Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

“My pleasure,” he replied sincerely.

The image of Rowan earlier that morning, terrified that her Master would find out she’d orgasmed without permission rushed into his mind. Take that, you bastard, he thought spitefully.

While Rowan waited quietly on the mat, Eric opened the cabinet door once more. He selected one of the neatly folded knee-length white cotton robes from the bottom shelf.

“Let’s step outside the trainer/trainee dynamic for a little while.” He held out the robe toward Rowan. “Stand up and put this on, and then come sit down beside me.”

A flash of doubt moved over her face. Eric could almost hear her thoughts on the matter. “Master John would not approve.” Too damn bad. Master John wasn’t there at the moment.

Accepting the robe, she rose to her feet and slipped it on, tying the sash around her slender waist. She lowered herself tentatively to the chair, watching him with a wary expression as she did so, as if expecting him to rebuke her.

Eric smiled, hoping to put her more at ease. “You indicated on the questionnaire that you’re an artist? That sounds pretty cool. Tell me a little about that.”

Rowan smiled shyly, though her eyes lit up. “Aspiring artist might be a more accurate term. I’ve only sold a few pieces on my own. But Master John has been very encouraging. He’s an art dealer, you know, and very successful at what he does. He’s even set up an art studio for me in his home. He lets me paint while he’s away at work, as long as I’m on my knees waiting by the door when he gets home.”

He lets me paint.

Her words rankled, though they shouldn’t. While Eric had no personal desire to own a BDSM slave, he understood and respected that it was the right choice for some. He was also self-aware enough to recognize his reaction was the result of his own unacceptable but undeniable attraction to this woman. He would need to be very careful to keep a tight lid on that. He was her trainer, nothing more.

Rowan’s face suddenly clouded, her eyes flitting from his.

“What?” Eric asked, leaning forward. “What is it?”

“Oh, um. Nothing really,” she said hesitantly. “It’s just, I don’t know, I’ve been feeling a little blocked lately in my work. It’s never happened to me before. Master John says it’s because of my resistance to true submission.”

She gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “He says I should be thrilled he wants to bring someone new into the relationship. A proper slave accepts her Master’s choices as her own.”

Eric pressed his lips together to keep from blurting his own opinions on the matter. It wasn’t up to him to judge either her or her Master for their choices. Eager to steer her back to a positive place, and because he was genuinely interested, he said, “Tell me more about your art. When you’re not feeling blocked, what are you working on?”

She relaxed visibly. “I’ve been working on a new series of sky portraits.”

“Sky portraits? I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of that.”

As Rowan described her work, her face suffused with light, her tone becoming more animated. It was a pleasure to see her joy as she talked about her art.

“Are you with a gallery?” he asked. Obviously, he couldn’t very well show up at her house—at Master John’s house—for a private viewing. But what he did on his own time was his business, and her work sounded intriguing.

“Not yet, but Master John is confident it’s only a matter of time before he can get me placed. He says I have real potential.”

Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket, distracting him. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, pulling it out for a look. It was a text from Dominique, letting him know the staff would be having lunch shortly, and suggesting he send Rowan to join them, if they were at a convenient stopping point.

He thumbed back a quick text and then slid his phone into his pocket. Though he would have liked to continue the conversation, Dominique’s text reminded him of his duties. “Let’s take a break. Mistress Dominique would like you to join the staff for lunch so you can get a chance to meet everyone. You’ve got a few minutes if you want to pop upstairs to your room first, use the bathroom, whatever. Brandon will come get you when it’s time.”

“Yes, Sir,” Rowan said. Was it his imagination, or did she look as disappointed as he felt that their conversation had been interrupted?

Stop projecting, he advised himself. Stay focused.

He got to his feet, indicating with a gesture for her to rise as well. “You can just leave the robe on the mat. Someone will be by later to straighten up.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said softly. “Thank you, Sir.”

Chapter 5

Eric left the grounds of the Masters Club while Rowan had her lunch. It was a warm, sunny day, and he meandered over to Washington Square Park. He bought a falafel from a street vendor and ate it on a bench near the fountain.