The Dom with the Dragon Tattoo [Masters of Submission 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (2 page)

He’d never believed in coincidence, but the very night he was here in Boston on business, Club Submission was holding a masquerade party. Once the management had checked his ID, they’d encouraged him to come along and enjoy the evening. The only requirement being that he joined in and wore a costume. After he made a quick call to hotel reception, they managed to find him a sultan’s outfit, complete with pantaloons, turban, and matching waist sash, along with a mock beard and sinister black mask. Full marks to the Corinthian Hotel. The flamboyant costume was delivered to his suite within the hour. He guessed that word had gotten around that he gave good tips. Well, as the saying went, money talks.

“Same again?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, thanks, Todd.” He’d been here for some two hours now, enjoying the show, and as with any private club, he’d picked up a lot from the guy behind the bar. Apparently, the two brothers who owned and managed the club were a pair of great guys. According to Todd they went by the names of Matt and Ethan Strong. Because tonight was party night, Club Submission was hosting demonstrations by a few trusted Masters and Mistresses. Shibari, bull whipping, and tips on training a new sub were all on the agenda. It was a way of introducing new members to the lifestyle without putting any pressure on them.

With an early start tomorrow, Tyler was happy to sit back and enjoy the show. In fact, merely watching the act of submission was a very erotic and pleasurable experience for all involved. There’d already been a display by a couple heavily into bondage, and his cock had hardened as he’d observed a Master demonstrating Shibari, a form of Japanese rope bondage, on a beautiful and willing girl. The Dom in charge didn’t perform the ancient technique quite as he would have done. Nevertheless, it was great seeing the web of ropes slowly tighten around the young woman’s lissome body.

He’d give it another hour or so then return to his hotel. Tyler felt relaxed, more relaxed than when he’d arrived in Boston some five hours ago.

When a tall, sexy woman wearing the most amazing perfume stood beside him, he couldn’t resist letting his gaze travel the seemingly never-ending length of her incredible stocking-clad legs. She looked good enough to eat, from her towering black stilettos to her gorgeous ass cheeks, gloriously naked save for the thinnest leather G-string he’d ever seen. Unable to tear his eyes from this vision of femininity, he drank in the sensual curve of her perfect breasts, which lay naked beneath the shortest leather jacket in history.
Where the hell is her skirt?
Thick, lustrous, dark-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. He loved the way it swayed harmoniously from side to side as she moved her head.

Tyler licked his lips and cleverly adjusted his position on the barstool, well aware that a raging hard-on threatened to poke through the satin of his Ali Baba trousers.

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, a smile graced her full, luscious lips before she turned in his direction. “Like what you see?” It was a pity she wore a gold mask, because he figured her face would be as beautiful as her body.

He almost had to lip read, because he could barely hear anything above the pandemonium in the room. “Oh, yeah, you bet, honey.”

“Nice tattoo, by the way, mister.”

Sensing her interest, he leaned in closer, enjoying her unique feminine smell, then whispered in her ear, “If you were my sub, I’d spank you for being so provocative.”

She tossed back her head and laughed. Her teeth were perfect, too, not a filling in sight. She playfully wagged a finger at him. “Mmm, I might like that, but I’m not your sub, so you can’t.” She turned abruptly from him and called across the bar, “Hey, Todd, I’m running late. Take care of my purse.”

“Sure thing, Dana.” Todd took it from her, and then she was gone, swaying that sexy ass of hers as she slowly made her way toward the raised, revolving stage.

“Who’s the lady?” Tyler eventually inquired when he was finally able to drag his eyes from her tight butt.

Todd laughed. “She does seem to have that effect on guys.” He slid another shot of whiskey across the bar. “That’s Dana. She’s one of the erotic dancers.”

“Uh-huh. I see. Then she’s not a sub.”

The barman smiled knowingly. “You might not believe it, but she’s a sub all right. Just a very choosy one. Dana was a sub to one of the Masters here, but for one reason or another they split up a while ago. She hasn’t had another Master since. Like I say, Dana’s a real choosy girl, and with her looks she can afford to be.”

Tyler wistfully shook his head. “Too bad I’m flying back to Houston tomorrow.” He took a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the bartender. “Thanks for a great evening, Todd. Have a drink on me, and when she’s finished gyrating on the stage, get one for the pretty lady, too. I like a sub with some spirit.”

“Fifty bucks, thank
you
, sir. You leaving us already?”

“Afraid so. Got an important business meeting tomorrow.” He stood and stretched out his hand. “Hope to see you again, buddy.”

Todd shook his hand. “You, too, sir, and thanks again.”

Tyler scooped his drink from the bar and made his way to the raised stage. The provocatively dressed woman was dancing suggestively on the revolving turntable, employing the slave cage as part of her sexy routine. He watched her for a while, fascinated by the way she contorted her body into unbelievable shapes. As she gyrated, the tiny leather jacket she wore spread open, revealing her beautiful naked breasts with their achingly tight pink nipples. Tyler took a slug of Jack Daniel’s, enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

He figured the sexy act had made her overheat, because she briefly stopped dancing and removed her golden mask. Tyler watched her dab away the perspiration with a towel. He was right, her face was as beautiful as her body. She then lowered the mask again and continued her routine.

Maybe she sensed his presence, because for a brief moment the most vivid blue eyes he’d ever seen stared back at him. He felt as though a connection had been made. Tyler smiled and raised his glass to her. He then took a final slug of the amber warmer and placed the empty glass on the nearest table before making his way from the club. As he pushed his way through the pulsing energy of a hundred happy people, he removed his mask. The fucking thing was making him hot, too, or was it the beautiful, seductive woman dancing on the stage that really had the blood rushing through his veins?

He turned one final time and watched the sexy lady still in command of her audience. Yeah, Club Submission was a great place, and he was glad he’d come.

Rebecca Miles pushed through the revolving door of the Corinthian Hotel and looked around. She’d walked past the impressive building many times, but this was the first occasion she’d ventured inside, and she wasn’t disappointed. Cool marble floors, tinkling fountains, and ornate granite pillars graced the reception area, bringing a calming tranquility to an otherwise bustling environment. At least fifty other people shared the cathedral-sized space with her, the remnants of their incessant chatter rising high into the air.

A good-looking young guy in his early twenties, wearing a red hotel uniform complete with gold buttons and a smattering of military-style braiding, stepped forward. “May I help you, ma’am?”

Rebecca stopped midstride and smoothed the hair from her face. “I’m having lunch in the Lincoln Room.”

The young man smiled. “The Lincoln Room, ma’am. Take the elevator to the twenty-second floor, and then follow the signs. You can’t miss it.” He gestured with an open palm. “The elevators are right across the way there.”

“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.”

“You’re very welcome, ma’am, and the views are excellent from the Lincoln Room.”

Once inside the chrome and glass elevator, Rebecca checked out her reflection in the mirror. “Damn.” She leaned forward and adjusted her glasses and then quickly finger combed her hair back into place.
Why the hell does my hair have to have a life of its own at a time like this?
She wrinkled her nose “Hmm.” Work time was work time and playtime was playtime. She took her career very seriously and never mixed business with pleasure. In her experience, male colleagues took a woman far more seriously and treated her with more respect when they didn’t see her as an object of sexual desire. In her job at Omega Computing, she headed a small team of twelve men and three women. She demanded their respect, and got it, too.

When the elevator doors swished open, delivering her safely to the twenty-second floor, she stepped into the lobby and followed the signs for the Lincoln Room.

Rebecca put a hand to her mouth and stifled a yawn. She really shouldn’t have gone out last night. Her feet were killing her and her eyes were still watering from wearing contacts. It was unlike her to be so unprofessional, especially as she was well aware she had an important appointment the following morning. At least no one would recognize her. She made a point of keeping her public and private lives very separate.

When she was ten, she’d become seriously ill and realized that life wasn’t a rehearsal. There was no use waiting for the perfect moment, because that perfect moment would probably never come. As a child she’d lived a cosseted existence in Rio de Janeiro. Her father, the American ambassador in Brazil, had made sure she had everything she needed, including an expensive private education. She’d wanted for nothing, except the thing she craved most—the love of her parents. Even now as a thirty-three-year-old woman she still didn’t understand her mother’s role in life, other than being the ever-attentive hostess to the important people who frequented their glamorous parties.

The Lincoln Room came into view, and she pushed open the elegant glass doors with a flourish. The portly maitre d’, wearing an immaculate black suit and bow tie, greeted her with a deferential nod of his head. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“I’m a guest of Mr. Stone, my surname is Miles.”

The maitre d’ theatrically scanned the reservations ledger on his desk. He seemed a little effeminate to her, and she guessed he might be gay. Not her type of man at all. “Ah yes, here we are. Mr. Stone is expecting you. If you’d care to follow me, ma’am.”

He led the way across the large, well-lit room. One wall consisted of a bank of glass, giving stunning views over downtown Boston. Secluded alcoves and leafy tropical plants separated the tables, allowing a modicum of privacy. As she followed the maitre d’ past the assembled diners, she noticed that each table had been carefully laid. Spotless, crisp white linen complemented the finest silver cutlery and lead crystal glass, giving an air of opulence that she’d often witnessed during her privileged childhood in Rio. When the maitre d’ stopped at an occupied table, Rebecca realized she’d finally be meeting the legendary boss of Cerberus Technology for the first time.

He was immaculately dressed in a perfectly fitting black suit, and she was surprised by the sheer presence the man radiated. He stood and held out his hand. “Rebecca, we meet at last.”

She realized that calling this man impressive would be an understatement. Tyler Stone was tall, far taller than his photograph on the company website had led her to believe. He had to be at least six three. As she looked up into pale-brown eyes the color of malt whiskey, she had the distinct feeling they’d met before but dismissed the idea immediately. She’d done her research. Tyler Stone was thirty-nine years old, single, and living in Houston, Texas. He was a self-made man who’d built a multibillion-dollar global company from nothing. She shook his hand. His skin was warm and his grip firm. “Good to meet you, too, Mr. Stone.”

His eyes crinkled mischievously at the corners when he smiled at her. She liked that in a man. “Take a seat, Rebecca. We can have a leisurely lunch and discuss a few things.” His voice, like warm molasses, spread seductively over her. The tone was deep and sensual with just a hint of sexy Texas drawl.

Rebecca slid into the chair pulled back from the table by the maitre d’. “Thank you.” He handed them both a menu and then dissolved away. Unsure how the meeting would go, she scanned the mouthwatering options elegantly displayed in gold lettering on premium white card. After making her decision she raised her gaze to Tyler Stone, studying him more closely.

The man certainly had an aura about him. He possessed a confidence that showed in every little thing he did, from the way he held himself to the way he casually looked at the menu, probably already knowing exactly what he was about to order. An impressive Breitling watch circled his wrist, partially covering the smattering of dark, masculine hair that disappeared into the sleeve of his crisp, white shirt. When he casually steepled his fingers together, she noticed a pair of gold initialed cufflinks. His shoulders were broad, and she liked the way powerful muscles filled out his suit. She felt sure he had his own gym and did plenty of workouts. His jaw was strong and well defined, while his nose bore the slightest hint of Roman influence. Intrigued by the man before her, Rebecca observed him more closely. Tyler Stone possessed a pair of rugged creases that traversed the sides of his mouth. She already knew they deepened considerably whenever he smiled. Short, dark brown hair feathered neatly around his face, making the color of his striking amber eyes stand out in stark contrast. They seemed somehow predatory, and at the moment they were focused intently on her.

Rebecca sucked in a long, deep breath, trying to level her emotions. Keeping her attention on the matter at hand was proving far more difficult in the presence of such an attractive man. However, she refused to let him know that his good looks and charisma had any effect on her. She was still emotionally bruised from the breakup of her previous relationship. She and Mitch had been together for almost five years and for the most part had enjoyed the Master/sub relationship they shared. In her career, she was a strong-willed and opinionated woman, but in her private life, she was a natural sub who willingly surrendered all control to her trusted Dom.
No, I refuse to even go there. The past is the past. Leave it there.