Zurlo, Michele - Two Masters for Samantha [Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

“I want to know if they’re there for an erotic show or if they actually are learning. When my parents owned the Club, they used to have instructional demonstrations every other month. My dad thinks it’s a travesty that I’ve done away with them, but it seemed to me that it was one big horny convention. People watched, and then they headed off into the shadows. I don’t want people to mistake my club for a sex club. I run an honest establishment. The state hasn’t shut me down a single time.”

The evening summer sky wasn’t yet dark, but headlights from oncoming cars flashed, lighting Ellen’s face. Samantha stared at this woman she’d known forever in shocked silence. Rarely did Ellen climb up on a soapbox. She was usually too busy knocking other people down from theirs.

Sam wrinkled her brow in confusion. “So you want to know if I think it’s worthwhile?”

“I don’t know what I want you to look for. You always seem to have a unique take on things. I want that from you.”

Samantha thought about that for a few miles. This wasn’t her forte. How could Ellen possibly expect her to have an opinion that was helpful? However, that topic didn’t keep her interest. She wanted an answer to her intended question.

“So why is Sabrina mad about Jonas not whipping her? He adores her, and he’s always wanted kids. She has to know he’d never do anything to hurt her or that baby.”

Ellen grinned. “Because she knows damn well he could whip her without endangering the pregnancy. He’s always used a light hand with her, never doing anything that would leave a bruise or a mark the next morning.”

Samantha started. The idea of being whipped left the metallic taste of fear in her mouth, but she understood that some people liked it. “If it won’t endanger her, why won’t he do it?”

“I’d say it was a control thing, but it’s not.” Ellen stopped behind a long line of cars waiting to pay for parking. A tall chain-link fence separated the sidewalk from the parking lot. She frowned at the car in front of her. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Ellen,” Samantha prompted.

Her nostrils flared, but at least she didn’t pretend to have forgotten the question. “He’s scared. She works too much, and she’s tired all the time. Her career is taking off with this account she won a few months ago. She wants to work and he wants her to quit, but he knows he can’t ask it of her.”

The line inched forward. “Why can’t he?” If it was taking a toll on her health, it seemed the only sane and logical choice. It wasn’t like Sabrina had to work.

“It has to be her idea and her choice. As a Dom, he’s in a position of power over her. He could order her to quit or ask her to quit and she probably would. However, it would irrevocably damage the trust they’ve established, and it would ultimately destroy their relationship. Notice I didn’t ask Ryan to blow off his obligations tonight even though I really wanted him here. I love that man, and a relationship isn’t about one person.”

Samantha grinned as the minivan lurched to a stop inches from the bumper in front of them. “So you strong-armed me into coming.”

Ellen flashed her grin again. “I don’t tie you up and spank you, Sammy. It’s hardly the same thing.”

A fist tightened around Samantha’s stomach at Ellen’s use of that nickname. It wasn’t like people didn’t call her that all the time. Samantha was used to people shortening her name. She didn’t care whether someone called her Sam, Sammy, or Samantha. However, the last person to call her by that name had been Stefano.

At the time, it hadn’t mattered too much. But now it seemed like a remnant of something special between them. Samantha shrugged away the feeling. It was a false intimacy. Ellen had been using that nickname for twenty years.

* * * *

Alexei paced inside yet another hotel room. He could have chosen to stay at his parents’ house, but then he would forfeit privacy. Even before his mother passed away twelve years earlier, his father hadn’t been a man who respected privacy. It was his house and nothing was off-limits.

He had the nerve to wonder why he and Stef fled the first moment they could. Dmitri Morozov was a domineering, controlling man. He had ruled the Morozov household with an iron fist that their mother had not once challenged for any reason. It wasn’t that their father was abusive, just that he always got what he wanted. He had built Morozov Industries into a multi-billion dollar corporation, and he had used that position to surround himself with people who recognized his absolute authority.

Their mother seemed happy doing whatever her husband wanted. He controlled what friends she had, how she dressed, what she ate, and who she spoke to on the phone. Though she never complained, Alexei knew the toll it exacted on her. When she died from a stroke at age forty-five, he hadn’t been surprised. She internalized every bit of stress. It had to come out somehow.

Alexei knew exactly who was to blame. It often puzzled him that Stefano could forgive their father so easily. After coming to blows several times, this was a point he almost never discussed with his brother.

He and Stef resolved to never be that totalitarian with whomever they married, and they never stayed at their father’s house.

Stef emerged from one of the suite’s bedrooms, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. He wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. “Are we dressing the same tonight or are we going to give the ladies a break?”

Alexei pressed his lips into a grim line. There was only one woman he wanted and Stefano wanted them to wait to see if she called first. “Dress the same.”

Stefano rolled his eyes. “She’s not going to be there. She’s not into this kind of stuff, remember?”

“Not yet,” Alexei said, bowing to the hint of sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “We should call her.”

Stef shook his head. “It’s Thursday. We agreed to wait until the weekend.”

That was one of the less intelligent decisions they’d made. Alexei wanted to blame Stefano for all of it, but he was equally culpable. “Fine. But I’m going to be horny after tonight. All that excess energy is going to cause me to turn into a dick.”

Stef rolled his eyes and returned to his room. When he returned, he was wearing a T-shirt that was identical to the one Alexei wore. His socks and tennis shoes were exactly the same as well.

“There will be other submissives there. I bet some of them will even be tall and blonde like Sammy.”

Alexei narrowed his eyes at Stefano. “There is no substitute. If you don’t want her, bro, I’ll take her all for my own.”

When Stefano turned away with a scowl on his face, Alexei knew he’d called his brother’s bluff. Stef didn’t want a look-alike any more than he did.

A half hour later, they took the elevator down to the lobby and headed to the convention room in the back. This hotel was more like what they were used to. The suites were larger than many people’s homes. The furniture was real and solid. The ceilings were high and the rooms were bright and airy.

The lobby was no less lavish.
Crystal
chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filling the cavernous room with soft light. The intricate carvings in the crown molding were echoed in the chair rails and in the plush furniture scattered throughout the space.

Huge, uniformed security guards blocked the doors to the convention room. All five of them were dressed in black jeans and sleeveless shirts. With their shaved heads, there was very little besides skin tone to tell them apart.

A maze of heavy black curtains prevented passers-by from seeing inside the room. The windows on the outside walls would be similarly screened. This event was for an elite group of patrons. Alexei presented his invitation. Stefano did the same.

The guard grunted and turned to his side, barely allowing the brothers to slip past his body. Alexei knew better than to say anything. Piss off the wrong person and no amount of money would buy his way back inside.

Stefano lacked the same filter. “Thanks,” he said. “But I’m not into guy-on-guy action. Maybe the next one will be your type.”

The guard in question nodded and moved aside a little more. Alexei didn’t bother to comment. Stefano had always been the more brazen of the pair.

“You’re so oblivious to dudes who like you.” Stef’s voice came close to Alexei’s ear, his tone low enough to not carry in a quiet room, and this room was quiet.

No music was piped through speakers. A good-sized crowd of people moved about the large room. Conversation came to them as a sea of murmurs.

Large round tables were set up through the length of the room. A dais in the center was barely discernable. From this far away, it looked like a table that lacked one of the fancy, heavy linen tablecloths covering all the other tables. Servers wandered the room with trays of fluted wine glasses.

Most of the people in the room would not have any. It was bad form to mix alcohol with something that required such a high degree of mental control.

It was exactly like the many corporate events they attended. The only difference was the clothing. No power suits could be found here. Women and men dressed in a variety of styles. Some looked as if they were ready for a night on the town. Others, like Alexei and Stefano, dressed more casually in jeans and cotton shirts. And a good number of submissives wore leather or lace. Some were collared and some were leashed. The black corsets of the women never failed to make his dick jerk. Enough staring would make his pants uncomfortably tight.

It wasn’t that the corsets pushed their breasts up. That was something Stefano liked. Alexei liked the posture it forced on a submissive—back straight, shoulders back, breasts pushed out. Samantha would look incredible in one. Alexei allowed himself a brief vision of her kneeling before him, her hands tied behind her back and linked to her ankles. Her knees would be spread so she could hide nothing from his view.

He shook his head, forcing the image away.

Because it was a public event of a serious nature, there was no nudity. There were some very short skirts and shorts, but nothing inappropriate showed.

Seats were not assigned. He didn’t want to be too close to the dais. The pants and moans of a submissive, any submissive, never failed to arouse him. He scanned the room, looking for the best place to sit.

Stefano grabbed his arm, jerking Alexei from his thoughts. “Fuck me,” he said, pointing across the room to a table in the very back.

Adrenaline pumped through Alexei’s body, burning his heart and lungs, bringing a tide of lust with it. Never in a million years would he have thought Samantha would be there. He wished for it. He fantasized about it. He had even masturbated in the shower to the image of Samantha here with them, but he never thought it would happen.

Samantha’s attention was absorbed by the pretty brunette sitting next to her. Long, sun-streaked blonde hair fell over one shoulder, obscuring most of her face. She was turned away from them. He couldn’t see whether she wore pants or a skirt, but her shirt was one of the ones with the thin straps that begged to be cut with a pair of scissors. It would slide down her torso and pool around her hips. Maybe it would catch on the tips of her hardened nipples first.

Without waiting for Stefano, he headed in her direction. Maybe she hadn’t called, but fate was telling him something, and he wasn’t about to ignore it. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down without asking if she minded.

The brunette perked up, leveling a Dominatrix gaze that would have turned a submissive to jelly. He met her challenge with a cocky smile and a steady stare.

* * * *

Samantha watched Ellen’s expression harden. Her eyes had been lit with laugher a moment ago as she regaled something funny her little boy, Jake, had done. Now they were steely with the look Ellen used to use on Jonas when he was being an ass. She’d long since given it up because he was immune, but it usually worked on other people.

She sat up and shifted her attention to her right side. Her jaw dropped as shock stole her ability to speak.

“You left without saying goodbye.”