Unrestrained (33 page)

Her bedroom door was open. When she was going to be out late, Lynn or Beth always left on the dresser lamp. Athena had draped the shade in a blue scarf to give the room the sense of candlelight. The scarf was new, to go with the new décor Athena had been adjusting over the past few weeks. She’d changed out some of the pictures, moving those Roy had particularly liked to other viewing places in the house, replacing them with prints that might appeal to Dale as well as herself. One of those was the large watercolor over the bed. The painting was nothing but horizontal lines, but it combined all the colors of the sea, slightly wavering, so it was obvious that was what the artist intended it to represent. Dale glanced at it, his gaze sliding over the yellow bedspread, the blue and green pillows and the white area rug.

“The colors reminded me of your eyes,” she said without embarrassment.

He curved his long fingers around the side of her neck to draw her to him again. As he kissed her this time, he slid down the side zipper of the dress and then pushed it off her shoulders. The fabric stretched, so that it could be taken to her ankles with little effort. But he wasn’t yet ready to do that. He stepped back, retaining her hand even when they reached the full stretch of their arms. Her breasts were held up on display in adhesive cups that molded to her like a second skin, a necessary accessory to allow for the backless dress. The upper part of the dress was now folded low on her hips, a froth of glittering sequins. She held her breath under the slow, lazy perusal that made her feel like she was utterly his, and he was pleased with what he saw.

“Take it all off. Everything except my collar. But do it slow. I like watching the way you take off your clothes for me.” Proving it, he sat down on a chair, waiting on her.

She might have been tired, but there were certain things he could do to her that would revive her body like electricity. Only tonight, instead of a jolt, the feeling lifted her like an ocean wave, a sense of sudden buoyancy.

She’d played with the necklace countless times tonight, touching the pendant, running her nails under the hold of the choker. She’d been like a girl looking at her shiny new engagement ring, only her obsession was tactile rather than visual. She’d been complimented countless times about the necklace. When one woman recognized the SEAL symbol and the obvious connection to her escort, Athena noticed her eyes and mouth had softened. It was an acknowledgment of the romantic implication, if not the deeper, more potent meaning behind the choker. Her collar.

Dale’s eyes had flickered over it a few times as well. Once, when they were talking to a group of bankers, he’d had his hand on her shoulder, fingers brushing her nape. He’d slid two of them under the back clasp, tugging on it in a discreet, provocative way. She instantly lost her train of thought. He’d interjected a question, covering it, but then he’d given her a teasing look. The heat in his eyes said he liked knowing that his touch on her collar had been responsible for her distraction.

Now she slid out of the dress. The little shimmy she made to get it over her hips earned an intrigued look from his blue-green eyes. Emboldened by it, she slid the stockings off even more provocatively, holding on to the bed post as she freed one, then the other. Due to the fit of the dress, she’d worn a thong only, and a low-rise one at that, since the back of the dress was low enough to show the twin dimples just above the seam of her buttocks. Standing in thong and bra only, she peeled away the cups. The underwires had dug into her flesh, but she resisted the urge to massage the deep grooves she was sure they had left beneath her breasts.

Pivoting away from him, she hooked the sides of the thong and slid it down her legs, bending over as she did so. She walked over to her dresser as if she were floating through water, a sensual creature under his close regard. She laid her undergarments there and removed her earrings, bracelet . . . rings.

She looked down at the three bands on her right hand. She’d never taken them off, for exactly the reasons Dale had guessed. Until him, she hadn’t been interested in encouraging any advances, and those who knew her widowed status had taken it for the message it was. Well, except Larry, but the man had no respect for marriage.

Dale was behind her now. His hand slid under her arm, closed over her hand. “You don’t need to take those off, Athena. They can stay.”

“No,” she said quietly. “Not tonight.” Slipping off the set, she laid them in the crystal dish where she’d placed the earrings.

He turned her to face him. When his hands bracketed her rib cage, his thumbs massaged the grooves the bra cups had left. She emitted a noise of quiet joy.

“You are just too good to be true,” she said.

“Remember that next time I piss you off.”

“You’ve only done that once. Twice. Okay, maybe three times. It really wasn’t necessary to criticize
Stealth
like that. I enjoyed it.”

“The military should be able to ban movies. Or require a disclaimer that the makers were clueless.”

“The point was entertainment, not accuracy.”

“And Jessica Biel in a bikini. That was the one redeeming quality.”

“Don’t forget Josh Lucas’s blue eyes.” She brushed a light finger along his cheekbone to make his own beautiful eyes glow.

“I’ll have to take your word on the benefits of that.”

Smiling, she rested her knuckles on his shoulder, the crisp white shirt. She’d hung his coat carefully in her closet and he’d removed his tie, left it on her dresser, so now he wore only the shirt, the T-shirt beneath and his slacks. “Did you really enjoy this evening?”

“Actually, I did. You attract good people, Athena. The few less-than-good ones are necessary evils, ones you manage admirably.”

“I saw you talking to Matt and Savannah. I’d like to get to know them better.” Her voice thickened as his thumbs slid out of that abraded area and over the curve of her breast, just below the areola. Her body quivered.

“Good choice. They’re members over at Club Progeny.”

She blinked, tried to sound casual. “Really? You go there?”

“Not recently.” He gave her an amused look, making her flush. “Jealous girl. Over time, I’ve found I prefer Release’s smaller membership, the quieter venue. Before that I saw Matt and Savannah there on a regular basis, though they play in the private rooms. Matt’s pretty possessive. I know the feeling.” He cupped her breasts fully, making her hum in her throat. His thumbs wandered in the cleft, his gaze zeroing in on the choker as she lifted her chin.

“I like seeing that on you.”

“I like wearing it.”

“Every time you touched it tonight, it made me want you. Hell, every time I looked at you, smelled you, heard your voice, I wanted you.”

She trembled, moistened her lips. Stepping back from her, he nodded to the bed. “Go lie there. Wait for me.”

She obeyed. Cognizant of her Master’s gaze, she put her knee on the bed, moved to the center on her hands and knees. When she lowered herself to her stomach, turned onto her hip, his gaze could have burned her flesh.

“You’re teasing your Master more often these days. I like it. It means you trust me more.”

“I do,” she whispered. Her need grew sharper at his expression. He freed his cuff links, opened the shirt. When he stripped it off, she enjoyed how the white tank beneath showed off the musculature of his upper body. He unhooked the trousers. Though he didn’t do the striptease she’d done, he didn’t hurry, either, building her desire with his casual but intent speed. His eyes rarely left her, even when he sat down on the chair to take off his shoes and socks. He stood to push the slacks and briefs down, sat to remove them fully. Then he was moving toward the bed.

Since he didn’t have his crutches, he’d left on the prosthesis, the first time she’d seen him fully naked wearing it. Her Master was trusting her more as well. Responding to it, she slid her hand across the bed, a mute appeal for him to come to her. He closed those several strides, sat down on the edge of the bed. She caressed his hip, brushing his firm buttock with her knuckles as he bent to remove the prosthesis. When he rolled toward her at last, lying on his hip so they were facing each other, it was just Dale and Athena, except for her collar. They were in the master bedroom, lying on the bed she’d put here weeks ago, preparing for this moment. Yet tonight was the first time she was truly prepared for what it meant. He’d been right to wait on her, and his sensitivity, his intuition, intertwined with all the other things about him she’d been learning to love, overwhelmed her senses.

He ran a hand along her arm, his brow creasing. “You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

She shook her head, and his mouth firmed. He slid his arm around her waist, drew her full against him. She made a soft noise at the heat and strength of his body. Sliding her leg over his thigh, she pressed her knee against the base of his taut buttock as his hand descended, fully palming hers to hold her against his erection. He gave her one of those deep kisses, soothing her trembling by banding his other arm around her, pushing her to her back, his chest a solid weight against hers.

Those emotions flooded her, increasing the pressure beneath her rib cage, the aching in her throat. She couldn’t say it aloud, not trusting it.

I’m falling in love with you. I love you.

He shifted onto her, her legs parting to cradle him. So often during these past weeks, he’d built her response to an inferno with a wealth of foreplay, intense BDSM play. He’d consummate the moment only when she was like a wild animal, crazy with need and heat. Tonight, though, it was simple and perfect without any of that. He slid into her with the ease of a key, her body rising up against his, reacting to the pleasure of him stretching and filling her, locking them together. She put her arms around his broad shoulders, tilting her head back as he laid his lips on her throat, using his tongue to trace the skin above and below the collar he’d given her.

“Master . . .”

“Sweet girl. Mine.”

He pushed deeper into her, and she lifted her hips, taking him further inside. He made slow, short movements, an excruciating, pleasurable build. Everything about this felt like it should. So good she was afraid of losing it, but fear had no place between them tonight. Still, he saw it, and he drove it away with the movements of his body, with the endless kisses that became more demanding, compelling her to trust him with all of it, body, mind and spirit.

She surrendered that and everything else, including her fear, and let him carry them both over that precipice. There was no fear then, because when all was quiet again, they were in the bed she could now truly think of as theirs. He was home to her, and she kept her arms tight around him, hoping she was telling him the same thing. She could be his home. That, more than anything else, told her the truth.

She truly was in love with him.

A
thena paused outside of Release, shifting from foot to foot. Was this the right thing to do? Of course it was. Three months. She and Dale had been together for three months. Though it seemed like the relationship was progressing so well on all fronts, this remained a hitch. He commanded her in the bedroom and often out of it, when that gave both of them pleasure, but whenever the topic of the club was broached, she stalled, and he saw it.

He’d told her that she didn’t need to worry about it. When she was ready, he would know, and then, objections or no, they’d go. She’d tensed up over that possibility, but as the weeks passed and he didn’t act upon it, she relaxed. Until she started to feel like a coward. Crossing that last bridge with him was a signal she was ready to be his, unconditionally. He’d given her so much, she wanted to give him that gift. She didn’t want to blight their relationship with one thorny trust issue. She needed to show she was ready to do this. So she’d decided on a test run of sorts, by herself.

It was a good time to do it. Dale was in Houston tonight, visiting and helping out a family where the husband and father was a deployed SEAL. She would have accompanied him, since she’d been invited, but she’d had a couple of unavoidable work issues.

Though being away from him was never easy, work had become more so these days. For one thing, ever since the night of the dinner, Larry had been noticeably better, less aggressive in the board meetings, demonstrating more of his pluses than his minuses. Whatever had changed, she hoped it was permanent, though she remained distantly cordial, not wanting to encourage him back to bad habits. When she’d mentioned that to Dale, she’d earned herself a frown and a rather thrilling punishment.

He’d told her that she didn’t encourage the man at all—that his character was flawed, not her behavior. Then he’d stretched her arms above her head, hooking them on the weight machine in the rec room. He tied her up in one of those beautiful and erotic rope harnesses he did so well. When she was bound from throat to thighs, he had three knots placed strategically against her clit and labia, such that as he used a paddle on her with powerful, stinging strokes, she writhed and stimulated herself. He’d drawn it out, increasing the pain to balance the pleasure, until she was pleading with him to let her come.

He only gave her the command when she stated three times that she was not responsible for Larry’s actions. She’d soaked the nylon of those knots with her climax. After that, he’d gagged her with that piece, tying it around her head. She tasted her release as he put her over the arm of an overstuffed chair and fucked her hard, making her come again.

She swallowed on a dry throat at the memory. Though they weren’t in “active” session all the time, in some ways she thought of them as a 24/7, because the Dominant side of him and the submissive side of her was always there, right beneath the surface, in everything they did. It was as if being together so much allowed her to reveal how much of her personality went in that direction, and of course it was clear how much of his did.

They’d met Matt and Savannah for dinner one night, an invitation initiated by Dale. The lovely rose quartz and silver choker Savannah wore must hold the same significance as Athena’s Trident pendant, since she saw Matt put his hand on her neck once or twice and do the same maneuver Dale did with her on frequent occasions, a light tug while sliding a finger between warm skin and the metal, a reminder of its significance.

—

A
s she entered the club and drew in the familiar scents, she saw that they’d added a couple new pieces of equipment and changed out some of the wall art, keeping the erotic prints fresh and interesting. But Jimmy was behind the bar as usual. He was talking to a couple of the Dommes, that easy flirting he did so well with men and women alike. The man was a bit of a chameleon, all told, though she’d heard less magnanimous members hint that he was merely uncommitted, as if being a switch, keeping his options open, was a bad thing. As if a set-in-stone, black-or-white classification was necessary to gauge a person’s value.

It was part of the reason she was here tonight, right? Actually, both reasons explained her presence here tonight. She’d decided to leave behind one classification and embrace another. The key had been in Dale’s words.
Ultimately you have to make a choice. Or I’ll walk.
No, he hadn’t been talking about this, but she wouldn’t let this one issue erode their growing relationship.

As she moved to the bar, Jimmy saw her. His eyes lit up, reassuring her. “Hey, Lady Mistress. What’s up?”

It jarred her. She’d forgotten the name they called her. Wasn’t it odd, that something she’d been called for nearly five years in this environment had slipped her mind, obliterated by what she’d become under Dale’s command, something that felt so much more like what she was?

“Hi, Jimmy,” she said with a casualness she didn’t feel. Was this a good idea? Yes. She needed to do this, get the first obstacle out of the way, see how it went. No need to make Dale suffer through this awkward and potentially disastrous foray.

“Diet Coke as usual?” He reached for the bottle.

“That would be great.” She nodded to the other two women. “Mistress Sheila, Mistress Amy.”

“Lady Mistress. Good to see you tonight. Are you playing?”

She imagined Dale’s reaction to that, the feelings he’d made clear about any other man touching her. She was his, utterly and exclusively. It gave her the courage to meet Sheila’s gaze, shake her head. “Not tonight. Actually, there’ve been some changes in my life.” She touched her necklace. She hadn’t intended to use it to initiate the discussion, but in this environment, it was pretty clear what it was, so it might make some of the elaborate explanations she’d rehearsed on the way over here unnecessary.

It did that, and then some. The shift in their expressions from warm welcome to silent shock made it clear they’d understood the message. It also gave her a premonition that things weren’t going to go as well as she’d hoped. Or maybe just as bad as she expected, given that a fearful tension broke loose inside her that was all too familiar. Over the past few weeks, she’d done such a good job of compartmentalizing it, she’d forgotten how deep her dread about this moment was. Those unlocked emotions surged up now, filling her mind to the walls during the silence.

Jimmy was the first to break it, giving the other two women an unfathomable look before he spoke. “You playing with the switch side of things?”

“Yes. No.” She corrected herself, not allowing herself the out. She closed cold hands in her lap, covering their sudden trembling.
This was a mistake, this was a mistake.

No, you can do this. You’re being silly and melodramatic.

This was your and Roy’s place. You have no place here anymore. You need to go.

She set her jaw. “Actually, I was a Mistress to my husband because that was what he wanted, and I wanted to be what he needed. I’m a submissive, Jimmy. I always have been.”

He blinked, processing that. Sheila and Amy exchanged a glance. “Told you,” Amy said to the other Mistress.

Athena’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

Amy shrugged. “I told Sheila it felt like you were faking it sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. It was a good fake, but it didn’t come off right. When you were in session, you did everything right, but it was almost too perfect. Plus you didn’t act the same way toward him after, when you were hanging out together here. Like you just turned it on and off. And you never had the same vibe toward any of the other submissives.”

She couldn’t argue with any of it, but the word
fake
felt wrong to her. It hadn’t felt fake to Roy, and that was what was important, wasn’t it? Even more vital, it hadn’t felt fake to her. It hadn’t been what she was, but she’d viewed it no differently than watching a football game with him or him attending a book reading with her, things neither of them would choose to do themselves, but they enjoyed because of how the other enjoyed it. They’d liked pleasing one another, and that was a different type of enjoyment, no less real, because it all was part of loving one another. How could she explain that? She couldn’t of course. It was too personal, too intimate.

Sheila shook her head. “No offense, but do you know how often I have to deal with the ‘you must have been abused by your daddy, that’s why you’re a Domme’ or ‘you just haven’t had a real man’? Or worse, the guys who think I’m one step away from a whore, ‘playing’ Mistress to meet
their
needs? What you did just underscores that attitude.”

“This is a private membership club,” Athena said evenly. “I came here to serve my husband, not to make a public statement about being a Domme.”

“Whatever.” Sheila slid off the stool. “Go kiss your Master’s ass. C’mon, Amy.”

Amy gave her another look, an additional shrug as if to say, “it is what it is,” then followed her. They were headed to the suspension room, probably to hook up with one of the watching submissives in there.

“Here’s your drink.” Jimmy placed the cup at her wrist. Another couple had sat down on the other end of the bar, and he gave her a nod before he turned to them. But his welcome had definitely cooled. Not him, too?

She could have moved away, but she wasn’t going to leave it there. After he took care of them, she drew his attention by lifting the cup. As he returned to her, she met his gaze. “Jimmy, what’s wrong? I expected some negative reaction from the other Dommes, but you?”

He made a face, spread his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t get me wrong. You have every right to be what you need to be here. Domme, sub, switch. But people have the right to also be disappointed by it. I didn’t think you were faking, Lady Mistress. A lot of people didn’t.”

“I
wasn’t
, Jimmy.” Because Jimmy had been a good friend, she tried to take the edge from her voice, give him more. “It’s hard to explain. I wanted to be anything Roy needed, because of the way he loved me. The way I love him. When I was acting as Mistress to him, it was all part of that.”

“Yeah. When it was never stated up front, that’s hard for a lot of people here to understand. Even me,” he admitted. “But you know some Mistresses have strong feelings about a Domme suddenly claiming to be a submissive. Especially one who was good at it, who attracted attention. Who has a rep for it, as you do, no matter what Amy says. Yeah, Sheila’s right about the attitudes they face, and you’re right that this is supposed to be a private forum to be what you want, but . . .” He gave her a helpless look. “It throws us for a loop. You’ll just have to let us deal, learn to see it differently, and you be what you need to be. I have another customer.”

“Hey, girl.”

Startled to hear Dale’s endearment for her spoken in such a scornful female tone, Athena looked toward the doorway to the suspension room. Sheila was leaning against the wood, coiling a single tail in her long-nailed fingers. “Yeah, see? Guess Amy was right. You already respond to being summoned like a sub. Want to exercise those
real
feelings and let me top you? Maybe we’ll find out what’s real. Like maybe you shouldn’t be coming here anymore, because you’re just a vanilla chick who was your husband’s doormat.”

Conversation at the bar and in the sitting room came to a halt, the few members present staring between the two of them. Hearing the conflict, several more had come out of the various playrooms. She recognized at least half of the curious faces.

“Mistress Sheila.” Jimmy spoke sharply. “We have strict rules about harassing any member. That’s uncalled-for.”

“What are they going to call you now,
Lady Mistress
?” Sheila asked, brown eyes trained on Athena’s face.

Jimmy came out from behind the bar, interjecting his body in between the two of them, breaking Sheila’s line of sight. “Keep it up,” he said between his teeth. “She can have your privileges suspended by the membership committee. Is that what you want?”

“Jimmy, that’s not necessary.” Athena slid off the stool. She appreciated his stepping up to defend her, but from the wooden expression he turned toward her, she thought he was just doing his job. She put down money for the drink and a tip, and shifted to meet Sheila’s gaze. Sheila had hugged her the first time Athena returned to the club after Roy’s death, but their relationship was defined by the location, the setting. It wasn’t like she and Sheila were the type of friends who visited one another’s homes or had shared interests outside the club.

During Roy’s illness, she’d discovered which of his friends were true and which were fond acquaintances or worse, hangers-on. When things changed so dramatically, all but one’s true friends disappeared, didn’t they? “Thank you, Jimmy. It’s clear I’m not welcome here, so I won’t be returning. Good night.”

She thought she saw a look of regret on Jimmy’s face, a protest rising on his lips, but she was already turning, walking up the corridor, nodding politely to the hostess as she took her leave.

She reminded herself Sheila had resented her decision in a way that was disproportionately personal. Everyone knew she had some issues with authority, which was one of many reasons she’d embraced being a Domme. Whereas for Amy, it was the simple pleasure of topping a sub. That was the point. The motive was different for
all
of them. Some natural, some benignly dysfunctional, but all healthy as long as it was consensual and no one was hurt in the wrong kind of way.

So reasonable and logical. During those weeks Athena had been managing her worries, she’d considered that she might be “making too much of it,” just as Dale had suggested. That rationalization had brought her here tonight, with her insulated bubble of unchallenged ideas.

There’d been no physical violence. Sheila hadn’t even raised her voice, not really, yet the bubble had burst, and those ideas had disintegrated in the air of reality. Athena felt shredded inside. Now that she’d revealed her true nature, she was hit by shame and misery. They thought she was a liar and a fake, so how could she feel validated as a submissive? Even knowing she was being irrational, the feelings only expanded as she left the building, like a thick black smoke obscuring everything else.