Breathe (8 page)

Alex’s end of the phone call was silent for a long moment, and Elijah could all but hear the thoughts turning around in his friend’s mind.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever been that off base about someone,” Alex said finally. Elijah felt his spirits sink, though he fought against it.

He barely knew the woman after all. She fascinated him, true, but surely he’d get over it.

“Now you have to tell me why you’re asking, E.” From Alex’s end Elijah heard a feminine voice—Maddy, telling her fiancé to hurry up. “Have you met someone?”

Elijah considered before he answered. He could always just cut things off with Samantha where they stood right at that moment. Or keep things confined to the business of the art commission and leave it at that.

The very idea made him grind his teeth together. Samantha was inquisitive enough that he knew she would continue to explore, even if he were to cut her loose.

He’d be damned if some other Dom would have the pleasure of introducing her enticing sugar-and-spice self to the wonders of dominance and submission.

“There’s a woman, yes.” Elijah conjured up a mental picture of Samantha’s lithe figure, those green eyes that sizzled with heat, the red curls that made her look like a goddess. He pictured those curls brushing over his cock, and felt himself stiffen at the idea.

“And you’re unsure if she’s truly submissive? Is she new to the lifestyle?” Alex probed further. “Why not just take her to the club at your resort? I’m sure you’ll get a better reading of her once she’s actually in a scene with you.”

Elijah pondered that for a moment. He rarely visited Devorar even though he owned it. He had a competent manager who ran it well, so he didn’t need to enter the club often. This pleased him, because he wasn’t nearly as comfortable there as he was back home at Veritas.

If Samantha would go with him, though, he would make an exception. And perhaps Alex was right. He needed to know. Painful as it might be for him if she wasn’t the kind of woman he needed, he couldn’t ask her to change for him. He would be negligent in his responsibilities as a Dom . . . and he just wasn’t that kind of man.

“When you met Maddy, she intrigued you from the start.” This wasn’t a question—Elijah knew that Alex had been infatuated with the woman from the moment he’d set eyes on her. He’d pursued her despite the fact that he avoided relationships at all costs. “But what if she hadn’t been submissive? Would you still have pursued her?”

There was a long moment of silence before Alex replied.

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” Alex’s voice was serious. “Because one of the things that first caught my eye about Maddy was how submissive she seemed. You’re that serious about this woman? What’s her name?”

“Her name is Samantha.” The name was like honey on his tongue. “I don’t know if I’d describe my feelings as serious. True, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I met her. The heat between us is . . . tangible. I want her again. But her personality, her mannerisms . . . She’s curious, but I just can’t picture her as a submissive who does more than play. I can’t picture her giving herself fully to a Dom.”

And that description had applied to his ex-wife as well. He’d been young, and had thought that love and the desire to play kinky games was the same thing as submission.

He’d been wrong.

As if reading his thoughts, Alex mentioned his ex in the next breath. “I don’t need to remind you of what happened with Tara.”

Elijah snorted out a harsh laugh, leaning back in his desk chair and raking his fingers through his hair. “No, you certainly don’t.”

“But if you don’t give things a try with Samantha, will you always wonder?” Elijah heard Maddy’s voice again, followed by a giggle.

He guessed what she wanted Alex’s attention for. He certainly wasn’t going to deprive his friend of the charms of his soon-to-be wife.

“Thanks, Alex. This has been helpful.” They said their good-byes and hung up, and Elijah pondered the conversation.

Alex hadn’t told him anything that he hadn’t already thought of, but it had been useful to talk it out. And his friend had hit one point square on the head.

If he didn’t explore this connection that he felt with Samantha, he would regret it. And ultimately, wasn’t his lifestyle all about exploring a person’s true desires? Even though he had never felt fully satisfied by sexual relationships outside of a true Dominant/submissive relationship, Samantha seemed to be an exception that he wasn’t ready to give up on.

What would be so wrong with exploring their connection further?

Decision made, Elijah felt anticipation begin to simmer.

He had given Samantha until the next day to give her his decision regarding the commission. He would honor his word on that matter.

But he hadn’t said he would leave her alone until then.

•   •   •

T
he thump of heavy bass disturbed the warm evening air. The parking lot of Pecado was full, steam from the day’s heat curling upward between the vehicles that were crammed side by side on the asphalt.

Anticipation was like a million little needles running along her skin.

She was about to take that first step—to see if her compelling dreams had been a manifestation of her actual desires.

Inhaling deeply, she strode toward the front door of the club on shaky legs. The outside of Pecado didn’t look different from any other club she’d ever seen—the name spanned the building in glowing neon lights, a bouncer dressed in black guarded the front door, and the ear-shattering music spilled out into the street.

The only hint that this club might be slightly different was the couple chatting with the bouncer. The woman was dressed head-to-toe in black rubber. The man wore nothing but small leather shorts and a collar around his neck.

A leash was attached to the collar, and the woman held the end of it.

Samantha couldn’t quite hold back a smile when she saw someone walking by do a double take.

Slowly she walked up behind the couple. The tall, curvaceous Latina woman caught Samantha’s eye and smiled at her in a way that could only be described as seductive.

“Pretty outfit, honey.” The woman eyed her up and down, then nudged the man she was with. “You new here?”

Samantha looked from the couple to the bouncer with wide eyes. Her confidence and excitement had vanished somewhere during the walk from her car to the door, and now all she could feel was her anxiety.

“I’m meeting Angelo Aguirre.” Her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue over her lips to dampen them. “I’m Samantha Collins. I’m his guest for the evening.”

The black-clad bouncer nodded, then opened the heavy wooden door for her. “Angelo said to look out for a smoking-hot redhead.” He gestured inside the club. “He’s inside.”

Samantha cast her stare through the open door with trepidation. This was it. She was really going to do this.

“Thank you,” she murmured, forcing her suddenly stiff legs forward. A hand on her shoulder stopped her in place, and she whirled around to find the Latina woman looking at her with undisguised interest.

“If you get bored with Angelo, you just come find me, honey.” The woman licked her lips with relish, leaving Samantha no doubt about what she was referring to.

“Umm. Thank you.” Samantha wondered if she was quite up to this after all—dry spell and curiosity aside—but then the couple was entering the club behind her and then she was inside, the sights and sounds overwhelming her senses.

The club was big, one large room ringed around the top with a balcony on the second floor. But it wasn’t so big that she couldn’t see everything that was going on.

Her mouth fell open—she couldn’t help herself. There were scenes unfolding before her eyes that she could never have conjured up even in her wildest dreams. And the sounds—oh, the sounds.

The slapping of flesh, screams and cries and moans of pleasure blended in with an energetic dance tune, creating one of the most erotic songs she’d ever heard.

The space between her legs heated and began to ache. She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to react to the evidence that she had been aroused by the sights in front of her.

“Hello, Samantha.” Spinning, Samantha came face-to-face with Angelo. She smiled, relieved to see a familiar face.

“Hi, Angelo.” She twisted her fingers in the front of her cardigan sweater. The man was handsome like his brother, but stood several inches taller. He was dressed in nothing but black leather pants and a matching vest, opened so that she could see his firmly muscled chest and abs.

He was hot, and she appreciated the visual. But she couldn’t stop the image of Elijah that crept into her mind.

The idea of Elijah, bare chested and ready to take her on a tour of a club like this—that made her skin heat with pleasure.

Angelo seemed to note the flush in her cheeks and was nodding with approval.

“You’ll be a pretty sub, Samantha.” He nodded toward the fingers that she still had clenched in the hem of her sweater. “You are a guest here tonight, so the dress code will be relaxed somewhat for you. But you have to take off the sweater. It is not acceptable.”

Samantha bit her lip, tempted to tell him that she’d wear whatever she wanted. She’d wanted someone she knew to go with her to a club, but the idea of stripping down was a sticking point.

“The reason submissives are expected to dress as they do is to strip away a layer of their control, Samantha.” She looked up to study him as he spoke to her. In his own dark eyes she saw a hint of that same dominance that Elijah wore so easily, and she suddenly found it hard to believe that this man in front of her was the same one who had cooked her tortillas and eggs on so many occasions.

Responding to the command in his voice was one thing, yet she still didn’t feel the desperate desire for him that she had for Elijah. She’d assumed she would, that any dominant man would fill that hole inside her.

And that was something to think about when she was back home, and not surrounded by people who were either naked or dressed in fetish wear.

“All right.” Slowly Samantha unbuttoned the front of her cardigan, slipping the knit fabric down her shoulders. Angelo reached out to help her. She blushed as his eyes raked over her.

“Very nice.” Angelo’s voice held more than a hint of appreciation. Samantha was mortified. She was now wearing nothing but a fawn-colored lace nightie that barely covered her butt and the same red high-heeled sandals she’d had on the night she’d met Elijah.

Angelo had told her that many clubs frowned on lingerie as club wear, but that Pecado would accept it for a guest new to the lifestyle.

When a woman wearing nothing but a thong and a blindfold walked by her, she wondered if she hadn’t gotten off rather easily.

Then his fingers were under her chin, forcing her head to turn. She tried to shrug away with irritation, but the fingers held firm.

“When I compliment you—when I say anything to you—you reply, ‘Yes, Master Angelo,’ or ‘Yes, Sir.’ Understood?”

She wasn’t nearly as comfortable with Angelo as she was with Jorge, and she didn’t much care for him manhandling her. He looked back at her, patient, and she caught her breath, remembering.

This was the reason she was here. Right now he wasn’t Angelo her buddy. He was a Dom, and he was here to introduce her to this club because she’d asked him to.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a long moment before managing a reply.

“Yes, Sir.” The words tasted strange on her tongue. She wasn’t sure she liked it, and her eyes were wary as she looked at his face.

The fingers still holding her face tugged, urging her gaze down. She resisted reflexively, then forced her muscles to obey.

“Don’t look a Dom in the eye unless you are given permission.”

Samantha shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined, though if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t had a concrete picture of what the evening would hold.

“Very nice.” Angelo released her chin and circled her as Samantha stared down at her toes. He smelled much as his brother did, like spices combined with a hint of musky aftershave.

She had thought that just being in the presence of a Dom would offer her some relief from her ever present stress. But instead of relief, all she was feeling at that moment was uncertainty.

Angelo passed a clipboard into her line of vision. She started to look up to ask him what it was, then remembered that she wasn’t supposed to look up without permission.

Feeling incredibly silly, she kept her eyes downcast, accepting the clipboard and pen from Angelo.

“These are the forms that all new members and guests of the club have to fill out.” The name of the club was spelled out across the top of the form, and Samantha started reading, finding the usual personal information at the top: name, birth date, gender. Then the questions turned to preferences. Was she interested in men or women? Was she hoping to find a Dom or a sub? Was she open to encounters with couples?

Then she came to something called the Limit Checklist. Cocking her head, she continued to read—and sucked in her breath as she saw some of the items listed.

Violet wand? What the hell was that? Fisting? If that was what it sounded like, it was so not happening.

“If you mark something as a hard limit, it means that you will not participate in it. Any Dom that you partner with here at the club has to respect that,” Angelo said.

Samantha found it incredibly frustrating not to be able to raise her head, to look at his face.

She knew that Jorge hadn’t believed she could be submissive, and that he would have shared that suspicion with his brother.

She was determined to prove them wrong.

“And may I ask what a soft limit is?”

Angelo chuckled, and Samantha again thought of Elijah. She had enjoyed the sound of his laugh, had wanted to make him laugh again.

With Angelo she just noted that she had pleased him and was probably not going to be subject to the discipline items that were listed on the checklist in her hand.

“A soft limit is something that you’re not sure about it.” Angelo tilted her chin up, and Samantha sighed with relief when her eyes were again at a level where she could see her surroundings. Angelo smiled at her with pleasure. “Very nice. You may look at me now.”