Page 45 of Breaking Free

TRISTAN LEFT NARISSAwrapped in a blanket, snuggled up against her domme’s side, sipping water and nibbling on chocolates, and strode to the lounge. A good thirty minutes had passed since Piper had wisely made herself scarce, but that time hadn’t lessened his anger. She knew he disapproved of her being here, yet she ignored his wishes and warnings.

From the perimeter of the packed lounge, he searched for a mass of blonde waves. A flash of fiery-red hair at the bar caught his eye first. When he started that way, members and guests quickly cleared a path, correctly reading the annoyance emanating from him.

The sight of two of his neighbors in the crowd outside the suspension station had been a surprise. Piper’s expression, filled with longing for something she had no concept of, had come as a shock. It aroused him more than the eager, experienced submissives who offered themselves to him each night. Even more than the stunning, nearly naked sub he had suspended tonight, who craved the power and control of shibari as much as he did.

After nearly two decades in the lifestyle, he had encountered plenty of newbies. Never once had he felt the need to warn them away. But something about Piper roused his protective instincts and so much more. Releasing Narissa with a rock-hard erectionin his pants was awkward—not to mention damn uncomfortable. And it still was as he stalked through the crowded bar.

As expected, Piper occupied the stool beside Josie. She had her back to him, talking with Samson, who was stationed behind the bar, as usual. Tristan could tell the moment the fellow Rossi man caught sight of him. His eyes locked with his own, and he stroked his bushy red beard, as if unraveling an intriguing mystery. Then, leaning in closer, he whispered something to both women. The distance and noise level drowned out his words, but the way Josie tensed, whirling on her stool to face him, confirmed Sam had warned them of his approach.

Piper didn’t move a muscle, which gave him a moment to study her. The brightness of her hair and clothes matched the flowering pots lining her kitchen windowsill, the orange sunflower throw pillows on her purple couch, her obnoxiously cheerful yellow car, and her perpetually sunny disposition. Her light didn’t belong here in the darkness, and she sure as hell didn’t belong anywhere close to him.

He stopped behind her, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t speak, but the way she didn’t move—was she even breathing?—told him she knew he was there.

“I thought I made myself clear the last time?” he said in a low, unflinching tone as he sought her face in the mirror behind the bar. Only when he found it, and her blue eyes locked with his, did he continue. “This isn’t the place for someone like you.”

Her head whipped around first, then she swiveled to face him fully. “Someone like me?” she asked, eyes narrowing at his veiled implication. “What does that mean?”

“A naive farm girl from Iowa,” he said pointedly. “What would your preacher father think?”

She slid from her stool. He didn’t move to allow her space, and barely an inch separated them. He rethought his intimidating posture when he could see down her low-cut top.

“What my father thinks is none of your concern.” She raised her chin defiantly and met his gaze as she asserted, “Neither am I. And I can handle myself here just fine, thank you very much.”

“You have no idea what you’re playing at.”

“That’s true,” she allowed. “But that’s why I’m here—by invitation—to find out. I had a glimpse the other day, but I was curious about what it was like with the lights dimmed, the music on, and the membership here in full force.”

“Now you know.” His fingers wrapped around her upper arm to escort her to the lobby. “I’ll have one of the men take you home.”

“But I drove. Besides, we just got here. They allowed us in for your, um, demonstration.” She blushed, delicately clearing her throat then soldiered on. “But I’m...or rather, we”—Piper gestured with her thumb toward the wide-eyed redhead beside her—“are eager for the full tour.”

His gaze slid to Josie, who gave him a little wave. “Hi, Tristan.”

“That’s sir or Master Tristan,” Samson corrected in his booming voice. “You’re new, but you need to learn that quickly. Uh, Tris,” his friend said, nodding to the room behind him. “The single doms are circling.”

When he glanced in the mirror, at least six eager dominants were taking in the scene. Piper, in her pink leather vest and minuscule skirt, had captured their predatory attention. And who could blame them? She looked amazing, but it only ticked him off more.

“Red is spoken for,” Axyl announced, appearing beside him. “Are you ready?” he asked Josie.

“Yes, but I can’t leave Piper. If she gets kicked out, I’m going too, since I’m her wingman.”

Samson’s laughter didn’t drown out Axyl’s shocked response. “Kicked out by who?”

Josie didn’t respond verbally, but her green eyes shifted pointedly toward Tristan.

Axyl turned to him impatiently. “You understand the purpose of open sub night is to attract new members, particularly those of the submissive persuasion?” He frowned at Piper while still addressing him. “She’s new. If she broke a rule, surely it can be addressed.”

“Piper and I have been on our best behavior, Master Axyl,” Josie insisted, coming to her friend’s defense—aptly so as wingman. “We watched the bondage demonstration without making a peep and then came to the bar, but we haven’t even had a drink yet.”

“Then, what’s the issue?” Axyl inquired, his hands on his hips, glaring at him while waiting for an explanation.

Samson leaned in, propping a forearm on the bar, all ears. “I’m wondering the same thing.”

“She’s a client,” Tristan stated, although that was the least of his concerns.

“So is a third of our membership,” Axyl replied, not buying it.

“Half I’d say, at one time or another,” Samson put in, not helping one bit.

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