The Masters of Falcon's Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (9 page)

The door closed behind him, but Daphne was already asleep.

* * * *

Decker emerged from the woods feeling more hopeful than he could remember having felt in a long time. Nothing like a good long hike, he thought as he made his way past the barn toward the house. He’d missed lunch, but that was okay. The rumbling in his stomach made him feel alive again. He’d left at dawn, taking the steepest parts of the path that he could find, trying to push past the deadness that had been settled in his chest for the last year. It was time to get over the guilt he’d been feeling and pick up the pieces of his shattered life again. It might have been the atmosphere of Clifftop Fantasies, or the fact that he was around a woman who was strong and capable and obviously very sensual. Seeing pictures of her around the house, erotic pictures, beautiful pictures—he shook his head. Being here was awakening something—the knowledge that his life wasn’t over, even if Sharon’s was. Sharon wouldn’t have wanted him to shut down, bury himself or give up the lifestyle and the community that he loved. He needed to find a way to reclaim who he was.

It wasn’t that he wanted Allie in a sexual way. He sternly ordered himself not to even entertain that thought. She was happy, in a relationship, and had a
M
aster of her own. He envied the energy that he saw between Allie, Brad
,
and Karl. The two men were obviously close friends, even though they were completely different. Brad seemed to look up to Karl almost like a father figure, and Allie—she was the heart of the place. It would be easy to fall in love with someone like her. But that wasn’t his path, he knew.

He became aware of voices from behind the barn. He slowed, trying to determine whether he should listen in or not. There had been a voice, or a tone, or something that had grabbed his attention.

“Come on, baby. Let me take care of you. You don’t need him—either of them. I’ve always been here for you.”

Decker shrugged and began to move on. Obviously it was none of his business. He must have been imagining things.

“Blaze! Stop! I told you I wasn’t interested.” The female voice cut off with a sharp scream. Before the sound had died away, Decker was tearing around the corner of the building, his fists balled up, ready for action.

There were two people there, but for a fleeting second Decker couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. They both wore leather vests, jeans that showed more skin than material, and had almost identical scruffy black hair. But one had a grip on the other one’s arm, and as Decker got closer he saw that the struggling one was the female who had screamed. The other one was a biker type, or at least dressed like one. A small part of Decker’s brain registered the fact that the man’s boots and vest were too new, too clean for him to be a real biker. His face was twisted in an ugly leer as he pulled the woman easily into his arms. She tried to lift a hand to slap at his face, but Decker’s fist got there first.

As the scruffy-looking man flew backward, Decker got an arm around the girl before she fell as well, setting her on her feet behind him. Then he turned back to assess whether the pseudo
biker was going to get up immediately.

He wasn’t. He sprawled on the ground, looking dazed. Finally his eyes refocused and landed on Decker. He shook his head slightly
,
and a fierce scowl took over his features, although the effect was dampened a little by him gingerly putting a hand to his nose. He squinted at the blood on his finger and snarled, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Shut up and stay down,” Decker said in his most commanding tone. Confident that he wasn’t going to be immediately attacked, he turned to the girl. She was staring at him as if he had a halo and wings and had floated down from a cloud to save her.

“Who the fuck
are
you?” she repeated in a whisper, her eyes huge.

He held out his hand. “I’m Decker, ma’am. Are you all right?”

She ignored his movement, nodding mutely at him. Her eyes flicked to the man on the ground and a smile began to play around her lips. “Blaze, meet Decker. Good name, by the way. You certainly did deck him.”

“Yes, I did
,
and I’ll do it again, sport, if you ever try to force this young lady into doing something she doesn’t want to. Do we understand each other?”

Blaze stood up, one hand over his nose, his eyes shooting fire. He growled something unintelligible and stalked past them. They watched him lean forward as if trying to make sure none of the blood got on his leather vest as he headed for the house.

The woman turned back to Decker, smiling broadly now. She held out her hand with a little curtsey. “I’m Daphne. Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was laughing at him or not. It was impossible to tell.

He took her hand. “I’m sure you could have handled him. I just couldn’t resist the chance to punch him in the nose. He seemed to require it.”

They began walking back to the house together.

“So, you’re the rock star?”

She frowned. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so? I would think that you’d be pretty sure of a thing like that.”

“I wish I was. It’s just that my career is a little—uncertain right now. I’m not even sure I still want to be a rock star, you know? It’s kind of lonely.”

“How can it be lonely? You’ve got a whole crew that travels with you. It looks to me like you’re surrounded by people.” He gestured toward the barn, where sounds of male voices drifted out. “And obviously they like you. Look at—what did you call him? Blaze? ‘Fizzle’ might suit him more.”

A smile crossed her face, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Right. What they like is what I can do for them. Blaze got me in my first band, and I don’t think I could ever make enough money to pay back what he thinks I owe him. When I hired Finn I thought Blaze was going to go crazy.”

“Why?”

She gave him a guarded glance. “Let’s just say that I spent a lot of money on Blaze. Finn stopped that. He also makes it a lot harder to keep up a rock star image.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” Decker was aware that he was sounding like a parent, and he mentally kicked himself.

“Oh, I suppose not.” Daphne stopped at the bottom of the back staircase and flopped down on the grass. She shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and peered up at him.

He took a seat three steps up and spread his legs out over the wooden slats. Daphne sprawled at his feet, picking blades of grass and nibbling on them. It wasn’t exactly a submissive pose, but it struck a chord in him. He thought about Allie, who would no doubt be very subdued and formal, kneeling in front of her
M
aster. It was an attractive image, but this girl would be more like a wild
filly
. He’d have to catch and tame this one if he wanted her to be his submissive. He’d never had a brat before, he mused. She would definitely be a brat, at least at first.

What the hell was he thinking? It was like all of the parts of himself that he’d repressed since Sharon’s death were flooding out now. There was no way this up-and-coming rock star was interested in him. He had to be a good ten years older than she was.

“What do you do?” Her voice snapped him out of his self-accusatory thoughts. He fixed his gaze out at the ocean as he debated how to answer.

“I’m a pilot,” he said finally. “Or I used to be.”

“Used to be? What happened?”

“I—haven’t wanted to fly for a while.”

“Why?”

She really was like a child, he thought. But there didn’t seem to be any harm in talking to her. He hadn’t been willing to talk about this yet
.
M
aybe it would be good for him.

“My wife died. That pretty much took away my enjoyment.”

“Of flying?”

“Of everything.”

She was silent for a minute. Then she rolled over to her side, facing him. “I can’t imagine getting tired of flying. But that’s not really what I was talking about. I meant, what do you do that’s kinky? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

He was startled enough to look down at her. There was a look of complete innocence and curiosity on her face. It might have been that she was too self-centered to care about his problems, but he didn’t think so. There was a matter-of-factness to her, a simple acceptance of the world as it was—including death and loss and grief. Maybe that was better than the stock expression of sympathy that most people would have offered. He’d had his time of grieving, and now it was time to get back to who he was and what his life was about. And if the center of his life was gone, he was going to have to find another center. It sounded harsh, but it was true. Coming here was his acknowledgement that it was time to pick his life back up.

He took a breath, forcing his mind back. It seemed like decades since he’d even thought about BDSM, or what he liked, or even what he’d done. He wasn’t sure he could answer her question. But he made himself start talking anyway.

“No, it’s not really why I’m here. I’m here to see if I’m ready to live again. But to answer your question, I like D/s—dominance and submission,” he said finally. “I like the kind of intense connection that is possible when a submissive puts herself in my hands. It’s a lot of work, and requires an enormous amount of communication, but when the connection is strong, there’s nothing like it in the world.”

“Hmm. I can see how it would be good for
you
, but what about the woman? What does she get out of it?” There was a slight teasing note in her voice, but Decker ignored it.

“If the
D
ominant does his job right, she gets a feeling of security, of being loved, cherished, valued
,
and protected. Many submissives enjoy service—having their own responsibilities, being held accountable for them, and knowing that their efforts are recognized and appreciated. The Master/slave dynamic is often used as a tool for personal or professional growth. It becomes almost a spiritual connection when two or more people are working together for a common goal, in a structured and negotiated arrangement, where everyone knows their role and their position.”

There was silence for a minute, then Daphne turned to him, her face serious. “Okay, but how does that fit in with the kinky sex stuff, the beatings, all of that?”

Decker laughed. It shocked him to realize that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Daphne didn’t share his laughter, but she didn’t look offended by it, either. She simply watched him, as if it were a perfectly normal reaction.

“We usually call it a flogging instead of a beating, but that aside, it’s a very complicated question,” he said finally, wiping his eyes a little. He wasn’t sure why it had struck him as so funny, but something had loosened inside him, just a little. “On the surface they appear to be strongly connected. But when you dig down to the core of it, they’re completely separate things. There are many, many people who enjoy D/s for its own sake and don’t mess around with pain or other stimul
i
, although some of them like bondage for the psychological aspects. There are also lots of people who enjoy sensation play, just like there are people who enjoy skydiving, or bull riding, or driving really fast. Not all of the ones that do sensation play also practice D/s, although there is a significant amount of crossover between the two groups. I suspect it’s because play fits very well into the D/s dynamic, for several reasons. One of those reasons is that it’s just so damn cool to take your submissive to the public dungeon, get her undressed
,
and have some fun. Even people who do it casually tend to experiment with the dominant and submissive roles while they’re playing. The two aspects fit together well, even if you’re primarily interested in only one of them.”

Daphne nodded, her eyebrows drawing together as she considered his explanation. “So the D/s thing—that’s what you said you were primarily into? Doesn’t it just turn into a job after a while?”

“It certainly can, just like a great marriage can turn into drudgery,” Decker said. “It’s a matter of intentionally keeping the intensity and the connection alive. It takes work and practice, just like anything worthwhile. But if you are working toward a common goal, it can be extremely rewarding.”

“A common goal,” Daphne murmured, lying back into the grass and staring straight up.

They lapsed into silence, enjoying the afternoon summer sun. Gradually Decker became aware that his shoulders were relaxing, his breathing was becoming deeper
,
and he wasn’t glancing nervously around, even though there was a good chance that somewhere a scruffy would-be biker musician was plotting revenge for a bloody nose.

Daphne raised her arms and stretched herself like a cat, sighing. She almost seemed to be flirting, but Decker suspected she had a naturally sensual way of moving. That was no doubt part of her appeal as a singer and dancer. He imagined her stretching out like that, naked on a bed, watching him as he tied her to it. She would be spread-eagled, ready for his pleasure, ready for whatever he decided to do to her. Her face was flushed slightly, and he wondered if she were thinking about the same thing. It was impossible, he knew, but then she sighed again, her eyes closed, and he felt his cock twitch and harden inside his sweats.