Chapter 11


    “Oh thank you, Jesus.”


    Jensen barked out augh. He cupped her hips and in the next moment she felt his breath on her wet


    pussy.


    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet.” He pinched herbia and pulled them open, exposing her


    aching core.


    “I can’t remember thest time I was this aroused, Master.”


    “You’re enjoying trying new things—abrasion, arm binding, anal.”


    “Oh yes, Master.”


    “Good, because we’ve got more to do. Come when you’re ready.”


    His lips closed over her clit. Anna screamed. The direct contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves


    was so intense that her toes curled. Jensen held her upper thighs as hepped at her clit. Broad


    strokes of his tongue fanned the already wild fire of her desire. He pulled back and blew on her wet


    flesh, then circled her clit with the tip of his tongue.


    “Master!”


    Knowing she had his permission—and she was so aroused that even if she hadn’t she would have


    come—Anna gave in to the orgasm building in her belly. She sobbed as the pleasure washed over her


    in heavy, thick waves. Her nipples were diamond hard, her ass throbbing, her channel clenching.


    He pulled her deeper under the waves of pleasure, using the t of his tongue to gently massage her


    throbbing clit. Anything more direct would have been ufortable in her pleasure-sensitive body, but


    he knew her, knew that he could prolong her orgasm.


    Anna sucked in great sobbing breaths as her legs trembled and her pussy throbbed. Thest wave


    crashed over her and she went limp, her head hanging down, her hair nearly brushing the floor.


    * * *


    Some people craved the sweet pleasure of submission. Some wanted the heady sting of pain. Some


    had no choice. For some, the darkness inside could only be eased with the dangerous games yed


    here.


    Xavier tossed his bag into one of the elegant mahogany lockers in a small dressing room, anticipation


    making his movements hard and sharp. He needed this. For months he’d been wanting it, lying awake


    at night dreaming of having a woman bound at his mercy. A week ago it had gone from “want” to “need”


    when the darkness inside him reached critical levels. He rubbed his bare face, grimacing, then tucked a


    handful of leather into the front pocket of his ck jeans.


    He headed for the well-stocked bar in the next room. The Dom’s Lounge, affectionately called the den,


    was an elegant room with wood paneling, floor to ceiling bookshelves, and robust leather furniture. It


    had an air of wealth and power, both of which the people who used this room possessed. One wall was


    all windows, taking in the view of golden hills and palm trees, rather than the verdant English


    countryside one might expect.


    Las Palmas was a sprawling Spanish-style estate north of Los Angeles. Its size and architectural


    history meant it was mentioned in various guides, but very few people could im to have ever been


    inside. Las Palmas was the home of Las Palmas Oscuras—a BDSM club for the wealthy, powerful, and


    kinky denizens of the City of Angels.


    “Wee back, Xavier.”


    ss in hand, Xavier half-turned to see an elegant woman in her fifties rising from one of the leather


    wing-back chairs. Mistress Faith was one of the overseers of Las Palmas, and a woman he was lucky


    to call a friend.


    “Mistress.” Xavier used the title both as a sign of respect and affection.


    When she offered her hand, he took it and bowed stiffly over it. There were lines around her eyes that


    Xavier hadn’t seenst time he was here, though she looked elegant and powerful in a tailored ck


    skirt suit. Outside the Doms’ section of the estate she wore a porcin half-mask, both to protect her


    identity and hide her age. That was something Xavier understood, though at thirty-nine it was not his


    age he was hiding.


    “I didn’t think you’d make it for our meeting.” She patted his arm just above the leather bracers he wore


    on each wrist.


    “Meeting?” Apparently he’d missed something. Not a surprise, given his life outside of here.


    Mistress Faith sighed. “I suppose you haven’t read your email?”


    “I’ve only been back for—” Xavier started to reach for his phone to check the time, then remembered


    he didn’t carry it while here. It was a way to separate who he was to the outside world from who he was


    at Las Palmas. “—less than a day.”


    “Then your timing is simply excellent. We have an hour before everyone is expected in the Conve.”


    “You mean the barn?”


    “If it has air conditioning, it’s not a barn. If it’s elegant, it’s not a barn.” Faith had helped develop Las


    Palmas, and had overseen the renovations.


    Xavier snorted. “It’s nicer than 99% of the world’s housing, but it has horse stalls. It’s a barn.”


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    She sniffed. “You weren’t always so obstinate.”


    Xavier was tired of small talk. “What’s going on? Is there something wrong?”


    “Not at all. Have a seat; I’ll have someone bring us food.”


    “I’m fine.” He tossed back his drink and poured another, though this one was simply mineral water. It


    was time to go find a submissive, one of the women who would dly ept and submit to his


    aggressive desires.


    “You need to eat.” She motioned to the chairs.


    “I need a sub and an empty room. Food can wait.”


    “Let’s feed your body, then we’ll feed your soul.” Faith slipped her arm through his. For a moment


    Xavier resisted, but when Faith tapped his arm he gave in and let her guide him to a chair. He chose


    his seat, mindful of his positioning and how much of his face she could see.


    Xavier set down his drink and tugged the heavy leather mask from his pocket,ying it on the side


    table. It seemed he wouldn’t be getting to put it on for another few minutes. If anyone else had tried to


    detain him, he would have shut him or her down. But Faith was one of the few people he respected


    enough to put aside his needs—as long as it was a short dy.


    “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?” Xavier forced himself to rx into the chair, though his


    blood was humming and he was mentally preparing to enter the Las Palmas general rooms, where


    members mingled and those who were not bonded or owned found partners and negotiated scenes.


    “All the time, darling. All the time.”


    Mistress Faith used a phone that waited on a desk facing the windows to ce an order. When she


    returned, she picked up a ss of champagne from the side table and raised it in a toast. “To new


    adventures.”


    Xavier swirled the liquid in his ss. “I’m not in the mood for an adventure.”


    “No. I suppose you’re not.”


    There was a wealth of understanding in her words, and Xavier kept his gaze on the windows, not


    wanting to see the pity in her eyes.


    “I’ll rephrase. We’re going to y a game.”


    Xavier took a long drink, now wishing it was more than water, before replying. “You and I are?”


    Mistress Faithughed. “No, regrettably. All the members of Las Palmas Oscuras.”


    “What game?”


    “You’ll find out soon enough.”