The Masters of Falcon's Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (10 page)

Finn was sitting on the front porch swing when Blaze came storming out of the house, a hand over his nose. He almost called out to ask what the problem was, but then he relaxed back again, deciding the other man wasn’t worth the energy and he really didn’t care anyway. Finn might be Daphne’s manager, but that didn’t mean he was the babysitter for her band
members and henchmen. Besides, Blaze obviously hated him for reining in Daphne’s wild-girl tendencies. He wouldn’t appreciate any offer of help, especially if someone had punched him in the nose, which the blood seeping from between his fingers indicated might be the case. Finn smiled to himself and went back to his book, paying no attention when Blaze’s motorcycle exploded into life and screamed off down the driveway.

But it was impossible to concentrate on reading. Images of Daphne floated before him. Did Daphne give Blaze his injury? If so, why? And more importantly, had she been hurt in the process?

It was no use trying to relax anymore. He had to go find her. Reluctantly he went inside, listening for the clamor that usually gave away Daphne’s location.

He heard nothing, so he wandered through the house, marveling at how peaceful it seemed. He almost didn’t go into the kitchen, knowing that Daphne tried to avoid eating in order to keep her perfect figure. Not that she would need to worry about that if she would just apply herself to her work more often. He pushed the thought from his mind and went through the kitchen and out the back door.

Daphne was lying on the grass, Decker sprawled on the stairs nearby. Neither of them were speaking, and Finn had a moment of panic, wondering if Daphne were hurt. Even in her sleep she was never this calm and quiet. He resisted the urge to race down to her and check for a pulse. Instead he allowed the screen door to slam behind him, feeling relieved when they both jumped and turned in his direction. At least she was alive. He hadn’t been completely sure.

He nodded to Decker. “We missed you at lunch.”

“Yes, and why weren’t you in church this morning, young man?” Daphne sat up, pointing a finger playfully.

Decker cocked an eyebrow at her, receiving a giggle in return, and got up, rubbing his stomach. “That reminds me, I’m starving. What time is dinner around here?”

“Usually around
seven
or
eight
. I’ll go get you a snack.” Daphne jumped to her feet, running up the steps and stopping next to Finn. “Ask Decker about his encounter with Blaze.” Then she trotted inside, humming.

Finn watched her go in amazement. “I’ve never seen her so—wow, I don’t even know how to describe it. Calm? Human? What did you do to tame her?”

“Tame her?” Decker chuckled.

“And what did she mean about your encounter with Blaze?” Finn looked him over, as if expecting to see a knife sticking out of him somewhere.

“I just persuaded him to be a little nicer to ladies.”

A noise came out of Finn that might have expressed surprise, incredulity, or maybe an obstruction of an air passage.

“And by ‘ladies,’ you’re referring to Daphne?”

Decker turned an austere look on him. “She may be difficult to manage, I gather, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not—”

Daphne came back on the porch then, with two beers, a large bag of chips
,
and a plastic tub of something white and thick. “I think that’s ranch dip,” she announced, whirling around and heading back inside. They heard her call, “Brad! Can I talk to you?” as the door slammed.

Decker tore into the bag and dipped a chip into the white goo. He popped it into his mouth, smiling when he saw Finn watching him with what looked like cautious optimism.

“Well?” Finn sounded breathless, as if Decker had just thrown himself on a grenade.

Decker tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Mmm. Not bad. I’m not sure it was actually meant to be a dip, but it’s certainly interesting. Try some.” He held the bag out
,
and Finn took a chip, gingerly touching it to the substance in the tub. He waited a second before putting it in his mouth to see if Decker was going to break down and admit he’d been joking.

“So anyway,” Finn said after he’d swallowed, relieved that it hadn’t proved fatal. “How do you get her to act like that? She was
lying
at your feet when I came out, for God’s sake!”

“It’s just a matter of being firm and confident. She seemed to react pretty well to it.”

“Man, you have got to teach me how you
do
that!”

“She was asking questions about D/s,” Decker said. “I think it’s just a matter of establishing a hierarchy with her.”

“You mean the kink stuff? I’m sure she is interested in that, but I don’t see what S&M has to do with getting her to focus on her career.”

“It has a lot to do with it,” Decker said, taking another handful of chips. He seemed to be enjoying Finn’s reaction to watching him eat something unidentifiable. “For one thing, D/s isn’t the same thing as S&M, or not completely. The domination and submission dynamic, and especially when it’s taken to the level of Master/slave, is all about personal responsibility. Submitting to someone takes a level of maturity and the willingness to be accountable for your actions and your choices.”

“I don’t see the connection. She isn’t that mature or willing to be accountable. When we were at the club—” Finn broke off, shaking his head, searching for a way to describe his impressions.

“You saw people allowing themselves to be treated in ways that most people would not, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, those people had accepted the responsibility of communicating their needs and desires. It takes a lot of negotiation and a lot of trust—on both sides—to work out exactly how much and what kind of pain a person wants and is capable of handling. That can be transferred to a more day-to-day arrangement as well, where two—or more—people work together to accomplish common goals.”

“Common goals,” Finn repeated.

“Yes,” Decker said. “It’s funny that both you and Daphne pinged on the ‘common goals’ thing. But in order to do that, you need to be the one in charge. Daphne likes to play the brat. I suspect that’s mostly to fuck with you. There’s nothing wrong with that, in the right time and place. But I’m guessing that it’s pretty hit-and-miss as to whether you can get her to settle down and work when you need her to.”

“You got that right.” Finn took a swig of his beer. “But how do you establish that kind of structure without turning into an asshole?”

“All parties have to agree to the arrangement, and everybody has to get what they want out of it. Otherwise you’re just forcing your will on other people. That might work for a while, but believe me, it’ll eventually fall apart. Now, with your girl, you might need to be kind of subtle at first, until she realizes that the structure you’re providing actually helps her. Then you can formalize the arrangement.”

“
‘
My girl.’ Right.” Finn gave a short laugh, but then he settled back and turned a serious face toward Decker. “How would you suggest I get started with that?”

* * * *

Brad had come downstairs from having a nap to find the living room covered in beer bottles, plates, glasses, and empty potato chip bags. He resisted the urge to call Allie to come down and help him clean up. She’d been working hard all week, feeding these people and picking up after them, and she was still sleeping, stretched out naked on the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. For the first time, Brad felt grateful for the fact that he had a nine-to-five job to go to during the week. At least he didn’t have to be here like Allie, cooking and making beds all day, as if she had a houseful of teenagers to look after. He found himself muttering “Kids!” and smiled. Anyone would think he was a decrepit curmudgeon instead of someone who was roughly the same age as most of their guests. Plus, teenagers didn’t pay for their food the way this group was. He really should be grateful for them being here. At least they were guests. He took an armload of dishes into the kitchen and nearly dropped them when a voice said his name from the back doorway.

“Brad! Can I talk to you?”

Brad blinked at Daphne in surprise. He wouldn’t have put money on her even knowing his name. Not that he had escaped her flirting—nobody seemed to manage that. He carefully put the dishes he was carrying into the sink. “Sure.”

Daphne looked down at the floor, twisting her hands together, for all the world like she was feeling shy about something. Brad almost snorted. He couldn’t believe that Daphne had ever felt shy in her life. She’d probably been born with tattoos and lip piercings. But here she was, glancing up at him from under her lashes as if she were the class nerd asking the quarterback to the prom.

“I—I don’t think that Allie likes me very much.”

Resisting the urge to say, “Duh—ya think?” Brad forced himself to be diplomatic. She might be playing him for some mysterious reason, but she was still a guest. There was no reason to be rude. Yet. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

She nodded energetically, her eyebrows creased in an earnest frown. “It is, trust me. I can tell. But the thing is—I want to be friends with her. I haven’t met anyone in a long time that actually seemed like someone I could be friends with. Either they want something from you, or they do nothing but get drunk and high. Or they want you to come party with them so you’ll pay for the booze and the drugs. But Allie is—a grown
-
up, I guess. I like her, even though I may not have done anything to get her to like me.” She dipped her head again. Brad wasn’t sure, but he thought she might be blushing. “Besides, I want to ask her about—well, about relationships. How can I make up to her all the trouble I’ve been? Can I make her breakfast?”

Brad laughed, picturing Daphne with an apron covering her skintight black leather pants and six-inch heels, cooking breakfast. “I doubt you’d want to get up in time for that. She’s usually up by six, poring through her cookbooks to find something biz—I mean interesting—to cook. She does like brownies. You could make some of those. The regular kind, maybe?” His voice took on a wistful tone as he imagined brownies that weren’t made with zucchini or black beans, or any of the other odd things Allie had become infatuated with lately.

“That’s a good idea. I can do that. Thanks!” Daphne reached up to kiss him on the cheek and took off.

She might be up to something, Brad thought, watching as she disappeared through the swinging door into the dining room, but she did have a great ass. Not that he would trade Allie for her—not in a million years. Allie was amazing. She was beautiful, sexy, a great hostess, and very creative. He gave himself a mental kick as he found himself wondering what kind of brownies Daphne might make, and if she was a good cook. As if.

* * * *

By the time Allie came downstairs, Brad had the living room completely straightened up, the dishes done, and was vacuuming. She kissed him, rubbing off something pink that had gotten onto his cheek, and went to pour him an elderflower soda. He sniffed at it, but drank about half of it in one gulp and smiled at her.

“I’m not going to ask what that was, but it was good,” he said. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“No, thanks. I have a new recipe I want to try. I’ll just be puttering around in the kitchen for a while.” She took the vacuum from him to put away and went to the kitchen, humming. It was actually quiet in the house, so she went upstairs to make sure Daphne hadn’t slipped away again. She heard music and soft singing coming from the teddy
-
bear room, so she went back downstairs, satisfied. Blaze was nowhere in sight, and she could hear several of the band and crew members playing football in the front yard. It was like having a family, the way she’d imagined it. Not necessarily kids of her own (thank God Blaze and Daphne weren’t her kids!) but lots of people hanging around. Life, activity, some nudity, although this group, apart from Daphne, didn’t wander around naked nearly as much as the few BDSM guests they’d had.

She looked out the back door as she was pulling out ingredients for dinner. Decker and Finn were sitting on the back steps, deep in what looked like a very serious conversation. She noticed that their beers were pretty much empty and took them out two more.

Decker thanked her and handed her a plastic container. “Sorry. We seem to have finished this. It was good.”

“Oh, but that’s—” Allie stopped, staring into the empty tub. Damn. She’d forgotten to mark it for that night’s dinner. She’d have to whip up some more. She wondered if she had enough tofu.

The men didn’t notice her comment, going back to their conversation as she picked up the empty chip bag and went back inside. They seemed to be talking about Daphne, but Allie forced herself not to listen. A familiar emotion began to steal over her
,
and she closed her eyes. There was no reason to dislike Daphne. Not really. She was thin and sexy, sure, but it was just too petty to hate somebody for that. There must be something else. Was it just a personality clash? Allie liked to think of herself as being able to get along with anybody, and as a bed
-
and
-
breakfast owner she was bound to run into lots of people that she didn’t really care for. If she was going to react this badly to all of them, her life was going to be miserable.