Never buried too deep, her anger rose to the surface as the surgery came to a close. He had no right to have such a strong effect on her, certainly not to the point where she screwed up her position in the OR. Just like Kurt, Dax had left her to cope alone, and while she couldn’t deny how happy she was to see him again, she had no intentions of turning to him for her needs. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. Her damn body would just have to wait a little longer to be appeased.
“I’m done here. Finish closing up,” Dax instructed the resident, but he drilled Krista with an intent, probing look before he strode across the room, whipped off his gown, mask and gloves, and walked out without a backward glance.
“Is that doctor always so testy?” the new guy asked as he began suturing.
Marybeth, who had been at the hospital before Krista, answered with a frown. “No, at least, he wasn’t before he took a hiatus.” Shrugging, she helped her spread an extra blanket over their patient. “Maybe he’s just having trouble getting back into the swing of things.”
If so, he’s not the only one, Krista thought as she watched them wheel the gurney out before starting the clean-up and prep for the next case.
“Krista.”
Whirling around at the deep voice that warmed her in places that had no business heating while at work, Krista tried to control her spiked pulse as she stared at Dax. Stiffening against the pull she couldn’t seem to escape or control, she drew a shuddering breath. “Doctor. Can I help you with something?”
“Why didn’t you call Sean Bates? I gave you his card.”
The personal inquiry caught her off guard and she didn’t understand the anger behind his question, which yanked at her own simmering annoyance. In her eyes, his desertion meant he didn’t deserve an explanation, or even have the right to question her. Because they were at work, and he was her superior, she fought back the urge to lash out and answered in a polite, but cool tone.
“I meant, can I help you with something that pertains to the case?”
Dax approached her with slow, measured steps, the hard glint in his eyes igniting a fuse inside her Krista struggled to snuff out. She had forgotten how far up she had to look when he stood in front of her, but not how her body tingled from his close proximity. Yeah, she definitely needed a long, sweaty scene filled with painful stimulation to get herself under control.
“I need to know, little one. Why—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, forgetting for a second where they were and his status. He’d only called her that endearment twice, once the night of their ménage, and again as he’d left her home after Kurt’s funeral. As far as she was concerned, he’d lost the right to refer to her by anything except her name when he’d walked away without a word, leaving her to struggle alone.
He challenged Krista’s bravado when his eyes narrowed and his face turned granite hard, but with considerable effort, she kept her eyes locked on his without blanching. Her traitorous body, however, responded to Dax’s threatening dominance with a swift surge of lust that both irritated and sent a thrill through her. Damn, and she thought she’d gotten past this need to cater to a Dom’s whims. Maybe the sudden ache clenching her muscles was for what she remembered he could do for her, instead of the other way around. She could only hope.
“Be careful, Krista. I may have just returned, but you still answer to me in this room, and I don’t care for your tone, no matter what I ask you. You haven’t been taking care of yourself. It shows in your work.” He held up a hand, stopping her instant rebuke. “I’m not complaining, I’m concerned. I left you my friend’s information not just because he could counsel you through your grief, but because he’s also a Dom. He could’ve helped you cope in other ways. Tell me why you didn’t contact him.”
His low-voiced command held her place. She’d missed yielding to a Master’s desires as much as she’d missed witnessing the pleasure her submission gave him, but damn it, this time around she swore she’d cater to her desires first.
Desperate to put space between them, she edged around his large frame and started gathering up the used instruments without looking at him. “I’m a very private person…” She hesitated, torn between whether to address him with their past familiarity or with their present formality. Unsure, she left it off and said, “I have my best friend if I need a shoulder to cry on or someone to listen. As for the rest… I’ll see to those needs on my own, as well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I have work to do.”
Dax clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for Krista as she scooted out of the quiet room. He knew the chill invading his body had nothing to do with the colder temperature of the OR, but with the glacial look in her blue eyes when she’d glared up at him. He thought he’d prepared himself for seeing her again, but nothing could have readied him for the impact of her ravaged face or the dullness of her once vivid blue eyes, or how much it hurt seeing the toll the last months had taken on her. The contented, sated expression that had first snared his attention was gone from her face, replaced with an aching need too long denied. He regretted that above all else, the guilt cramping his abdomen just another contrition he had to live with.
He now had confirmation time and distance had done nothing to dull his feelings or lessen his lust for the one woman beyond his reach, but that didn’t change anything. Until he knew whether he had aided in speeding along Kurt’s death as an act of mercy or for his own benefit, he refused to touch his friend’s widow again, regardless of how much he craved to do so or how much she obviously needed someone to take her under control again. Sean or Miles could give her both the relief and pleasure she used to gain from submitting. Krista needed to get back into the BDSM scene as much as he did, although for different reasons. As much as it would bother him to do it, he could see about coaxing her into submitting to someone he had implicit trust in. From her cool reception, it might be a battle, but he wasn’t a Dom for nothing.
A static beep went off at his waist and Dax checked his pager for the message. The summons to the ER for an incoming possible heart attack sent him spinning around and trekking to the elevators without pause. An egotistical thrill shot a burst of adrenaline through him, aiding in hastening his steps. Some called it a God complex, a label pinned on a lot of doctors who thought they walked on water. Funny thing was, he enjoyed that feeling more when in the middle of a scene, and he had a willing submissive shaking in her bonds from the exalted sensations he’d stirred to life, than when he literally held a person’s life in his hands. In a way, both subs and his patients had to have implicit trust in him to get what they needed from his expertise and experience, the biggest difference being the women he took under his control got off on the pain he was responsible for, unlike his poor patients.
Two hours later, Dax left both the hospital and the urge to seek out Krista one more time. The emergency case turned out to be a minor heart attack and left him with a new patient who would bear watching. Dax loved his chosen profession, but the stress could ruin a person if he or she couldn’t find a way to channel some of the mental strain. For him, that outlet had been in discovering his penchant for alternative sex, and as he slid into his car, he knew he had to work around his desire for one woman and get back into the swing of things with wholehearted enthusiasm. He couldn’t continue with half-hearted ardor, as he had at the two gatherings on the yacht. Both he and the women he hooked up with needed more.
Thursday evening, after another tense few hours of enduring Krista’s assistance that morning, a phone call from Troy, a Pensacola cop, offered Dax a good excuse to forgo the comfortable familiarity of getting together with just his friends at a play party this weekend and jump back into the club scene.
“What’s up, Troy?” Kicking back in his favorite recliner, he tilted the cold beer he’d snatched the minute he entered his house and relished the first swallow easing his dry throat and tense day.
“Hey, Dax. I could use a favor this weekend if you don’t already
have plans.”
“No, no plans, unless we’re getting together on the yacht again.”
“Ray will be in town a few days, so Trevor and I are hooking up with him, and Zach’s headed back to Alabama with Sandie for the next week. I hate to impose, but the thing is, I got a second-hand accounting of possible abuse at a new club in Miami, a place called The Dungeon. Original, huh?” Troy said with a dose of hard-to-miss sarcasm that drew a smile from Dax.
“I wonder how long it took someone to come up with it. What do you need from me?”
Dax was only too willing to aid in stopping any type of behavior that wasn’t safe, sane and consensual—three hardcore lines most clubs didn’t allow members to cross. But there were always a few bad apples in an otherwise healthy bushel. Ray was the cop who had busted the brothers for vandalism, then arranged to have them sent to the camp for juvenile delinquents where they’d all met. By the time they were released at the end of those labor intense, counseling probing weeks, Ray had become a foster parent, and already petitioned to take in the orphaned brothers. The three of them were close, and if Troy’s favor meant freeing up time for him and Trevor to spend with the now retired cop, he’d be happy to step up.
“Just a few hours of observance at this new place, let me know if you catch anything or anyone who bears looking into. I was at the Pensacola club last night and heard the rumor through the sub I was with, supposedly a friend of hers who refuses to file a complaint or even talk to anyone except Amy, my friend.”
“Friend, huh?” Dax couldn’t help but needle Troy as he’d heard him mention Amy before. He usually didn’t play with the same woman more than a few times, at least not without a long separation in between playdates.
“Don’t go there, bro,” Troy warned lightly. “It’s about as serious as you are with anyone right now.”
“Got it,” he returned, ignoring the instant pop-up of Krista’s face in his head. “I’ll give Sean and Miles a call. Between the three of us, we should be able to cover the place. I wouldn’t mind catching the asshole. I could use a good excuse to take a swing at someone.”
“Just don’t let Miles near him, if you do spot abuse. I don’t want to hear he’s been arrested.”
“I hear you. I’ll talk to them and get back to you.”
Dax hung up and took another long pull on his beer. This little surveillance excursion could work in his favor. He could use the time to mention Krista to Sean and Miles, and also get back into the swing of spending some time at a club relieving the stress of his week with a willing sub who wanted nothing more than a few hours of his time. With any luck, the impersonal atmosphere of a new place would work more in his favor than the small gatherings on the yacht with his friends had. Rising, he refused to question the lack of excitement he used to feel whenever he contemplated an evening indulging in his favorite extracurricular activity at a popular club, or how he’d rather be on the yacht with only his few, close friends and a select guest he’d chosen to join him. He had enough to come to terms with considering the twist in his gut when he imagined either Sean or Miles’ hands on Krista.
“Strip.”
Krista shivered as she sent a quick look around the jam-packed room. Reaching for the hem of the simple, spaghetti-strapped sundress, she pulled it over her head, baring her breasts in public for the first time since her and Kurt’s last visit to their club. She’d chosen The Dungeon because it was a new place, and she didn’t want to add to the stress of her first step back into the lifestyle by having to face their friends again at her and Kurt’s regular club, Chains.
The cold, dark eyes of the Dom she’d agreed to scene with added to her nervousness, his impersonal evaluation of her body doing little to boost her self-esteem. Between his indifferent attitude, the wall-to-wall gyration of bodies, and the deafening volume of non-stop music, she began to wonder if she could go through with this. The thought of returning home without relief from her long-neglected needs after she’d gotten up the nerve to come alone tonight stopped her from giving up before they’d even begun.
“You’re not done, and I don’t have all night. You did say you were experienced, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.” She didn’t know the Dom’s name and didn’t want to. Slipping her fingers in her panties, she wiggled out of them and set them on top of the dress on a small stool next to the St. Andrew cross.
With a nod, he motioned for her to back against the cross. The cool leather covering the wood structure felt good against her heated skin as she lifted her arms up and out, and at last experienced an encouraging, familiar thrill when he wrapped the upper cuffs around her wrists.
“You good?”
Krista yanked on the bonds, enjoying the sweep of pleasure her vulnerability set off. “Yes, Sir,” she answered, hoping that small boon boded well for the rest of this scene.
The decision to come to this new club tonight hadn’t been easy to make, especially considering the argument she’d had over the phone with Alessa before leaving the house. Her well-meaning friend couldn’t understand why Krista needed the anonymity of strangers her first time back out. She’d known she’d need her full concentration to achieve her goal tonight of driving Dax out of her mind and getting over the lingering hurt from Kurt’s betrayal. It’d been a long week of working under Dr. Dax Hayes’ probing eyes, leaving her strung taut as a bow. God, how she needed what this Master promised to deliver with the flogger clenched in his hand.
“Did your experience include pain?” He knelt and attached cuffs around her ankles, leaving her spread-eagle and blushing with his face so close to her newly waxed mound. Her last spanking had been six months before Kurt’s death, but for some reason, she wasn’t teetering on the edge of excited expectation to feel the discipline she remembered enjoying so much at her husband’s hand, which doused the small bonus she received from the pleasure of being bound again.
“Yes, Sir, but it’s been a while.” Anything else was none of his business, she thought, shoving aside the anger that was never far from the surface. The last eighteen months had proved how worthless that emotion was.
“Then you might do better blindfolded.”
He rose and pulled a black, silk swath from his back pocket, his piercing, cold eyes the last thing she saw before he tightened it over her eyes. Loud, hard rock continued to pour from speakers, drowning out everything else, including the sounds of BDSM play and voices coming from the crowded space. The sheer number of people crammed into the one large room had made her pause when she’d first entered, but desperation overrode her unease.
Krista barely had time to suck in a breath when she heard the telltale swoosh. Several rows of needle-prick pain blossomed over her breasts, but the pleasure/pain she remembered and expected didn’t follow. Disappointment swamped her when the next blow covered her upper thighs and her body remained cold and unresponsive. Tears pricked behind her covered eyes; failure had never been a consideration.
A rough hand squeezed her right breast and she winced at the crude, impersonal grip. “Let’s see if you fare better if I work your ass. I’m not happy with your response, girl.”
Okay, that hurt. Kurt had never found fault with her. Neither had Dax in those hours he’d spent with them. “Yes, Sir.” It seemed that was all she could say to this man.
With quick, efficient movements, he had her turned and re-bound, arms and legs stretched, and buttocks now placed in the vulnerable position. But the blistering stroke he lashed her cheeks with didn’t come from the flogger but a reed-thin cane that drew a startled yelp from her compressed lips. Pain exploded and spread. She could’ve handled that and savored it if pleasure had followed. Kurt had used the cane a few times, but he’d been very careful with the instrument that carried the potential of causing great harm. Maybe concentrating on what she could get from a scene instead of on a Master’s pleasure wasn’t the way to go now. But this Dom didn’t inspire her to want to put his pleasure above her own. Fisting her hands, she endur
ed the next even harsher lash, swallowing back her disappointment long enough to allow one more chance for something to set off inside her.
Jesus! The next slash bit into her skin and she could already feel the throbbing rise of a welt, the stroke crossing a line Kurt had never gone over. Body quivering, Krista ceded tonight’s battle but not the war, vowing to return and try a different Dom before giving up.
Tossing her head back, she whispered ‘red’, the standard safeword to stop a scene, but the next lash struck anyway. This time her cry keened from the excruciating pain, her heart stuttering with a touch of worry as she could hardly hear herself over the deafening blare of pounding music. She tried again, yelled red, was sure he could hear her that time then tensed when that damning swoosh reached her again. Bracing for another unwanted blow, nothing could prepare her for the cold whiplash of Master Dax’s voice succeeding where she’d failed.
“Stop!”
Indiscernible, angry words now came from right next to her and Krista could swear she felt the heat of Dax’s fury along her back right before he whipped off the blindfold. Mortification flooded her senses with heat as she looked into his swirling, blazing eyes, but that didn’t prevent her sheath from going damp when he grasped her chin between two fingers and pressed as he turned her head up to him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he bit out.
Chapter 6
Dax’s hands shook with his anger as he helped the other man release Krista, which added to the fury clouding his senses. The rich, dark chocolate cascade of her long hair had caught his eye first when he, Sean and Miles split up upon entering The Dungeon. Wading through the throng of people, which was the first infraction he had noted, he’d taken his time to reach the station, observing different scenes and keeping a close eye out for the asshole in question. Seeing nothing untoward yet, he’d been stunned to recognize Krista as he approached the cross before rage took over at spotting the welts already rising across her buttocks. He had to shove his way through the remaining distance before he had a prayer of being seen or heard. Seeing how the Dom ignored her tight-fisted hands increased his fury, and the urge to lash out to a proportion unlike anything he’d experienced before swept him with a tidal wave of near drowning emotion.