More than a Dare (Masters Club 4)

“You should get Cam’s take, Hayden,” Jack encouraged.

Hayden considered this. Cameron had relaxed a lot since getting together with Jess, but the guy could still be pretty stiff. At this point, Hayden was ready to take advice where he could get it, if it meant getting Dahlia back.

“Sure, yeah. Whatever,” he agreed.

While Hayden was trying to decide where to start, Jack turned to Cameron. “He’s hit a rough patch in his new relationship.”

Cameron’s brow quirked. “Did I just hear you say relationship and Hayden in the same sentence?” he teased.

“Ha,” Hayden retorted. “You’re one to talk.”

“Right?” Jess interjected with a smirk. “He came this close to losing me.” She held up a hand, thumb and forefinger nearly touching. The beautiful gold and diamond wedding band on her ring finger sparkled in the firelight.

“True enough,” Cameron added with a sheepish grin. “I’m probably not one to give advice. Although maybe I am, since I’m a reformed commitment-phobe myself. So, tell me, what’s happening exactly?”

Hayden gave an abbreviated version of what had transpired that afternoon.

“Hmm,” Cameron said slowly, once he’d heard the story. “From the sound of things, if you’re harboring some idea of making Dahlia into your dream sex slave, that might not be realistic. That said, if things were going as well as you said up until that particular scene, don’t give up. Find a way to make it work.”

“That’s the thing,” Hayden protested. “I wanted to. I practically begged her to stay so we could talk it through and regroup. She’s the one who bailed.”

“I could talk to her,” Jess volunteered. “We hit it off both times we met. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with her again anyway. I could maybe give her some sub-to-sub advice about dealing with difficult Doms,” she added, her eyes sparkling.

“That’s a great idea,” Hayden replied, grasping at Jess’s offer like a lifeline. “Please. As soon as possible.”

“I’ll text her in the morning.” Jess turned to Cameron. “If that’s all right with you, Sir?”

“It’s a great idea,” Cameron agreed, placing a hand on Jess’s shoulder as they smiled at one another. “I have to go in to the office anyway.”

Jess turned back to Hayden. “I’ll see if maybe I can get her to meet me for breakfast.”

Cameron got to his feet and extended a hand to Jess. “Now that we solved that,” he said with a wry smile, “it’s time I put this saucy sub through her paces.”

After they’d left the room, Jack said, “Hang in there, bro. It’ll work out like it’s supposed to.”

But that was the question, wasn’t it?

How, exactly, was it supposed to work out?

Once Jack had departed, Hayden finished his brandy and left the club without even stepping into the main dungeon. Back in his apartment, he tried to focus on work, but soon gave up. He riffled through a few medical journals. After rereading the same page three times with zero retention, he gave that up as well.

He wasted some time scrolling around on the internet, glancing every so often at his cell, in case Dahlia had texted. Finally, giving in, he picked up the phone and thumbed a message.

Sub Dahlia. How dare you run out on me? I am your Master. Come back now, or suffer the consequences.

He reread what he’d typed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He hit delete, and tried again.

Dahlia. I know you asked for a timeout, but I am going nuts over here. I’m so sorry I pushed you too far, too fast. I promise to do better. Come back. We’ll start over.

Delete.

You doing okay? I’d love to stop by and just check in, if that works for you.

Delete.

With a sigh, he put the phone down.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~

Had she done the right thing, running away as she had? Leaving hadn’t felt like a choice at the time, but rather a necessity. She’d had to get out, to get some space, to try to untangle the jumble of her thoughts and feelings.

When the elevator had opened at the lobby of his building, she’d hurtled from its confines, barely acknowledging the doorman’s polite greeting as she burst out into the frigid sunshine. The city was still covered in snow, though the plows had managed to clear the roads, leaving huge piles of gray, sludgy yuck along the curbs. The crisp air was invigorating, and she’d decided to walk the twelve or so blocks from his place to hers. She’d had to go slowly, because of lingering patches of ice on the scraped sidewalks.

She’d finally arrived at her place as the sun was slipping behind the buildings. After retrieving a handful of junk mail from her mailbox, she made her way up to her apartment. Fumbling with the key, she let herself into the small, silent space. Peeling off her scarf and mittens and hanging her coat on the rack, she’d made a beeline for the bathroom.