Embracing My Submission (2 page)

“I know. I know.”

“If you knew, then why did you?”

Dissuading him with a look of innocence, I shrugged. “I always talk to Dahlia and Master George. It’s part of my job to be friendly and welcoming. It’s what I do.” Batting my lashes at him in feigned innocence, I grinned.

Obviously seeing through my veil of finely crafted bullshit, he shook his head, sighing in disgust. “If I owned you, I’d whip your ass.”

“You still can!” I smiled, winking mischievously.

“No, sweetheart. You’d enjoy that way too much. Where would the lesson be?” His lips curled in a tight condescending smirk as more members filtered through the door.

The lobby filled quickly, but that was normal for a Friday night. Drake and I hastily checked them in at the podium. I smiled at the familiar faces as they laughed and talked. It warmed my heart that so many had grown to be valued friends over the years. We were like a family of sorts. An extremely kinky family, but a family all the same.

Scanning the crowd, my eyes leveled upon...
him
. Tall and handsome, with rugged features. A broad frame with scrumptiously wide shoulders, like a football player. The man had a thick neck and a narrow waist. My heart thundered in my chest as my mouth began to water. Sandy-blond hair carelessly framed the most incredible ocean-blue eyes I’d ever seen. A shiver ran down my spine and my nipples pebbled.

The stranger was dressed in black slacks with a tight-fitting black T-shirt that molded and outlined his rippling biceps and pecs. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he smiled, chatting with the people around him. His dazzling smile could light the sun. My stomach flip-flopped as a needful throb centered between my legs. I nervously licked my lips and stared like a doe in the headlights at the gorgeous man.

He certainly wasn’t the one I was expecting. He was nothing like the man I hoped would someday walk through the door. But then only a fool would continue searching faces in the crowd for some vaporous apparition from a reoccurring dream. No sane person would waste their time looking for a ghost. Especially not the hunky ghost that haunted me nightly, or the equally mysterious she-ghost who always appeared first, begging me to
“find him.”
I had no idea who the two specters were or what they wanted, but without fail, they tandemly invaded my dreams nearly every damn night. Over time, I’d grown to expect them before I drifted off to sleep. I’d even given them names. He was “Sir Drool.” The dude was drop-dead gorgeous and had an aura of Dominance that nearly brought me to my knees. And I’d dubbed her “Fanny-Frustration.” The woman persistently pestered me to find the elusive Sir Drool. Most mornings I woke up exhausted from running down endless halls brimming with closed doors in an attempt to locate the phantom Dom. Obviously there was more symbolism in my stupid dream than I cared to dissect. Hell, I’d given my nightly visitors names, thus proving I was a few French fries short of a kid’s meal.

Fanny-Frustration always appeared first. The woman bore an uncanny resemblance to me, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I knew she wasn’t me. Fanny was an elegant gossamer apparition with a voice like an angel. She was soft and sure, continually drilling me to
“find him—find my ‘one.’”

Was she on crack? Didn’t she know I’d spent the better part of four years trying to find
any
Dom, let alone the mouthwatering hunk she summoned night after night? As if that weren’t torture enough, she had to ratchet my frustration level by conjuring images of the melt-your-panties-in-a-puddle Dom over and again.

Sir Drool was so decadently captivating, I would often wake to find my covers tangled around my feet and my fingers plunged deep inside my slick, quivering sex. Broad shoulders with thick, roped muscles bulging beneath his milk-chocolate flesh alone was incentive for my fingers to dance beneath the covers. But it was his liquid amber eyes that fueled powerful sleeping orgasms. Sir Drool always appeared with an obscure, mischievous twinkle in his shimmering butterscotch eyes. A girl could get lost in those eyes. Lost and never want to find her way home.

Oh, but it didn’t stop there. His one stunning feature that drew me like a moth to a flame was his lips, or rather his bottom lip. It was thick and full and so damn inviting. A deep, ripe, sensual peach color so enticing I longed to reach out and skim my finger over the full brim. I wanted to slide my tongue across its plumpness and capture it between my teeth.

As far as dreams went, I couldn’t complain with such toe-curling eye candy. But the unsettling part was Fanny’s crushing, frantic, stubborn demand that I find him, amplifying my dissatisfaction with being un-owned.

In all my days at the club, I’d never glimpsed anyone who looked remotely close to Sir Drool. Every bald, light-skinned African American male that walked through the door caused my neck to snap and my belly to tighten in anticipation. Yet none turned out to be
him
. As ludicrous as it seemed, I found myself falling a little in love with the dream man. Yeah, there had to be a straightjacket out there with my name on it somewhere.

The striking blond man standing in the lobby wasn’t remotely close to Sir Drool, yet I felt particularly drawn toward him with an unsettling chemistry of sorts. I felt like a vapid sophomore drooling over the star quarterback. I couldn’t look away. Was there such a thing as lust at first sight? Maybe. Or maybe I was just too horny for my own damn good.

There was no denying the man made my blood pump, my knees weak, and my needy pussy shamelessly respond. My palms were sweaty, and butterflies were having a free-for-all in my belly. Not to mention I was dripping wet. I stood staring at the man silently praying he was a Dominant...an un-attached Dominant. Not that I was desperate or anything.
Yeah. Right.

I leaned to whisper to Drake, asking if he knew the man. He shrugged his beefy shoulders and shook his head no. That was odd. Drake knew every member of the club. Evidently, the sexy mystery man was new. I focused, well somewhat focused, on checking in the members while trying not to blatantly stare.

I jerked, gasping as Drake tugged my hair. “It’s not polite to stare, girl,” he whispered tersely in my ear.

“I’m trying not to,” I murmured as tiny contractions rippled through my drenched core.

“Try harder,” he growled.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered then closed my eyes for a moment, willing my sensitive nipples to cease throbbing. That didn’t work either. As the stranger made his way to the podium, anxiety blossomed like a spring flower. My body lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Good evening.” His deep voice reverberated in my chest, and a flurry of goose bumps peppered my arms. His stunning smile sent my blood pressure to near stroke level while my knees shook like baby saplings in a hurricane. I wanted to groan as my nipples pebbled painfully beneath my corset.

Unable to resist, I stared at the tiny lines gathered at the corners of his hypnotic blue eyes.

“This is my first visit to Genesis. My name is Sir Jordon, and you are?”

That voice.
Oh sweet mercy!
He was pulling me under in a swirling, churning ocean of debauchery. Images of him thrusting deep inside, driving me into sexual oblivion, or gazing up at me between splayed thighs while he feasted on my slick and ungodly swollen folds filled my mind. I swallowed tightly, trying to chase away the vivid imagery. Protocol dictated I lower my gaze...but beat my ass crimson, there was no way in hell I could look away.

“I’m Emerald, Sir Jordan.” The breathless tone of my voice sounded like a starving sex kitten.

A wolfish smile tugged at his mouth as his eyes flickered then settled on me with a smoldering gaze.

“Welcome to Genesis. We’re pleased to have you join us this evening.” I managed to force out the words with a little more confidence.

His eyes held mine. Captivating. Entrancing. And his lips curled into an even more alluring smile. “Emerald. What a lovely young thing. You are simply breathtaking, pet. Your Master or Mistress must be immensely proud of such a fine, succulent sub.”

My stomach flip-flopped in fear as I flashed an edgy and cautious look at Drake.
Master? Mistress? If you only knew, pal.
The trifling thought careened through my brain as I stood frozen like a granite statue.

“Good evening, Jordon. My name is Drake.”

Bless Daddy for breaking the awkward silence as he extended his hand. “Welcome to Genesis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Somehow, I peeled my eyes off the tantalizing newcomer and cast them downward, thankful that Drake did not reveal my discreditable, un-owned status.

“I believe Mistress Ivory is your tour guide this evening. If you’d care to follow me, I’ll be happy to make the introductions.” Drake stepped behind me, swatting my ass as he began to escort Jordon into the club. “Behave.”

I shot him a scowl. I’d not done anything bad...yet.

“I look forward to seeing you inside, shimmering Emerald.” The beguiling smile that spread over Jordon’s lips curled my toes. My throat was dry and constricted. I glanced into his gorgeous eyes and issued a nervous nod, then immediately dropped my gaze.

Trembling as I peeked from beneath my lashes, I watched the muscular pair of Doms walk away. I greedily admired Jordon’s tight ass, broad muscle-defined shoulders, and long, thick legs. The man made me melt like a candle.

You bet your hot ass you’ll be seeing me later, Sir. I’ll make damn sure of that,
I silently promised as I tried to control my trembling hands. Exhaling deeply, I gathered my wits and focused on checking in the remaining members in line.

Trying to herd them through as quickly as possible, my mind wasn’t on task. It was focused beyond the thick velvet drapes. I wondered what Jordon was doing, who he was talking to, what he thought about Genesis, and if he was serious about wanting to see me inside the dungeon. What if an available sub had already set her sights on him and was trying to woo him? Anxiety stabbed my chest. I had no claim on the man, but I didn’t want to be shot out of the water before I had a chance to launch.

In less than thirty minutes, the lobby had cleared. Of course to me, it felt like hours. I smiled a bit too anxiously at James and Tony, the security personnel working the main door.

“It’s ten o’clock. Time to lock up, Emerald.” James pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and locked the heavy wooden doors. “Ready to go join the fun?”

“Always. Are you two working the dungeon or the private rooms tonight?” I asked, stacking up the pages listing the names of members in attendance for the evening. My job would be complete once I dropped the papers off to Mistress Sammie, the club’s bartender.

“Tony and I are working both. Will we get a chance to watch you scene tonight?”

“I wish.” A skeptical chuckle rolled from my throat. “Don’t hold your breath. That’s not even remotely in the cards for me tonight. I’ll be watching and wanting.”

“Damn! I was hoping we’d get to see Mistress Sammie help you relieve some stress,” James teased with a sly wink.

“In your dreams and mine.” Blowing a heavy sigh of frustration from my lips, I shrugged. “Drake’s got me on big O-denial. I swear I think that man secretly wishes my hymen would grow back or something.”

“Ah, yes. Orgasm denial. Effective little tool.” James smirked.

“Oh, like you suffer from that. Don’t even go there. You’re a switch. All you have to do is issue your own command, and poof, you’re off that restriction,” I teased.

“Sort of.” He laughed.

“How’s your girl?” I asked as I followed him to the thick velvet curtain.

“Arianna is not my girl. She’s a switch like me. We just work well together.” He grinned.

Having seen James submit only a handful of times, he always seemed more like a Dom than a sub to me. There was no doubt he had the best of both worlds. He could dominate or submit, and having a partner do the same would ensure every clawing desire would be met
. Lucky bastard!

I never could wrap my head around dominating another person. It wasn’t in my DNA. But then again, if I didn’t find a Dom soon, I might have to reconstruct my DNA just to get the orgasms I craved. Pondering that thought, I tried to find a downside, and at the moment there was none. But dominating another? No. It didn’t float my boat in the least. If I held the Dominant power, I’d only give myself permission to come, and once that was done, I’d probably still feel empty and hollow inside. Toss that notion to the curb.

Looping my elbows through the men’s thick, muscular arms, I sashayed through the opened curtain. The dungeon was full. Practically all fifty stations lining the walls were in use, and every table in the center of the room where guests could watch and visit was occupied. Yes, Genesis was packed tonight.

The sound of cracking whips and slapping paddles, accompanied by various octaves of pleasure-filled moans and cries of pain, echoed throughout the room. The air was heavy with the rich, musky scent of sex. Members seated at the tables talked in low murmurs, but their voices were drowned out by the copious sounds of play.

I found Dahlia naked on her knees, her mouth working furiously upon George’s glistening hard shaft. In his hand, snapping robustly upon Dahlia’s exposed ass, was a wicked black buggy whip. Her eyes were glassy as she looked up at him with a loving expression. Her body jerked at each well-aimed strike of the whip. George caressed her hollowed cheeks with his other hand as his lips moved in private conversation, no doubt praising the girl for accepting his punishment.