Master Me, Please (Miami Masters Book 2) Page 3

  Changing the subject was her friend’s way of saying ‘subject closed and lecture over’, and Krista respected that. The lifestyle carried pitfalls, just like any relationship, and those should be maneuvered through with someone you trusted before making any final decisions about entering it. The hospital director and his wife were heading their way, and she knew she couldn’t hide in the corner any longer.

  Alessa saw them at the same time. “Here comes Director Schmit.”

  “I know, I need to be a good hostess even if I wish they’d all leave me to wallow in sorrow alone.” Which didn’t explain why her eyes kept straying to Dr. Dax Hayes, or why she couldn’t swallow past the lump of regret lodged in her throat when she gazed at him. After the friendship he’d shared with Kurt and the one, unforgettable night for her the three of them had indulged in, was it too much to ask for his support now?

  “Unfortunately, I have to be one of the first people to give you that wish. I caught a shift tonight and have to go.” Reaching out, Alessa drew her into a hug which brought out the tears yet again.

  Blinking them away, Krista pulled back. “Go, and thank you for everything. I couldn’t have gotten through today without you.” Turning to walk Alessa to the door, she came to an abrupt stop right before she plowed into Dax, who had joined the director. Looking up, she saw from his expression he heard her last comment and took it to heart. Good, he should.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Doctor, Director.”

  Alessa nodded at them before she left Krista to cope with the remaining guests by herself. With her parents traveling overseas and her sister-in-law just giving birth to her brother’s first child, Krista had no family to cling to as she fought to save herself from drowning in the roiling, storm-tossed waters of bereavement this past week. She didn’t know how she would have made it this far without Alessa’s steadfast, loyal support, but she couldn’t cling to her twenty-four/seven.

  “We need to take our leave also,” the director said before she could close the door. “Take your bereavement days, and extra time if you need it, Krista. Kurt was a fine surgeon and friend. He’ll be missed.”

  “Thank you for coming.” Those were the only words she could think to say, and at that moment, she didn’t care if they were enough or not. She wanted this day over. “I plan on returning to work next week. I need to keep busy.”

  “That would be best, dear.” Krista couldn’t recall the director’s wife’s name, so she smiled and nodded her head before closing the door. Her smile slipped as soon as she turned and found Dax still standing there. “You’re leaving also?” She hated the pathetic whine in her voice, but he was the one she hoped would hang around, at least for a little while.

  “I have to, Krista. Here.” Her hand shook as she reached to take the business card he held out to her. “Sean’s a friend of mine I’ve known for over twenty years. If you need anything, or anyone to talk to, give him a call. He can help you.”

  A sharp pain stabbed her chest as her eyes flew up to his rugged, chiseled face. Since that night when she’d found so much pleasure in sucking his cock while those talented surgeon’s hands proved how well he knew women’s bodies, he’d maintained a reserved, but friendly distance. The few times they’d seen him at the club both before that night and the one time after, she recalled growing even hotter, wetter, when he’d stop to watch their scene. But if he was interested in a repeat evening like the one Kurt had arranged for her birthday, he’d never shown it. Given her skyrocketing responses, she’d always thought that was best—after all, she was a happily married woman—but all this week she’d hoped he would be willing to be there for her as someone to lean on or turn to for emotional support. Apparently, the strong connection she’d always felt toward the doctor was one-sided.

  “Thank you, but I don’t hold much stock in psychology,” she replied after glancing at the card.

  “I don’t either, but he’s a damn good friend and, believe it or not, a damn good therapist. Krista.” He hesitated, his eyes going dark as he seemed to struggle with wanting to say something. She held her breath, hoping for some sign that night meant enough to him she could count on him being there for her now, but his shuttered expression gave nothing away. “I’m sorry about Kurt,” he said, his tone gruff. Then he bent down, and she held her breath as he kissed her cheek before whispering, “Take care, little one.”

  She didn’t respond as he slipped out the door. Of all the doctors she’d assisted in surgery, and all the Doms she’d met since she’d started exploring the lifestyle, he was the one who confused her the most. Too bad he was also the only one she could imagine going to when the time came to see about getting her submissive needs met again, the only one other than Kurt she’d felt a yearning to submit to and serve.

  For over two years, she’d basked in the luxury of a Master to lean on, to take control the minute she walked through their door and relieve her of having to deal with anything other than pleasing him. And nothing could ease her stress more or make her happier than pleasing Kurt. She never cared what others might think of her and her subservient lifestyle. It had taken too long to discover what had been missing from her life, why she couldn’t be happy with the nice men she dated, or find satisfaction in sex. She found what she’d been missing with her first visit to one of Miami’s clubs, and the rest with Kurt a few short months later. He’d taken her under his control with strict but loving tutoring, and she’d never been more content or happier with her life than she’d been with him.

  Grief kept her from looking too far ahead, and now, as she watched Dax get into his vintage ‘Vette and drive away, she thought she wouldn’t be thinking about returning to the lifestyle anytime soon, regardless of how much she already missed her husband’s loving control.

  Three weeks passed before Krista could bring herself to return to work. Beneath the multiple layers of mind-numbing sorrow, her sense of betrayal fostered a growing thread of anger. She spent her time getting their finances in order, sifting through Kurt’s things and struggling with what to give away and what to keep. With each article of clothing, every small personal item around the house, her anger grew. In between bouts of weeping, she cursed him for leaving her, for taking the coward’s way out without a thought to what it would do to her. When she’d married him two years ago, he’d promised to be there for her, to always see to her needs and give her the strict control she desired. She, in turn, had vowed to submit to him, offering him the power he’d always wanted in a committed relationship. How often had he lain with her in bed, after releasing her from her bonds, to tell her she’d made the long wait to settle down with one woman worth it?

  At forty-seven, Kurt had been twenty-one-years older than her, and died way too young at barely fifty. She knew how devastating ALS was, had watched his slow decline this past year with heart wrenching despair, yet managed to maintain a positive attitude while he still enjoyed his control over her. Krista stood at her dresser, running her finger over the collar he’d gifted her with on their wedding night. Designed of soft, supple black leather with a diamond encrusted D ring in the center, she’d removed it the day of his funeral. She smiled, recalling their last full day together, his voice gruff as he’d ordered her to strip, sit on the end of the bed and spread her legs for him.

  Wearing nothing but his collar, Krista settled at Master Kurt’s feet, bent her knees and then let them fall apart. Indulging in an hour of yoga every day ensured her body stayed limber, her muscles stretched so she could please him by being able to maneuver into any position he desired. Despite his physical depletion, his voice remained strong, sure and commanding, sending shivers of heightened expectancy dancing around her happy places.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Krista. Your nipples are such a pretty shade of pink, just like your pussy. Take them in your fingers and pull, just like I’d do if I could. Don’t hold back. I’ll know if you do, and call Dax over here to punish you.”

  A flush crept up her chest to spread over her fac
e. She didn’t know if the heat of embarrassment was due to the promise of humiliation and pain in that threat, or because of how much she yearned for another ménage with the enigmatic doctor, her husband’s associate. Krista remembered the pleasure in Kurt’s brown eyes that night last year when the two men had taken her over and given her the hottest sexual night of her life. After Dax left, Kurt couldn’t praise her enough, had told her over and over how proud he’d been, how much her responses both excited and pleased him.

  Grasping her nipples, she pinched the tender buds between her thumbs and forefingers, wincing at the sharp pain that sped straight between her splayed legs. She didn’t need to glance down to know how wet and swollen she was, Kurt’s look told her exactly how her body responded and looked.

  “That’s my girl,” he praised her, his hand shaking as he reached up to scratch at his bristled cheek.

  “Do you want me to shave you, Master?” She’d done that chore for him long before he became ill, and still enjoyed catering to him.

  “No, baby, I’m fine. More than fine with you entertaining me. Pull now. Straight out as far as you can and hold it.”

  Biting her lip, she slowly stretched her breasts out, elongating her nipples until her eyes watered from the discomfort. Her held breath released on a whoosh when he gave her relief with one word.

  “Release.”

  Her breasts bounced back, her nipples throbbing as she broke out in a sweat of longing. Not for a million dollars would she let him know how much she longed to be taken again, feel the burn of his cock invading her with demanding possession.

  “Knead your breasts and tell me what you want, Krista.”

  I want you to not be dying. Instead she smiled at him as she cupped her breasts and squeezed the soft mounds, rasping her tender nipples with her thumbs to both soothe and stimulate. “I want to please you, Master. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I know, baby. Use both hands on your pretty cunt now. One finger from each to get yourself off. Remind me how beautiful you are when you climax.”

  A look passed over his face she couldn’t define. Something between sorrow and determination that tore at her insides. Her heartbeat accelerated with a sense of doom, but before she could question him, he drilled her with a hard-eyed stare that drew goose bumps along her arms.

  “You know better than to keep me waiting, girl. Do I need to make that phone call?”

  “No, Master,” she quickly answered. As much as she would love to have Dax’s hands and mouth on her again, feel his large cock filling one of her orifices along with her husband’s, without Kurt joining them, she knew it wouldn’t be as pleasurable even if it did please him to watch.

  Trailing her hands down her abdomen, her fingers encountered soft, damp flesh, and as she slid two between her slick folds, she wasn’t surprised to discover even more copious juices easing her thrusts. Warm, slick muscles contracted around her fingers as she kept her eyes locked on her husband’s ravaged face and tried not to succumb to the grief of knowing this time next year, he would be gone.

  “Feel good, baby?”

  “Yes, Master, but not as good as your fingers. I…” She couldn’t bring herself to continue, to tell him she loved him as he looked at her with the knowledge of his impending demise reflected on his face. “I need to come,” she said instead, because he loved it when she begged. “Please, Sir.”

  “Not yet. Play with yourself a little more. You know how much I like watching you.”

  So she did, just like always, setting aside her own needs to cater to his, as they both liked it. With a slow withdrawal, she grazed over her swollen clit, gasping at the pleasure that light touch sent spiraling up her core. Twirling both fingers around her entrance, she spread the dripping moisture over her pussy folds before delving deep again. It was impossible to avoid teasing the small bundle of nerves again, just as it was to keep from igniting a firestorm of lust as she tickled nerve endings all up and down her vagina. Putting pressure against the sensitive spot up high inside her made her shudder, drawing a smile from Kurt.

  “I do love that little area where you’re most sensitive,” he told her. “But I am tiring now, so you may come.”

  Krista didn’t hesitate to zero in on her clitoris and milk the tiny piece of flesh as she finger-fucked her sheath with her other hand. Heat enveloped her body, shook her muscles, and sent her hips thrusting against her marauding hands. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes against the pained expression crossing Kurt’s face and let go, riding out the pleasure for both their benefits.

  Tears rolling down her face, Krista realized that scene had been his parting gift to her as she picked up her collar and opened the top drawer of her dresser. Burrowing beneath the sexy lingerie Kurt had bought her, she tucked it in the back. Right now, she couldn’t imagine going back to that lifestyle with anyone else. The image of Dr. Dax Hayes rose unbidden in her mind, his green eyes glazed with lust as he’d looked down at her. After she’d masturbated for Kurt that last time, he’d told her she could count on Dax to be there for her when he was gone, encouraging her to go to him when her needs demanded seeing to. As much as she liked Dax, and enjoyed the one night he’d joined them, grief and simmering anger prevented her from thinking of anything except getting through the next few months of adjustment.

  Shoving the drawer closed, she inhaled a deep, fortifying breath then padded down the hall, through the great room, and over to Kurt’s closed office door. She hadn’t been inside his personal space since a week before he died. He didn’t like to be disturbed when he worked on cases and conversed on the phone about his patients with other doctors. A few times he’d invited her in just to sit on his lap while he went over lab tests or radiology reports, usually with his hand wandering over her naked flesh and, once, when she’d been feeling neglected, she’d entered and knelt between his legs. Before he could stop her, she had his cock in her mouth and his low groans filled the room. She’d gotten the ruler for that little transgression and had to forego an orgasm that day, but it’d been worth it.

  Slipping inside, Krista swore she could smell him as she flipped open the blinds and let in a swath of abundant sunshine to brighten the dark wood trim and shelving. With a heavy heart, she settled on his wide, leather office chair behind the large, mahogany desk and the first thing her eyes landed on was a propped-up note bearing her name in Kurt’s handwriting. Her stomach twisted into a furious knot of dread as she lifted the creamy envelope with a hand that shook. Before she could open it, a wave of impotent fury came roaring to the surface.

  Damn it, she swore. His excuses or platitudes would mean nothing. How dare he? She’d much rather he’d have come to her, told her what was going through his head so she could disabuse him of any guilt or be there to give him what comfort she could. Being there for him had been her primary role in their marriage, a role she’d loved and thrived on as much, she thought, as he did.

  Yanking open the middle drawer, she tossed the offending object inside, slammed it shut and locked it. That little rebellion did zilch to appease her anger, so with a wide sweep of her arm over his meticulously neat desk, she sent everything flying off to scatter across the floor. Rising, Krista stomped out of the room, slammed the door for good measure and strode to the bar in the far corner of the great room. Pouring herself a shot of whisky, she tossed it back in one swallow, relishing the fiery burn that soothed her raw nerves. Unfortunately, the fury that propelled her over here dissipated as fast as it had risen. Sliding down the wall, she brought up her knees and buried her face, sobs wracking her body for all she had lost, wrenching grief over where to go from here welling up in a tidal wave of consuming confusion and despair.

  Another bleak day of loneliness greeted Krista as she rose to get ready for work the following morning. Her topsy-turvy emotions, vacillating between bereavement and anger, continued, clouding her thought processes. She knew she’d better get herself under control before she entered the first operating room she was ass
igned to. Figuring the best way would be to concentrate on one emotion, she drew fortitude from her anger and carried it with her as she drove to the hospital. She went through the motions of acknowledging co-worker’s condolences, barely listening to their words that held little meaning for her and offered even less comfort. When she checked the posted schedule, her damaged heart leapt with a flicker of pleasure when she noted it was a heart valve case.

  Since Dr. Hayes was the leading heart specialist and consultant in that area, odds were she would be assisting him. Not questioning why that uplifted her mood, she dressed in scrubs and padded down the much colder hall to the assigned room. But fifteen minutes later, after she’d prepared the space for surgery, including setting out the necessary surgical tools, it was Dr. Hoffstetter who stepped in, hands raised to avoid contamination.

  “Good morning, Doctor,” she greeted him, with any luck successful in disguising her disappointment.

  “Good to see you back, Krista,” he replied with a smile. He had to be well into his seventies, she guessed, but showed no signs of slowing down.

  “Thank you.” Curious, she asked, “I thought Dr. Hayes handled heart valves?”

  “Oh, you missed his announcement. He’s off with Doctors Without Borders for about eighteen months. Seems like a long tour, but he was looking forward to it. Here comes our patient,” he ended, all business now his patient was being wheeled in.

  For the second day in a row, Krista suffered through a sucker-punch surprise, one that left her with the urge to double over to control the painful wave of rejection cramping her body. How could he? The agonizing question went unanswered, just as all her other questions since her husband’s death. Hadn’t Dax promised Kurt he’d be here for her? Did he take his promises that lightly or, like her husband, did he not even think about her when making his decision to leave her alone with no one to turn to or lean on during this time of adjustment?