Not Just Another Romance Novel (12 page)

15

“You go first,” I nudged Shannon in the ribs.

“No, you go.”

I rolled my eyes. This was
her
bright idea, but it was for
my
project. We’d never come to an agreement, so I pulled open the heavy wooden door and went first.

My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. A cloud of smoke fogged the air over the six pool tables. Those old Tiffany-style lamps hung over them, shining a light on the smoke and the table. One side of the place housed a long bar. No one stood behind it because they were all at the pool tables. Another side of the bar had pub tables and a dance floor. Currently there were four motorcycles on display on the dance floor, so I doubted anyone ever actually used it for dancing. 

A quick count told me eight men were in the main part of the bar. There were hallways leading out of the main bar. Clearly there were lots of additional rooms based on the size of the building, but I doubted I’d ever see what was behind any of them.

All eight heads swung in our direction the moment we walked through the doors.

“Go get Rusty,” one of the older guys said to one of the younger guys. The younger one followed orders, disappearing down one of the hallways.

They all wore jeans, heavy work boots, black t-shirts, and the same vest. The vest had the same design embroidered a the back, but the road names splashed across the shoulder blade area individualized each one. The ones I could read from where I stood were Spider, Chunk, Repo, and Stitch.

“Can we help you ladies?” An older man looked up from his pool shot. He looked like he’d lived a rough life on the road, and his voice sounded like he’d smoked about a hundred packs of cigarettes a week for the past fifty years.

“Uh…” I looked over at Shannon for help, but she was busy eye-fucking one of the bikers. He was actually pretty hot. Tattoos lined his arms. His hair was longer than what I normally went for, but he looked like he hid a pretty hard body under that vest.

“We were just, um, in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop in for a drink.”

“You were in the neighborhood?” he asked with a chuckle.

Okay, so it was a stupid excuse. The biker bar we’d found was basically in the middle of nowhere. Certainly not in what I’d ever call a neighborhood.

“We’re heading up to LA,” Shannon clarified. Thank God she came through with the lie.

The younger one returned and a really attractive man appeared from one of the hallways. He actually looked like he was related to the one Shannon was eye-fucking, but he was even hotter. His eyes were a cool gray, and his nearly black hair made his eyes look even lighter.

I assumed this was Rusty.

“What can I do for you?” His voice was hard and deep. He rested his hands on the edge of one of the pool tables as his eyes blazed into mine. He leaned down on his hands with straight arms that were healthy and strong and full of big veins. He was the definition of masculinity. His body was well-kept, trained, buff. Big.

Something in his hard eyes held a gentleness, though. Something behind them made me want to throw myself into his arms just to feel safe and protected. I wanted him to cuddle me, but he didn’t look like the cuddling type. 

He looked like a man who did everything to the extreme. And I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was like beneath the sheets.

Well, here was my motorcycle man.

This was my big chance.

“Can I just get a vodka and soda?” I asked.

“We don’t really run that type of bar, darlin’. Keep heading north, and you’ll hit a few bars along the way to LA. Thanks for stopping in.”

He turned to go back down the hallway he’d come from, but I couldn’t let him go so easily. “Wait,” I called after him. He stopped and turned back toward me, a look of anger on his face.

Oh, fuck.

He didn’t seem like the type that took well to orders from girls. “Can you, uh…help us with some directions?” I asked.

He sighed.

“Babyface!” he yelled, his eyes never leaving me.

“Yeah, boss?” The younger one who had gone back to call him from his hallway took his place next to the boss.

His eyes never left me. They were burning me. Branding me. Owning me. “Make these ladies some vodka sodas. Easy on the V. They’re driving.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Ain’t you got a phone for directions, darlin’?”

I shrugged, as if to say I was just a girl who hadn’t thought of that.

I was playing a part. Of course if I took a road trip to LA I would have gone prepared with maps and directions. I wasn’t naïve enough to actually stop at a bar in the middle of nowhere with more than ten motorcycles in the parking lot and zero cars.

Rusty chuckled softly. The anger on his face had turned back to the softness that appealed straight to my heart. “Where you comin’ from?”

“SDSU,” I said softly, trying for extra feminism in my voice.

“Whatcha studyin’ there?”

“Psychology.”

“You stoppin’ here for some study on bikers?” His voice boomed toward me. Everyone in the room watched Rusty’s every move.

I shook my head. He was close to the truth, but he hadn’t exactly hit what my intentions at this bar were.

Babyface came back with our vodka sodas, and as requested by the “boss,” they were light on vodka and heavy on soda.

I’d never actually ordered a vodka soda. I assumed it tasted like vodka and Sprite. It just sounded more mature to order a vodka and soda than a vodka and Sprite.

Apparently “soda” meant carbonated, unflavored water.

I nearly spit it out after my first sip. Shannon behaved much more delicately than me. She was better at hiding her distaste. Plus she was flirting with the younger Rusty lookalike, and it appeared I might have a hard time pulling her away from him.

Rusty cocked a finger in the air, indicating I should follow him. He strode across the bar and led me over to a table with some stools around it. I sat, setting my drink on the table in front of me. He sat across from me.

“Believe it or not, I spent a few years studyin’ Psychology myself.” Rusty’s voice quieted when he wasn’t putting on a show for those around him, when he wasn’t trying to act like the boss of the bar…which clearly he was. From what I’d learned in my MC books, I guessed Rusty was the president of this club. “But I learned a hell of a lot more about it in prison than I did in school.”

I didn’t doubt it, and I wondered what he’d gone to prison for.

Knowing he was an ex-con didn’t make me any more intimidated by him. He had an intimidating presence, for sure, but I could see past the tough exterior. He was just a big teddy bear inside, but I surmised few people in his life had ever allowed that side of him to come out.

“Where the fuck’s Rusty?” A nasally woman’s voice rang out from the doorway. Eight heads turned toward the doorway immediately, but Rusty’s eyes stayed on me. Shannon and I looked toward the door last.

The girl in the doorway wore jeans, a black bedazzled t-shirt ripped near the ribs and cut lower in the cleavage than necessary, and black boots. She wore black, lacy gloves on her hands. She had bleach blonde hair and wore far too much make-up. She might have been pretty without it, but it was so caked on I couldn’t tell.

I heard Rusty sigh. “I’m right here, Cookie.”

I glanced back at him, and his eyes were glued down on the table. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the five seconds since I’d last looked at him.

Cookie stalked toward us, and two more women appeared in the doorway she’d vacated.

“Who the fuck is this?” Cookie asked, jamming a finger in my direction.

“Hi. I’m Piper.” I stuck my hand out to shake hers, but she just gave me a look of death.

“Get the fuck out of my bar,” Cookie said to me, her voice a venomous hiss.

I lowered my hand slowly.

She was
not
happy new blood sat in her bar. And she was even less happy I sat at a table enjoying a beverage and conversation with Rusty.

Shit. I was going to get my ass kicked by a biker babe. A club whore.

“She and her friend stopped in for a drink on their way from San Diego to LA.” Rusty continued to stare down at the table.

She ignored his words. “Where the fuck is my cut from last night’s take?”

“Not now, Cookie.”

“Now, Rusty.”

He finally looked up. His eyes met hers, and a sneer curled his lip. “You don’t fuckin’ give orders around here, got it?” My knees shook a little at the venom in his voice. “You’ll get your fuckin’ take when I’m ready to give it to you. Now get the fuck out.”

Cookie turned bright red, but she couldn’t do much against him. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that, you piece of shit. I’ll go straight to the cops.”

“You know what?” he asked, his voice full of hatred. “Fuckin’ go to the cops. Tell them your part in it. You think you’ll get off? Think again, you stupid bitch.”

Okay. So a guy who talked to a girl like that really wasn’t my type.

She reached her hand up to slap him across the face, but he grabbed her wrist.

“You don’t wanna do that, sweetheart.” One of the other men—Spider—came over to restrain Cookie. She was panting with anger.

Spider put both arms around her and picked her up. He dragged her down one of the long hallways, and I was dying to know what would happen next.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a few bills. I tossed them on the table.

“The fuck’s that for?” Rusty asked, his voice still hard after his encounter with Cookie.

“For the drinks.”

“Keep your money. They’re on the house.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

His eyes met mine again, and they softened almost immediately. “I know.”

It was possible in a different time and a different place, the biker and I could’ve figured out how to make things work. The way he looked at me with all that tenderness really struck my heart. Plus the heat behind his tender eyes would light my sheets on fire.

But he was an ex-con clearly still dabbling in illegal dealings based on his conversation with Cookie.

I was a law-abiding citizen who’d been scared by the venom and the words he’d used against the girl.

I tossed back the rest of my drink and looked around for Shannon. I finally found her—well, the back of her—making out with the Rusty lookalike.

I rolled my eyes, interrupted my friend, and got the hell out of there.

16

We met up with Austin at our Starbucks later that day, and he loved our biker bar story. His favorite part was that Shannon had actually gotten a phone number—not to mention a make-out session—out of it. The guy she’d been talking to was Rusty’s brother. He was in his mid-twenties and looking for a steady job in San Diego, and he went by the road name Hawk. I thought about Rusty’s beautiful gray eyes, the ones that had looked at me with tenderness, the same ones that had looked at Cookie with such disdain. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.

If Shannon started dating his brother, we had a chance of crossing paths. But I was confused enough, and even though Rusty the biker had been sexy as hell, I had another man on my mind who was also sexy as hell.

Well, honestly, I had two men on my mind.

But I forced one of them out—the one missing from our Starbucks meeting—so I could focus on Dax.

“Where’s Scott?” Shannon asked.

Dammit. I’d just forced him out of my thoughts when Shannon brought him up again.

“Home,” Austin said. “Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

He seemed fine the night before when he’d hung out on my couch.

Weird. That fluttery feeling I’d blamed on the water was back in my stomach when I thought about Scott on my couch. But I wasn’t drinking cold water. I had hot coffee.

Maybe I was coming down with whatever Scott had.

“Who do you have left on your list?” Austin asked.

“Millionaire, athlete, dominant, and stepbrother.” And best friend.

No, scratch that. Not best friend.

“When’s your millionaire CEO meeting?” Shannon asked.

“Next Tuesday morning.”

“Has Dr. P’s nephew gotten in touch yet?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I’m supposed to call him, but I’ve been too busy entertaining rock stars and bikers to get in touch.”

“Call now!” Shannon loved this.

“I’ll call now if you call Biker Hawk now.”

“I just talked to him,” she complained. “I can’t call
again
.”

“You already talked to him?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

She worked fast.

She nodded. “We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow afternoon. Well, lunch and whatever.” She winked at me.

I’d probably bang all of that masculine hotness if I had the opportunity, too.

I excused myself to call Dr. Prestbury’s nephew, Hayden.

“Hello?” The voice alone was sexy.

Dammit. All this dating getting confusing.

“Hayden?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, this is Piper Andrews. Your uncle, um, Dr. Prestbury told me to call you.”

“Oh yeah. Hey, Piper.”

“I’m running a social experiment dealing with male stereotypes, and I’d love to set up a date with you while you’re here in San Diego.” There. I told him about my topic without necessarily compromising my research.

“Sounds great. I’m traveling in Friday mid-afternoon. You want to meet up Friday night?”

“Perfect. Just call or text me when you’re settled in. You can reach me at this number.”

“I’m looking forward to it. My uncle Harold told me good things about you.”

I smiled into the phone.
Harold
? I always thought of him as stuffy old Dr. P.

“Can’t wait to meet you.”

We said our goodbyes and I headed back into Starbucks with a smile.

“So?” Shannon prodded.

“We’re meeting up on Friday.” I grinned. “And he sounded really hot.”

“Ugh. You’re so lucky. I wish I had come up with this project.”

* * *

After my Starbucks date with my friends, I finally headed back home to check my email.

I was surprised when I opened my email. I had a bunch of hits from the dom/sub dating site.

I filtered through them and deleted a few lap rockets and pleasure rods. I wondered who the hell ever thought it would be okay to take a picture of his penis and send it to someone he didn’t know.

And then I found an interesting one. One that would possibly allow me to experience this lifestyle without getting in over my head.

I read through the email twice, and then I ran a quick Google search and sifted through the results. They all said the same thing.

From the minimal research I’d done, online dom/sub relationships weren’t as intense as in-person relationships, but they still existed. And they were still an accurate representation of the lifestyle.

I read through the warnings. Don’t give my address, make sure I feel comfortable, don’t send out pictures of myself until I’m ready.

I also read about how online relationships were a great way to see if the lifestyle was one I would be interested in experiencing in person. It sounded like the perfect trial, and while I’d probably never meet my dominant in person, at least I’d be able to put the experiment in my report.

I clicked the email again.

The picture of the sender was just a man in a suit holding a whip between fingers that looked long and lean. I couldn’t see his face except for his lips, and they were curled up with a slight smirk.

I wondered if it was really him or if it was some stock photo he’d chosen to represent his persona.

His name was Master Sebastian.

I read his message for the third time.

Piper,

I’m Master Sebastian, and I’ve been exploring D/s relationships for over ten years. I’m twenty-nine and live in the Hollywood Hills. I’ve had six submissives over the past ten years. Because of my career, I don’t currently have the time to dedicate to an in-person relationship, but your profile caught my attention. Would you be interested in exploring the possibility of an online relationship?

Welcome to my world.

-Master Sebastian

I clicked the reply button.

Master Sebastian,

I am brand new to this world and don’t even know what I’m looking for. I would be interested in exploring the online possibilities, but I’m not sure what that would entail. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?

-Piper

I clicked send, and a reply popped up in my inbox less than a minute later.

Piper,

Please do your research. There are plenty of websites that can answer your questions.

-Master Sebastian

Well then. Apparently the good master wasn’t interested in providing me with the details I was seeking, and if he was going to be a dick about it, I could easily find someone else to help me. I shut down my email and opened a brand new book on my Kindle.

* * *

I felt groggy when I finally woke up the next morning. I’d had strange dreams of whips and chains and leather.

I hadn’t opened my email again, but I had done a little bit of research as Master Sebastian had suggested. Maybe I was a better submissive than I first thought I’d be.

I had found an online dom/sub relationship meant I’d have to give him my phone number so he could text me orders, and then I’d have to provide evidence I’d completed whatever mission he bestowed upon me. It could be of the sexual variety, it could be something to humiliate me, or it could be something as simple as purchasing my favorite beverage to please myself. It depended on how we established our relationship.

And establishing that type of relationship was a whole lot more work than I’d first realized. It wasn’t as easy as finding someone and acting out a scene so I could report back in my paper. It entailed building a relationship, building trust between two people. I was intrigued by the lifestyle, but I already knew it wouldn’t generate my happy ending.

In part, though, that was my own fault.

Because I already had two other men fighting for attention in my mind.

I brewed a pot of coffee and trudged over to my computer to check my email. And I jumped to attention when I saw I had a new one from Master S.

Piper,

I realize you don’t know me yet, and my email may have sounded rude. I’m used to giving orders. I apologize if that turned you off, but if it didn’t, I’m still very interested in pursuing this with you.

My schedule only gives me free time about one day each month. Our relationship would be long-distance and largely online or over the phone. If you are interested in a trial run, just a day or two where I send you orders and you send me proof of completion, email me back. I want you to be comfortable, and I want you to know you always have a choice.

If you are no longer interested, I understand and I will pursue other options.

-Master Sebastian

I thought about his email for a long time before I could muster up a reply. I didn’t want to waste his time, but I did want to include this in my thesis. BDSM was a huge part of the erotica genre, and leaving out a dominant as a male lead seemed like way too big of a gap.

I poured a cup of coffee and read the email through again before I replied. And then I dug up all of my most submissive qualities and wrote.

Master,

I apologize for asking questions I could have answered myself. It will not happen again.

I am still very interested in exploring this with you. I researched as you suggested, and I want the trial run you recommended.

I will submit to what you ask for one day as a trial, and we can decide from there if this will work for both of us.

What do we do next?

-Piper

And just like last time, a new email popped up almost immediately.

Piper,

I look forward to working with you. I’ll be in touch this week.

-Master Sebastian

I had no idea what that meant. I had no idea when he’d decide to get in touch with me, or whether I needed to stay awake at all hours in case I should ever hear from him.

But whatever the case, I had my dom.

* * *

I largely wasted my Sunday with schoolwork, but a little before seven, my phone buzzed with a text from Dax. I opened it and smiled immediately.

Thinking about you.

I replied,
Good.

And now you’re thinking about me.
His reply may have been a little cocky, but he was right.

Have been all day.

Likewise. I’m excited for pancakes tomorrow.

I smiled.
Likewise.

That was the end of our texting conversation, but it was enough to put a smile on my face. I knew Dax was a busy guy, and it made me feel a little extra special I was on his mind. Maybe he sent that text to every woman in his contact list, but I somehow doubted it. He didn’t chase girls. He didn’t need to. There were always plenty surrounding him, vying for his attention. But the girl who told him she wanted a break for a few days was the one on his mind.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen that way, but it did.

Another text buzzed through. This one came from Austin to our group that included Shannon and Scott.
Library at eight to study for Clinical test?

Shannon’s reply came through first.
I’ll be there.

I replied second.
See you at eight.

Scott’s reply didn’t come. I stared at my screen, waiting and wondering.

I was just getting ready to head to the library when his reply finally came.
Can’t meet tonight. Let me know what I miss.

Shannon replied to him.
Aw Scotty. Got a hot date?

Why did my heart feel a little squeeze at the thought of Scott on a date?

God, I hated this. I hated that little tingle of jealousy that pierced through me at the thought that Scott was out on a date. I had nothing to be jealous of. I had a rock star waiting for me.

I brushed the thoughts away again and headed toward the library to study with my friends minus one.

***

Before my date Monday night, I had my weekly round robin at Dr. Prestbury’s office. I was the first to arrive, so Dr. Prestbury and I got to chatting.

“Hayden tells me you set up a date for Friday?”

Oh, God. Kill me now. I had a hard time believing Dr. P was taking an active interest in my dating life.

I nodded as I flushed. “I told him to get in touch with me after he settles in.”

“He seemed excited. I didn’t tell him much about your project.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t, either. I told him the basics but I didn’t want to compromise the research.”