Submissive's Journey (Masters of Blackstone Book 1), page 8
“You could have tried harder,” Maxwell challenged as he locked the door on their way out.
“No, I couldn’t. I’ve been a year making up for your mistake. I warned you how fragile she was. She needed a shoulder to cry on, not a punishment meant to break her to your will. You fucked up, Maxwell. Not me.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Parked a block away from the old stage theater that hosted The Main Event, not for lack of parking closer, but because she didn’t want to take the chance of being seen, recognized, or interrupted. She shimmied her dress up around her hips, plunged her hand under her panties and between her thighs and found herself ridiculously dry. She pulled her hand out, rummaged in her purse for some hand lotion and squirted some on her fingers.
To the sound of Santa Baby playing on the classic rock channel, engine running, heat from the defrost hitting her face, she touched herself—because although meeting friends seemed like a good idea ten miles ago—she’d been really, really psyched about getting laid tonight and even though her chances of getting a good-old-fashioned-fuck-before-dawn was less than slim to none, her mind had been convinced and she wasn’t ending the day without a fucking orgasm.
Snuggling deeper into the leather seat, she closed her eyes and sighed as her lotion coated fingers slid through her silken folds. Her breath shuddered as she relaxed more fully. It felt good, really good. She gathered moisture on her fingertips and dragged the fluid over her clit. She rubbed softly, wondering what a man must think about when he touches a woman. Would he appreciate her damp, pink folds and the salty-sweet taste of pussy? The romance novels she read almost always made it the hero’s favorite thing to do. Of course, she knew not to trust authors too much because not a damn one of them could read a ruler worth crap.
But she did want a man to leave teeth imprints around her dark areoles. When she’d read that sentence on her e-reader, she’d felt a dull ache building between her legs. He’d lave her pert, round, sensitive breasts, suck then to tight points, and then mark them with his teeth before nibbling a path down her stomach to the soft, smooth flesh of her mons. He’d hum appreciatively before licking over her hooded clit. He would know how to coax the bud out slowly, gently. He wouldn’t be in a rush to force her orgasm. He’d drive her absolutely crazy with his skillful tongue.
She never gave the man features, but rather focused on his strong pink tongue dipping between the folds of her wet flesh…tasting, licking, plunging tongue…in and out, in and out. Her fingers slid with a memorized rhythm.
De-da, de-da… De-da, de-da.
“Nooo!” She gave it one last rub and failed. “Fuuuuck, Trevor!” She answered his call, “I’m here! I’m here! Meet me at the doors.”
Julia ended the call, not waiting to hear him nag, locked her car door, and hurried the two blocks to the old theater in four inch heels. Staying under building overhangs and awnings, she even managed to avoid most of the puddles and icy patches.
Panting and sweating bullets, Julia took a deep breath before opening the heavy, ornately carved front doors. The scent of old wood assailed her as she entered the small, ancient theater otherwise known as The Main Event. Once it was an old play house with live stage performances, transformed for a decade to vaudeville before being transformed into a short-lived cinema. Sadly it had been left abandoned and crumbling before it was given new life when one of the founding members of the local BDSM group discovered its hidden beauty and discreetly bought it, turning it into the glorious shrine to the past it is now, adding the spice of kink to its illustrious reputation. She read the chalkboard sign at the entrance:
BRANDING CEREMONY, SHIBARI DEMONSTRATION,
AND EDGE PLAY DISCUSSION AND Q&A TONIGHT
Master Jasper’s brand suddenly flared to new life, itching like crazy. “Oh hell no!”
The doors made a loud thud as they closed behind her, startling her, and then the vision of the night’s packed house overloaded her senses. She’d forgotten how many couples attended the advanced technique sessions and here she was walking in alone, drawing every eye in the place. She dropped her gaze and inched into the space. She’d never guess the people before her were there for a kink event as most were dressed casually, but then she was barely inside the door. Once she passed through the archways leading to the theater and deeper still to the backstage play area and private rooms, clothing was optional.
A wave of weighty power brushed over her and she knew without looking up that a powerful dominant had her in his sights. She went still, barely breathing as she lifted her lashes. Scanning right to left, her gaze quickly found the experienced Dom, and broke away before her gaze could lock on his. But then her eyes landed on another Dom. And another. Holy mother of god, the room was packed out with experienced dominants. She didn’t see the speaker, but a deep voice rumbled, “What do you know about her? I don’t see a collar, not even a necklace. Is she available?”
She struggled to take a deep breath, but the air was thick with sensual energy and raw power. She turned away, determined to escape, but it was too late. She caught the whisper of her name. “Julia.”
Oh dear god, she hadn’t considered it, but many here would recognize her as Master Jasper’s property, especially since she stood staring at their portrait with Master Jasper standing and looking oh so dashing in his elaborately hand-embroidered red and gold sherwani long coat, red churidar narrow leg trouser, and black leather peshawari sandals with upturned toes. Kneeling between his legs, she was nude except for a wide black leather posture collar, to which he held the leash. His beauty made her heart ache. Even in his mid-sixties, his hair had gleamed a deep, glossy black with only his temples streaked white. He was considered the founding father of the California based BDSM club the Cincy charter was affiliated with. After retiring from his law practice, he’d exclusively presented workshops around the world and taught a fair majority of the advanced techniques at classes held here on this very stage with her beside him. A man setting at a table demanded, “Membership card?”
She blinked. Membership card?
Looking bored he prodded, “This is a closed event, member’s only tonight.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not staying.” Julia turned her back to the greeter and headed toward the exit as fast as her legs could travel.
“No, no, no, we’ve been years coaxing you back.” Trevor grabbed her bicep just as her hand wrapped around the handle of the heavy door. He pulled her backward, wrapping around her as she turned. His exuberant hug stole her breath.
Julia buried her face against his solid chest, allowing herself to melt. “I shouldn’t be here, Trev. People are talking.”
“Let them talk.” Trevor hugged her tighter. “Besides, when you’re in the room, people have always talked! You’re exotic and regal. Old guard royalty for Christ sake. If anyone belongs here, it is you; and since when are you afraid of what people think?”
She hissed, “Stop It! I changed my identity for a reason, remember? Remind Maxwell why I can’t be here and I’m gonna make a run for it. If the media shows up in Cincinnati after all these years, I will never forgive you for this.”
“If you don’t admit it, no one can be certain it’s you. Sweetie, you’ve changed so much during the last five years that if I hadn’t seen your gradual transformation, I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“You better hope so!” Shaking her head, she whispered, “Damn it, Trevor, Master branded me…here. At this theater. I’d have to be insane to stay tonight.”
“Branding is the last presentation; we’d never expect you to stay for that, and since the presentation starts in less than three minutes, you’ve already missed the prime mingling time, so let’s get to our seat. No one will notice you.” His hands slid quickly upward from her low back to her neck and then down of the front of her coat. Next thing she knew he had her flirty off-white A-line skirted trench coat with cute black bow detailing folded over his arm. Deftly changing the subject, he stroked her sweater dress sleeve, he asked, “Cashmere?”
She nodded absently, worrying. This better be worth it. She whispered a silent prayer, “Please let him be a Dom who knows what he's fucking doing.”
Scanning the crowd, she felt him look her over. “You hate my dress.”
“Show me.”
She twisted and turned to model the winter-white off-the-shoulder dress. It hugged her torso and pelvis snuggly before flaring around her hips. Each twist of her body lifted the fabric to show the bare curve of her ass cheek.
Trevor whistled. “Women would pay big money for those ass and thighs. Perfect dress for tonight. You look lovely.”
“Thank you. I know it was hard for you to admit to liking a dress you didn’t personally help me pick out.”
“I’m sorry. I get a little jealous when you go shopping without me.” He sniffled dramatically. “Just know I’m so proud of your little fledging flights away from the nest. All alone. On your own. Such a big girl.”
“Oh dear lord, help me.”
More voices, different voice as word circulated and Trevor led her through the throng. “Not her. Julia Madani always kept her hair waist length. Besides, she was always a vain bitch. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in those knockoff boots.”
“I don’t have vanity issues!” She bristled and Trevor whispered. “Ignore her. She knows nothing about you.”
She pouted and grumbled to Trevor, “I’m chained to my budget. All I can afford are knockoff boots. Now the dress set me back a little, but I loved it at first sight.”
“I hope Everett isn’t allergic. Do you even own fetish-wear?”
“The fetwear is actually under the dress. Imagine a sweet little strapless bodysuit, detailed with insane embroidery.”
Trevor stepped back, tapping his chin, supposedly imaging her body suit and thigh high black suede stiletto boots together. “With the boots?”
Julia winked. “With the boots.”
“Even if they’re knockoffs, those boots are killer.”
Julia smiled and whispered sassily, “It’s all about the legs tucked into them.”
“Don’t get me started on your legs. Maxwell will have heart palpitations when he sees you. Don’t be surprised if he snags an aftercare blanket from the back to hide you.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling broadly.
Gesturing with an upstroke, he asked, “Could you—”
She interrupted, stating firmly, “I’m not taking off my dress.”
Already been there and done that tonight. For all the good it did me.
“No matter, you’re incredibly sexy as is.” He offered his free arm. “Walk with me. You are going to love your surprise.”
She walked beside him with her elbow hooked through his.
“Dear god! That’s Julia Madani! Fuck, she’s hotter than ever.” It was comical when at the same time she heard another women demanding, “Who’s Julia here with? She’s so pale! God, she looks like death. Whoever cares for her now isn’t doing a very good job.”
Julia closed her eyes and counted to ten, reminding herself what Trevor said was true, if she didn’t admit to being Julia Madani, no one could be certain. After so long who would care anyway?
“Chin up, head high. Maxwell told me you looked fabulous and he didn’t lie. You’re beautiful. Not everyone can appreciate a size zero, but you dear girl have the perfect amount of curves in all the right places. This look totally screams needs a Sugar Daddy.” Trevor ruffled her hair playfully. “So does this new, ruffled, just climbed out of bed look.”
“Trevor! Stop! I don’t need a sugar daddy.” Laughing, she smacked away his hand playfully. “Before the wind, rain, sleet, and the close encounter with your fingers, it was a sleek, cosmopolitan hairstyle.
He stepped back and frowned, pushing her bangs out of her face as he took in the results of nature and gravity. “It’s playful, I like the slightly funky look. It suits your sparkling personality.”
Without her realizing it, he’d eased her through the large foyer as they’d talked; but the minute they entered the dimly lit theater, she balked. Many of the submissive’s present were either nude or in very provocative fetwear.
“Come on,” he insisted, leading her down the center aisle, her heels sunk into an oriental patterned carpet that seemed plusher than she remembered. Glancing at the stage, the velvet drapes were now black velvet instead of the red satin she remembered. “You are going to have an amazing night.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Please tell me this wasn’t a ploy to get me naked and onstage to be bound in Maxwell’s rope and punished.”
“God, Julia! I would never lie to you or mislead you in any way, but especially not to aid Maxwell in punishing you without clear consent.”
“He didn’t have consent last time.” Her statement dimmed the glimmer of excitement that had been in his eyes. She knew he felt guilt for getting off work late and not arriving until Maxwell was ending the session and by then it was too late to make a difference, the damage between her and Maxwell was done. “Was the story about the hot Dom a lie? A trick to get me here?”
“God no!” Trevor pulled her to a dead stop. “Everett Hawthorne is a very dear friend…he is as special as men come, very dominant, and crazy gorgeous.”
As they descended into the theater, Julia tried to remember how to breathe as she nervously scanning rows of opulent, scarlet velvet seats for Maxwell. “I don’t know that name.”
She caught sight of Maxwell just as he spotted her and Trevor. Maxwell gave her the slightest of head nods to acknowledge her arrival. “Why now? Why am I here?”
Trevor nodded toward Maxwell and the mystery man. “For him—“
Julia tilted her head to take in the line of the mystery man's thigh, noting the obvious outline of very firm muscle. She followed the line of flat abs behind a snug turtleneck. “Wow.”
“—and because you refused to come to our house.”
She jerked her gaze to his. “You know why I won’t go to your house, Trevor.”
Trevor had the grace to look uncomfortable. Maxwell’s loss of control a year ago had changed everything, not just her relationship with him but also straining Maxwell and Trevor’s marriage.
Maxwell’s guest turned his profile, but he was still hidden in shadows. Frowning, Julia tried to pull together his strongest features, which were only slightly discernable, but she knew her mind was playing tricks on her because no man could be that gorgeous. “You said he’s hot?”
“Smoking hot, baby.”
When the mystery Dom suddenly turned toward her fully, her breath caught. She could wet herself he was so incredibly handsome and young—she wasn’t sure how she felt about that post much older man. She swallowed hard, lusting harder. Holy macaroni. For me? That man? Hottie McHot-Dom? No, there must be some mistake because he is—perfect. “My god, Trevor.”
“Mmm-hmm, yummy, isn’t he?”
“So fucking yummy.”
Wrapping his arm tighter around her waist, Trevor’s free hand took the liberty of smoothing the cashmere over her ribcage. “Now, if you’re going to go through with this, watch your mouth, pretend you’re in school. No cussing tonight. Okay?”
“No. Not okay. I watch my mouth around the students all day. Here, on the other hand, we’re all adults, and if a flying fuck creeps out, we’re all old enough to deal with it. Why are you giving me rules?”
“Because he will not get anywhere near you if so much as one curse word escapes those adorable cupid lips of yours. So if naked and topped is your desire, button up that filthy mouth and be classy.” “Wait. I thought you were just fucking around with me. Are you saying Maxwell really has a dominant here he wants me to meet? Tonight? Here?” A memory steamrolled over her. Master placed her hand in Maxwell’s. “I, Maxwell, solemnly swear to protect, care for, and provide for Julia, until such time as a suitable match is made for her.”
“Obey Maxwell, slave.”
“Yes, Master.”
Julia tried to remember how to breathe, nervously scanning rows of opulent, scarlet velvet seats for Maxwell. She caught sight of him just as he turned to see her and Trevor. “Why now?”
After catching Maxwell’s wink, she realized he’d turned his attention back to the mystery man. Trevor turned to face her, squeezed her shoulders, and met her gaze. “For tonight, please trust me?”
Julia frowned but nodded. “If it means that much to you.”
“Yes, it does. Thank you,” His voice cracked with emotion and that surprised her. She didn’t let it dissuade her from telling him, “I’m seriously angry with you. Why on earth would you go along with Maxwell and this ridiculous plan? Especially a plan that involves me not cursing for an entire evening. If you haven’t noticed, I have anger issues.”
The little doubtful voice in her head laughed hysterically at her naiveté, pointing and rolling around in the back of her brain. Dear God, I mean, really, really, really knows what he’s fucking doing—and willing to do the fucking part too, because tonight isn’t so much about getting tied up and spanked, although that would be a definite bonus—but a whole lot about fucking, fucking like bunnies who just can’t get enough fucking would be great! Okay?
She wondered if God listened to prayers about getting laid.
Usually, she’d be very annoyed if she thought they'd fixed her up on a blind date without consulting her. Like, how dare they? However, as Maxwell's head nodded toward her and his companion turned again, this time drinking her in from head to toe with a single look. Julia gasped, feeling her nipples grow more sensitive as they drew up into pointed buds, her clit tightened with the heavy need pooling low in her belly. The stranger kept looking and she managed eye-contact only for a moment before his intensity overwhelmed her and she dropped hers. Trevor hadn’t exaggerated, the man was hot as fuck. Jesus Christ! An experienced Dom. “You’re forgiven, Trevor.”
THERE SHE WAS, finally in view and walking straight toward him. He could tell she hadn’t noticed him yet. Why would she? She might not even remember having met him before. He would be one of the hundreds who had attended her master’s funeral, but he remembered her. There were insignificant changes in her appearance. Her hair was much shorter, the long cascade of hair that had wrapped seductively around her pert bottom was gone. Maxwell had prepared him for that. He hadn’t prepared him for the haunted shadows beneath her eyes, or the fact her weight seemed to have dropped dangerously low. Five years later, she still looked so young, so fragile—so adrift.
“No, I couldn’t. I’ve been a year making up for your mistake. I warned you how fragile she was. She needed a shoulder to cry on, not a punishment meant to break her to your will. You fucked up, Maxwell. Not me.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Parked a block away from the old stage theater that hosted The Main Event, not for lack of parking closer, but because she didn’t want to take the chance of being seen, recognized, or interrupted. She shimmied her dress up around her hips, plunged her hand under her panties and between her thighs and found herself ridiculously dry. She pulled her hand out, rummaged in her purse for some hand lotion and squirted some on her fingers.
To the sound of Santa Baby playing on the classic rock channel, engine running, heat from the defrost hitting her face, she touched herself—because although meeting friends seemed like a good idea ten miles ago—she’d been really, really psyched about getting laid tonight and even though her chances of getting a good-old-fashioned-fuck-before-dawn was less than slim to none, her mind had been convinced and she wasn’t ending the day without a fucking orgasm.
Snuggling deeper into the leather seat, she closed her eyes and sighed as her lotion coated fingers slid through her silken folds. Her breath shuddered as she relaxed more fully. It felt good, really good. She gathered moisture on her fingertips and dragged the fluid over her clit. She rubbed softly, wondering what a man must think about when he touches a woman. Would he appreciate her damp, pink folds and the salty-sweet taste of pussy? The romance novels she read almost always made it the hero’s favorite thing to do. Of course, she knew not to trust authors too much because not a damn one of them could read a ruler worth crap.
But she did want a man to leave teeth imprints around her dark areoles. When she’d read that sentence on her e-reader, she’d felt a dull ache building between her legs. He’d lave her pert, round, sensitive breasts, suck then to tight points, and then mark them with his teeth before nibbling a path down her stomach to the soft, smooth flesh of her mons. He’d hum appreciatively before licking over her hooded clit. He would know how to coax the bud out slowly, gently. He wouldn’t be in a rush to force her orgasm. He’d drive her absolutely crazy with his skillful tongue.
She never gave the man features, but rather focused on his strong pink tongue dipping between the folds of her wet flesh…tasting, licking, plunging tongue…in and out, in and out. Her fingers slid with a memorized rhythm.
De-da, de-da… De-da, de-da.
“Nooo!” She gave it one last rub and failed. “Fuuuuck, Trevor!” She answered his call, “I’m here! I’m here! Meet me at the doors.”
Julia ended the call, not waiting to hear him nag, locked her car door, and hurried the two blocks to the old theater in four inch heels. Staying under building overhangs and awnings, she even managed to avoid most of the puddles and icy patches.
Panting and sweating bullets, Julia took a deep breath before opening the heavy, ornately carved front doors. The scent of old wood assailed her as she entered the small, ancient theater otherwise known as The Main Event. Once it was an old play house with live stage performances, transformed for a decade to vaudeville before being transformed into a short-lived cinema. Sadly it had been left abandoned and crumbling before it was given new life when one of the founding members of the local BDSM group discovered its hidden beauty and discreetly bought it, turning it into the glorious shrine to the past it is now, adding the spice of kink to its illustrious reputation. She read the chalkboard sign at the entrance:
BRANDING CEREMONY, SHIBARI DEMONSTRATION,
AND EDGE PLAY DISCUSSION AND Q&A TONIGHT
Master Jasper’s brand suddenly flared to new life, itching like crazy. “Oh hell no!”
The doors made a loud thud as they closed behind her, startling her, and then the vision of the night’s packed house overloaded her senses. She’d forgotten how many couples attended the advanced technique sessions and here she was walking in alone, drawing every eye in the place. She dropped her gaze and inched into the space. She’d never guess the people before her were there for a kink event as most were dressed casually, but then she was barely inside the door. Once she passed through the archways leading to the theater and deeper still to the backstage play area and private rooms, clothing was optional.
A wave of weighty power brushed over her and she knew without looking up that a powerful dominant had her in his sights. She went still, barely breathing as she lifted her lashes. Scanning right to left, her gaze quickly found the experienced Dom, and broke away before her gaze could lock on his. But then her eyes landed on another Dom. And another. Holy mother of god, the room was packed out with experienced dominants. She didn’t see the speaker, but a deep voice rumbled, “What do you know about her? I don’t see a collar, not even a necklace. Is she available?”
She struggled to take a deep breath, but the air was thick with sensual energy and raw power. She turned away, determined to escape, but it was too late. She caught the whisper of her name. “Julia.”
Oh dear god, she hadn’t considered it, but many here would recognize her as Master Jasper’s property, especially since she stood staring at their portrait with Master Jasper standing and looking oh so dashing in his elaborately hand-embroidered red and gold sherwani long coat, red churidar narrow leg trouser, and black leather peshawari sandals with upturned toes. Kneeling between his legs, she was nude except for a wide black leather posture collar, to which he held the leash. His beauty made her heart ache. Even in his mid-sixties, his hair had gleamed a deep, glossy black with only his temples streaked white. He was considered the founding father of the California based BDSM club the Cincy charter was affiliated with. After retiring from his law practice, he’d exclusively presented workshops around the world and taught a fair majority of the advanced techniques at classes held here on this very stage with her beside him. A man setting at a table demanded, “Membership card?”
She blinked. Membership card?
Looking bored he prodded, “This is a closed event, member’s only tonight.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not staying.” Julia turned her back to the greeter and headed toward the exit as fast as her legs could travel.
“No, no, no, we’ve been years coaxing you back.” Trevor grabbed her bicep just as her hand wrapped around the handle of the heavy door. He pulled her backward, wrapping around her as she turned. His exuberant hug stole her breath.
Julia buried her face against his solid chest, allowing herself to melt. “I shouldn’t be here, Trev. People are talking.”
“Let them talk.” Trevor hugged her tighter. “Besides, when you’re in the room, people have always talked! You’re exotic and regal. Old guard royalty for Christ sake. If anyone belongs here, it is you; and since when are you afraid of what people think?”
She hissed, “Stop It! I changed my identity for a reason, remember? Remind Maxwell why I can’t be here and I’m gonna make a run for it. If the media shows up in Cincinnati after all these years, I will never forgive you for this.”
“If you don’t admit it, no one can be certain it’s you. Sweetie, you’ve changed so much during the last five years that if I hadn’t seen your gradual transformation, I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“You better hope so!” Shaking her head, she whispered, “Damn it, Trevor, Master branded me…here. At this theater. I’d have to be insane to stay tonight.”
“Branding is the last presentation; we’d never expect you to stay for that, and since the presentation starts in less than three minutes, you’ve already missed the prime mingling time, so let’s get to our seat. No one will notice you.” His hands slid quickly upward from her low back to her neck and then down of the front of her coat. Next thing she knew he had her flirty off-white A-line skirted trench coat with cute black bow detailing folded over his arm. Deftly changing the subject, he stroked her sweater dress sleeve, he asked, “Cashmere?”
She nodded absently, worrying. This better be worth it. She whispered a silent prayer, “Please let him be a Dom who knows what he's fucking doing.”
Scanning the crowd, she felt him look her over. “You hate my dress.”
“Show me.”
She twisted and turned to model the winter-white off-the-shoulder dress. It hugged her torso and pelvis snuggly before flaring around her hips. Each twist of her body lifted the fabric to show the bare curve of her ass cheek.
Trevor whistled. “Women would pay big money for those ass and thighs. Perfect dress for tonight. You look lovely.”
“Thank you. I know it was hard for you to admit to liking a dress you didn’t personally help me pick out.”
“I’m sorry. I get a little jealous when you go shopping without me.” He sniffled dramatically. “Just know I’m so proud of your little fledging flights away from the nest. All alone. On your own. Such a big girl.”
“Oh dear lord, help me.”
More voices, different voice as word circulated and Trevor led her through the throng. “Not her. Julia Madani always kept her hair waist length. Besides, she was always a vain bitch. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in those knockoff boots.”
“I don’t have vanity issues!” She bristled and Trevor whispered. “Ignore her. She knows nothing about you.”
She pouted and grumbled to Trevor, “I’m chained to my budget. All I can afford are knockoff boots. Now the dress set me back a little, but I loved it at first sight.”
“I hope Everett isn’t allergic. Do you even own fetish-wear?”
“The fetwear is actually under the dress. Imagine a sweet little strapless bodysuit, detailed with insane embroidery.”
Trevor stepped back, tapping his chin, supposedly imaging her body suit and thigh high black suede stiletto boots together. “With the boots?”
Julia winked. “With the boots.”
“Even if they’re knockoffs, those boots are killer.”
Julia smiled and whispered sassily, “It’s all about the legs tucked into them.”
“Don’t get me started on your legs. Maxwell will have heart palpitations when he sees you. Don’t be surprised if he snags an aftercare blanket from the back to hide you.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling broadly.
Gesturing with an upstroke, he asked, “Could you—”
She interrupted, stating firmly, “I’m not taking off my dress.”
Already been there and done that tonight. For all the good it did me.
“No matter, you’re incredibly sexy as is.” He offered his free arm. “Walk with me. You are going to love your surprise.”
She walked beside him with her elbow hooked through his.
“Dear god! That’s Julia Madani! Fuck, she’s hotter than ever.” It was comical when at the same time she heard another women demanding, “Who’s Julia here with? She’s so pale! God, she looks like death. Whoever cares for her now isn’t doing a very good job.”
Julia closed her eyes and counted to ten, reminding herself what Trevor said was true, if she didn’t admit to being Julia Madani, no one could be certain. After so long who would care anyway?
“Chin up, head high. Maxwell told me you looked fabulous and he didn’t lie. You’re beautiful. Not everyone can appreciate a size zero, but you dear girl have the perfect amount of curves in all the right places. This look totally screams needs a Sugar Daddy.” Trevor ruffled her hair playfully. “So does this new, ruffled, just climbed out of bed look.”
“Trevor! Stop! I don’t need a sugar daddy.” Laughing, she smacked away his hand playfully. “Before the wind, rain, sleet, and the close encounter with your fingers, it was a sleek, cosmopolitan hairstyle.
He stepped back and frowned, pushing her bangs out of her face as he took in the results of nature and gravity. “It’s playful, I like the slightly funky look. It suits your sparkling personality.”
Without her realizing it, he’d eased her through the large foyer as they’d talked; but the minute they entered the dimly lit theater, she balked. Many of the submissive’s present were either nude or in very provocative fetwear.
“Come on,” he insisted, leading her down the center aisle, her heels sunk into an oriental patterned carpet that seemed plusher than she remembered. Glancing at the stage, the velvet drapes were now black velvet instead of the red satin she remembered. “You are going to have an amazing night.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Please tell me this wasn’t a ploy to get me naked and onstage to be bound in Maxwell’s rope and punished.”
“God, Julia! I would never lie to you or mislead you in any way, but especially not to aid Maxwell in punishing you without clear consent.”
“He didn’t have consent last time.” Her statement dimmed the glimmer of excitement that had been in his eyes. She knew he felt guilt for getting off work late and not arriving until Maxwell was ending the session and by then it was too late to make a difference, the damage between her and Maxwell was done. “Was the story about the hot Dom a lie? A trick to get me here?”
“God no!” Trevor pulled her to a dead stop. “Everett Hawthorne is a very dear friend…he is as special as men come, very dominant, and crazy gorgeous.”
As they descended into the theater, Julia tried to remember how to breathe as she nervously scanning rows of opulent, scarlet velvet seats for Maxwell. “I don’t know that name.”
She caught sight of Maxwell just as he spotted her and Trevor. Maxwell gave her the slightest of head nods to acknowledge her arrival. “Why now? Why am I here?”
Trevor nodded toward Maxwell and the mystery man. “For him—“
Julia tilted her head to take in the line of the mystery man's thigh, noting the obvious outline of very firm muscle. She followed the line of flat abs behind a snug turtleneck. “Wow.”
“—and because you refused to come to our house.”
She jerked her gaze to his. “You know why I won’t go to your house, Trevor.”
Trevor had the grace to look uncomfortable. Maxwell’s loss of control a year ago had changed everything, not just her relationship with him but also straining Maxwell and Trevor’s marriage.
Maxwell’s guest turned his profile, but he was still hidden in shadows. Frowning, Julia tried to pull together his strongest features, which were only slightly discernable, but she knew her mind was playing tricks on her because no man could be that gorgeous. “You said he’s hot?”
“Smoking hot, baby.”
When the mystery Dom suddenly turned toward her fully, her breath caught. She could wet herself he was so incredibly handsome and young—she wasn’t sure how she felt about that post much older man. She swallowed hard, lusting harder. Holy macaroni. For me? That man? Hottie McHot-Dom? No, there must be some mistake because he is—perfect. “My god, Trevor.”
“Mmm-hmm, yummy, isn’t he?”
“So fucking yummy.”
Wrapping his arm tighter around her waist, Trevor’s free hand took the liberty of smoothing the cashmere over her ribcage. “Now, if you’re going to go through with this, watch your mouth, pretend you’re in school. No cussing tonight. Okay?”
“No. Not okay. I watch my mouth around the students all day. Here, on the other hand, we’re all adults, and if a flying fuck creeps out, we’re all old enough to deal with it. Why are you giving me rules?”
“Because he will not get anywhere near you if so much as one curse word escapes those adorable cupid lips of yours. So if naked and topped is your desire, button up that filthy mouth and be classy.” “Wait. I thought you were just fucking around with me. Are you saying Maxwell really has a dominant here he wants me to meet? Tonight? Here?” A memory steamrolled over her. Master placed her hand in Maxwell’s. “I, Maxwell, solemnly swear to protect, care for, and provide for Julia, until such time as a suitable match is made for her.”
“Obey Maxwell, slave.”
“Yes, Master.”
Julia tried to remember how to breathe, nervously scanning rows of opulent, scarlet velvet seats for Maxwell. She caught sight of him just as he turned to see her and Trevor. “Why now?”
After catching Maxwell’s wink, she realized he’d turned his attention back to the mystery man. Trevor turned to face her, squeezed her shoulders, and met her gaze. “For tonight, please trust me?”
Julia frowned but nodded. “If it means that much to you.”
“Yes, it does. Thank you,” His voice cracked with emotion and that surprised her. She didn’t let it dissuade her from telling him, “I’m seriously angry with you. Why on earth would you go along with Maxwell and this ridiculous plan? Especially a plan that involves me not cursing for an entire evening. If you haven’t noticed, I have anger issues.”
The little doubtful voice in her head laughed hysterically at her naiveté, pointing and rolling around in the back of her brain. Dear God, I mean, really, really, really knows what he’s fucking doing—and willing to do the fucking part too, because tonight isn’t so much about getting tied up and spanked, although that would be a definite bonus—but a whole lot about fucking, fucking like bunnies who just can’t get enough fucking would be great! Okay?
She wondered if God listened to prayers about getting laid.
Usually, she’d be very annoyed if she thought they'd fixed her up on a blind date without consulting her. Like, how dare they? However, as Maxwell's head nodded toward her and his companion turned again, this time drinking her in from head to toe with a single look. Julia gasped, feeling her nipples grow more sensitive as they drew up into pointed buds, her clit tightened with the heavy need pooling low in her belly. The stranger kept looking and she managed eye-contact only for a moment before his intensity overwhelmed her and she dropped hers. Trevor hadn’t exaggerated, the man was hot as fuck. Jesus Christ! An experienced Dom. “You’re forgiven, Trevor.”
THERE SHE WAS, finally in view and walking straight toward him. He could tell she hadn’t noticed him yet. Why would she? She might not even remember having met him before. He would be one of the hundreds who had attended her master’s funeral, but he remembered her. There were insignificant changes in her appearance. Her hair was much shorter, the long cascade of hair that had wrapped seductively around her pert bottom was gone. Maxwell had prepared him for that. He hadn’t prepared him for the haunted shadows beneath her eyes, or the fact her weight seemed to have dropped dangerously low. Five years later, she still looked so young, so fragile—so adrift.
