Page 44 of Breaking Free

Deep down, she was relieved. She didn’t know how to handle watching the man she wanted with another woman.

With a reassuring hand on Narissa’s calf, Tristan turned to the crowd at the ropes. “This concludes my demo for the evening.”

A barrage of questions immediately bombarded him. The most frequent one asked—if he gave one-on-one lessons. He was cordial in his responses but politely shut it down after about ten minutes.

“I’m afraid my job isn’t done yet. Narissa has been bound for a while, and I can’t leave her hanging.” There was a ripple of laughter in response to his play on words. “Aftercare comes before any additional Q&A. Check with me later on. I’ll be around.”

A murmur of understanding rippled through the audience, and they slowly dispersed. Tristan shifted his attention back to Narissa, but his gaze inadvertently swept over her and Josie. His body tensed, and his previously relaxed expression twisted back into its familiar frown.

“Uh-oh,” her friend murmured.

Instead of storming over and demanding she get out—again—he focused his attention on his sub, lowering her to the floor, then began releasing her from the ropes.

“He didn’t seem happy to see us. I think that’s our cue to go.” Piper was already on the move, winding through the remaining bystanders.

“Not us. You,” Josie corrected as she hurried after her. “Let’s head to the bar. We each get a free drink tonight. After that, I could use one.”

Warm all over and shaken by the beauty and eroticism of the scene, as well as Tristan’s dominating presence, Piper couldn’t agree more. When he found her, which she didn’t doubt he would, he’d show her the door. But throwing her out wouldn’t erase what she’d seen or extinguish the newfound hunger to explore more of this world of ropes and raw sexuality.

A sharp crack sounded, halting her in her tracks. “What was that?”

“A whip,” Josie replied, passing her on the way to the door. “I heard someone mention that’s the next demonstration.”

Almost instantly, she was brought back to the reality that pain often accompanied kink and submission. Oddly, she had the urge to explore that side of it, too, but she wanted Tristan to be the one to introduce her—with strict limits and no whips.

But how, with him dead set against her being in his club? He barely tolerated her living next door—the frustrating, obstinate man. Joining the club would mean entering his world where he was comfortable, skilled, and respected. Her intrusion wouldn’t be fair to him, but exclusion would be equally unfair to her.

When the whip cracked again, followed by a loud moan, she rushed past her friend.

They found two empty stools at the bar, and, once settled, Piper blurted out, “This can’t be the only BDSM club in LA.”

“According to my clients, who, as I’ve said, love to talk about this stuff, Club Decadence is the best. There are public clubs, but they say they’re pretty much regular bars and dance clubs with special rooms in the back.” Josie swiveled to face her, concern furrowing her brow. “You’re not thinking about going to one, are you? I got the impression they weren’t safe.”

“Your friend is right. The public clubs are nothing more than meat markets filled with dom wannabes. They might have a bouncer or two out front, but they don’t prescreen like we do. Anyone who pays the cover is allowed in. I do not recommend them.” They looked up at a big, burly, auburn-haired man on the other side of the bar. From the towel thrown over one shoulder, he was tending bar. “We can discuss that more in-depth later,” he went on as he splayed his giant hands on the bar and leaned toward them. “But the burning issues of the moment are why would Master Tristan run either of you lovely subbies off, and why is he bearing down on you like an angry viper about to strike?”

His gaze moved from them to a point over their heads.

Josie swiveled on her stool. “Brace yourself, Piper,” came her warning an instant later.

She didn’t turn to look. She didn’t have to. In the full-length mirror behind the shelves of liquor bottles, she could see the crowd parting for Tristan, who stalked toward her, looking less like a snake and more like a volcano ready to erupt.

Cheese and mice! How did she look him in the eye after that scene? He would read the longing on her face. More urgent, considering the aroused state she was in, how did she overcome her sweet little farm-girl persona and convince him to give her a chance?

Chapter 13

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