Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Nora Lilja

O f course Lane had to make a comment to the Tops who helped Penelope.

"Sirs, do you identify as brats?" he teased.

Colt, Kingsley, Ash, and Ty gave him appropriate looks of "Watch it, brat."

"Or, our mamas raised us up right," Colt retorted.

"Also, don't cut off the hand that carries the couch, wild fry," Ty told his boy.

I snickered under my breath and picked up another box. Judging by the illustration on the cardboard, this was going to be a floor lamp once assembled.

The delivery guys had just left everything by the carport out front, so it was a long trek with each box. On grass. The Mclean property was huge, a stark contrast to what I was used to in my previous community. We'd had a loft space in Alexandria, and thirty people had filled the room.

I kept my head down and trailed along the side of the house, another thing that was huge. Three stories of club area, bar, guest rooms, playrooms, changing room, kitchen… They had their own rope dojo too. Their own freaking forest —at the bottom of the lawn in the back.

I'd been a member of their online forum for about a year, and one thing hadn't changed. My confusion regarding Penelope's role here. Because it focused so heavily on gay men, and yet she was one of the Founders. In fact, she was the only woman in a position of power out here. The lesbian community was tiny; I'd stumbled across maybe fifteen members who were active in the online group Lesbians of Mclean. The other forty or so members hadn't been online in at least six months.

Was she bi? She seemed to surround herself with these men, and I already knew she'd had a playtime dynamic with a dude, though it'd been stated on Penelope's ex's profile that it was nonsexual.

On the other hand, I'd discovered for myself early on that this setup was kind of comforting. The number of messages with unsolicited dick pics and propositions was near zero. Same couldn't be said in communities with more straight men.

We'd see how long I lasted here. Lane and his friends had been very welcoming, but I'd gotten the feeling Penelope wasn't interested. She'd declined my friend request online, and the one time I'd spoken to her at an event, she'd been pretty aloof. I hadn't made any progress with the other women either, except a Little named Ivy, but she was straight.

I passed the first A-frame cabins, and Noa strode past me with a stack of what looked like packaged drapes, bed linen, and vacuum-sealed pillows.

The fifth cabin was Penelope's, and as instructed, we left the stuff close to the western wall. She wanted the rest of the space for assembling everything later.

The cabin was beautiful but completely empty. A kitchen nook near the front, by the window, a presumably tiny bathroom under the stairs that led to a loft. Everything was made of wood, so it felt like being transported to a snowcapped mountain.

Just as I turned around to head out, Penelope herself walked in with two kitchen chairs.

"Sorry, Ma'am." I hurriedly got out of the way and felt my heart beat a little faster.

I blamed her.

She smiled politely. "It's okay. I appreciate all the help."

Ugh, can we just get married and live happily ever after?

My face felt hot, so I ducked out to the sound of Noa telling Penelope about everything he'd carried.

This wasn't one of those crushes where I couldn't put my finger on why I was so drawn to her, because I knew very well. I'd observed her at events before I'd joined their online community. She and her ex, Ella, had participated in demos and parties outside of Mclean from time to time, and I'd always envied Ella for having such an amazing Domme. Penelope was a listener just as much as she was a rebellious doer. She walked her own path, whether that gained her followers or enemies. Her opinions and views ranged from kind to cold, from compassionate and nurturing to "How's that my problem?" and "Suck it up." She'd spoken at one event a couple years ago—if I remembered correctly, it'd been about aftercare and safety. She'd stood up to a Dom who'd strongly recommended cuddles, ice cream, and talking extensively, which, let's face it, many were fans of. Including me. But Penelope had been all, "Well, it's up to the sub—and the Top. If I'm playing with a sub who's wary of affection when she's overwhelmed, I'm not going to suffocate her with hugs. I'm sick of truism and people deluding newbies into thinking there's a specific route to take."

I'd been brand-spankin'-new at the time, so that little piece of obviousness had been enough for me to nod in agreement and have a whole new world opening before my eyes. And ever since then, I'd written lists upon lists about what I wanted. What I needed. Leaving behind cookie-cutter protocols of how BDSM was "done right."

Penelope was an individualist, which shone through in every online debate I'd witnessed too. Whether it was in kink, life, or politics, she was big on civil liberties and freedom—and parachutes, a word she'd used in another speech, this time online.

"I'm all for a robust parachute. When someone falls, we, as a community and a society, need to be there to catch them. So that's why it's extra important we don't impose rules and structures that set someone up for failure."

She had similar views when it came to safety. She didn't adhere to safe, sane, and consensual, which I knew Mclean House as a community had rejected as well. "What constitutes sane? Safe?" Once again, she'd preached about the freedoms of Tops and bottoms to choose their own way. At Mclean, they used RACK. Risk-awareness and informed consent, with a side of, "You gotta be over eighteen," in Reese's words when he'd given me a scripted speech on their rules.

"Oh, and if you drink and play, you gotta have a spotter or dungeon monitor nearby who knows what the plan is."

They had one another's backs out here in a way I'd never experienced before. Being so close-knit allowed them to take more risks, because they set up their own safety procedures to ensure someone would be catching them if they fell.

The primal brat in me really, really, really hoped Mclean House would work out for me.

I winced as I touched my shoulders.

I better not forget sunscreen tomorrow.

I slipped my tee over my head, forgoing a bra, and I was glad I'd packed the softest T-shirt I owned. Which wasn't a coincidence. Lane had packed his own version. Mine read "On pussy patrol," and his read "On dick duty."

We were funny that way.

After stepping into a pair of cotton shorts, I tucked a twenty into the credit card pocket on the back of my phone, grabbed my room key, and walked out of my guest room, smelling like my lemon body wash and shea butter lotion. Not that it mattered. Within twenty minutes, everything was gonna smell of boy cologne.

Once downstairs, I let the music lead the way. The club area was fairly empty, most people ready to enjoy the sunset hour outside. But I did make a stop at the bar, where Shay and Lane were mixing drinks.

"What do you want me to put on Mistress Penelope's tab, Nora?" Lane asked.

"Nothing, thank you." I stepped between two barstools. "But I'll have a Kopparberg pear cider, please."

It was possible I'd been giddy to learn they carried that brand here, 'cause it was my absolute favorite.

"Swedes gonna Swede," was Lane's response.

Shay smirked and eyed my tee. "I'm guessing you and Lane ordered those together."

"Fuck yeah, we did," Lane said. "Ty wants me to change mine to include his name." He was so happy about that too.

I had no such person to get possessive over me, so…

"Stop frowning and make a move on Penelope," Lane told me.

I frowned even more. "I think she's made her lack of interest very clear already, but for your information, I was gonna try to talk to her tomorrow."

"When she's a DM at the event?" Shay cocked a brow. "She'll be obligated to talk to you."

I huffed.

"I'll start up a tab for you." Lane finally gave me my cider, and I immediately chugged from the bottle.

Then we heard a voice booming from the doorway to the terrace. "Never mind, the primal shits are scheming at the bar!" It was Reese.

I scrunched my nose.

"We're not scheming." Shay furrowed his brow.

Reese walked toward us. "I'm sure. Gimme four beers and three whiskeys, baby. The guitars are comin' out."

"Fuck yes." Shay was suddenly in a hurry, and so was Lane.

"Do you take requests, Sir?" I asked.

"Not at all," Reese assured.

I chuckled.

He nodded at me. "You stayin' the night, pet?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied.

"Good. Cam's taking everyone's breakfast order outside, so make sure to add yours," he said.

Oh, good to know.

When we headed outside a moment later, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere and a change in the attendance. Jack and Franklin had gone home, while Master Greer had shown up with Archie.

It must have something to do with the event planning tomorrow. I knew some of the Tops were getting together early to discuss the next Game, which would be my third. I'd participated in the Academy event and the Easter Egg Hunt as well.

The organizers said every event was designed so that participants could be single, but I wasn't sure about this next one. It was one thing to run around the house and attend pretend-classes where pretend-professors set us up to fail—a whole other to go from station to station with a Top I didn't have.

It was going to be a TPE-oriented event, to boot. What the hell did I know about high-protocol stuff? I wasn't a consensual slave. Then again, Noa, Corey, Kit, and many others were joining, and they weren't into high-protocol either. But they did have partners.

Feeling like a third wheel, I followed Lane to the seating area just off the deck, where several had gathered in low chairs and sofas. Three guitars were present. Colt was strumming on one, and Ty had another.

I noticed Greer and Penelope talking outside her cabin farther down the lawn.

"Pizza will be here in half an hour," Tate announced.

"Where's Kit?" Shay asked.

Colt answered. "He's gettin' a taste of Luke's wrath after bratting off too much in the shower."

Tate lifted his brows at Shay. "He literally grounded Kit. He's not allowed to leave the cabin for the rest of the night."

"Damn." Shay was surprised.

I chewed on my lip and debated where to sit. Ash was still here, and he and Penelope were close. So if I sat near him, chances were I'd end up close to her as well…?

God, I was so pathetic.

I walked past the sofa occupied by Lucian, KC, and Noa—with Cam sitting on the ground between Lucian's feet.

Everyone was so fricking tan from the cruise. As if I didn't already struggle with my glow-in-the-dark complexion.

There was an empty chair between Lucian's sofa and the one I assumed Ash would share with Penelope and maybe someone else, so I sat down there with my cider.

"Excuse me, Sir?" I leaned closer toward Lucian, and he pushed pause on his conversation with KC and Archie. "May I speak with Cam?"

"Of course, dear. He's not on speech restrictions at the moment." He combed his fingers through Cam's hair.

Cam glanced up at me, curious.

"Reese told me about a breakfast order…?" I asked rather than stated.

"Oh yeah." Cam sat a little straighter and twisted his body to face me better. "We're ordering from a place in Tysons—I'll send you the link to the menu and Venmo details right now."

"Cool, thank you." I smiled and sat back to get comfortable, and I idly wondered if I might find a blanket somewhere. It was warm enough right now, but I had a feeling it would get chilly in an hour or so.

My phone vibrated on the armrest, so I picked it up with a pinch of relief. Everyone was coupled up or grouped off, speaking quietly among one another, and my usual social lube was sitting with Shay so they could eye-fuck their guitar-playing men.

So far, it was just strumming and tuning, but it was clear that country was the chosen genre for this bunch.

Colt's accent fascinated me. Texas stood out from most Southern accents I'd heard in the US, and many Texans didn't even refer to themselves as Southern. They were simply Texan.

Colt wasn't one of those, though. Within ten minutes of my meeting him, he'd squeezed in the word Southern at least three times.

"If you ever need help, look no further than to the community's favorite Southern Sadist."

Kinda humble, if you asked me. He could've said the world's greatest or the country's finest.

Either way, he was very funny to listen to. He wasn't thinking about drinking; he was thankin' about drankin'.

Much like Penelope, he had a personality that reeled people in, though in a whole other way. Penelope wasn't loud or jumping into the next spotlight. Colt was a natural storyteller and thrived in the company of others.

I'd gotten a similar impression of Ash today, but I'd heard the rumor of his heartbreak, so that explained why he wasn't joking around much. Still, he left a smile on the face of every person he talked to.

I smiled to myself and scrolled through the breakfast menu as Colt strummed his way through a story about when he was in school to become a fighter pilot. They'd snuck off base one night…

"You're an observant little thing, aren't you?"

Crap. I tilted my head to Ash, finding him smirking faintly at me.

He scooted over on the sofa till he was on the end closest to me. "We haven't been formally introduced yet. I'm Ash."

Had he caught me staring or something?

I shook his hand and plastered a smile on my face. "Nora. Nice to meet you, Sir."

"You too. So how Swedish does one have to be in order to be referred to as the Swedish girl?"

I chuckled. "Is anyone calling me that?"

He inclined his head. "I heard that before I heard your name."

Ah. Well. "Blame Lane. The Dane."

Or half-Danish. Whatever. It was how we'd met in our old community. I'd attended a play party, and I'd heard someone screaming out their pain in Danish. Not the most common language in the DC area.

"I see. You don't have much of an accent, but it's more than an ancestor thing, I reckon?"

I nodded. "Yes, Sir. I was born and raised there."

"Huh. That's cool."

"You do not know Sweden."

He laughed. "That bad?"

I shrugged and grinned. "Eh. We have our ups and downs, like any country. I still love spending the winters there." A few weeks, at least. Christmas was a must. And snowboarding up north. In the background, Penelope was walking over with Greer, both taking their time, still engrossed in whatever they were discussing.

"But you've been in the US for a long time?" Ash asked.

"I went to high school here," I answered. "My dad was headhunted by Boeing, so we moved to Chicago first. Then Arlington after I graduated." I cocked my head. "What about you? You born and raised in DC?"

"Nah, but not too far away. I grew up in Haverford, outside Philly. Ever heard of it?"

I shook my head, presuming he meant Haverford, not Philadelphia.

"Now, that's an uncool place to grow up in," he said. "It's practically mandatory to be in a country club, and you gotta name your kid somethin' ridiculous."

I laughed and pulled up my legs so I could turn in my seat. "I wouldn't call Ash ridiculous."

He leaned in as if to whisper a secret. "It's short for Ashford. Don't tell anyone."

I beamed, unable to help it. Okay, I liked this guy. He was very kind and funny. He reminded me of Reid in my old community. He was always taking care of newbies and making sure they felt included.

Sir Ashford in holey jeans and a vintage tee—that was funny. And earlier, he'd arrived in utility clothes, so that sure didn't scream country club either.

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I saw that Penelope and Greer were now on this side of the pool. They'd be here within seconds. My stomach felt tight with fluttery nerves, and?—

"I can be observant too, by the way," Ash said. "You have about five seconds to decide whether I should leave room for the Holy Ghost—AKA, remain right here—or if I should scoot back to the other end of the sofa."

Helvete . I swallowed a burst of anxiousness and anticipation, and I just barely managed to stutter out, "Stay there, please." Because as much as I wanted Penelope mere inches away, I had a feeling she preferred distance.

I hadn't exactly been subtle about my infatuation, and part of that was deliberate. Call it juvenile, but if the object of desire knew she was desired, her behavior would let me know how I should act next. All I'd needed to do was let said desire slip to a few people, and then word got around.

Unfortunately, things didn't look great. If she'd been interested in me, she would've at least reached out to talk. Right? Chances were she wasn't over Ella, and I couldn't fault her for that. They'd been together forever.

My time was up. Penelope reached us, and while Greer aimed for Archie, Penelope plopped down on the other side of Ash.

"How's the event plannin' goin'?" Ash asked her.

Penelope blew out a breath. "We haven't started. Greer's just nosy and full of requests."

Ash rumbled a chuckle. "He wants to help you bake the cake he's gonna eat?"

Penelope tapped her nose.

"I'm surprised you signed up to be an organizer," Ash noted. "I thought you liked that high-protocol shit."

Did she really?

"I love the psychology behind it," Penelope corrected. "I don't necessarily want to live it twenty-four seven. But some scenes here and there—yeah."

Interesting.

"What about you, Nora?" Oh, Ash was relentless. Why was he shifting the spotlight back to me? I could just sit here and go through the breakfast menu. "Are you signing up for the Game?" He turned back real quick to Penelope. "I've been getting to know the Swedish girl."

"Really." Penelope showed zero emotion on her face; she just eyed me, a little guarded.

I was so screwed. Whether she was hung up on her ex or I simply wasn't her type—didn't matter. This was a dead end for me.

I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat. "I've thought about it, but it seems more geared to couples. We'll see how tomorrow plays out, I guess." I'd seen a handful of the attendees for tomorrow's mini event were lesbians. Fingers crossed I got along with one or two.

Ash knitted his brows. "What's the event tomorrow? I'm not online much."

"Um, they call it Try a Kink," I said. "It's supposedly a casual party, and it starts early."

Penelope nodded and addressed Ash. "Nathan's gonna demonstrate bondage, just so you know."

"Oh." Ash frowned. "Then guess who's not gonna be here. This guy." He pointed his thumb at himself. "How early is it?"

"It starts at two," I said.

He nodded. "That explains it. I'm assuming his folks will watch our kids. But anyway—" He cleared his throat, visibly bothered by something. "If you don't find a Domme tomorrow and still wanna join the Game, I'll be happy to fill in. I won't let you call me Mistress, but I promise to keep my hands to myself."

I grinned. Relief flooded me too, and I was honestly touched by his kindness. That was so sweet of him. He definitely seemed like a fun Top, and I'd played nonsexually with men in the past.

"What about Ma'am?" I teased.

He smirked. "Fuck around and find out, girl."

I laughed.

"That's very kind of you—I might take you up on that, no matter what," I said. "My only hope for tomorrow was to explore predicament bondage and ceremonial poses."

He lifted his brows and turned to Penelope. "Hear that, Pen? Ceremonial poses. You love that nonsense."

Re. Lent. Less.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I heard her. You're not being subtle, Ash."

"Fuck subtle." Ash rose to his feet with a grunt. "I'mma grab a beer. You girls want anything? Another cider for the Swedish girl?"

"Oh—yes, please. Lane opened a tab for me." I held up my bottle so he could see what kind it was.

Now, what? He was just gonna leave us alone? I didn't like that one bit. Penelope had been clear; she wasn't interested. End of story.

"Thanks, but my tab is better," Ash replied. He turned to Penelope next, and she requested a glass of wine.

Tate and Kingsley got up at the same time, and Tate gave us a heads-up that the pizza would be here soon.

I had a choice now. Immediately excuse myself to go to the bathroom and spare myself awkwardness, push through the moment of awkwardness and make conversation with Penelope, or check my phone.

"I'd apologize for him, but for some reason, Ash's bull-in-a-china-shop approach has always worked with people."

I glanced at Penelope. Maybe I didn't have to make the choice after all.

I mustered a smile. "It's like he doesn't allow for anyone to feel uncomfortable."

"Yeah, that's him." She sighed and smirked ruefully. "I don't possess that gift."

I took a swig from my cider, and my stomach fluttered as she shifted closer on the sofa.

Evidently, it didn't take more than that for the whole world to disappear. I stopped hearing the murmur of conversation going on around us; I stopped hearing the country boys on their guitars.

"May I speak bluntly?" she asked.

Fuck. Helvetes j?vla skit . This was it.

"Of course." I swallowed. She was gonna ask me not to make a move or something. Or let me know she'd heard through the grapevine that I was interested, and she was letting me down gently.

It didn't feel gentle whatsoever.

"I would love to buy you a drink tomorrow at the event," she said, causing the noise of screeching tires to blare in my brain. She wanted to do what? "If you're interested in exploring a kink or getting together to see if we could play, I'm definitely game."

As wonderful as that sounded, I knew a but was coming.

"That's unfortunately it for me, though," she went on. A fancy kind of but, in other words. "I'm not in a good place in life, and you deserve someone who's not so damn jaded."

My heart sank; I couldn't help it. But it wasn't just self-pity. I felt for her. I could practically sense that she was too emotionally exhausted for games and beating around the bush. So…what, she was gonna stick to casual…? We'd all been there. It wasn't that long ago I'd broken up with my ex, and she'd been a fucking bitch toward the end. Manipulative and catty. I couldn't stand it.

We healed eventually, though, didn't we?

So would Penelope.

"Okay," I said. "I understand." It did sting, but I refused to give up. "If you were serious about the drink, I'm in. I would love to get to know you, at least."

Small as it was, her smile looked more genuine now. "Getting to know each other sounds good."

Two pizza slices and three drinks later, we had a whole new atmosphere in the pool area. The guitars had been replaced by Shay's Bluetooth speaker, Lucian and KC had taken their boys to bed, Colt had returned to his two, and Greer had wheeled out a cart with drinks and snacks.

I could also sense the difference in the Tops' behavior when they were faced with subs who weren't Littles. It was Shay, Lane, Archie, Tate, and me left on the subbie side. Throw in Penelope, Ash, River, Reese, Greer, Kingsley, and Ty…? Things just turned more…wolfish. A layer of "fun-loving Daddy" was peeled off to reveal primal cores.

The current hot topic was whether the brats were up to something, if they'd planned a prank or whatever, which all the Tops were convinced of. Being the brilliant girl that I was—one with a task—I discreetly recorded the conversation on my phone.

"Bullshit," Reese laughed. "You were gonna reveal somethin' on the cruise, and then you changed your plans."

"I swear we didn't!" Shay insisted. "Macklin talked about pranking Ash, but he decided to do that another time."

"I knew it!" Ash exclaimed. "That fuckin' brat, I swear. I'mma talk to Walker after the weekend. This can't go unpunished."

"This can't go unpunished," Lane mocked. "Sir, do you hear yourself? You're all obsessed with this so-called prank."

I took a sip of my cider to withhold my laughter.

This was fucking gold.

Tate and I exchanged a brief look, and we shared the same tiny smirk. I bet he was recording too.

Ash slid his stare to Ty. "What are your boundaries on outsiders putting your boy in his place?"

Ty smiled. "Clear-cut. If he dishes it out, he can take it back, but any escalation goes through me."

Lane scowled at Ty.

Ash was pleased. "Good to know."

Tate turned curious. "Are you two open?"

Both Ty and Lane shook their heads.

"Maybe down the line with a long list of boundaries, but we're happy with what we share with Macklin and Walker," Ty elaborated. "The only play I'm lookin' forward to one day is Lane going nuts with Shay, Macklin, and you."

"Fuck yeah." Reese was clearly on board, and it sounded like it was something they'd discussed before.

Tate smirked and cuddled deeper into Kingsley's embrace. "That'll be hot."

"The tatted-up primal boys—no doubt," Reese said. He nudged Ty. "Hopefully down in Florida, eh?"

"Absolutely. Back to the island." Ty and Reese bumped their fists.

I scrunched my nose.

This was such a dick show.

Sufficiently tipsified, I leaned on the armrest and spoke for only Penelope to hear. "So I get the love you have for these guys—you're basically family—but does it ever get to be too much?"

She'd had a few drinks too, so maybe that was why she chuckled and casually leaned toward me as well. "Both yes and no. No , because I love watching them interact. Fuck soap operas—I'd rather catch an episode of this never-ending battle of the wits. And yes , because obviously, I alienate myself when many of the private events are catered to men. But…" She trailed off and emptied her wineglass. Then she released a breath and smiled a little hollowly. "For the longest time, it wasn't an issue because I had Ella. Now I'm supposed to start over? I don't know how to do that."

Okay, I drank more. I freaking guzzled that cider like my life depended on it.

If I was going to listen to Penelope confess that she missed her ex, I needed every drop of alcohol.

"This is why I've decided to stay away from relationships," she went on. "I will happily play and host demos and turn into a for-the-night Domme. It's what I'm good for. One night. No more decade-long ordeals that end in heartbreak and self-doubt and…fuck it." She reached for a bottle of gin on the cart and poured some straight into her empty wineglass. "Let this be a teaching moment, Nora. You're not yourself in a relationship. You don't know what you're doing. I have no idea what I'm doing—even now. I just know…" She took a swig of the gin and made a face.

A breath gusted out of me, and I felt a little drunk and defeated and, honestly, defiant. Because I didn't agree with her.

"I just know," she repeated, "that I woke up one morning a few weeks ago, doubting every aspect of our relationship. The last few years, at least. Like, had we been happy or just…I don't know, settled? For instance, when I look at some of my friends—take Lucas and Colt. They've been together for almost as long as Ella and I were, and they're so happy. Even Tate and Kingsley, Macklin and Walker, who've all lived through breakups—but they reunited because they just couldn't fall out of love with each other."

I eyed her warily, and she looked at her friends before turning back to me.

Her hazel-green eyes burned with something so intense that it seared through the tipsy cloud.

"Ash is devastated without Nathan," she murmured. "They broke up a little over a year ago, and he still can't live without him. Ella and I were never like that. It's been…" She squinted and actually counted on her fingers. "Almost four months now…? And I don't even miss her. I don't love her anymore."

I swallowed hard and felt a rush of heat press itself to the surface, bleeding onto my cheeks.

She didn't miss Ella. She didn't love her anymore.

"And if it weren't for her betrayal, we would've still been here," she said. "Living together in okayness ." She shook her head and looked down into her glass. "We barely even fought. Growing up, I always heard—my mom, she called me her little hothead, and she said it was a good thing. ‘It's better to love and fight wildly than live on autopilot,' she said. And I think autopilot is exactly what I've been living on. Which…I'm now rambling about to a girl I just met."

I cracked a smile and dared to give her hand a brief squeeze.

"I'm an awesome listener, so it's okay," I said. "Besides, I've been known as somewhat of a hothead myself, and I can only imagine what you're going through. I'd probably doubt myself too—and wonder what I actually want."

She hummed and planted her elbow on the armrest, bringing us a little closer together. "What makes you a hothead?"

I smirked. "Depends who you ask. My big brother will say it's because I screamed like a banshee every time he was a pain in my ass when we grew up. Exes might say I'm impossible to deal with since I don't compromise on core beliefs and kinks, and I get pretty heated about it. My dad ?—"

She perked up. "But you shouldn't compromise on core shit. Do you have an example?"

I nodded. "My first girlfriend in BDSM. I need pain in my life, and I was willing to compromise on how I receive it—like, nonsexually from another Top, with my Domme watching or something. But she was uncomfortable with that, and she not-so-discreetly hinted that people have to compromise in relationships. It's unrealistic to expect a partner to cover every need?—"

Penelope scoffed. "That's manipulative bullshit. It's one thing to put a curiosity on the back burner or neglect a kink you only want once in a blue moon, but to ask a masochist to refrain from receiving pain…?"

"That's what I yelled at her the last time we fought," I laughed.

She grinned. " Good . Some people just piss me off—another solid reason to stick to this community." She nodded at the others. "I can handle these yahoos."

"Yeah, excuse me—I heard that," Ash said.

Oops?

He came over, and he must've already been on his way, because he was carrying two blankets.

"From one yahoo to another," he told Penelope pointedly, "we can handle you too."

"What he said." That was Greer, who came over with a bottle of tonic water. "You must've forgotten this earlier when you decided to check your reflection in the gin."

"Awww," I giggled. They were so sweet—and Penelope was properly chastised in a playful way. She groaned through a chuckle and hid behind the blanket. I smiled as Ash wrapped the other blanket around my shoulders. "Thank you, Sir."

"Anytime, kiddo." He ruffled my damn hair before he returned to his seat.

Ugh. I smoothed it down again.

"To be fair, you drink gin straight and ice-cold with lemon," Lane said frankly.

"That's my boy." Ty smooched him.

"Are you gonna take care of her when she's throwin' up in the pool?" Greer challenged.

"Hey." Penelope pushed down the blanket and scowled up at Greer. "Talk about something that's never happened."

"Doesn't matter," Greer replied dismissively. "Baby sisters get pushed around. Strong men like us? We obviously know better than you."

I spluttered a laugh, and Penelope offered him an incredulous look before she glanced my way.

"You see what I'm talking about?"

I nodded, finding the whole thing hysterical.

"My life comes with a laugh track," she added, nodding at the guys. So they were her laugh track?

Maybe it included me now too, 'cause this was too funny.

By midnight, my crush had never been so intense, probably because it'd been joined by neediness and overwhelming desire. Penelope was just so damn sexy and beautiful, and now I'd been sitting right next to her long enough that I was addicted to her presence.

I was getting a glimpse of what she'd meant when she'd told me she loved watching her friends interact. Considering how long the Founders had known one another, and how seamlessly new partners had been welcomed into the fold, it was like watching the longest-running sitcom. They joked, laughed hard, gave one another good-natured shit, walked down memory lane, and all but finished one another's sentences.

Reese was talking about a takedown they'd hosted for newbies years ago, and Penelope and Greer added their own anecdotes to the story. How awful it'd been—which they could clearly laugh about now—because said newbies had signed up for more than they could handle. Despite lengthy negotiations and demos, once the subs were sent down to the forest in the dark, all hell had broken loose.

"The little shits wouldn't even safeword," Greer groaned through a laugh. "They just whined and screamed."

Reese flicked Lane and me a glance. "It was nonsexual and low on pain and everythin'—we'd told them we'd just hunt them down and bring them back to the house."

I scrunched my nose. "Why sign up for a takedown if you don't like getting scared?"

I mean, I understood pushing one's limits and trying something new—that was part of the lifestyle—but still.

"The curse of the newbie," River muttered into his glass.

Penelope nodded. "Too much confidence, perhaps a crush or two on someone far more experienced—you wanna prove yourself."

Hmpf. I wanted to prove myself too, but throwing myself into a kink I couldn't handle—not even safewording to get myself out of the situation…? Nuh-uh.

"That's enough yawning for us, little one." Greer gave Archie a kiss and grabbed his hand. "Let's go to bed."

Oh, already? People around here went to bed so early! Ash had caught a ride with Kingsley and Tate an hour ago, after he and I had exchanged numbers, and I could tell that Lane and Ty were about to?—

"We're off too," Ty said, confirming my suspicion. He gathered a sleepy Lane in his arms and yanked him off the chair they'd shared. "More fuckery tomorrow."

Lane hummed in agreement and plastered himself to his man.

I wasn't envious at all.

Goodnights and see-you-tomorrows were exchanged, and I finished another cider.

I hoped River, Reese, and Shay wanted to stay up a while longer, because they were the only ones remaining soon enough. If they left, my evening with Penelope would be over.

Shay had just poured a new drink, thankfully, and Reese was lit and happy, back to strumming absently on his guitar.

"By the way, Pen, the Nashville crew will be here at ten tomorrow mornin'," he said.

"Oh good. I'll text Jack," she replied. "He said he was available till noon."

"Nashville crew?" Shay cocked his head.

Reese answered. "August, Anthony, and Camden." He glanced my way. "We have two Augusts in our circle now, so we dubbed the newcomers the Nashville crew. It's where they spend most of their time."

"Plus, Ivy's trying to make Auggie a thing with our original August," Penelope laughed.

"That ain't happenin," River chuckled. "We have one August, and the new one is just King."

"His last name," Penelope supplied to me.

I nodded, having met Camden, the Little in their triad—and I'd talked to him online too. August King was a famous chef, and it was possible I had downloaded a couple of his cookbooks. My parents loved Southern cooking.

Camden was one of those guys who looked much younger than he was. I'd guessed not a day over eighteen when we'd met, and then I'd heard he was around thirty.

"So who's in charge of this next Game?" Shay asked. "I want spoilers."

"Your Daddy, me, Jack, and August—King," Penelope clarified.

"And there'll be no spoilers, slave ," Reese said with a smirk.

Shay scowled.

I snickered. "That's gonna be so weird. I've never attended a TPE event before."

I'd seen plenty of scenes at play parties, participated in a few too, and I'd observed TPE dynamics, but a whole event revolving around it…?

"What was the primary kink over at Old Town?" River asked me, referring to my previous community.

"Sadomasochism and D/s," I answered. "Plenty of Bigs and Littles too."

Reese glanced at me. "But their pain play is different, innit?"

I nodded. "Yes, Sir. There's no room for primal play, so it's attracted more Sadists and masochists who get off on regular beatings. Like, strap someone to a cross and so on."

Reese nodded and looked down as he tinkered on a new song. "Max and Reid are good guys. They should join us here."

Best idea ever. Toward the end, Lane and I had mostly stayed because of Max and Reid and a couple others.

"Lane said there's always drama at Old Town," Shay mentioned.

"All the fucking time," I confirmed. "We never had a fancy online forum like you guys—Old Town has a Discord server that's filled with shit-talk, memes, and passive-aggressive digs."

River sat up a little straighter and gestured his drink at me. "I know how you can contribute to our fancy forum. You can post a recipe for a Swedish gravy we like—it's unhelpfully called brown sauce."

I spluttered a laugh. What the fuck?

"Oh yeah, the one we buy at IKEA," Shay said. "It's delicious."

Reese leaned forward and eyed his brother. "The fuck're you gonna do with a recipe, Riv?"

"Hand it to you." River didn't miss a beat.

Penelope and I laughed.

Undeterred, River returned his attention to me. "Have you heard of that sauce?"

"Yes, Sir," I chuckled. "It's a staple—and very easy to make. I can get you a recipe."

River sat back again, pleased as punch. "Fantastic."

Penelope shifted in her seat, facing me better, and smiled curiously. "Where in Sweden are you from? And before you answer, I should mention I've only heard of Stockholm and…I wanna say Lund? I went to grad school with someone from there."

Huh. That was interesting. "Okay, so both Stockholm and Lund are part of the bottom third of the country—the populated part." Half a joke. "I'm from there too. I grew up in three towns, first Link?ping, then Uppsala, then Ronneby. You may forget the names now."

She grinned. "Already did."

I caught River throwing me a pensive expression in the background.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know a whole lot about Sweden either, but those are military towns, aren't they?"

If he knew that about Sweden, he might know more than most Swedes did. "Um, sort of," I answered, nodding slowly. Technically, we didn't have military towns like the US did, but yes, he was correct in a way. "Uppsala is more known as a university town, but there's also an Air Force flight school—which is pretty much how you can track my upbringing. We went wherever they sent my dad until he left the service. He's an engineer."

Was River military or something? More than that, had he been to Sweden or worked with someone from my country? Otherwise, I couldn't see why he'd know that.

"Then you're in good hands at Mclean," Reese said firmly, pressing a kiss to Shay's temple. "We love our engineers. Especially if we get to call them slaves and hunt them down."

I lifted my brows. "I'll make sure to tell my dad that."

Penelope cracked up, Shay snickered, and River rumbled a laugh that made him cough around a mouthful of whiskey.

I beamed.

Reese shook his head in amusement. "Definitely a brat. I'll have a word with Ash before the Game."

Um, why ? "Why would you talk to him?"

"He'll be your Top for the event, won't he?"

I nodded.

"So I can make you suffer through him." He smiled.

I dropped my jaw.

What. The. Fuck?

Penelope smiled too. "Welcome to Mclean House, Nora."

The dreaded time came, when Shay was yawning and Reese wanted to take their boy to bed. River had been drifting between half sleeping and smirking lazily at the conversation flowing; he was definitely the type of man who liked to listen to what was going on around him.

I was tired too, but I'd ended up having so much fun tonight that I didn't want the evening to be over.

"Yeah, I better get some sleep if I'm gonna be sharp at ten," Penelope said. "I can return the drink cart if you just lift the thing up on the deck, Reese. Since you're a big, strong man who knows better than me."

I snickered and rose to my feet, and I folded the blankets Ash had provided for us.

Reese furrowed his brow. "I feel like I'm gettin' punished for somethin' Greer said."

"I'm fine with that," Penelope replied.

Shay and I chuckled at the toppy Tops' staredown, which ended with Reese going, "If I throw you in the pool at some point, don't ask why."

River yawned and absently cracked his knuckles. "Y'all have two primal brats watchin'. Last thing we need is them throwin' a divide-and-conquer op on our asses."

I exchanged a quick, subtle glance with Shay. We were going to file this away, for sure. Causing playful rifts between Tops could be hysterical.

"If they end up doin' that, it's because you just gave them the idea," Reese shot back. "They wouldn't have come up with it on their own. Brats aren't bright."

Hey!

I wasn't gonna take that bait, but hey !

"Good one, Daddy," Shay drawled. "Let's hit the sack."

Yeah, I supposed it was time.

I kept the blankets, not sure where they belonged, but they shouldn't be outside overnight. I could place them on the bar or ask Penelope.

Reese helped her with the drink cart, up on the deck, till she could wheel it indoors, and I followed once we'd exchanged goodnights with the guys.

The club area was pretty dark, only illuminated by the spotlights along the underside of the bartop. To be honest, the silence and the emptiness of such a large place left me with an eerie feeling. The club was supposed to be packed with kinksters and flashing with purple lights, music pumping, kink furniture occupied… I'd overheard Reese earlier saying only three people were spending the night in the main house, which was uncommon for a Friday.

Tomorrow would be different. They'd host an event, and those attracted a larger crowd.

I hadn't decided yet if I was staying the night tomorrow as well. The play party wrapped up at six, at which point I could probably catch a ride with Ty and Lane. I knew they were heading home after the event.

"Do you have everything you need up in your room, Nora? I don't know about you, but when I've had more drinks than I can count on one hand, I need painkillers and water on my nightstand."

I smiled and left the blankets on the bartop. "I'm okay. Four ciders aren't enough to make me hungover."

She sighed and opened the fridge. "Ah, to be young…"

Like she was old? Pffft. She hadn't even turned forty yet.

"Humor me, please." She extended a bottle of water across the bartop. "You didn't eat much for dinner either."

My subbie senses tingled and fired off multicolored flares, and the girl with a massive crush—AKA, me—wondered if Penelope was like this with all the subs around here. She probably was, right? I mean, she was a Founder, and I'd heard so many things about how protective and caregiving they were out here.

I accepted the bottle and unscrewed the cap, and…I cursed myself because I was going to be too honest. I felt the urge to be blatant bubble up within me, and I could stop myself, at the same time as I couldn't. Don't say it, don't say it. I'm gonna say it . Fuck my life.

"Thank you. I'm gonna pretend you only do this with special subs."

She laughed softly and rested her arms on the counter. "That's cute. I guess my warning earlier hasn't deterred you from flirting."

What warning? That she only wanted casual arrangements?

Um, no.

"A girl can dream." I took a swig of the water before mirroring her move on my side of the bar, resting my arms on the counter. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. I'm just…" I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, trying to come up with the best way to say this. "I know you've been through a lot, so if my flirting just makes you smile or improves your day, then it's not for nothing."

She smiled slightly, and her hazel gaze felt a few degrees warmer. "That's very honest."

"Not to mention straightforward, another reason I had to get out of Sweden," I joked.

She grinned and rested her chin in her hand. "Are you saying Swedes aren't honest?"

Well…

"No, I'd say we are, but we're also a reserved bunch," I said. "When we get angry, we write a strongly worded note to our neighbors and leave it anonymously in the elevator. Or we take to Facebook to rant. Meanwhile—" I gigglesnorted. So attractive. "Before we moved to the US, we lived on a quiet street—small houses, even smaller backyards—and this one neighbor would go out and mow his lawn in the middle of the night when he'd been fighting with his wife. I was like twelve, maybe thirteen, and I opened my window on the second floor and just laid into him. Like, ‘Are you serious right now? It's two in the fucking morning, and I have school tomorrow! Stop bitching at your wife, or find a quieter hobby!'" I beamed as Penelope laughed. She had the most gorgeous laugh. Warm and light, almost musical. "This douchebag was the one who'd messed up, but it was my mom who apologized. She was so embarrassed by my outburst."

Penelope shook her head in amusement, down to chuckles. "Hotheaded and salty. I like it."

I liked seeing her in high spirits. She'd been carefree the whole evening. Well, once she'd relaxed around me.

She offered a softer smile and briefly covered my hand with hers. "It is flattering, by the way. The flirting. I can't imagine what you'd dream about with me—to use your words—but I've enjoyed myself tonight. More than I thought I would."

Welp. That was quite honest of her too—and boy, did it make me feel good! I couldn't hide my grin.

"Ma'am, you don't have to imagine. I can tell you if you want," I replied.

I was sure I came off as a puppy who'd just caught a whiff of a treat, but I didn't care. The amusement hadn't left her eyes, and that was a good sign.

Her smile hadn't faded either. "Okay." She nodded once, as if to herself, and straightened a little. "What exactly is it you dream about?"

A chance with you.

The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, along with hopes of dates, tons of kink, love, and sailing off into the sunset together. But given her history—and honestly, how many people past their thirties had life experience that shot down romantic optimism?—I held back those words.

I didn't wanna overwhelm her. At the same time, I wanted her to know my wishes weren't founded in spur-of-the-moment thoughts or a days-old infatuation.

"I guess I should start by saying there are a handful of Dommes I've followed online and at events as a newbie," I admitted. "I've stumbled across your posts and online journaling, and then I've attended demos you've hosted around the city. And you and Ella went to a few parties around Logan Circle."

She inclined her head. "I have friends in a more lesbian-oriented community there."

That made sense.

"Right, so you're one of those Dommes—admittedly the one I've followed the most," I said. "And, you know…" Satan ocks? . All of a sudden, the courage drained out of me, and I felt exposed in a moment where I had zero confidence about the future. My mouth went dry, and I rubbed the back of my neck. "In the end, I guess I want to turn a for the night into a second and a third and a fourth, but yeah. Yeah."

Thank fuck, she took pity on my fumbling, and she gathered one of my hands in both of hers. Then she surprised me by kissing my knuckles, causing me to stand ramrod straight and suck in a breath.

Good development or bad? Was she gonna let me down easy again or?—

"Just a few hours ago, I would've… Well, I said what I said to you." She lowered my hand to the counter again but kept it in her grasp. "I'm not going to say it again, partly because I can't do it as confidently. Just…please don't get your hopes up with me, pet. It has absolutely nothing to do with you—in fact, you're kind of testing my resolve…"

She called me pet.

I'm testing her resolve.

I wasn't gonna push. I just couldn't back away either. I stood there, verbally frozen—if that was a thing—but I inched forward a little. I couldn't help it. It was the strangest sensation to be warned and complimented at the same time. I couldn't speak, and yet I leaned forward as if she beckoned me. Until our stances were mirrored once more and mere inches separated us. Goddamn the bartop—it was in the way.

Did she have to be so damn beautiful? She radiated warmth and softness, all while her edge never disappeared out of sight.

"You should get some sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am."

But neither of us moved, and a beat later, I felt the heat crackling. It was ignited by a single flash of desire in her eyes, which sent a blaze of fire through me. Fuck me, but she was something else. What would it be like to follow her? To be owned by her? To serve her, to kiss every freckle, to…

She broke the spell with a sigh, but rather than averting her gaze and putting distance between us, she leaned forward and gently knocked her forehead to mine. Like a silent, "What am I gonna do with you?"

I swallowed dryly. Maybe the spell wasn't broken after all, 'cause I felt feverish. Need imploded within me, and I clenched my thighs together.

She closed her eyes, and she swallowed too. In the deafening silence of the empty club, it was so easy to hear the slightest sound. And then, maybe I chipped away at her resolve some more, because she closed the last distance and pressed her lips to mine, followed by her fingers shaping themselves to my jaw.

So this is how I die.

All my thoughts sank into a pool of hot water, where they became background noise to the most epic win I'd had in a long time. Mistress Penelope was kissing me. Holy fuck, she was kissing me. I kissed her back tentatively, brushing my lips against hers as she did with mine. Just for a few seconds, before she deepened the kiss. Her soft lips, her soft tongue, the taste of gin and lemon, and her manicured nails gently pressing into my jaw nearly short-circuited my brain.

I shivered violently and completely surrendered. As if I'd ever put up a fight…

She took her time and wouldn't let me get ahead of myself. Whenever I tried to kiss her a little harder or deeper, she tightened her grip on my jaw or nipped at my bottom lip.

"Easy, girl," she whispered.

But I'm needy-wanty!

"Sorry," I whispered back instead.

That made her smile, and she gave me a hungry kiss that I felt fucking everywhere. I had to cross my damn legs to get some friction, and goose bumps appeared across my arms.

With a sensual twist of her tongue around mine, she had me in the palm of her hand.

My hands—I didn't know what the fuck to do with my hands, but then it didn't matter, because she broke away and told me to stay put. I blinked, in a daze, and watched as she rounded the bar. Yes, yes, yes, yes . She came over to me, the determination and lust so clear in her eyes, and she got her hands on me again. She pressed me up against the bar, cupped my face in her hands, and kissed me hard and deep.

I drew a shaky breath and threw my arms around her neck, to which she let hers drop to my hips.

I pressed myself against her, needing everything she could give, and she finally let me be greedy.

We made out hungrily, as if our lives depended on it, and it felt like she threw caution to the wind. At least for the moment. Her hands roamed my body, slowly, firmly, greedily, over my hips, up my ribs, cupping the undersides of my tits…

I whimpered and flushed.

"More," I pleaded.

Holy fuck, she didn't deny me. I'd been so sure she'd slow things down. Instead, she cranked it up, pinching my nipple and letting one of her hands drop low. She cupped my pussy through my shorts, and I could barely believe it.

I gasped and rolled my hips into her hand, and she cursed under her breath.

"I can feel how warm you are…"

You should feel how wet I am…

I swallowed dryly and latched on to her, already forbidding her from leaving my side. I couldn't speak, but I could let my body do the talking for everything I craved.

Please, please, please.

Another needy whimper slipped out, and I kissed her harder. Deep and passionate, already addicted, so fucking hooked, and spinning out of control.

Maybe she was too. Because the second she slipped her hand down my shorts, there could be no going back. We both shivered, and she eased her middle finger between my lips. I moaned and buried my face against her neck. Heat exploded within me, and?—

"So soft and smooth," she whispered. "Fucking perfect."

"Please don't stop," I managed to get out.

She didn't. She pushed two fingers inside me and pressed her thumb down on my clit, and my fucking knees almost caved. Oh my God, this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly.

"This was what you wanted?"

I nodded quickly and tightened my hold on her. "To start with. Holy fuck."

She chuckled softly and kissed my neck, and she drew the most enticing circles around my clit.

I was fucking soaked, and I felt like my pussy had its own pulse and heartbeat, just pumping blood and deep desire.

"I want to make you feel good too," I begged.

"I already do." She fingered me harder, adding a third digit, and that was the sweet spot.

"But—"

"I know what you mean," she whispered. Then she caught me in a kiss, and I could only go along with the ride. I had lost the ability to move properly. "Another time, maybe. All I want right now is to see you get off."

Christ, she was about to. I could already feel the heat surging throughout my body. My heart was officially hammering in my chest, and I couldn't stop pushing to meet her every movement.

I was swimming in pleasure, and I cried out, both in frustration and euphoria, when the orgasm began crashing down on me. I wasn't ready, I wasn't ready, I wasn't ready! I didn't want the moment to be over, but fuck, it felt so good. I lost my breath, and the bliss consumed me in fiery waves.

I heard her whispers, almost as if she was standing far away or we were underwater.

Goddamn beautiful.

That's it…lose it all to me.

So wet and tight.

The aftershocks rocked through me, and I slumped back against a barstool. Penelope followed instantly, righting my shorts and kissing my jaw.

"I don't know who needed that more, you or me," she murmured.

In my eyes, I hadn't given her anything, so I wasn't sure what she was referring to.

"My brain is mush…" I mustered a sleepy grin, one she mirrored.

Then she kissed me softly and rubbed her nose to mine. "I'll walk you upstairs. Tomorrow we'll spend more time together…?"

Hell yes. I nodded.

I wanted to spend the night with her too, but I could be patient.

Somewhat.