The blonde sat and pouted at him. “You’re as dictatorial as Z.” Then she glared at Rainie. “And you’re supposed to be submissive.”
“True, I submit to Doms. Aside from them, I’m the alpha-female in this place and don’t you forget it.” Rainie exchanged a high-five with Andrea before returning to sit on a barstool beside Jake. Turned away from him, she picked up her drink and asked Andrea how work was going.
Stubborn and caring. How had he missed seeing that facet of her personality?
As Jake ate and traded greetings with incoming members, he kept an ear turned to Andrea’s chat with Rainie and Jessica about the underprivileged youngsters she’d hired for her cleaning service. Sounded as if the kids were a handful and needed instruction in not only housekeeping, but also manners and attire.
“Watch out for pilfering,” Rainie commented. “I know you’re keeping them away from your residential clients, but even in offices, people leave easily pocketed valuables on their desks.”
Odd. He hadn’t thought Rainie would be prejudiced against the poor. Then again, her matter-of-fact tone lacked scorn.
“This is true.” Andrea frowned. “I’ll be observant.” The two women exchanged looks with undertones of…something shared?
As Jake studied them, his gaze focused on Rainie’s yellow and red streaked hair. A few stiffer strands were green as well. “Did you get something in your hair?”
“Oh, did I. Master Galen brought in neon hairspray and wanted to be artistic.” She rolled her eyes. “Crazy Fed.”
Jake turned slightly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let her impertinence pass. “Rainie.” Fisting her hair, he pulled her smoothly to her feet.
“Hey!” She grabbed his wrist.
“Whether you have a problem with the FBI agents or not, you’re going to be respectful.” He paused and added, “Trainee.”
Her arm lowered. “I…I’m sorry, Sir.”
The instinctive yielding of her body sent a frisson of pleasure up his spine. Be a delight to push her further. “There are lines a submissive shouldn’t cross. You shouldn’t cross. Not only for a Dom’s comfort, but yours as well. I’ll enforce those limits, Rainie.” He didn’t bother to add she wouldn’t enjoy coming up against his will. Either she was smart enough to know it or she’d learn.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. When he twisted her hair, increasing the pull, she added a hasty, “Sir. I’ll remember, Sir.”
He eyed her. Was she going to cause trouble tonight? She and Uzuri were known pranksters. Only two other submissives in the Shadowlands were more mischievous. He smothered a smile. Gabi’s mouthiness kept Marcus on top of the D/s game, and little Sally was such a handful it took both Galen and Vance to keep her playfulness within bounds.
He had to admit he envied the other Masters their spirited submissives.
Keeping Rainie quiet with his hand in her hair, he regarded her clothing. Completely black… He glanced at Cullen. “Let me guess—Z’s using the trainees as walking canvases?”
“That’s affirmative, buddy. And all submissives—trainee or not—get their lips painted so they glow.” Cullen tapped Rainie’s mouth and barked a laugh when she snapped her teeth at him.
Jake studied the sumptuous female feast he held and zeroed in on her very fuckable mouth. She had softly pink lips with a crease in the center of the lower one. “Were your lips glow-painted?”
Rainie looked up through a stray lock of hair. “Uh. No.” When he didn’t respond, she added a hasty, “Sir.”
“Let’s get the task out of the way then.” He put a hand on her nape, and her thick, silky hair tickled his fingers as he guided her toward a table. With an effort, he ignored the effect she had on him. The woman was too damned appealing for his good.
The reverse wasn’t true. For whatever reason, she didn’t want anything to do with him—and he figured that was a submissive’s choice to make. Even if it left him feeling fucking disgruntled.
Master Jake had big hands. Rainie felt the power in the fingers curled around the back of her neck. She barely managed to suppress a shiver and wanted to scold her body for getting worked up. Burned once, twice shy.
But that thought kept slipping away when she was close enough to see the laugh lines fanning from the corners of his eyes.
He was known as a fun Master. Friendly. Easy-going…to a point. She liked that kind of Dominant.
But even without the past between them—although he knew nothing about that day—she wouldn’t want to be with him. Last winter, when a date had taken her to the super-expensive restaurant, Caretta on the Gulf, Jake had been there with a gorgeous, thin, designer-clad woman. His suit had said money. His manners had said polish and class. Everything about him reaffirmed he was out of her league.
And yet his grip did funny things to her insides.
When they reached the table, he released her.
Silently, she looked up at him. He was more than a half-foot taller than her five-seven, and totally lean and muscled. His cheekbones were defined. His jaw, strong. His nose, a work of art.
And here she stood. A fluffy, plus-sized woman from the slums. They had nothing in common.
“Z wanted scenes to be lightweight. Will his dictate put a crimp in your plans tonight?” Jake’s voice was as flowing and flawless as the black silk shirt he wore.
“Not really. Hitting the dance floor is at the top of my agenda.” Dancing was far more fun than sex—and tonight, it would be awesome under the black lights.
One sharply angled, masculine eyebrow rose. In all his perfection, he reminded her of a slightly younger Master Marcus. Jake must be…about thirty or thirty-one, right?
“Aren’t you interested in doing scenes? Finding the ideal Dom?” he asked.
At one time when she’d joined, she’d wanted to score the perfect Dom. Now? Not so much. “Of course,” she lied.
She crossed her arms over her chest as the heavy weight of a Dom’s scrutiny landed on her—Jake’s scrutiny—and her spine turned to water. How did he do that?
“Hey, Jake.” Kendall—known in the club as Barge—strolled over. The Dom wore a skin-tight, black vinyl shirt and pants. Sometimes she wondered if he’d joined the Shadowlands just to dress up.
“Barge. Good to see you.” As the wall sconces dimmed and the black lights came on, Jake dipped his finger into the glowing red pot and outlined her lips with the body paint.
Why did the simple glide of his finger seem like sexual overture? Why did his touch have to feel right? She knew better. No perving on the sophisticated, classy Dom.
When Master Jake stepped back, she stifled her urge to get closer. Instead, she turned her attention to Barge.
“Want to do an easy flogging scene?” Barge asked her. “Z lent me a flogger, and I’d like to see the falls in the black light.”
Rainie considered. Last month, Barge had talked her into seeing him outside the club. Although their two dates had been pleasant enough, he reminded her of other “nice” men she’d known, possessing a personality more willow tree than oak. When push came to shove, Barge would bend—much as her previous boyfriends had when confronted with peer or family pressures over dating her.
However, even though she didn’t want to date Barge, his scenes were fun. She wasn’t looking for anything more intense—not after her horrible week.
“Sure.” After a warning look from Jake, she amended her answer to, “I’d like that, Sir.”
“Okay then. Let’s go, subbie.”
“Yes, Sir.” She followed Barge across the room and managed to check over her shoulder only once…to see Jake watching her thoughtfully.
Jake’s hour of serving as a dungeon monitor was over. After handing off the gold-trimmed vest and getting a bottled water, he dropped down in a leather chair between two scenes to admire the light show. In the shadowy room, the glow-painted floggers, canes, and paddles were mesmerizing.
There were also some enthusiastic body-paint jobs, especially on submissives’ breasts and pussies. Stripes, circles, dots. In one shadowy section, a pair of glowing green breasts seemed to float in the air without a supporting body.
Z had developed a great theme, as usual. During Jake’s travels in the Army Veterinary Corps, he’d appraised several BDSM clubs and none suited him as well as here.
Being voted in as a Shadowlands “Master” had been an honor he hadn’t expected. He didn’t mind putting in the extra time Z requested of the Masters. He figured mentoring new Doms, supervising scenes, and protecting submissives were all activities any experienced Dom should perform without being asked.
Of course, Z did have his favorite project. And during the past hour, Jake had made a point of checking on the trainees. Uzuri had gone upstairs with Holt, one of her favorite Doms. In the far corner, Tanner waited in a dog kennel while a married couple—a Mistress and a switch—prepared for the scene they’d do.
And here was the third trainee.
In the scene area to Jake’s left, Barge and Rainie finished cleaning the equipment and sat down to talk. She had her back turned to Jake, and he spotted a few light pink areas on the untattooed parts of her shoulders, but no welts. She hadn’t cried, hadn’t reached subspace, didn’t appear stressed. Then again, not much frazzled Rainie.