Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

Rowan’s art career continued to soar, as well. She already had enough commissions to keep her busy for the next several years, along with an upcoming gallery show where she was the featured artist.

But best of all, and far more important than the rest, was the encompassing love that had blossomed between them. Along with the love, they were engaged in a deeper, more intensive exploration into erotic pain that thrilled them both. He remained in awe of his sub girl, who accepted each new challenge with grace and courage.

Eric had spent a decade in the scene before meeting Rowan. He’d always prided himself on his in-depth knowledge of BDSM and his sensitivity to the submissive experience. He’d convinced himself that his role as trainer gave him all the satisfaction he needed, allowing him a rich variety of experience. But through it all, he’d kept his heart carefully out of the equation.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d expected the subs he worked with to trust him—to give him their all—but he’d been unable or unwilling to give fully of himself in return.

With Rowan, he’d found the courage, at last, to love without reservation. Rowan had made it safe for him to be as vulnerable and honest as he expected her to be. As a result, he had never been happier, or more in love.

“Brrr,” Rowan said, shivering as the flakes fell faster. “It’s getting cold out here.” She looked so lovely, snow dappling her dark hair, the streetlamps illuminating her face as she smiled up at him. She was wearing the full-length red down coat he’d bought her the week before as an early Christmas present.

He still smiled as he recalled her horror when she’d seen the price tag, which he’d stupidly forgotten to remove. “Eric, this cost a fortune,” she’d exclaimed. “I saw something nearly as nice as this at that cool consignment store in SoHo for a fraction of the price. It was a little worse for wear, but perfectly serviceable. We could return this and—”

“No,” Eric had interrupted, chuckling with exasperation. “This is a gift, Rowan. You can’t go returning a gift, silly girl. You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?”

“No,” she exclaimed, color rising in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I—”

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart,” he’d said, pulling her into his arms. “But seriously, I want to make sure my sub girl stays warm this winter. We’re both making good money now, have you forgotten? You’re allowed to have new things once in a while—things no one else has worn before you. Got it?”

“Got it,” she replied, her dark eyes dancing. Then a sly look had moved over her pretty face as she pulled out a long, flat box from under her side of the mattress. “And since we’re giving presents early, here’s one for you. And for the record, though I know how to remove price tags, I bought it brand new, so there.”

Now he pulled the cream-colored cashmere scarf closer around his neck, his heart so full it actually hurt. He kept his arm around Rowan as the sidewalks began to slick with snow. When they reached Salome’s, he pushed open the door, gesturing for her to precede him.

Josh, the assistant manager, was behind his small podium, taking money from a group of four people, three guys and a woman, all dressed head to toe in black leather. Once the group had moved inside, without really looking at Eric and Rowan, Josh said, “Welcome to Salome’s Lair. That’ll be ninety dollars for the two of you.”

“Oh, we’re not staying, Josh,” Eric said. “We’re just here to collect Olivia and Michael. Are they around?”

Josh looked up sharply, apparently focusing on them for the first time. “Oh, Eric, hi,” he said, rubbing his face. “Sorry. I knew that. You can go on back. They’re in the office.”

As they walked through the club, Eric breathed in the heady scents of leather, sweat and lust. They passed an imposing woman in her forties Eric had seen a time or two before at Salome’s, though they’d never met. She had long, dark red hair and very fair skin. That night she wore a clingy green satin gown and six-inch mules. She held a long-handled, single-tail whip, which she was using on a tall, naked man bent forward and cuffed into a set of stocks. His ass and the backs of his thighs were striped with long red welts.

Eric’s cock tingled as he automatically replaced the male sub in his mind’s eye with Rowan, her luscious ass offered for his lash. He wouldn’t have minded enjoying a scene or two with his sub girl but they had dinner reservations, and Michael and Olivia were expecting them.

The office was located at the back of the club, next to a recovery space that had been set up with a small cot and a loveseat. A counter with a built-in sink had been set along the wall, a neat stack of folded hand towels and a first-aid kit on top of it.