Invitation to Ecstasy (2 page)

“Being a submissive to a bunch of greenhorned Doms for a
training weekend is a walk in the park. There isn’t enough pain in the world
that will allow any of them into my heart. Trust me on that one, Ethan.”

* * * * *

Derek Thomas sat in a shadowed corner of Paradise Cove’s
fetish club, trying to come to his senses. He wondered if the subtle strobe
lights pulsing in rhythm with the driving beat of the music were making it hard
for him to gather his thoughts. Perhaps it was the nearly naked flesh wrapped
in soft leather that made it difficult to rethink his decision. He doubted it.
Those were things he could easily ignore.

As he toyed with the moisture beaded on the highball glass
in front of him, a beautiful woman brushed a little too close to his booth.
Dressed only in strips of leather that left nothing to the imagination, the
submissive shot him a pleading glance. It was that look, that
need
that
stirred something deep within him, short-circuiting his rational thoughts.

He didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to acknowledge the
longing those sidelong glances invited. He’d convinced himself he’d buried the
need months ago—right next to his career.

Derek dismissed her, as he’d done with a half-dozen other
men and women over the last hour, with a nearly imperceptible shake of his
head. Still, his cock stirred. Memories shot heat and adrenaline through his
blood.

Despite the casual T-shirt and black jeans he’d chosen to
wear, a Dom couldn’t hide in a place like this. He wasn’t sure why he thought
it possible. He was trying to convince himself he didn’t want the attention.
Didn’t want the burning itch deep in his soul that clamored to take a willing
submissive wandering the club down to one of the playrooms and satisfy them both.
But that sort of activity had screwed with his life.

Then why the hell had he accepted the invitation?

“Derek, my man.”

A hand came down hard on his shoulder.

“Ethan.” He stood, shaking the man’s hand and pulling him
into a bear hug. It had been months since he’d last seen his good friend on a
visit to a private club in Boston. “The recent slump in the economy doesn’t
seem to be affecting business any.” Derek swept his hand toward the bustling
activity of the club.

Ethan slid into the booth across from him. “People are
always looking for something they can probably find in their own backyard.” He
leaned in conspiratorially. “But who am I to talk? I have the ultimate
playground in my backyard.” He signaled to a passing submissive, ordering a
couple of cold drinks. “So, when’d you get in?”

“Late this afternoon. I got caught up with a project
proposal at the office and couldn’t fly out as early as I’d hoped.”

“How’s that going anyway?”

“It’s not a good time to be starting a business. Even Boston
has its limits to the number of architects it can support. But I’m holding my
own. I can still put gas in the Harley and beer in the fridge.”

“Glad to see you have your priorities straight.” Ethan
laughed.

“Not really. I’m here instead of working this weekend.”

“Friends in Boston tell me you’ve been working too hard.
Nobody’s seen you around the clubs for a couple of months. It’s been over a
year since you’ve been here. Sounds like you’re working too hard these days.”

“It was a big decision to leave my father’s firm.”

“Rumor has it it wasn’t all your decision.”

Ouch.
“You’ve never been subtle, Ethan.” He’d
wondered if the fetish pipeline had filtered news of his downfall south to Key
West. He suspected Ethan knew every gory detail of the cluster fuck that had
gotten his ass fired. “And no, it wasn’t my decision.” Derek let out a derisive
laugh before draining the last of the tepid tonic water.

“Any chance your father will welcome you back into the
firm?”

“My father barely tolerates me at the Sunday dinners my
mother insists on having once a month. There’s no way in hell he’d let his
depraved son walk back into the design offices of Thomas, Milford and Kern and
take a chance at sullying his
pristine
reputation.” Derek added air
quotes. His father’s architect firm had had its fair share of crooked dealings
over the years, but Derek had simply turned the other way. “Besides, I’m not
sure it wasn’t time to spread my wings.”

A woman delivered their drinks.

Without a word, she knelt next to Ethan. She wasn’t as young
as many who had silently propositioned Derek earlier. It wasn’t so much her
physical appearance, though he could see the determined line of her full lips
and the proud set of her jaw, but the serenity of her submissive posture that
communicated a mature confidence.

Derek envied her peace and self-acceptance. Something he had
definitely lost in the heat of stupidity and rash arrogance.

With her eyes cast down to the floor, her long lashes made
soft half-moons on her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but wonder at the color of
her eyes. Blonde hair flowed over her shoulders to skim the middle of her back
and caress the soft swell of her breasts. Even in the muted light, he could see
the tight buds of her nipples pressing against the black leather of her dress.
He followed the line of the material, admiring the way it hugged her shapely
curves. It flared enticingly around her ass, making Derek question whether
there was anything beneath it, caressing her sensitive flesh.

Ethan cleared his throat, drawing Derek’s attention back to
him. A knowing smile lit the manager’s face, but he made no comment about
Derek’s frank interest in his sub. “I was pleased you accepted my invitation
this weekend.”

“I thought it was time to test the waters, so to speak. In a
community as small as ours, I wasn’t sure how welcomed I’d be after…” Derek
didn’t really want to rehash his humiliation in earshot of the gorgeous blonde.
“Anyway, this is a make-or-break weekend for me. I’m sure you understand.”

“I understand enough to know you wouldn’t have done this on
your own,” Ethan said. “I hoped a little push from a good friend would be all
you needed to find your way back to the scene. And here you are.”

“And here I am. But I’m becoming more convinced this was a
bad idea.” His gaze flicked to the submissive who hadn’t moved, her breathing
slow and steady, measuring her patience.
Damn, he’d never been with someone
so well trained.
His cock jumped again at the thought of watching someone
push her to the limits of her training.

“Seems to me, if we’re going to throw around clichés, that
it’s time to climb back on the horse that threw you.”

Derek’s gaze flew back to Ethan, panic hammering in his
chest. “I figured I had until tomorrow to work myself into the idea of walking
into a dungeon again.”

“No need to wait until then.” Ethan reached down and toyed
with the pendant hanging from the gold collar at the woman’s throat. “Sara,
would you be interested in joining Master Derek downstairs in my private
playroom?”

“I would like that very much.”

Derek didn’t know how to respond. “Ethan, this isn’t—”

Ethan leaned in, stopping him with a hard stare. “Actually,
I think this is a perfect time.”

Ethan had said the Doms this weekend would be green, but the
stiff way Derek moved through the club and down the stairs made Sara wonder if
he had any idea what he’d just agreed to. The man had mentioned a dungeon, but
the nervous energy buffeting her led Sara to believe that perhaps the man
beside her had never been left on his own to pleasure a slave.

Testing her theory, she boldly looked directly at his
silhouette. “Master Ethan said we should use his private room down there on the
left.” She pointed and moved a half step ahead of him. She hadn’t baited a Dom
in a long while and she was feeling just foolhardy enough to test this kid’s
mettle. The boyish face and youthful curls brushing his collar marked him as
some college kid probably experimenting.

The man’s heavy boots pounded along the tile floor of the
lower hall, the steady cadence never changing. “You’re well trained, Sara. You
know better than to talk or look at me that way.”

“What way?”

He stopped abruptly, and Sara forced herself to take three
more steps before casually turning and offering him a lackadaisical arch of her
brow. Despite how hard she pushed, the man held tight to his control. His eyes
narrowed, raking over her face with disapproval. Biceps bulged as he crossed
his arms over his chest, waiting for her to acquiesce. They were in a pissing
match, still she felt compelled to push him. To make him prove his worth.
Squaring her shoulders, Sara met the annoyance sparking in his eyes, mutely
challenging the obedience he demanded.

“I’m not sure what you
thought
you understood from my
conversation with Master Ethan.” The power of his deep, even tone shivered down
her spine as he closed the distance between them. “But understand this now—for
the next hour or two,
I
am your Master. You
will
obey me. You
will
treat me with the respect I deserve or you will be punished.” His luscious
mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “Which means you’ll turn those beautiful
blue eyes to the floor. And unless I ask you a direct question or you’re
screaming your safe word, you will keep those pouty lips of yours sealed shut.”
He leaned in close, her strangled pants mingling with his heated breath. “Have
I made myself clear, Sara?”

The rational part of her brain screamed to obey, but it was
the sarcastic hellion begging for attention who currently had control. Ignoring
both logic and the heavy pounding of her heart, Sara lifted her chin in
defiance. “Perfectly.”

“You want to play it that way? Fine. Game on.” Grabbing Sara
by the elbow, Derek marched her down the hall, ignoring the two Doms,
glistening with sweat, guiding a dazed sub out of one of the rooms. He pulled
her to a stop in front of Ethan’s private dungeon and looked up into the camera
monitoring the hall. His determined expression shot hot jets of anticipation
through her blood.

“Do you enter this room of your own free will as my
submissive?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand this room is monitored by cameras to
protect both of us? And that the use of a safe word will halt all play
immediately without repercussions or questions?”

“Yes.”

“And what is your safe word, Sara?”

“Attila the Hun.”

The smile he flashed held no mirth. “That’s a mindset, not a
safe word.”

“Yours or mine?”

He leaned close, overwhelming her senses with the spicy
scent of him. “Keep it up, Sara,” he whispered, his breath feathering heat
across her cheek. “Punishing you for your defiance will be entirely
my
pleasure.”

He straightened and she saw for the first time a true
Dominant behind the shy veneer. Confidence ticked along his jaw, straining the
cords of his neck. His pecs and biceps jumped with the barely contained energy
of his determination.

“Nevertheless, I don’t like it,” he said. “Your safe word is
much too difficult to say. I can’t trust you’ll make yourself understood if we
get to that point.”

“I have no intention of saying it.”

The wicked smile curved his mouth once again and he nodded
his head. “You may regret throwing down that challenge.”

She shrugged as Derek pushed open the heavy door to reveal a
well-equipped room meant for pleasure—and pain. Various pieces of bondage
equipment lined the wall on her right. The other side was filled with
instruments meant to subdue even the most impudent slave.

Inhaling deeply, Sara filled her lungs with the seductive
aromas of leather and sexual musk, overlaid with the lemon scent of
disinfectant. Her nipples tightened in anticipation, sending frissons of desire
straight down her core. The door shut behind her with a quiet click, tightening
the hungry knots of need pulsing at the apex of her thighs.

“Bend over that spanking bench in the corner,” Derek said as
he removed the dark T-shirt, carelessly throwing it over a bondage chair.
“We’ll start your punishment there.”

Testing the limits of Derek’s patience, she met his steely
gaze. “I prefer to be flogged.”

“I’m not amused by your impudence, Sara.” His voice filled
with the danger she’d seen in the hall. She froze in place as he stalked toward
her, the push and pull of bronzed skin over sinewy muscle barely containing the
power he had every intention of using on her. Derek stopped in front of her,
his chest pressed against her breasts, his breath the only thing separating his
lips from hers. “I won’t be topped by a submissive. You won’t like it if you
continue to push me.”

“Yes, but I—”

With the speed of a feral cat attacking his prey, Derek spun
her around and pinned her to the wall. The solid planes of his chest pressed hard
against her back, both her wrists trapped between their bodies in the steel
grip of his hand. Power sluiced off him in waves that buffeted her and stole
her breath. Adrenaline and desire heated her blood, kicking her heart rate up
several notches.

This was what her body craved. What she needed more than her
next meal. His insistence she give up everything for his pleasure. She hadn’t
trusted anyone enough since Marc’s death to give in to the dark desires
swirling around her. But as Derek pressed his thigh between her legs, she
couldn’t stop her back from arching and rubbing her swollen sex against his
jeans.

He swept the hair from her cheek, burying his face in the
crook of her neck. “No, Sara. There are no decisions for you.” His tongue laved
just below her ear and moisture leaked from her pussy as she canted her hips to
ride his thigh. “I am your Master. This is about what
I
want. You are
my
toy. To use as
I
choose.” His teeth dug into the soft flesh where his
tongue had just traveled, startling a cry from her lips.

The pain was exquisite, flaming the fires of hot desire
jolting over her nerves. Sara stiffened against his weight, the first tremors
of pleasure quivering over her muscles.

“But first, there is the matter of your punishment for your
behavior in the hall.”

And just like that, as quickly as he’d held her down, he
released her and stepped away. She groaned at the loss of security his body’s
heat and weight had offered her.

“The bench.” He nodded his head toward the black padded
piece of furniture on the other side of the room. “Now.” His voice was thick
and rich like honeyed molasses, forcing her body to obey.

The slip of lacy thong between her nether lips teased her
heated flesh as she crossed the room. A rush of cream seeped from her folds to dampen
her thighs. From the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her. Derek’s heavy
gaze followed Sara’s every move, hunger darkening his eyes to the deep green of
the forest. Her nipples strained against the soft bodice of her dress as if
seeking the attention her Master was giving her ass.

“Stop. Take off your dress for me.” He swallowed hard, the
first sign of weakness since taking control from her. “Slowly.”

Yes, control me so I don’t have to think.

She turned back to face him, her eyes submissively aimed at
the floor. With nervous fingers, she pulled the front zipper down her torso,
the tight leather parting and exposing the creamy swell of her breasts.
Emboldened by Derek’s sharp intake of air, she pulled it slowly over her belly,
each rasp of the zipper exposing more alabaster flesh. Cool air kissed her skin
as the butter-soft material parted and gooseflesh rose, tingling along her
sensitive nerves.

With exquisite leisure, offering Derek time to enjoy the
visual display, Sara slid the narrow strip of leather off her shoulder,
completely exposing her left breast, the areola and nipple tightened to a
sensitive bud. Her breath sawed from her lungs as she slid the other side down.
Caught on the flare of her hips, the leather clung to her skin. She hooked her
thumbs under the material and rolled her ass, pushing until the dress dropped
and pooled at her feet. She reached to undo the garter around her waist, intent
on stripping off the thigh-highs and boots, but Derek’s whiskey-rich voice
stopped her.

“Just the dress, Sara.”

He said nothing more, and only years of training kept her
eyes cast at his feet. She couldn’t see him, but every shuddering breath he
took quivered over her skin as if his fingers traced hot trails along her
flesh.

At this moment, she couldn’t remember why she hadn’t
believed in Derek’s ability to command her. Power pulsed around them. Energy
vibrated along her nerves and heated the thick air, making her skin flush. With
only his presence, he’d immersed her in the hypnotic push and pull of his
domination.

“Beautiful.”

And just like that, the simple word echoed off the walls,
shattering the magic.

“So beautiful.”

The voice, no longer Derek’s, was a faded memory come to
back to haunt her. A cold rush of fear slid down her spine, pulling her back
from the tenuous edge of trust. Derek’s heavy biker boots moved toward her, and
it took all her willpower not to cower from the memories his compliment had
conjured.

Mentally, Sara shook herself, trying to reorient herself in
the here and now. She could do this. She’d done it in Chicago and she could do
it here with Derek. The fact was she
wanted
to submit to him, if only to
prove she was stronger than the past. A past that was currently crashing down
around her and eroding away the wall of confidence she’d erected. She was
suffocating in doubt, unable to completely fill her lungs.

“So very beautiful and all mine.”

Cold bands of memory continued to snake around her chest,
making it hard to catch her breath. Though a warm hand curled around her neck,
it was the chill of history that gripped her, pulling her back into a nightmare
she’d barely escaped.

Sara’s back went rigid, even as Derek molded himself around
her body.

His breath feathered across her ear. “You are mine, Sara.”

Her supple body stiffened beneath his hand. The muscles of
her neck strained against his touch. Air puffed from her lungs in short bursts
that buffeted his neck.

What the hell happened to break the spell he’d cast?

Derek had subdued the wise-ass submissive who’d entered the
room. He’d felt the power shift as he’d pressed her against the wall, her doubt
melting against his commands and turning to trust. He’d drawn closer, intent on
satisfying them both. But Sara had checked out. He felt the truth beneath his
fingers.

He straightened and stared at her. From all outward
appearances, nothing had changed. She was a model slave, eyes cast down to his
chest, her shoulders thrown back, displaying her luscious breasts. But she had
retreated somewhere—and not the thrilling expanse of subspace. They hadn’t even
gotten to that point.

Derek expected not only total submission, but he wanted his
slaves to be present for the taking. What satisfaction would he garner if she
didn’t surrender herself willingly? He wasn’t giving up yet. He had every intention
of pulling her from wherever she’d gone and making her acknowledge him.

“The bench.”

Sara did as he commanded, her stiff movements betraying her.
Laying her stomach on the soft padding, she allowed her breasts to hang
tantalizing on either side of the narrow bench. Her nipples were hard and
swollen and he pinched a steepled bud, drawing a gasp from her.

Scooping the golden curtain of hair to one side, he nibbled
at the delicate shell of her ear. “Only the beginning, Sara.” Her eyes were
shut tight as if she didn’t want to acknowledge him. The thought nicked at his
waning confidence.

But Derek refused to let her hide. She would acknowledge
everything he did to her. “You’ve brought this punishment on yourself, Sara.
Open your eyes. I want to see your obedience.”

Her lids fluttered open but her gaze remained unfocused. The
woman was definitely on autopilot. Derek would be damned if he’d let her shut
herself off from him. He could rise to this challenge. He hadn’t known this is
what he wanted when he left Boston this morning. But here, with this beautiful,
obviously wounded woman in front of him, Derek understood why Ethan had
extended the invitation. Derek needed to get back into the game. He needed to
dominate a woman who submitted without reservation.

In her present state, Sara wasn’t that woman. There would be
no satisfaction for him if she didn’t come back to the moment. Didn’t
consciously and willingly give what he demanded.

Derek trailed his fingers along her vertebrae. The tension
knotting her muscles wasn’t sexual anticipation. It was fear.

The death grip she had on the legs of the bench spoke of a
woman teetering on the edge of panic. Something had triggered Sara’s retreat,
and it was his promise as her Master to let the pain shatter the walls surrounding
that fear and release the darkness clouding her eyes. He needed to strip away
whatever bound her to the gloom and replace it with pleasure. But Derek
couldn’t accomplish any of it without Sara’s complete trust that he would be
there holding her and keeping her safe from whatever demons she would face.