Chapter 8

TRISTAN PULLED INTO the last available reserved spot in the parking garage and killed his truck’s engine. Instead of rushing eagerly inside as he once would have done, he leaned back, eyes closed, appreciating the silence.

Freshly back from a week-long skip trace in Oahu, he was glad to be home. Few people would complain about an all-expenses paid trip to paradise, especially since he had squeezed in some personal time after turning his fugitive over to local law enforcement. More than hitting the surf and drinking in the sun, sea, and fresh air, he wanted to sleep in his bed and regain a sense of normalcy after a hectic month. And to address something on his mind while away: how he’d left things with Piper.

Even though the advice he’d given her on her balcony that night was sound, the crack about living next to a crime scene was way out of bounds. Some of his clients took things to the extreme, constantly living in fear and seeing danger lurking at every turn. That was no way to live. Without a known threat, it was enough to take sensible precautions and avoid unnecessary risks. But the girl next door, who was used to small-town life, seemed to lack any sense of self-preservation. This was the city, not rural Iowa. Still, he’d seen the hurt in her eyes at his caustic remark and regretted it immediately.

If discouraging the spark between them was his goal, mission accomplished. But he couldn’t leave it alone. She hadn’t answered when he knocked on her door before leaving for the club. He’d have to keep trying.

Squeaky brakes echoing through the parking garage stirred him into action, and he hauled his tired, unenthusiastic ass out of his truck and went inside.

It was still early, and the club wasn’t supposed to open for another two hours. Today was different. When he checked his email that morning, he found it flooded with notifications about a special event scheduled for today—the inaugural Decadence Vendor Fair—and owners were encouraged to attend. Despite having no intention of going tonight, his curiosity got the better of him.

The bar was dark and the lounge empty as he made his way to the open dungeon doors. Instead of heart-thumping music to set the mood, he heard the hum of conversation and laughter. He joined Eric at the top of the stairs, who gave no indication he noticed, his gaze fixated on the action on the floor below. Instead of the usual stations, display tables and racks offered an array of kinky wares enticing the eager shoppers crowding the circuit. It reminded Tristan of a Middle Eastern bazaar, except this merchandise was kink-inspired, with everything from toys to club wear and custom-made furniture.

Over the din of the crowd, a cry of pleasure rang out. He swiftly pinpointed its source. A woman on her hands and knees on a bondage table with a sizable dildo attached to a mechanical arm pistoning nonstop between her legs.

“You’ve been talking to Axyl, I see,” Tristan observed.

The master dom shot him a quizzical look. “I haven’t seen Axyl for at least a week. This”—he gestured to the spectacle before them—“is my answer to never-ending sales calls and the constant stream of samples vendors send me to try.”

“Yeah,” Tristan drawled, “because what dom doesn’t hate getting free kink toys and BDSM equipment?”

“Says the man who doesn’t have unopened boxes stacked to the ceiling in his office. Why should I be the only one doing the testing and choosing? I thought, why not leave it up to the people?” He handed him a clipboard. “You’re people. Give me your input.”

Tristan briefly scanned the paper. “We’re rating the items?”

“Yes. On a scale of one to five—five being a must-have, and one meaning, don’t bother.”

One item jumped out at him. “Okay, but I’ll have to guess at #6. I’m not climbing on a fucking machine unless there’s serious money involved.”

Eric half grunted half laughed. “No need for that. I have plenty of eager volunteers. Grab a sub and give her a ride while you explore the range of features.”

Tristan grinned. “An excellent idea. Don’t mind if I do.”

“That’s why I manage the club while you run off to tropical locations. Speaking of which... You were due back two days ago. That skip must have given you a run for your money.”

“I was in Hawaii, my friend. I’d have been a fool not to take a day to enjoy it. Or two.”

“And the skip?”

“I turned him over to the locals who had preceding charges. The State of California will have to get in line. With him safe behind bars, I had time to wet a board at Diamond Head Cliffs.”

Eric eyed him for a moment, his gaze lingering longest on his mildly sunburned head. “You don’t look like a surfer.”

Tristan returned his once-over, taking in the master dom’s black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his ripped forearms, and the leather cuffs clipped to a belt loop of his black jeans—his subbie wife Val’s for later, no doubt. “And you don’t look like an accountant. Where’s your pocket protector?”

“Finance executive,” he corrected. “But I get your point. I shouldn’t judge. What I don’t get is out of here—ever. Axyl had a skip recovery in Aspen a few months back. Keiran had business in Texas recently. He took Esme with him and squeezed in a Gulf Coast trip while there. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in LA, sweltering in a heat wave.” The creases on his forehead deepened, reflecting his growing frustration. “I call the next mission to a far-off exotic location. One of you who’s had some recent R she was a visitor for the day, not a member. It was a good thing, too. He’d never had a sub summarily dismiss him before. Then again, she wasn’t submissive. His authority meant nothing to her. Proof positive she didn’t belong here.

Ignoring the curious look Josie was giving him, he turned to stride away, but Eric, who’d arrived without his notice, blocked his path. His crossed-arm stance and frown stated clearly he’d witnessed everything.

“Care to explain what that was about?”

“She’s my neighbor. Seeing her here surprised me.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” his annoyingly perceptive friend asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You looked like a jealous man staking his claim.”

Tristan quickly shot down his too-close-to-home opinion. “You’re reading too much into it. She’s innocent and vanilla. She shouldn’t be here.”

Eric’s gaze drifted over his shoulder to where he could hear Piper chatting and laughing with Thomas about the catsuit he’d been having less than innocent thoughts about.

“She seems to be enjoying herself. Definitely not screaming and running for the door at the kink surrounding her.”

“The lights are up, and no scenes are going on.”

“Uh... Did you miss the demonstration in the booth across the way?”

Tristan turned and looked. The next booth was #6, the fucking machines. Three were in use, all of which were in plain view if Piper glanced that way.

His friend clapped him on the back. “You’re smitten. It happens to all of us, eventually. Which isn’t such a bad thing, believe me. But you’d better claim her before Thomas does. He’s been in a funk since Arlene moved back East. It looks like your lovely lavender sub might have the power to bring him out of it.”

“She isn’t mine, and she isn’t a sub,” he bit out, his attention returning to where Thomas flirted outrageously with Piper.

“Are you sure?” Eric challenged. “Or maybe she hasn’t realized it yet. The better question is, why haven’t you? Your sub radar must be slipping, my friend.”

No longer frowning but thoroughly amused, Eric walked away. Tristan watched him go, thinking he should follow suit. Without the amusement though. He sure as hell wasn’t in a laughing mood. Instead, he glanced once more at Josie’s booth, instantly regretting it when he saw Piper beaming at Thomas like she once had at him.

He hadn’t seen that smile in a while. Thunder cloud that he was, he’d effectively blocked out her sunshine around him.

“Fuck,” he bit out loud enough for those around him to hear. Before he did something stupid, like throwing her over his shoulder and physically removing her, he stalked out of the playroom, through the empty bar and lobby, and into the sweltering July heat.

No one said a word as he made his exit. Given his foul mood and the frustration rolling off him in waves, it was no surprise.

THE INCIDENT WITH TRISTAN left her shaken. That she’d stood up to the surly, intimidating dom on his turf was sheer bravado. Inside, her stomach was in knots, and her knees were as shaky as Jell-O. After he’d stormed off and everyone looked at her curiously, she drew on her acting skills, plastered on a smile as if nothing unusual had happened, and returned to business. It helped that there was a constant flow of customers, and she blocked it out—mostly—while answering questions, digging through what remained of the stock, looking for sizes, and processing credit card payments. The wide-eyed WTF glances Josie kept sending her way were more challenging to ignore.

Business slowed to a trickle about twenty minutes before the event ended. This was mainly because Josie had completely sold out, leaving her with only her business cards and some swag to offer the remaining customers. There wasn’t enough time to take measurements for last-minute orders since everyone had to leave on time, with no exceptions. The staff needed to set up for Saturday, their busiest night of the week.

While they dismantled the display and stacked the empty storage crates, Piper turned abruptly to Josie and reproachfully accused, “You said Tristan was out of town!”

On her knees, carefully packing her design catalog, fabric swatches, and an order book with all the measurements she’d taken, her friend paused and looked up. Her regret was unmistakable as she slowly rose to her feet.

“I thought he was,” she insisted. “Hunter gets his mail when he’s away for more than a few days, and there was a stack on the kitchen counter. I’m so sorry, Piper.” Josie reached out, her touch gentle as she squeezed her arm. “I’ve never seen Tristan like that before. He seemed so...”

Seeing her struggle to find an appropriate adjective, Piper offered some suggestions. “Unreasonable? Dictatorial? Arrogant, overbearing jerk? I can go on if you want.”

Josie shook her head, her frown deepening. “More like passionate. And, to be honest, jealous.”

“Jealous of me?” Piper sniffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s going on between the two of you?”

“Funny. I was about to ask the same thing.”

Piper turned at the gravelly Sam Elliott drawl, expecting to see an older man with a distinctive outlaw-style mustache. What she found was quite different—a clean-shaven, remarkably attractive young man only a year or two older than her.

She couldn’t help but stare because he was massive, inches taller than Tristan, who she had to crane her head back to look up at, and he had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. Maybe it just seemed that way because of his snug T-shirt and jeans that clung to his body like a second skin, both in all-encompassing black. Every girl knew monochromatic dressing created a seamless line from head to toe, making you appear slimmer and taller. But that didn’t explain his shoulders.

“It’s none of my business,” he continued when neither she nor Josie spoke, “but I consider Tris a friend and have never seen him react so vehemently to a submissive before, especially a guest.” His astute gaze skewered Piper where she stood. “What’s your connection?”

“He’s my neighbor.”

“Ah,” he replied. “An outside connection.”

“I wouldn’t call it a connection at all except that he lives next door and seems to dislike me intensely but still wants to act like my big brother when the notion strikes.”

“How odd,” he observed, echoing almost exactly what Josie had said.

With no response from her friend, Piper glanced her way to make sure she was still there. She stood frozen, her gaze fixated on the newcomer. As seconds passed, she remained motionless, not even blinking, and seemed incapable of speech.

Piper looked closer to see if she was still breathing. Seeing the rise and fall of her chest, she nudged her with an elbow.

“I, um... If you want...uh, my opinion,” Josie stammered. “I think he’s totally into her but trying to deny it.” She took a deep breath and, with visibly shaky fingers, brushed her bangs out of her eyes. The brief pause to collect herself worked because when she continued, it was with a smidge more confidence. “It reminds me of grade school. You know, when a boy who liked you would punch your arm to cover up his feelings?”

“I bet you’d know something about that,” the newcomer said with a flirtatious wink, making her giggle nervously and blush even more.

As if realizing she was acting like an infatuated teenager with her first crush, Josie cleared her throat and glanced at her watch. “It’s 4:47. We broke down the booth in record time.”

“That’s because there was nothing left to pack,” Piper pointed out then took the opportunity to talk up her friend. “Josie’s designs were such a hit, she sold out.”

“Congratulations on a successful day!” He glanced around at the orderly stacked crates. “I came to ask if I could help, but I guess you don’t need me.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded disappointed.

Josie picked up on that, too. “It still has to be loaded into my truck. But...” She exchanged a meaningful glance with Piper before continuing, “We were hoping to look around before we have to leave.”

“Not alone,” he replied firmly. “Nonmembers require an escort in the playroom. I’m on duty at six, but I’d be happy to give you the nickel tour and answer any questions you have.”

Although she had regained her ability to speak, Josie still hadn’t blinked that she could tell, likely because she didn’t want to miss a single moment of her interaction with the insanely handsome dom.

“We’d love to take the nickel tour,” her friend eagerly accepted for them both. “Isn’t that right, Piper?”

“Oh yes, and it’s kind of you to offer,” she quickly chimed in when prompted, understanding her assignment as wingman. Squatting, she retrieved a business card from one of the boxes and passed it to him. “I’m only the assistant. This is Josie, the creative genius behind Leather and Lace.”

He took it, although his focus was solely on Josie, as if she and the card didn’t exist. “I’m Master Axyl, but lovely redheads can call me ‘sir.’”

Piper barely refrained from groaning at the corny remark. Josie, on the other hand, lapped it up like a kitten with a saucer of cream. She could feel the electricity crackling between them and pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile.

Axyl cleared his throat. “We should get started. There isn’t much time.”

When he stepped aside for them to move out from behind the table, the thinning crowd gave Piper her first unobstructed view of the room. Her gaze immediately went to the large, cordoned-off area across from them, the source of the humming and buzzing they’d heard all afternoon.

“I thought my ears were ringing from all the people chattering,” Josie whispered. “I never imagined...”

Piper was less reserved in her shock. “What is that thing?” she asked much too loudly, staring in disbelief at a bare-below-the-waist brunette perched on a saddle mounted to what looked like a sawhorse.

“Fucking machines,” Master Axyl supplied. “For lack of a more polite term. That booth and yours were by far the most popular. We have a Sybian in one of the theme rooms upstairs, but it doesn’t compare to these newer models.” He took her friend’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow then offered her his other arm, proving she did exist in his Josie preoccupied world. “Since you’re both interested, we’ll start our mini-tour there.”

Other than the few guys she’d been with, Piper hadn’t ever witnessed anyone orgasm before and never in public. But as soon as they walked up to the roped-off area, the brunette’s cries filled the air. She shuddered, imploring the man beside the sawhorse holding the controls. “Turn it off, sir, please. I can’t take any more.”

The others watching grinned, some chuckled, and many applauded.

“Six in ten minutes. That’s a record even for you, my love,” the barrel-chested behemoth said. Were all these doms giants? He aimed the remote at the machine. “I’ll inform Eric that this one has Samson’s stamp of approval.”

With the push of a button, the buzzing stopped, and the woman collapsed forward. She would have fallen on the hard tile floor if the man hadn’t caught her.

“Samson and Tara are always entertaining, even when mechanical devices aren’t involved,” Master Axyl said with a chuckle. “There’s a lot more to see. We must keep moving before time runs out.”

He led them on a whirlwind tour of the other booths, also pointing out key features of the playroom. They saw everything from sex toys in every shape, size, and color to hand-wrapped whips and floggers. One booth had yards and yards of rope in pink, red, green, and blue and bins of Home Depot-type hardware.

He answered Piper’s question before she could ask it. “Rope bondage is very popular. The ropes and hardware are also used for suspensions.”

At the S word, both women looked up at the chains, cables, bars, and pulleys dangling from the high ceiling. Piper had a million questions, but Master Axyl moved them along, keeping them on pace. In a blink, fifteen minutes passed and they had come full circle to where their booth had once been.

The staff had their display racks and trunks loaded on a flat handcart. Accepting no arguments from her and Josie, Master Axyl took charge of it and escorted them to the service hall off the lounge and out the back door to where they had parked. He also loaded everything into the truck bed in minutes.

After witnessing the electricity arcing between the big dom and her friend, not to mention several heated glances, Piper made herself scarce. She thanked him and slid into the passenger seat, leaving Josie to say her goodbyes.

Then she waited, trying hard not to look but dying to see if the boldly confident dom would kiss her after knowing her for barely half an hour. When the driver’s door opened and Josie climbed in, she was bubbling over with excitement. She hadn’t closed the door before she asked, “You’ll never guess what I got?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Piper tapped her pursed lips with a finger. “The hots for a six-and-a-half-foot-tall Adonis made of muscle?”

“Well, yes, that,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she buckled her seat belt. “But this is something for both of us. Two invitations to open sub night next weekend.”

Piper waited for her to explain, prompting when she didn’t, “And that is...”

“Axyl said it’s a social event where prospective applicants can get a full club tour and meet some of the members. The bar will be open, they’ll have music and dancing and more extensive tours of all the facilities. He said the stations will be open, and they’re having several can’t-miss demonstrations. If they’re anything like the sex machines today, I’ll need smelling salts.”

“Are you seriously considering joining?”

Josie looked at her like she was from Mars. “Heck yeah, I’m considering joining! Did you see that man?”

“How much are the membership fees?”

“Other than expensive, I do not know, but we can find out next weekend. You’ll go with me, won’t you?” Josie glanced her way, eyes pleading. “I doubt I’ll have the nerve to walk in alone, even if Axyl expects me.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, although we barely had time to get to know one another. If we go, we’re under no obligation except to keep everything confidential. But we’ve already signed the paperwork and passed the screening. All we have to do is show up with one of these.” She held up two gold-embossed black invitations. “They’re issued only by a club master, which Axyl is. Please say you’ll come.”

“Aren’t you forgetting my 6’4” problem?” When she stared back at her, Piper drawled, “He goes by the name of Tristan.”

“Axyl says these mixers are always packed. What are the chances we’ll see him in that kind of crush?”

“That’s what you said about the vendor fair, and look who showed up.”

Josie waved off her concern. “There were 200 people there today, max. Regular and prospective members will be there next Saturday. That’s five times as many. Besides, you won’t be stuck behind a booth. You’ll be a moving object and free to mingle.”

Unconvinced, Piper shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why? You handled him great today. Besides, as you said, there is no connection. I’m not sure what his deal is, but you shouldn’t let him and his surly attitude stand in your way.”

“You mean Josie and Axyl’s way. Don’t you?”

She blinked all innocent-like and continued her hard sell. “I can ask Axyl to introduce you around. Surely Tristan wouldn’t interfere if you were with a different dom. Better yet, a different club owner.”

The glimpse of what she saw today intrigued her, but she remained hesitant, caught between curiosity and caution. With another desperate “pleeeease” and puppy dog eyes, Piper finally gave in.

“Okay. Just don’t beg anymore. I’m not a dominant, and I don’t get off on that.”

When Josie blinked this time, it was in shock.

“What?” Piper asked, slightly offended. “We have spicy books in Iowa, too.”

Her friend grinned. “Farm girls aren’t as innocent as they’re purported to be.”

She sniffed. “You learn about the birds and the bees young on a farm.”

Josie reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for doing this.”

“How could I say no after being promoted to wingman?”

“That was awesome. You jumped in as if we’d planned it.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror, gave a little finger wave to where Master Axyl stood watching and waiting, put the truck in gear, and took off.

As Josie excitedly chatted, Piper nodded and uttered an occasional “Mmm” or “uh-huh” as she watched the city go by her window. She didn’t see much; Tristan and his volatile reaction to her presence in his club consumed her thoughts.

Despite Josie’s reassurance that there was safety in a crowd, she felt a nagging sense of dread. He’d really explode seeing her at a recruiting event. But maybe she wanted that to happen. Was she pushing him, now, not only to smile but to show her emotions other than judgment, impatience, and anger? And, what she wanted most, a spark, like when he kissed her during the blackout.

Thinking about his rejection—time and again—she whispered to her reflection in the window, “To even consider this, you must be a closet masochist.”

“Did you say something, Piper?” Josie asked from beside her. “This truck is so loud.”

“I said I’m starved,” she fibbed, although it was true. She’d had toast for breakfast and nothing since. “How about you?”

“Famished,” Josie agreed. “We’ll have to change before going out though. I want my designs to be head-turning, but not in a crowded restaurant during the dinner hour.”

“I’ve got a bottle of wine in my fridge. What if we order a thick-crust pizza loaded with toppings and extra cheese?”

“Sounds great. I’ve been starving myself to fit into this number.” She patted the front of her formfitting purple suede dress. “Oh no! What am I going to wear next Saturday night? Axyl already saw this one, as did everyone who stopped by the booth today. What kind of designer wears the same thing twice in a row?”

“You’ve got seven days to make us both something hot.”

“Right,” Josie groaned. “What’s another two on top of my bazillion pending orders? I need to hire someone fast.”

She glanced her way, the puppy dog look returning. Piper threw up her hands. “Oh no! I’ll be your friend, lovely assistant at a vendor fair, and wingman, but I do not sew. If I lose a button on a shirt, I pitch it and buy a new one. I’m not that kind of farm girl.”

“Okay, okay. I guess I better run an ad asap.”

“Now, that’s something I can help you with.”