Sex Addict (Cowboy Addiction 2)

As they walked closer to the foyer, Holly picked up her pace again. She wanted this behind her as quickly as possible. It was bad enough that her lovers’ little sister didn’t like her. The last thing she needed was to bump into Morgan as she walked the submissive’s stroll of shame.

She lowered her eyes as if to say to those in the world of Domination and submission she was submitting to her Dom’s request. As if Morgan wouldn’t know. She often disappeared with Blake and Grant for hours at a time.

Holly always suspected they were downstairs, but she would’ve never guessed what she might have experienced there. And she wouldn’t have thought the Keesling little sister—once a crystal meth junkie—would be stable enough to step into the role of a submissive.

Soon, Holly would log her own hours there in that dimly lit dungeon, too. She wondered then if she’d lost her mind. What kind of woman relinquished all control to her lovers?

She’d heard horror stories in the past which was one reason she typically didn’t become involved with Doms in the first place. In today’s world, and particularly in the strip club business she’d recently left behind, anything could happen.

A woman entering Domination and submission had to understand the consequences. More than anything else, submissives needed complete trust and the willingness to hand over her devotion and loyalty to the Doms in charge of her pleasure and care. She took a deep breath. She wondered then—could she trust Kit and Kemper enough?

She knew the answer without hesitation—absolutely.

They hit the last stair, and Kit guided her off to the right. “No,” she shrieked. “The basement is left! Go left!”

“Morgan and Mrs. Daniels are in the kitchen. We’ll walk through there first.”

“Why?” she screeched.

“Why not?” Kit asked.

“Can I use a safe word at some point?”

Kit stopped and used her body to spin her around. “What do you know about safe words?” he asked, his eyes aglow with the knowledge she’d hidden how much she understood about the lifestyle.

“Enough,” she replied. “I’d like to use my safe word right now. It’s sexathon.”

“I like that one,” Kemper told her, grinning at Kit. “Guess she just dropped a tit in your watering mouth, huh?”

Kit grunted. “I’ll survive.”

“Good,” Kemper said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the basement. As the noises from the kitchen faded behind her, Kemper whispered in her ear, “You played right into his hand, you know. He suspected you understood more about the lifestyle than you’d ever admit.”

“He used the threat of public embarrassment so I’d come clean?”

“His tactics worked, didn’t they?” Kemper asked, arching a brow. “You can’t knock the life when you obviously love it.”

“I do not,” she snipped, trailing behind him after he walked in front of her.

When they reached the middle of the room, Kemper swept her off her feet, carrying her cradle-style to the solid stool behind the ugly blue curtain. Her body was overly sensitive to his touch, the excitement tickling her muscles as the heat and moisture pooled at her entrance.

Without an explanation, Kemper drew the drapes. “I have to work. Kit will be down in a minute to get you started. Your training will keep you busy this afternoon. I’ll see you later.” He dropped a peck on her forehead and disappeared on the other side of the curtain.

“You aren’t leaving me down here!” she screamed, standing at once. Nudging her knee against the curtain, she managed to squeeze between the heavy material and wall. Breaking free of the entrapment, she walked three steps—maybe four—and bumped right into Kit.

“Kemper is tied up all afternoon. Good thing, too. Now, by the looks of things here, it’s only me and you.”

“I can hardly wait.”

His fingers rubbed over her hard nipples. “Yes, I see that. In fact, I’ve never seen a submissive woman nearly this excited.”

Chapter Eight

Morgan was studying a new filly at the fence when Kemper joined her. “Hey there, pretty little sister. How’s it going?”

She smiled as their new arrival toddled off on wobbly legs, spooked when Kemper appeared at the fence. “Question is, how are you?”

“I’m great,” he replied, beaming.