“One more?” he asked, shifting the toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth that reminded Leslie of Kurt chewing on a blade of straw during the auction. Grayson and Kurt shared the same sun-darkened, rugged complexions and wore their black hair long enough to brush their collars, their eyes often holding the same piercing gazes when they looked at a sub even though Grayson’s were a striking gray/green compared to Kurt’s velvet black.
Leslie smiled. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.” Too bad Grayson had fallen so hard for Avery two years ago when she’d first moved to Willow Springs and went to work at the diner. Leslie wouldn’t mind letting him put her through her paces again as he had the one time he’d invited her to play.
“Oh, yum, incoming pussy magnet,” Nan whispered after Grayson handed Leslie her wine and strode down the bar out of earshot. “Man, if only I wasn’t so fucking crazy about Master Dan.” She fingered the ornate collar around her neck as Avery and Leslie followed her stare to watch Master Mitchell stop to visit with Masters Greg and Devin and the petite blonde seated between them.
Standing an inch or two over the tallest members put the doctor’s height around six foot four, his lean build deceiving as the tight T- shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and snugly around the thick muscles of his upper arms could attest to. In his early forties, his salt and pepper hair and matching goatee added to his appeal and accounted for the good doctor’s popularity among the subs. Leslie caught sight of him last week but hadn’t met him. The two ex-FBI now dude ranch owners who weren’t here last weekend appeared enamored of the new sub they shared, if Leslie guessed correctly from their fond, protective gazes.
“Have you met Master Mitchell, Leslie?” Avery asked. “Or Kelsey, Greg and Devin’s new girl?”
“No, but I agree with Nan.” She shifted on the barstool, having decided the new Dom was the diversion she needed from thinking about Master Kurt and didn’t argue when Nan waved him over.
“Ladies, what can I do for you?” Mitchell’s eyes swung toward Leslie holding a gleam of interest. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Master Mitchell.”
Leslie took his hand, praying he didn’t notice the slight tremor of her palm against his. She wasn’t sure if the sudden attack of nerves came from the intruding image of Master Kurt’s face in her head or pleasure from this Dom’s attention. “I’m Leslie. Nice to meet you, Sir.”
Cocking his head toward Nan and Avery, he smiled and drawled, “Please tell me you’re not spoken for like these two.”
“No, I’m not.” The sense of betrayal tightening her throat didn’t sit well with Leslie and she shoved it aside as Master Mitchell squeezed her hand.
“Then I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better upstairs.”
Neither she nor Kurt had asked for monogamy and since Leslie didn’t intend to continue with their short-lived affair, all was fair, right? So why did a sharp prick of guilt cut her to the quick as she replied, “I’d like that, Sir.”
He didn’t give her time to second guess her decision, tugging her off the stool
and asking for her limits and safewords as they wound their way upstairs and over to the St. Andrew’s Cross. His hands were gentle as he stripped the dress off and trailed his fingers down her legs as he removed her panties. Her heart pounded against her chest as he turned her to face the apparatus, not because he was binding her arms above her head to the wide upper X, but because she wasn’t getting that warm rush she enjoyed with Master Kurt. God, had he already ruined her for other Doms?
Kurt reached the loft and spotted Leslie bound on the St. Andrew’s Cross right away. As he eyed her slim, bare back, spread legs and white, soft ass, he didn’t know who to be pissed at the most, her or his dad. He shouldn’t have let Leland goad him into an argument right before he’d left. If the stubborn coot didn’t want to go to therapy or work at getting back on his feet, Kurt ought to leave him alone to stew in the misery of his own making. The problem was, he cared too much to do that, just as his strong feelings for Leslie wouldn’t allow him to give up on her regardless of her continued obstinance. Maybe, if those glimpses of a desperate, lonely ache reflected on her face weren’t continuing to wreak havoc with his conscience, starting with the first time she’d looked up at him, he would find it easy to wash his hands of her and walk away.
Between wanting to solve the mystery of her solitary life and the driving lust to fuck her in every way possible, he wasn’t about to let this little rebellion deter him from his goals. Mitchell flicked him a questioning look as he approached, checking the tightness of the ankle cuffs before rising to greet him.
“Kurt. I hope your scowl isn’t because of something I’ve done.”
“No, in fact I’d like to thank you for preparing my sub for me.” Leslie’s muscles tightened under Kurt’s hand as he caressed her clenching buttocks.
Mitchell’s eyes darkened, his gaze cutting toward Leslie. Fisting a hand in her long hair, he pulled, lifting her head. “Is this true, you’re with Master Kurt?”
She bit her lip, both men noticing the guilt swirling in her eyes as she looked from one to the other before her trembling mouth went taut and she replied with a thread of defiance coloring her tone. “We never agreed to be exclusive.”
Kurt winged one brow upward and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t share. In case I neglected to mention that, now you know.”
Moving back, a hint of amusement crept into Mitchell’s expression. “I’ll step aside and let you two work this out. Leslie, look me up if you decide to ditch Master Kurt again.”
Kurt waited until Mitchell walked away before leaning against Leslie’s back, loosely circling her neck with his hands and whispering in her ear, “Don’t you think you should have told me before you accepted another Dom’s invitation?”
“I didn’t think it would matter.”
A slight tremor ran through her body as he tightened his hands on her throat, just enough to remind her of his control, and what she’d agreed to. “Once again, you thought wrong, and you’re not being completely honest. You’d rather back away than risk revealing more about yourself, like you did last night.”
She tried to turn her head to look at him then released her breath in a huff when his hold wouldn’t allow it. Her throat worked under his hands as she swallowed and said, “You have no right to pry.”
Now it was his turn to sigh with exasperation because, damn it, she was right. Stepping back, he ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arched back and palmed her buttocks. “You’re right about that, but not about how you let me know you weren’t happy with me.” Digging his fingers into the soft globes, his thumbs slipped between the fleshy mounds to tease the sensitive area. “I’m disappointed you would resort to such a tactic instead of talking to me. Five swats with my belt or say red and we’re done. What will it be?”
Leslie couldn’t think straight, not with Master Kurt’s hands on her, the displeasure in his deep voice filling her with guilt and regret. She’d been a fool. What made her believe she could simply walk away from him now when she couldn’t forget him after one night together? Now she found herself torn between her ever-growing need for one man and her determination to ensure no one else would come to harm because of their association with her.
She heard the slide of his belt as he removed it and quaked inside. Goosebumps popped up across her backside as he trailed the supple leather over her flesh. To this day she didn’t understand how an aching, hot butt could calm her rioting emotions while drawing tears of discomfort, or how the hurt could eventually morph into pleasure. But there was no denying her body sang in tune to the silent threat, warmed to the promise of blissful pain and the pleasure induced forgetfulness it could lead to. If he allowed it.
Kurt reached around and cupped one breast before pinching her nipple. “Give me your answer, Leslie.”