OnlyatTheCavern (5 page)

After delivering her brother his drink, she offered Mitchell
another smile of encouragement and left the room to assist her mother, and
hopefully give him enough breathing room to regain his bearings.

The savory aroma of meat and spices enveloped her as she
entered the warm kitchen. A pot roast rested in the roasting pan, and steam
rose from the skillet of sautéed schnitzel. Without a word of direction, she
went to work on preparing the asparagus for its turn in melted butter.
Vegetables were the task of the daughter. The entrée, the mother. The roles
were always such, designated since the beginning of their history. The home was
a little factory with the womenfolk assigned their positions the moment they
became able to control a knife.

Mere seconds went by before her mother looked at her from
over her shoulder with a brilliant smile. “Eh? That Mitchell. He’s a handsome
man.”

“Yes, he is.” Beautiful, really. Especially when that
muscular body was suspended from the ceiling and sweat matted the hair on his
belly as he cried out in release.

What would her mother do if Jasmine regaled her with that little
tidbit? A grin tugged at her lips as she imagined having to initiate CPR on the
tiny woman. It wasn’t that funny, really, yet she couldn’t help sucking in a
snort of laughter.

“Emil said he was in the military, but I can’t remember
which part.”

Jasmine offered the appropriate sound of interest and held
her tongue again. Mitch’s nickname was Army for a reason. At The Cavern, subs
in training had to earn the right to be called by their real name, and when
they had first met, he had just finished his last tour of duty. Once he had
returned home, his family and community looked to him for leadership, not
realizing he was more comfortable taking orders. The struggle to find balance
between the two worlds was what brought him to her dungeon. With the outlet to
revel in his submissive nature available, he was better able to handle the
stress of the expectations others placed upon him.

He had actually earned the use of his given name back long
ago, but he liked hearing her use the nickname. He said he knew what was
expected of him, which gave him great comfort. That had been so long ago, she
had forgotten what his real name was.

Dinner was ready, and everyone took their place around the
table. Bruno sat at the head, Emil to his right with her mother at the other
end. Of course Mitch was settled on her stepfather’s left, in the chair beside
hers.

The moment she entered the dining room with the platter of
asparagus, Mitch’s spine snapped to attention. The tension didn’t abate as
dishes were passed from left to right and he kept looking to her as their
fingers brushed with a plea in his eyes for some form of guidance. When
everyone’s plate was filled, Bruno commanded them to bow their heads in prayer.

Jasmine used the opportunity to risk placing her hand on
Mitch’s thigh and squeezed the thick muscle. From the corner of her eye she saw
him peeking at her as well and she hoped he could hear her mental shout for him
to relax. A soft sigh escaped his lips and she felt the warmth of his palm
before he covered her hand in a tight grip followed by a pat and she recognized
the signs of the stress leaving his body as he pulled his hand away. Message
received.

She knew him so well. Knew where to stroke to make him beg
for more. Knew where to strike the whip for his ultimate pleasure, what to say
to make him hard in an instant. How much cum he produced when she sucked him to
climax. Yes, she knew him well.

Or at least, she thought she did.

“You’re the oldest of five?” she repeated when her mother
asked about his family. She didn’t know that. She also didn’t know he had
graduated from Western, or that he had a degree in computer engineering, or
played on an indoor soccer team. Simple facts garnered by a few basic questions
made at the dinner table. After all of their time together, her only knowledge
of him was about his body and its reactions, not about the man himself.

The tender meat tasted like unseasoned tofu on her palate as
she realized how shallow and stagnant their relationship had become. Why hadn’t
she asked him more about his life outside the club? Of course in her contracts
with her subs, it was stated that their interactions occurred only within the
confines of the club’s walls. A stipulation both parties agreed upon, for it
suited each other’s purposes. But to what end?

Had he been aware that an invitation to join his coworker
for dinner with his family carried the possibility of an impromptu blind date
with the man’s sister? Why had he agreed? Was he looking to be in a more
traditional relationship? Could she be that woman for him?

“Jasmine.” Her mother’s voice snapped her from her musings.
The raise of her brow warned her to stop mentally checking out. “Mitchell was
just complimenting your vegetables.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “This is an excellent meal.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a gracious smile.

“All of the women in the family are good cooks,” Oksana
said. “We take pride in providing for our family. Make our men happy to come
home after a hard day at work.”

Jasmine restrained an eye roll. What an absolutely
prehistoric statement.

“All except for Jaz.” Emil chuckled around a mouthful of
beef. “She works too much—ow.” He jumped in his seat and glared at Bruno who
ate without a hint of knowledge as to what had made Emil react as he did.
Jasmine suspected it was a swift kick to the shin to keep him from ruining her
chances at landing a husband.

Mitchell didn’t appear to notice and rounded on her with
enthusiasm. “What
do
you do for a living?”

She rolled a baby carrot across her plate and cleared her
throat. “I’m a doctor in the emergency room at Schuster–Siegel Hospital.”

“You’re a doctor? I didn’t know that.” He caught himself and
hastily added, “I mean, you look so young to be so accomplished. Do you enjoy
it?”

“I do. It’s very rewarding.”

“I bet.” He smiled and she felt her lips curl to match his
warmth. “What do you like best about being a doctor?”

Oksana interrupted, “Jasmine, let’s not bore our guest with
the tedious details of your job. Besides, your work is only temporary until you
find a husband and settle down. To make a family of her own is her passion,
Mitchell.”

“It is?” he asked her with a puzzled frown.

“No.”

“Yes,” Bruno interjected. “Jasmine. Clear the table and
fetch us our dessert.”

With a curt nod, she stood and picked up her and Mitch’s
plates, avoiding his gaze as she kept to her task.

For the rest of the meal she kept her mouth shut with only
the occasional single-word answer, if required. It was the longest forty-five
minutes of her life as she listened to her parents feed Mitch misconceptions as
to who she was as a person and her life’s goals.

The more her parents spoke, the more relaxed Mitch became
during the conversation, even to the point of holding out his cup in her
direction while she poured coffee before she had the opportunity to ask him if
he wanted any. When she gave him the look she reserved when he presumed to know
what she wanted of him, he blanched and his hand shook. In one evening her
family had undone months of training.

Once the kitchen was cleaned and the men were partaking of
their brandies, Jasmine was more than ready to go home. “Gentlemen, if you will
excuse me, I have to work in the morning and must be off. Mitchell, it was nice
to meet you.”

He jumped to his feet. “I must be going too. May I walk you
to your car?”

“Yes, yes.” Her mother beamed. “That is an excellent idea.”

She kissed her family goodnight and allowed Mitch to help
her slip on her jacket. Together they walked side by side in silence. She
passed her vehicle and led him around to the bushes bordering the driveway.

Mitch spoke first, which surprised her. Another example of
how he had forgotten he wasn’t to speak unless directed to. Then again, they
weren’t in the club to remind him of his place. “I can see why you are the way
you are. Your family is very…old fashioned.”

“That’s a way to phrase it,” she muttered then drew in a
breath. “Mitch—”

He shook his head and his breath quickened. “I’m Army. Your
Army. And I don’t like that look in your eyes right now.”

She licked her lips. Best to cut right to the chase, no
matter how much it hurt. “I can’t be your Mistress anymore.”

“No,” he shouted before she finished the sentence. “Why? I
don’t understand.”

The look of distress on his handsome face broke her heart.
In a sense she was punishing him for something that was not his fault, but the
damage was done. In time she hoped he realized that she was granting him the
best gift she could provide. Still, the pain of loss burned through her. She
stood on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck, drawing him into a fierce hug.

“I love you,” she stated emphatically and fought the tears
blurring her vision. “And it’s because I love you that I have to let you go.”

He shook his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck
as his arms closed around her as if she were his tether in a storm. “Why?”

“Several things. One, you’ve lost all respect for me after
seeing the way my family treats me.”

“That’s not true.”

She shushed him and drew back to frame his face between her
hands. Her thumbs stroked the curves of his cheeks and her throat grew tight at
the sight of his tear-filled eyes. “It is, and you know it. Well, maybe not all
respect, but enough to make a difference. But that’s not the only reason.
Mitch, I’m doing you a grave disservice. I’m holding you back from what you really
want.”

“You’re what I want.”

“Maybe. In the beginning. But I realized tonight that we’ve
grown complacent. We fell into a routine that was comfortable, but you want
more. You need more.”

He shook his head again and she stilled him with a press of
her palms against his cheeks. “Look where you are, Mitch. Why did you come with
Emil tonight? You must have known he was trying to hook you up with his sister,
and you were interested enough to accept the invitation.”

Beneath her hands, his skin heated and he broke his gaze to
stare at the ground. “I-I’m lonely when I’m not with you,” he finally admitted
in a small voice.

“I know. At least, I know that now. We had an agreement, and
you’ve kept it beautifully, as have I. But it’s not enough anymore. You want
what I can’t provide and to keep you from it would be entirely selfish of me.
You are a great guy and are entitled to your happiness.”

His lips pinched together and his breathing continued to
escalate while his eyes danced about. She recognized the signs of panic as he
tried to hold it together.

“Tell me,” she commanded with a sweep of her thumb across
his lips.

“I’m scared,” he whispered. “What if I don’t find someone
who understands me as you do?”

She nodded. “Change is scary. But I’m not casting you out on
your own. I will find you the perfect Mistress. I promise. I’ll find you one
who will help you soar, not just keep you aloft. No matter what, I’m still your
friend.”

He released a stuttered breath and hauled her against him in
a hug so tight, she struggled for air, yet she clung to his shoulders just as
fiercely. When the need to breathe drove her to move, she turned her head to
brush a string of kisses along his cheek. Her lips settled on his in a gentle
kiss. His mouth softened against hers and he kissed her back without any of the
heat and hunger of lovers. This was a kiss of friendship. A kiss of goodbye.

Mitch pulled away with a little sniffle and smoothed a hand
over her head. “I’ll never forget you.”

“Of course not. I’m going to make sure your new Mistress
rides your ass like you deserve.”

He chuckled and gave her one last quick hug then walked her
to her car, opening the door at the sound of the lock disengaging.

She waved at him through the window and as she drove down
the driveway, watched in the rearview mirror as he climbed into his own
vehicle. Once she turned onto the street, a sob broke free and the tears she
held in check streamed down her cheeks.

Mitch wasn’t the only one afraid of change. The selection of
a new submissive wasn’t easy. And after the year she had spent with Mitch, his
replacement was going to be a tough act to follow. Also, the connection they
once shared was gone forever. Even if they remained friends, as she hoped, that
deep level of communication was a loss she grieved as strongly as a death of a
loved one.

She reached for the packet of tissues in the glove box and
swiped at her eyes. No sense crashing her car because she couldn’t see the
road.

Once she was safely ensconced in the comfort of her home,
she was going to bust open a bottle of wine and toast the end of a beautiful
friendship with the honor it deserved.

“Captain DeWinter.” A feminine voice made the skin across
the back of his neck tingle as if she had caressed him with the tip of her
fingernail. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Fuck.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Sexy, foreign, and far
too smug for his liking. Damn it. The swallow of Jack Daniels lodged in his
throat and for half a second played tag with the insides of his nostrils before
sliding back into his gullet.

He had thought he was hidden deep enough within the bowels
of The Cavern to avoid detection. He should have known better.

“Mrs. Kilsgaard,” he said, then turned to face the owner of
the club.

Amaryllis Kilsgaard stood so close to him that if she took a
deep breath, her breasts would press into his chest. As was her fashion, she
was dressed for sin in a royal-blue halter dress that displayed a generous
amount of cleavage accentuated by a sapphire the size of a silver dollar resting
above the cleft of her breasts. Lucian was either a very stupid or very
confident man to allow her to roam about in such an erection-inducing outfit
all on her own.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she squealed and threw her arms
around his neck for a hug.

Happy was right, she practically vibrated with glee. Her
lavender eyes sparkled and she bounced on the balls of her feet as if she had
just received the best present in the world.

A normal man might have been flattered by her enthusiasm,
but in his experience with Mrs. Kilsgaard the only reason she’d have for being
so excited to see him was she was up to something. She seemed to have a sixth
sense about people that was damned eerie, and usually it concerned him.

She reached out with her hand to smooth an invisible wrinkle
from the lapel of his blazer. “Would it be fair to assume you are here in
search of what you need?”

Yes. Maybe. Hell, he didn’t know anymore.

The first time he had walked through The Cavern’s door was
when he had been on the trail of a vigilante crime fighter named the Claymore,
who at the time he had believed to be Lucian. He wasn’t, but before Marco left
without the information he had come for, Amaryllis had predicted that he would
return when he was in search of what he needed. Whatever it was she believed he
needed, he hadn’t a clue, but now here he was, skulking in the corners, nursing
a drink and mustering up the courage to face whatever was to be found up the
grand staircase and inside the playrooms. Specifically he was looking for Mistress
Jasmina.

“I see I am correct,” he heard Amaryllis say and felt heat
sear his cheeks as he realized he’d been caught staring up at the second-floor
landing.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He took a sip of his drink.
“I’ve been ordered on a temporary vacation and thought I’d, uh, I’d stop in for
a…” He trailed off as she looked upon him with pity curling down her lips and a
shake of her head at his lame attempt at finding an excuse as to why he was
there. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

She looped her arm around his elbow and hugged it against
her breast. “There, there, Captain. Allow me to help clear that stubborn,
male-addled induced fog cluttering your mind. I heard you were recently
injured.”

“Where did you hear that?” Only those in the department knew
of the incident.

“Oh, please.” She batted her lashes. “Between the Chameleon
and the Claymore, very little happens with the people I care about without me
knowing.”

“Why should you care about me?”

“You helped save my cousin-in-law. And you inadvertently
helped save a man I love as a brother. Whether you like it or not, Captain, you
have been adopted into the Kilsgaard family.”

Was that type of consideration a blessing or a curse?
“Thanks?”

She giggled and guided him to the bottom of the staircase.
“I take it you sustained your injuries while on the case of a mutual enemy of
ours?”

“Yes.”

“Was it worth it?”

“At this point, yes.” More than worth it, if he was allowed
to be truthful.

Konkle’s cellphone contained texts and phone numbers of
several people in Smithwick’s operation. In the two days since he was released
from the hospital and trapped in the loving care of his sister, Coulter and
their team were able to detect a human-trafficking scheme involving several
massage parlors in town. In a month’s time a shipment of girls was scheduled to
arrive from various Southeast Asian countries and then filtered into the
general population as masseuses before being dispersed across the country to
the highest bidder. Konkle’s job was to bring in clientele to sample the girls’
ability to please before they were put on the bidding block. The best girls
were auctioned off while those who struggled or fought were killed. According
to intel, the auction was to be handled personally by Smithwick himself, who
was currently biding time in Asia and coordinating the collection of the girls.

Until Smithwick returned, all Marco could do was sit on this
thumbs and work on other cases his team was handed. After all, Smithwick wasn’t
the only bad guy in town, but in comparison to the shit Smithwick stirred,
those tasks were child’s play. And since he was still supposed to be on
bedrest, all he had was time on his hands and the constant replay of Dr.
Jovanovich trying to scare him off from pursuing any further talk of them
hooking up. Did she honestly think the idea of making him worship at her feet
made him any less eager to fall on his knees for her? Quite the opposite in
fact. However, the way she spoke of her submissive certainly had derailed his
wishes. It had been plain to see she had great affection for the man, and he
wasn’t so shallow as to be a jackass and try to come between them. All that was
left was for him to envy the lucky SOB.

Which was why he was here at the club at this exact time of
night. If she had a regular guy she played with, it was reasonable to think
they had a standing appointment. Maybe if he was able to see her, see them, in
their symbiotic-whatever-you-called-it glory, he might be able to allow the
thought of the doc performing all kinds of kinky acts on him to fade into
oblivion. If not, he’d keep on thinking, hoping, aching to make his fantasies
become a reality until he went mad.

They reached the second-floor landing and his eyes scanned
the area, searching for any sign of Mistress Jasmina.

“Looking for something, Captain? Or someone?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think
I may be going crazy, Mrs. Kilsgaard.”

She smiled and again he had that feeling she was seeing
right into soul. “I think you are at a crossroads in your life. You know you
need a change, but your mind refuses to listen. Instinct, however, has led you
here. A place you know you will receive what you need.”

“And what do I need?” he asked in a gruff voice.

The smile widened. “You need to see a demonstration of what
can happen when a man allows all thought to leave and live in the moment. Lucky
for you, Mistress Jasmina is about to put on a show.”

He stilled as his heart slammed into his rib cage. “She is?
I mean, Mistress Jasmina? Who is that?”

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. He held his
breath as she looked him up and down before she replied, “Mistress Jasmina is a
dominatrix. She is currently between submissives and is assisting another
dominatrix. It should be very educational.”

Between submissives? Since when? He strove to keep his tone
casually interested. “What happened to her regular submissive?”

“I don’t know all of the details, but from what I’ve heard,
she felt he had learned everything she had to offer and what he needed was
someone who could take him to the next level. She was quite saddened by the
entire ordeal.”

“That’s great.” Jasmine was single? The thought sent a shot
of excitement through his body as if he swallowed electricity.

Amaryllis raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Shit. “I mean that’s great she was able to see that her sub
required more and she cared enough to see that he got it. Not a lot of people
would do that.”

The surprised brow lowered, and he felt his heart climb into
his throat as she hit him with that all-seeing stare. “Yes, Mistress Jasmina
always puts the needs of others before her own. It’s one of the reasons why I
love her so, but sometimes I wish she did take more effort with seeing to her
own needs.”

Marco nodded, afraid that if he uttered another sound, it
would give away why he was really at The Cavern.

“Come.” Amaryllis tugged on his arm. “This will be quite a
show.”

Stepping into the main showroom was like walking into
another club. Gone were the flashing lights of the dance floor and the
pulsating exuberance of youth. This was where the adults played. In this room
maybes and innuendoes were dropped and promises delivered.

Couples and trios sat upon couches or lounged on the floor
in various degrees of undress. Amaryllis brought them to a stop behind a
loveseat where a man and women were engaged in a hot and heavy lip lock. The
man pulled the bodice of the woman’s dress down to roughly cup her breast in
his hand where he tugged at the nipple while she squealed in his embrace. To
his right, a woman was tied naked and spread-eagle to a metal frame. Next to
her stood her Dom. At least, that’s whom Marco believed him to be. The man was
dressed rather pedestrianly in a while button-down shirt, gray slacks and suede
loafers, but he was most certainly in charge, with his arms folded across his
chest and a don’t-fuck-with-me set to his lips.

As people approached his girl, the man would nod his
approval and watch with a feverish gaze as they fondled and stroked his
submissive. The girl writhed in her bindings, her moans muffled by the red ball
in her mouth. Another man crawled between her spread legs and fastened his
mouth to her pussy. The lips of her sex shining wetly in the low amber
lighting, and her tits jiggled as she squirmed.

Marco felt his eyes bulge at the display, but a quick glance
at Amaryllis confirmed she barely gave the couple a bit of attention. He
swallowed against the rather prudish reaction of being shocked and scanned the
room for Jasmine.

There she was. Waiting in the corner dressed in all of her
black leather and mesh finery. A short, flared skirt swirled around her hips
and a matching bustier cinched in her waist and pushed her breasts up to form a
shelf. Although she was on the short side, the black suede high heels made her
legs look impossibly long as she climbed up the three steps to the stage and
the couple standing at the center under a spotlight.

“Who are they?” he whispered as the lights in the room
dimmed.

“That is Mistress Madeline and her submissive, Megabyte,”
Amaryllis whispered back. “He purposely disobeyed her orders because he likes
to be punished. But she’s going to turn the tables on him. He doesn’t know yet
that Jasmina will be the one to dole out his punishment. Since they do not have
a connection, she won’t be swayed by his protests for leniency. He will also
see the price he will pay by playing his silly game.”

Mistress Madeline instructed Jasmine to undress her
submissive as she twirled a long blonde curl between her fingers. Fully
clothed, the man appeared average. Mid-thirties, receding hairline, neither
good-looking or ugly. He was your average Joe about town. Marco’s impression of
him didn’t change as he was stripped down to bare skin. His physique was soft
but not doughy, and hair covered his chest, arms, legs and belly. From the
juncture of his thighs, his erection, again average, rose to half-mast.

While Jasmine removed the man’s clothes, his mistress
watched with a cool, detached expression. In her hand she held a whip, the end
skimming the floor as she lazily swung the length back and forth. Every once in
a while she trailed the handle over her midnight-blue corseted torso and upper
curve of her breasts, flicking her tongue over the end in a teasing caress.

Judging by the delighted smile the sub struggled to contain,
Marco saw how he thought he had played his mistress well. For a guy who was
having his wrists bound and strung up by a hook hanging from the ceiling, he
was looking very pleased with himself. That was until his mistress passed the
whip to Jasmina with a wicked grin curving both of their lips.

A chair was brought up onto the stage while Mistress
Madeline beckoned to someone out of Marco’s range of vision to join her. To his
surprise, it was the man he recognized as Jasmina’s former submissive who
stepped into the spot she directed behind her.

“I don’t understand,” Marco murmured before he caught
himself.

“That is Army, Jasmina’s former submissive,” Amaryllis
answered, not understanding his query. “He agreed to assist in this punishment.
Even though they are no longer a couple, he still wishes to please his
Mistress.”

“What kind of a name is Army? And Megabyte too for that
matter.”

“Don’t you know? Here a submissive has to earn the use of
their given name. Until then, you answer to the name bequeathed to you by your
Master.”

Bequeathed? Fuck, there was a lot about this world he was
completely clueless about.

A hush fell over the crowd and his attention was drawn back
to Jasmina. She kept her legs straight as she bent at the waist and very slowly
slipped off one boot then the other. The submissive sucked in a breath and
Marco too recognized the subtle signal that she was about to unleash hell.

One step, then another brought her closer to the trembling
man. She ran the end of the whip from his chin down to his groin and tapped his
cock. “I’m allowed to do whatever I wish with him, Mistress Madeline?”

“Whatever you wish.” Madeline guided Army’s hands around her
waist and encouraged him to touch her as he pleased.

He wasted no time and went straight for her breasts, diving
his hands beneath the cups of her corset and squeezing the mounds with rough
fingers. She cooed and reached up and behind to guide his head down for him to
ravish her neck with biting kisses.