Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Read online

  “You’d think wrong then, Laurent,” she said quietly. “And, you are not to gossip about me to him or about him to me. Understand?”

  “Of course.”

  Her admonishment cut him bone-deep, mostly because he’d have to obey her now when all he wanted to do was delve deep into what was wrong between them. Something was definitely off. She and Steffan were friendly with one another, but she didn’t trust him. Perhaps she felt something around Steffan—had or still did—and it troubled her enough to hold herself back when it came to him. He knew one thing, she intrigued Steffan more than any woman he’d seen.

  She wrapped the towel around her, depriving him of those exquisite breasts, swells of succulent flesh he could worship for hours.

  “Now, let’s not keep him waiting any longer. I’m not a sadist.” She cupped his cheek. “And, keeping you from anyone would be cruel.”

  “Are you sure I can’t do … more for you?” His hard-on was up for any job she required.

  She ran her gaze over his body. “Perhaps another time.”

  Shit, he was going to have to up his game here.

  15

  “Thank you for asking me to lunch.” Steffan shook Alexander’s hand.

  “Thank you for bringing some of your homemade bread. No one bakes anymore, and it’s a pity.” Alexander lowered himself into the large chair, and Steffan took the opposite place. They had a stunning view of the gardens from the large window to their left.

  Alexander’s office was predictably grand—mahogany paneled walls, bookshelves with first-edition classics, and an imposing desk dominating the center of space. He wondered how many people had been summoned—for that’s clearly was what this was—to the man’s private dining nook in this office. Two steps inside the door and Steffan decided he would feel honored rather than intimidated.

  “Your gardens are spectacular.” Steffan snapped his napkin into place, and a stunning blond woman wearing nothing but a gold rope dress poured water into large blue goblets. “And your help, beautiful.”

  “Luna? Master Steffan paid you a compliment,” Alexander said.

  “Thank you, Master Steffan.” She bowed her head and backed up.

  “It’s important for everyone to feel appreciation, even the tops,” Alexander explained. “I hope you like crab cakes. Being so close to the Chesapeake Bay, we get the finest crab meat.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Alexander nodded at Luna who slipped out the door. He ripped a large piece of bread off the rosemary loaf Steffan had brought.

  “We’re assessing your application to Accendos next week.” Alexander forked a lettuce leaf from his salad.

  He’d learned most people at Accendos got to the point quickly, something he appreciated. “Good. We’re eager to get settled. You know how it is.”

  “Yes, and I see Sarah has moved things along from the other evening. Things go well?” He took a large bite of his bread and murmured an appreciation.

  “Laurent was quite happy.” Steffan smiled.

  Alexander chuckled. “Yes, Sarah certainly knows her way around men. After you first called, I spoke with Sarah about you. The two of you know each other.”

  “Our time together was brief, but I’m glad you talked about us. I was wondering if you’d be willing to answer a few questions about her.”

  “About Sarah?” Alexander leaned back in his chair.

  “Yes, and, I hope it won’t go any further than these four walls.”

  “Members are expelled for sharing personal information about each other. Discretion and respect for people’s privacy are principles strictly enforced for all club members. I am not exempt.” Alexander gazed at him steadily and continued in a gentle, cultured voice that carried little emotion. “I’ve been in this scene longer than most here. I came up during a time when secrecy wasn’t just preferred; it was vital to one’s survival. The 1970s were very different from today’s environment for those of us in our special community.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “It was an unkind time. My experiences are one of the reasons I opened Accendos and launched the Tribunal Council. First, here in Washington and then spreading to dozens of other cities. But you know all that, I trust.”

  “It’s one of the reasons why Laurent and I are here. And I believe it’s only fair I know more about the person who is exploring my best friend. After all, seven Tribunal Council members are about to dig deep into my and Laurent’s life.”

  “It’s fair.” Alexander lifted his water glass. “Anything you say to me is 100% confidential.”

  “Thank you.” He picked up his salad fork and took a large bite of cucumber. He required a second to assess where to start. He’d go for the punchline. “Sarah is different than I recall.”

  “How so?”

  “More guarded. Rigid. And tired.”

  The door cracked open, and Luna stepped back inside, balancing two plates on her arm. After settling the crab cakes before them, she disappeared as silently as she had entered. The scent of fresh crab reminded him of home and a slight, odd sense of wishing for the familiar arose. Washington had not been as easy as he’d hoped. Sarah certainly hadn’t been.

  He’d woken up and lay in bed with a hard-on the size of a rolling pin after remembering how she’d worked over Laurent. He’d also woken up with clarity over what came next. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off two years ago. Her dismissal of him last night—that’s what he decided he saw in her eyes—only ratcheted up his resolve. He couldn’t believe he’d misread the interest she had in him in London. As for Laurent? He complicated matters.

  “Sarah works too hard,” Alexander said.

  “She’s without a partner,” he said. “Do you know why?”

  Alexander leaned back and chortled. “Have a crush do we? Well, don’t feel too bad, my man. Greater men than you have fallen in Sarah’s presence.”

  “I’m going to lay out my cards here. I am interested in a long-term relationship with her. Whatever she decides on that front, I can handle. If she wants to keep it brief, okay. I won’t like it, but it won’t ruin the rest of my life. Laurent, however, doesn’t do short-term well. If he should fall in love, I’d like to know she’d be careful with him.”

  The man stilled. “How much do you know about Sarah’s past? What has she told you about her beginnings here?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you much, but I can tell you she didn’t start out in the scene here. We met in a public play space in a club in the Southwest some years ago. She was getting over someone. Someone she believes she hurt.”

  “She hurt?” He couldn’t imagine such a thing. She was so careful.

  “That’s why she is adamant on having structure and rules. I’ve known her for twelve years now, and I can tell you that she is the safest Dominant you can find. Next to me, of course.” There was no arrogance in Alexander’s voice, but rather a conviction that made Steffan believe the man. “She doesn’t make mistakes, Steffan. I can assure you that. Laurent will be in fine hands.”

  “I made a mistake.” There he’d said it, and yes, it felt as humiliating as it sounded.

  Alexander assessed him. “Am I going to regret asking what you did? She told me you once scened together.”

  “It was more than that. Much more.”

  “I see.”

  “And, both being Dominants makes it more difficult.” That was the truth. The way she’d relaxed in his arms … He’d wanted to capture her lips, push her against the wall, and ravage her. He’d held himself back, but he wouldn’t be able to do so forever.

  “Sarah also can be overly cautious,” Alexander said. “Sometimes she lets the past infect too much of the future—especially for herself.” Alexander eyed him. “You care for her.”

  “It’s hard not to.” Another truth.

  “Over the years I have learned to trust my instincts. When I mentioned you, for a moment, she looked rattled. I suspect you
once got under her skin, and that, my friend, is something I have rarely seen. You also should know I’d do anything for Sarah. She’s important to me.” His warning was clear.

  ‘If you’re wondering if my intentions are pure—”

  “I’m sure they are, but hurt comes in many forms.”

  “That sounds like something Laurent would say. He also says everyone must be true to themselves or life’s not worth living.”

  “Wise man.”

  “He’s the best.”

  “How do you like your crab?”

  “Makes me feel like I’m home.”

  “Perhaps you are.”

  He could only hope. After this “chat” with Alexander, he may not have understood more about Sarah, but he now knew he was going to have to be more direct with her. She was going to have to reject him outright to get rid of him.

  16

  “Gorgeous.” Master R took a sip of espresso. His eyes never left Charlotte. Sarah’s choice for the woman’s collaring ceremony dress was perfect.

  “You really like it?” Charlotte ran her hands down the pale yellow fabric, the drapes of material rippling under her hands.

  “Not many people can carry off this color, but against your red hair, it’s stunning,” Sarah said.

  Her Master stood. “The question is, Charlotte, do you like it?”

  Charlotte’s self-confidence, once shattered from an abusive upbringing and then the untimely death of her husband, hadn’t been easy to restore. Master R had done remarkably well with her. She wasn’t as confident as Laurent, but … Damn-it. Sarah couldn’t get him out of her mind—and Steffan. The man had pulled her into an embrace—something she hadn’t invited but hadn’t completely hated, either. It was sweet if she thought about it. He couldn’t leave her alone, though, could he? He had to look down on her, his lips parting as if he was going to kiss her. She wasn’t crossing that line. She wouldn’t let him cross that line.

  “Yes, sir. I love it.” Charlotte’s voice hitched.

  “Then, good. You shall have it,” he declared.

  “Let’s get you out of this.” Sarah unzipped the hidden zipper. After Charlotte stepped out, wearing nothing but a tiny thong, she stood unabashed in front of everyone. The girl may lack confidence around some things, but her body was not one of them. Charlotte was a flagrant exhibitionist and who could blame her?

  “Madeline, please box up the dress for Charlotte.” She handed her assistant the garment and turned to the young girl. “You will look like a princess at your ceremony.”

  Charlotte nervously clutched her hands but did little to hide her breasts. “I just want to appeal to my … you.” She’d stopped herself from saying Master.

  “You could be wearing a potato sack, and I’d still slay dragons for a taste of this.” He bent down, tipped her chin up with one finger and lightly touched his lips to hers.

  Their display was a little over the top, but it was nice to see such honest love. All that connected energy coursing between them softened her a little on the inside. She was usually content with helping people find love and happiness in her own way—like flogging a delicious Spanish hunk with hazel eyes that appeared lit from the inside. She’d pleasured herself many times recalling the way Laurent swayed in his bonds, the way he handled his cock in her shower. The fact Steffan’s face came up as well was a little irritating, but nothing she couldn’t deal with.

  While Master R and Charlotte continued to stare at one another dreamily, Sarah sidled up to her assistant.

  “Madeline, who do we have on the docket next?”

  “It’s four o’clock, Sarah. No one.”

  “Four already?” Damn, she wasn’t ready to go home, and she certainly wasn’t going to go to Accendos—far too dangerous. According to her sources, Steffan and Laurent had practically moved in. She needed a little time to regroup from the other evening.

  While Madeline helped Charlotte back into her T-shirt and jeans, she scrolled through her appointment book on her iPad. There had to be messages to return or perhaps she’d start the next charity event. There were so many causes that could use her help.

  “Oh, excuse me, sir,” a familiar male voice said. She turned and found Laurent holding a large bouquet of white roses and a white paper bag. He stepped backward to let Master R and Charlotte pass through the door. Outside light haloed his dark curls, giving him an angelic appearance—as if he needed anything else to remind her of his unearthly charisma.

  “Laurent,” she said. “What brings you here?”

  “I hope you don’t mind me popping in. I don’t have your number, and I didn’t want to ask …” His voice trailed off. He strode forward and held out the bouquet. “For you. To thank you. I can put them in water.” His eyes darted around.

  “How kind. Roses.” Her mind immediately recalled using the rose flogger on him. “Madeline can put these in water.”

  “And, Steffan’s homemade cinnamon rolls.” He held up a wrinkled white paper bag. “Once you taste them, you’ll never have any others.”

  She took the flowers from him.

  “They are my new favorite flowers since …” He shrugged, and his full lips stretched into a smile, little crinkles forming around his eyes. His olive roll-neck sweater brought out the green in his eyes, and those Boss pants—she recognized them from last year’s collection—hugged him in all the right places. He could have been a man about to go to the gentleman’s club for a Sunday afternoon of reading The Times.

  “Wow. Tiger of Sweden.” He set the bag on a chair and strode over to the garment rack holding the new line of men’s wear that arrived yesterday.

  “You know this line?”

  “Yes, a little snug for my taste, but this … may I?” He pointed to a particular jacket.

  After setting down the flowers, she strode over and pulled out the new 1903 suit jacket. “Good eye.” She held it up against him. “Yes. Turn around.” She held it up so he could slip it on. He immediately shrugged it up to his broad shoulders and turned around.

  “Well?”

  “Come.” She held out her hand and led him to the podium surrounded by three-way mirrors. He took the center placement.

  “Nice stitching here.” He held up a cuff.

  “Yes, very nice,” She wasn’t talking about the jacket. She’d noted his perfect proportions before, but now she understood how perfect. The jacket hung on him like a custom-made hanger.

  “You ever model?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Hang out with all those divas? No, thank you.”

  She could see it, though—Laurent striding up a runway with that I-don’t-care stance and a sexy I-know-something-you-don’t simper on his face.

  His face fell suddenly.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t like it?” she asked.

  “It’s perfect, but I came here to …” He shrugged out of the jacket and stepped off his pedestal. His eyes landed on Madeline who’d returned with a tray bearing two demitasse cups. The rich aroma of espresso reached them.

  “I thought perhaps you could use a little pick-me-up.” She smiled at Sarah conspiratorially, her eyes darting between her and Laurent.

  “Thank you, Madeline. Would you put those roses in water for me? Then you can go for the day.” She purposefully evened out her voice. Madeline saw entirely too much of her life already.

  Her assistant put the tray down on a small table, not hiding her appreciation of Laurent as she made her way out. Sarah understood how Steffan might feel when out and about with Laurent. He was a people magnet.

  She took the jacket from Laurent and rehung it in its place. When she turned, Laurent held out one of the small cups. “Could we talk?” he asked, hesitantly.

  She nodded.

  They settled themselves on two chairs where the mothers of brides and uncomfortable husbands had sat a hundred times and sipped their java. Her stomach grumbled, and he darted up to retrieve the bag he’d abandoned. He pulled out a large cinnamon bun that smelled divine.
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  “May I?” He lifted a knife.

  “Please.”

  “Thank you for taking a break for me.” Using the tray as a plate, he sank the knife through the middle of a bun that oozed white cream cheese frosting. She really shouldn’t, but had she remembered to have lunch?

  “Now what brings you here? You’re all right, aren’t you?” Subs often dropped after a scene, sometimes the after effects showing up days later.

  “I’m wonderful. I very much enjoyed our time together the other night.”

  “As did I.”

  “Did you?” Worry dripped from those two simple words. “Did you and Steffan argue?”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “No, I know Steffan—well, and he’s … not himself.”

  “We did not argue. Now, will you please cut me a small piece?” She dipped her head toward the cinnamon bun.

  After drawing the fork through the corner of the bun, he brought it to her mouth. She shook her head. She took the fork from him and plucked it off the tines.

  “Open.” He opened his lips, and she placed the frosted morsel on his tongue. Before she could withdraw her fingers, he closed his soft lips over them. Her thumb raked over his bottom teeth and lip—the opposing sensations of hard enamel and wet flesh igniting the arousal that had simmered under the surface of her consciousness the last few days.

  “Naughty boy,” she said softly.

  His mouth moved in a sensual way as he chewed the piece of cinnamon bun. “What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked.

  She leaned back. This distance she’d put between them hadn’t dimmed her desire for him one iota.

  “Cut me another piece,” she directed.

  He did as she asked and speared it with the fork. He offered the sinful morsel to her. She drew off the piece and placed it in her mouth. The sugar burst over her tongue, the pleasure almost orgasmic.

  “Mmmm.” She wiped her tongue over her bottom lip to capture the final taste. Steffan could bake, and that fact shouldn’t have intrigued her so.

  “I thought you’d like them.” He stared at her lips. “Steffan had to go out of town. New York.”