“Don’t know, but he sure wasn’t pleased.”
“I’m sorry,” Linda said. “Maybe I can talk to him?”
“Nah, it would have happened sooner or later.” Kim shrugged. “We’re still kind of…defining…how much control he gets. He gives in on some things, me on others. But I got the feeling that being here without him isn’t something he’ll negotiate about, you know?”
“Well, he’s incredibly possessive of you, so having you loose in a club full of hungry Doms?” Jessica snickered. “No, you’re not going to win.”
Linda glanced at Gabi to see if she agreed, but the counselor’s attention was elsewhere. “Something wrong?”
“No. I’m just watching…” She pointed.
As Linda looked, her stomach got a weird “bottom dropping out” sensation. Near the bar, Sam had his hand curled around a black submissive’s nape.
Linda clenched her jaw against the nasty shot of jealousy. He’s not mine. I turned him away. Rationalization didn’t help. Darn the man. “He’s going to do a scene with her?”
Jessica shook her head. “No way. Uzuri doesn’t even like light pain. No, I bet he arranged a scene for her.”
Gabi looked over. “Why would he do that?”
“Oh, Z gave him the trainees tonight. Said Sam had avoided supervising them for long enough.” She grinned. “Probably pissed that sadist off a bit, huh?”
Linda couldn’t take her gaze from Sam. How many men would be comfortable guiding a woman by his grip on her neck? But he didn’t look puffed up. Wasn’t strutting. When they stopped, he kept a hand on her shoulder as he talked to a Dom in his thirties. He spoke to Uzuri, then the Dom again, for all the world as if he was arbitrating. When the Dom and Uzuri started conversing, Sam nodded and walked away.
In the movies, cowboys had a rolling gait, soldiers a predatory one. Sam’s stride was somewhere between the two, like an ominous saunter.
What would happen when he noticed her? Her muscles tensed in anticipation. As her fingernails dug into her arm, the sting added to the sizzle under her skin, and she realized what she was doing. The perversion of pain. Her mouth tightened.
Gabi’s gaze met hers. “Linda, if it’s wrong to enjoy pain, does that mean I’m not supposed to like being tied up? Because I really do.” Gabi gave her a smile of understanding.
Linda relaxed. Gabi was just as sweet as Kim was. And wasn’t it odd that they both seemed so normal? A therapist. A biologist. “What do you do for a living, Jessica?”
“You’re new, aren’t you? Bet you’re suffering from the ‘ordinary people don’t play like this syndrome.” Jessica’s eyes lit with laughter. “Try this on for size. I’m an accountant.”
“No way.”
“Oh yeah. Can’t get stodgier.” Considering, Jessica tapped her lips. “Kari’s a schoolteacher; Andrea owns a cleaning business, Beth a landscaping biz. Sally’s getting her master’s degree, Uzuri over there is an executive in a department store, and Rainie manages a tow-truck chain.”
Linda leaned back in disbelief. Regular jobs; regular people. And why not? Why should she think they’d be odd? She pulled in a breath, feeling like an idiot. How many times had she unthinkingly accepted her father’s narrow-minded opinions as truth—in this case, that anyone wanting more than the missionary position must be creepy? “Thank you. That helps.”
“Hey, we’ve all been at that place,” Jessica said.
“Uh-oh, Linda.” Gabi waggled her eyebrows. “You’ve been spotted by the man, Ms. Shopkeeper. Are you going to run?”
Even though her stomach suddenly felt as if she’d swallowed every butterfly in Florida, Linda assumed a haughty expression…and carefully didn’t look around. “You children might run, but I’m too mature to give in to fear.”
“You’re so full of bullshit.” Kim glanced over her shoulder. “Yep, the sadist has his eyes on you.” She shivered. “Sorry, but he still scares me a little.”
Like a hot spotlight centered upon her, his attention made her insides quiver. Breathe. Look dignified. Relax. When she unclenched her fingers, they were gooey—she’d totally squashed the pizza roll she’d picked up. With a huffed laugh, she wiped off her fingers. Way to look indifferent, dummy.
A glance at the others revealed Kim trying to smother her laughter and Gabi smiling encouragement.
Jessica gave her a covert thumbs-up. “Stay strong and make him work for it.”
Why did she feel as if she’d dived off a mile-high cliff and was about to hit the water? With a final gulp of air, Linda turned her head.
Ice-blue eyes trapped her gaze. She realized she’d risen to her feet. Heavens, how does he do that? Even from a distance, she could see how suppressed laughter made his mouth quirk. He curved his index finger. Come here.
Well, this was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
It’s just a test. To see what was what. Maybe.
But as she walked up to him, the warmth in his gaze made her feel…beautiful.
Chapter Ten
Was she not the most beautiful woman in the club? Resting his hip on a bar stool, Sam watched Linda approach. Her brown eyes were wide, nervous, but not terrified. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth. He held out his hand, pleased when she didn’t hesitate to give him hers. Soft skin, small bones. “Why are you here, girl?”
“I-I…” Her chin firmed. “I’m trying to decide if being…different…has a place in my life.”
“Different.” Pissed him off the way she saw being unique as being wrong. “Are you talking about being a masochist? Or being a singer? Or a submissive? Or smarter than most? Or maybe being talented at basketry?”
Her spine straightened. “It’s not a joke.”
“I’m not joking.” He curved his hand firmly around her nape as he’d done with Uzuri. Linda instinctively tried to take a step back. When his grip tightened, halting her, he enjoyed the hell out of the way she shivered.
Then he watched as she didn’t move, yet silently, internally fought his control.
And he watched as she surrendered. To him.
When he leaned down and took her lips, not permitting her to withdraw, her mouth softened and opened.
My Linda. He pulled her between his legs and molded her so tightly against him that her full breasts flattened against his chest. Amazing how different one woman could feel from another. Why the hell did they all want to be alike? “Cut out all the different parts of yourself, and your personality will have the texture of mashed potatoes.”
She blinked, then burst out laughing.
Damn, he liked her laugh. “What?”
“Just…aren’t you a meat and potatoes sort of guy?”
Had him there. When she rubbed her forehead on his shoulder, he remembered how sweetly she’d snuggled against him in the night. She was a person who liked to touch.
She looked up at him, her eyes serious. “My dad was a fire-and-brimstone preacher, and my husband old-fashioned. My town is small and conservative. This isn’t easy for me, but I’m trying.”
“Good enough.” He put his hand under her chin, feeling the softness of her flesh. Older, not tight and hard, and she was so goddamned appealing she could break his heart. He didn’t require some eighteen-year-old to make his cock hard. He wanted a woman, one with lines in her face that said she’d done some living and had learned to cry. And to laugh.
A tiny trembling ran through her when she met his gaze, and the chemistry between them blazed up like dry wood in a wind. “Remember the safe word here?”
Her tongue touched her pink lips. “Red.”
“Good.” He ran his finger across her lower lip, circling her mouth with the wetness. “I’m glad you didn’t wear a mask, girl. I like to see more than your body. Don’t wear one again.”
A tremor ran through her, and a glint of fear showed in her eyes before she whispered, “Yes, Sir.”
Her trust sent warmth through him. “Good girl.” So what area was available for a scene? Releasing Linda from his arms, he checked. The stocks were free or…the picture frame was empty. “Cullen.”
The bartender looked over.
“Can you grab my bag?”
Cullen set a bottled mineral water in front of a Domme, then reached under the bar and brought out Sam’s leather toy bag. “Have fun, you two.”
“Thanks.” Sam took a grip on Linda’s nape again. “Come along, girl.” As the heavy silk of her hair flowed over his fingers, he caught her clean lavender-and-tangy-citrus scent. Made him want to pick her up and rub her skin over his.
But he could wait.
He led her to a wooden structure built like an extra-tall and double-wide door frame. “Cullen calls this the picture frame because of the way it displays a submissive.”
She eyed the chains and bolts studded around the inside of the frame, then glanced back toward the bar. “He’s not as easygoing as he acts, is he?”
“Last submissive who annoyed him got strapped to the bar.” With a bucket of ice cubes beside her for anyone that wanted to play. He grinned, remembering the sub’s appalled shrieks.