Page 62 of Master My Love

Chapter 16

WHEN WORD GOT OUT THE3-time Emmy nominated star had disappeared, the SFPD was flooded with Branden Cassidy sightings. They needed to follow up on all of them, but they didn’t have the manpower to do so quickly. Since he disappeared on their watch, six Rossi men converged on San Francisco to help run down leads, but none of them panned out.

But something else did when Eric walked into the office Monday afternoon.

The files Jonas sent had all the missing pieces to the puzzle, including a bank statement confirming their client had made a $20,000 cash withdrawal two weeks ago. His credit card activity revealed the lying S.O.B. had checked into the Four Seasons Santa Monica the day before. Eric didn’t doubt he’d been lounging on the beach while half the police force and the entire Rossi team were out looking for him.

He glanced at his dashboard clock—five o’clock already. He barely had enough time to get to Santa Monica, drag the pipsqueak from his cozy suite, deliver him to the police, who could charge him with making a false report, and then he could race back to meet Valerie at nine. After making a few more calls, he headed out.

While driving toward the coast, he replayed Thursday night’s drama in his mind. He’d calmed considerably since leaving Val that night, the spanking helping to ease his anger but not his disappointment. Samson and Thomas had talked him down, reminding him she was a newbie and new subs fucked up.

“Training them and watching their reaction to creative punishments when they screw up is half the fun of taking on a newbie, my man,” Samson had reminded him.

Thomas’ recommendation was to “spank her ass until she can’t sit without a pillow and make damn sure she knows not to do it again.”

He’d taken both their sage advice and then had to leave her. But he intended to wrap things up fast and return to her. Although he had the upper hand right now, submissive or not, a woman in a new relationship would only tolerate so many cancellations. To do so to her on Valentine’s Day might be unforgivable.

***

WITH THE PARKING GARAGEat full capacity, Val had to use the overflow lot behind the building. The sky was a shade of deep blue as dusk approached, and the solar lights lining the sidewalk flickered on, illuminating her path to the front entrance. But Val had other things on her mind than the scenery. In consideration of modesty on a busy city street, she’d slipped on a lightweight summer sweater before leaving the car. But with the Santa Ana wind constantly blowing, she had to hold down the hem of her nightie as she hurried along, trying hard to prevent recreating Marilyn Monroe’s iconic upskirt flash fromThe Seven-Year Itch. Except Val’s would likely stop traffic because, per her master’s orders, she was bare underneath, and by bare, she didn’t only mean sans panties.

After finishing with her last client at 3 p.m., Val spent several hours preparing for the evening ahead. On the back of the card that came with her lingerie, Eric had written specific instructions. She was to wear her hair loose, with no clips or bands, and she was to shave everything carefully avoiding alcohol-based products, such as hairsprays, gels, or perfumes. He’d emphasized this last order by underscoring each item twice.

The word flammable came to mind when considering what everything had in common. T’s comment about Eric playing on the fringe came to mind. Could he have something like that planned for tonight?

She had spent the weekend reading, much of it online, and stumbled upon fire play and cupping, which piqued her interest. She trusted him to know what he was doing, but fire? Being turned into a toasted marshmallow wasn’t her idea of an erotic fantasy come to life, but then neither was getting her ass flogged and paddled until Eric tied her to a bench and showed her the light.

Val didn’t count the punishment she had taken over his couch. She’d been an idiot and deserved every one of those swats—had asked for them, too. Glancing down at the satin and lace swathing her body, the first intimate gift he’d given her, she smiled. The smooth fabric skated across her skin, moving as she did, except for the lace cups which were slightly scratchy against her nipples. Both were a constant reminder her of his touch, leaving her to wonder if it was intentional. That he’d obviously forgiven her boosted her confidence and lightened her steps as she strode eagerly toward the main entrance.

The line out the front door meant she had to continue her battle with the wind and her billowing hem for a while longer. It moved quickly, though. A short while later, she was inside the protected, windless lobby. Julianna was working the check-in counter, helping the regular receptionist on a busy night. When Val removed her sweater and handed it to her friend, she let outa loud wolf whistle.

Still ill at ease from being practically naked in public, especially without the comforting presence of her dom by her side, heat crept from her chest,up her neck, and all the way to her ears whenshe realizedeveryone in the lobby had turned to check her out, too.

“Sorry,” Julianna told her. “I forget you’re still a newbie. But you look like a snack in that nightie. I knew it would be perfect for you.”

Val’s excitement dissipated when her words sank in, leaving her feeling as deflated as a slowly leaking balloon. “I thought Eric picked it out.”

“Oh, but he did. I mean...Master Eric described to the letter what he wanted; short, lacey, and classy were his three requirements. I went to the boutique I took you to and bombarded him with pictures, at least twenty, until he found what he wanted. So even though I played errand girl, he picked it out.”

Val’s hands smoothed down the apron-style chemise. It was so sheer, the shadows of her nipples were visible to anyone who cared to look. Something she knew would happen a lot tonight.

“He has excellent taste, don’t you think?” Julianna asked. “Virginal white on you is very becoming.”

She had to agree with her friend. Eric had great taste and knew what would flatter her curvy frame. The stretchy fabric clung to her belly—still flat thanks to her every other day stair climber workouts—and flared out just a touch low on her hips. Her back was practically bare, a trend she noted, except for the ties from her halter top.

After scrutinizing herself in her mirror at home, turning from side to side, raising her arms over her head, and bending over trying to see what would show, she knew she looked good, but she still felt self-conscious.

---