburb in Savannah, fine homes, very fine,” he said, nodding his head. “Home for the holidays?”
“No, visiting.” It seemed they were driving ridiculously slowly.
“Lots to see and do here in Savannah.”
“Yes.” She hoped he didn’t plan to talk all the way there. As if in answer to a prayer he became silent for the rest of the drive—unless muttering and cursing under his breath at the deteriorating road conditions mounted—all ninety minutes of it.
A text came into her phone and she glanced at the screen. Skye. She should have known her friend wouldn’t let it go.
Skye: Where are you?
Julia: Savannah
Skye: Everett Hawthorne’s?
Julia: Yes Heart emoji
Skye: Wow. Unexpected.
Julia: Yes Heart emoji
Skye: Check-in every six hours, k?
Julia: Every twelve. I do need sleep.
Skye: Wuss. Love you
Julia: Do not tell Maxwell or Trevor where I am.
Skye: Trust me. Never. Ever.
“Finally, we’re here,” he announced. “Normally it’s a half hour drive.”
Her jaw dropped as they entered The Historical Landmark District overlooking Forsyth Park. The road led them through a winter wonderland, the Victorian, Georgian, and Revivalist homes trimmed in evergreens, twinkling lights, red bows and at least for the night snow-icing. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Fine homes.” The driver travelled the snow covered streets at a snail’s pace, allowing plenty of time to gawk. “Lots of history here. If you’re very quiet, these streets tell a story.”
Snow continued to fall heavily, coating every surface in a thick white layer that sparkled in the soft glow of street lights and cast a fairy-tale glamour over the mansions lining either side of the street.
“It seems magical.” Julia imagined the women who once walked these streets in their long, tight, buttoned-up-to-their-chins dresses, waists corseted to an unhealthy size; their too small, buttoned-up high-top shoes; and hair restrained into very proper buns. She shuddered, wondering how they’d survived the torture of high-society fashion. She could see it all in her mind, nannies pushing babies in wicker carriages with older children running ahead and lagging behind.
He pointed toward a massive mansion that seemed to glow a soft shade of pink in the snow before nodding at another. “That one there, the Mansion on Forsyth Park, is a grand Victorian-style red-brick that’s been converted into a boutique motel.”
Julia gawked at the large home that covered an entire block. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a red-brick castle!”
“Now, this one you’re visiting is a well-known property that’s the centerpiece of every holiday tour because it is a true jewel. A Georgian Revival, the owners have always taken great pride in showcasing its distinct architecture when they decorate. I’ll be sure to point out its Corinthian columns.” He chuckled. “Not that you’ll be able to miss them. This time of year they’ll be draped with evergreen and holly roping and white twinkle lights.”
Julia frowned. “Seems like you know a lot about a random address.”
“Oh, it’s not random for anyone who grew up in the shadows of Forsyth Park. I knew the previous owner well. Gertie Mae Hawthorne. She was a strong advocate for maintaining the historical integrity of Savannah. Quite the protester back in the day. Always fighting to keep some building standing, when the old mayor would have bulldozed everything in favor of strip malls. True shame when she passed on. There wasn’t a finer woman in town. She always had warm gingersnaps fresh from the oven for the carolers who stopped by during the Twelve Days of Christmas pageantry.”
The driver stopped in the middle of the road, nodding at a large red brick three story, every window brightly lit. Brightly decorated for the holidays, the home was obviously hosting a party. Everett lives here?
She realized her nightmare, a full blown dungeon party, could be in full swing behind the closed doors. Everett could still be surrounded by a dozen naked beauties.
It could just be a holiday party.
She mumbled sarcastically, “Yes, conscience I’m sure that’s it.”
One thing was for certain, she wasn’t dressed appropriately to crash either and there was too much activity to snoop about without getting caught. “Damn it! Could you please take me back?”
“Ma’am?”
A man and woman came through the wide wood doors as she watched from the cab. The woman was wearing a PVC cat-suit. Oh god! Fetwear! It is a play party! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“I made a colossal mistake coming here. I just want to escape before anyone realizes I’m here. Return me to the airport.”
A second couple exited, followed by her would-be stalkee, who went from laughing and shared farewells to staring straight into her cab. God, still gorgeous…tall, dark, and a-fucking-amazing gorgeous.
He too was dressed for dark dangerous play, wearing black leather pants, boots, and a skin tight black t-shirt. Her gaze went straight to the knotted-leather cat of nine tails hanging from his waist. Strangely, the thought of him taking it to her back didn’t make her want to flee the sight of him. Need pooled in her center, her mouth watered and her pussy wept for his attention.
I am so not ready for this! “Drive, drive, drive. Please get moving!”
“Road’s blocked ma’am.”
Her resolve to follow through disintegrated as it became apparent she couldn’t escape. She also couldn’t breathe. She folded forward, hyperventilating, imagining herself kneeling naked before him, offering her neck to his wide-leather collar, promising servitude, losing herself in him and not caring she was again completely lost.
Oh god, oh god, oh god!
She whispered, “Just drive! Back it up! Go! Go! Go!”
The cabby started moving backward, then abruptly stopped. A tapping on the car window ricocheted down her spine. “Julia?”
She sat back up to face a very bewildered Everett and didn’t have a clue what to do in her current predicament. She inhaled—a huge, deep breath—and forgot how to exhale.
She stared at him, trying to remember how to speak but her face crumpled and then, much to her chagrin, tears slid from her eyes and down her cheeks in twin rivulets. She decided his puzzlement was better than outrage, but didn’t discount the fact he was still in a stage of shock, having a woman he’d scened with once completely ignore all protocol and arrive at his home unannounced to spy upon him. Under the circumstances, she’d been prepared for the worst and decided rage was a forgone conclusion if she got caught. His calm exterior was reassuring.
Everett opened her door. “Julia?”
“Hi,” she whispered.
He held out his hand to assist her but she didn’t take it. “You’re here.”
“I am. I-I—”
“Do you want to come inside?”
The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed her and she looked away. Breathe.
“I won’t come in. You have a house full of people and I never intended to be a party crasher, but don’t worry, I’m going,” she answered, tapping the cabby, “Just go. Will you please just drive?”
“Not possible ma’am.”
She immediately saw the problem. Couple number one, having pulled their car halfway from the curb were stuck, tires spinning. Couple number two stood in the street. Offering suggestions and laughing their asses off at couple number one.
Fuck, fuck, double fuck!
She looked behind them. Two additional cars were behind them and waiting patiently.
“That’s three.”
Oh shit, did I just say fuck out loud? I didn’t, right? Caught in his gaze, she was mesmerized by the way he was looking at her. She repeated, “Three,” understanding he was counting her infractions.
“Yer a bit early, love, but welcomed just the same.”
She caught the left overs of an Irish brogue mingled with his southern twang to become a hybrid of panty-dropping inflection that was entirely too charming. She dropped her chin to her chest. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
Everett reached inside the vehicle and unbuckled her belt. She met his gaze and promptly lost it. She babbled, fast and almost incoherently but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I was at the school all day, teaching, but I was also worrying about all the what ifs, and one thing led to another. I don’t want to be a vegetarian again, and I want to have a life, a real life. I like thinking for myself. I need more than just walking around the house naked all day wearing a slave collar—”
Everett’s index finger pressed against her lips, silencing her before he gently helped her from the cab. Calmly, he explain, “This conversation needs to happen inside, where it’s warm, and where we won’t be overheard.”
“I’m not dressed for a party.”
“You aren’t coming to the party—it’s for invited guests only.”
She wasn’t invited. The realization he didn’t want her to meet his friends hurt, even though she wasn’t expected or dressed appropriately.
Julia stepped from the car into snow up past her ankles, which filled the insides of her running shoes. Her breath rushed out of her chest in a gasp and she couldn’t be sure if it was the snow in her shoes or the man’s hand pressed low on her back, supporting her as he led her to the sidewalk. Her mind replayed the abruptness with which she was informed there would be no play party for her. Of course there wouldn’t be. That would be ridiculous, but still fresh tears fell over her cheeks.
Everett paid the driver, using bills he pulled from the hip pocket of his leather pants. “No bags?”
“I kinda left in a rush. I’m only here for the weekend. I have class on Monday.” She tried to sound reasonable, not unhinged. Though she definitely felt the latter. She couldn’t reveal she’d scurried out a bedroom window as fast as she could to avoid being involuntarily checked into a psych ward again!
Everett narrowed his gaze at her and she wondered what on earth she’d said wrong. He joined her back on the sidewalk. “We’ll talk inside. I will expect a full explanation of why you’re here a week early and planning to leave so soon after arriving.”
“There’s a really good explanation.”
“I’m not a weekend plaything or last minute booty call, Julia. I thought I’d made my intentions clear.”
Her jaw dropped. Is that what he thought? “I would never think you were! I didn’t mean to imply—”
“When we’re inside!” His stern tone brokered no argument, but didn’t leave her afraid. He’d left her a one-way ticket and wanted to collar her. She’d spent days wavering between hope and fear. Tragic her fear of Maxwell and Dr. Merrill were powerful enough to send her running right to him. He dropped his hand down to her lower back and his touch was reassuring, reminding her they had a connection in the hotel room.
Everett guided her down a long snow covered walk to the back entrance, passing through a walled garden she was absolutely certain was stunning in the summer because it was mysteriously wonderful blanketed in snow. Her neck craned to take in the landscaping and statuary. His backyard was definitely set up to entertain on a grand scale. “You have an inground swimming pool.”
“Watch your step.”
A low staircase led to a back door and through a brightly lit window she was able to see inside his kitchen, which was currently bustling with activity. A chef, several servers and guests milled around the room. Silver trays gleamed with hors d’oeuvres, desserts of all kinds, and glasses of wine. The enormity of the social gathering she’d interrupted caused her to pause at the door. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m keeping you from your party. ”
She turned to run, hoping the cab was still waiting. He caught her shoulders and turned her around. “Inside, Julia!”
She obeyed his command without thought, because that was exactly what it was, even though she was not yet his submissive, and he was not yet her Master. She responded to his power, panties dampening.
“Excuse us, carry on,” Everett announced as he came through the door behind her.
Wrapping his hand around her bicep, he steered her around the large granite island in the center of the room and amazingly everyone in the room kept going about their business, doing exactly what they were doing before they’d entered. It was as if they hadn’t interrupted at all.
Everyone obeys Everett.
She mused, “Fucking hell, even my pussy obeys Everett.”
“That’s four, love, even though I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Come on, no way. I didn’t say it out loud.” She tried turning to challenge him but stumbled into a hallway.
Everett caught her elbow to keep her from falling. He turned her to push her up a staircase. Starting up it, she realized she had an almost unobstructed view of the room beyond. The party was in full swing with the majority of couples dressed enticingly for an evening of wondrously kinky fun. While there were a few men and women in formal attire, tuxes and gorgeous gowns, there were also a fair share of collared nude men and women.
Her breath came out in a rush, spying a nude woman in a wire dog kennel. Another woman, wearing only a thong, sprawled on top of the cage, feeding the woman within treats—fancy hor’duerves and poured sips of champagne from her fluted glass to splatter as much over the caged beauty’s breasts as into her open mouth. Everyone was laughing, even the imprisoned beauty.
Julia wasn’t laughing. It was too painful remembering what it was like to be the woman in the dog kennel. Although Master Jasper’s parties weren’t nearly as elegant. Plus, at Jasper’s parties the laughing tended to be at her expense. “Can’t breathe.”
Julia turned, grabbed the handrail to steady herself with one hand and pushed against his chest with the other. She’d fallen one hundred percent into fight or flight mode as too many conflicting emotions pushed adrenaline through her. Everett was a solid, unyielding wall of muscle preventing her escape. He grabbed her face and tilted her head to meet her gaze. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me. Say. It.”
Julia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m safe. I’m safe with you, Sir.”
“That’s right. Now, turn around. March.”
She could stand and argue with him, embarrassing both him and herself at the party, or she could be a good girl and obey. She turned and climbed the stairs. He pointed her into a room that was clearly his office, commanding, “Strip and kneel.”
Julia didn’t think. She stepped from her shoes, pulled her t-shirt over her head, and pushed down her sweatpants. She hadn’t bothered with underwear, or socks. Turning, she knelt, not because he’d commanded it, but because she wanted to. Here she’d been going to novice meetings for a year and she hadn’t been compelled to submit to a single dominant. The moment she’d met his gaze in the theater, she knew she’d kneel for him. Not knowing what to expect, she met his gaze and swallowed hard when she saw his hardened expression. Uh-oh.
