Master Me, Please (Miami Masters Book 2) Read online

  Somehow, she got through the day, and the next, and the next. Living in a fog, she kept to a routine so she could act by rote, leaving her less to fret over. And with each passing day, her grief lessened, but her sense of betrayal and anger continued to simmer.

  Chapter 3

  Eighteen months later…

  Dax had been expecting the knock on his door and wasn’t surprised to see Sean glaring at him when he stood back and beckoned his friend inside. After landing stateside, he’d taken a detour by his friend Zach’s place to offer his condolences on his mother’s recent passing before returning to his house for the first time in a year and a half. He’d known Zach would alert the guys, which was why he hadn’t bothered.

  Shutting the door, he turned a rueful grin on his friend. “It didn’t take long for news of my return to travel. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes, then cut the bullshit.”

  He turned away from the storm brewing in Sean’s grey eyes and strode into the living room and across dark hardwood floors to a small corner bar. A wide bay window allowed an abundance of sunshine in during the day, but since it was after 9:00 pm, the only light now shone from two end table lamps.

  “I know you’re pissed.” Pouring two fingers of scotch, he handed one glass across the marbled bar top to Sean, who stood propped against a stool. Running his fingers through his hair, Dax downed his serving before apologizing to his best friend. “I’m sorry. I needed to split after Kurt’s funeral, and knew it’d be harder if I spoke with you or any of the others first. Just respect it was something I felt I needed to do, will you?”

  Cocking his head, Sean sipped his drink and took his time before answering. That fucking patience of his might work well with his patients but, damn, it could grate on the nerves of his friends. Dax actually breathed a sigh of relief when Sean finally spoke.

  “I guess I didn’t realize how close you were to Dr. Matthews. I couldn’t help but note, however, the great pains you took to avoid even glancing toward his wife. She looked like she could’ve used an understanding friend.”

  An unsettling thought popped up from that comment. Setting his glass down with a thud, Dax asked, “Didn’t she call you?”

  “Not once, and before you lay into me, it wasn’t my place to look her up. Shit, Dax, that was your call, not mine, especially since you were aware of their relationship.”

  Censure laced Sean’s voice, which did nothing to curb the guilt Dax thought he had put to bed during his self-imposed exile. But there it was again, curdling his stomach and tensing his muscles. Only now, it stemmed from a whole different reason. “I have and had a good reason for keeping my distance. I’m sorry if I hurt you and the guys in the way I took off, and when I get the chance, I’ll check on Mrs. Matthews.”

  From the derisive look Sean leveled at him, Dax knew he hadn’t fooled his long-time friend. His next words confirmed it. “Mrs. Matthews? You and I have been fucking in the clubs together long enough for me to know when a sub has caught more than your attention.”

  Seeing no way around it, Dax let go of part of the truth. The damn shrink would see through an evasion anyway. Shrugging, as if the memory meant no more than any other sexual encounter, he said, “Kurt invited me to join him in gifting Krista with a ménage for her birthday. She’s a beautiful, responsive sub whom I enjoyed one time.”

  “And how long after that threesome did Kurt OD?” Sean questioned without pause, his astuteness zeroing in on something that remained a sticking point with Dax.

  Kurt announced his diagnosis just a few short weeks after that night. The symptoms of ALS would have been obvious to a doctor well before a victim heard a two-year life expectancy. Dax couldn’t help but question whether Kurt had set up that night knowing he would leave his wife and sub alone before long, or ignore the resentment that possibility stirred up. Of course, Kurt hadn’t been aware of Dax’s strong feelings for Krista. If he had, would he still have been so willing for Dax to fill in as her Dom?

  “A year, and he didn’t invite me back in that time. I can understand why he wouldn’t have wanted to die a slow, terrifying death, but he was a good year away from suffering through the worst of the disease.” After refilling each of their glasses with one more shot, he capped the liquor bottle, stowed it under the bar, and changed the subject. “I met a woman at Zach’s. What gives?”

  One of the best things about having such close friends was they knew when to be there for you, and when to back off. A small, sardonic smile lifted the corners of Sean’s mouth as he raised his glass in a silent salute to Dax’s switch in conversation. “It looks like he’ll be the first of us to take the plunge into commitment.” After telling Dax the little he knew about Zach and Sandie’s short relationship, Sean stood and headed to the door, tossing over his shoulder, “Good to have you back, bro. Just a heads up. I think Miles wants to take a swing at you.”

  Dax winced as Sean let himself out. For any of the other guys, he might consider giving them a free shot since he took a nip out of their twenty plus year friendship by taking off without a word and remaining all but mute the last year and a half. But shit, he knew from sparring with Miles how lethal one whack from the martial arts champion could be. Flipping off lights, he dragged his jet-lagged body upstairs, contemplating what had to be done to air out his house after being closed up for so long, and how many cases of German beer he should start with to appease Miles.

  Dax parked next to Sean’s BMW in the Gold Star Marina lot and tried to stir up enthusiasm for the early evening cruise as he took his time strolling down the wharf to Zach’s yacht. Our yacht. He still couldn’t believe his friend had included all of them on the deed to the extravagant, three-tiered luxury cruiser. Twenty-three years after the seven of them bonded during the strict regimen of that summer camp, they remained a tight-knit group, closer than blood brothers and there for each other when needed, stepping back, giving space without argument when one of them requested it. He hadn’t asked his friends for breathing room after Kurt’s suicide. He’d betrayed their friendship by taking off with Doctors Without Borders without telling any of them, not even Sean, the one he was closest to, and he regretted that decision even though at the time, he’d needed that clean, temporary break from everything.

  Nearing the slot Zach rented for his new toy, he waved to Jackson and Miles as they approached from the opposite end of the pier. Those two were as close as he and Sean, likely due to their shared anti-social natures outside their small group. Two weeks had passed since each one of Dax’s closest friends had welcomed him back with open arms, given lectures about taking off without a word, and thrown a celebration cruise on the boat Zach had equipped for their BDSM play. God, he’d missed them, almost as much as the one woman he couldn’t have. Much to his frustration, since his return, he’d discovered the grueling, eye-opening, stressful tour through some of the most medically deprived areas in Africa and Asia had done nothing to lessen his obsession with Krista Matthews. He’d been struck with the urge to go see her, ensure she was okay, the second he returned, and that need hadn’t abated in the past few weeks. Of course he hadn’t, and didn’t intend to.

  Dax recognized the two women with Jackson and Miles from the last time they gathered here for a party. Except for Zach, who seemed happy in his new relationship with Sandie, they all enjoyed playing the field with women who got off on the dominant control they insisted on. He’d jumped back into the lifestyle with enthusiasm at the welcome home celebration cruise with their small group following his return and Sandie’s freedom from her murderous stepfather. But, as the day for him to resume operating at the same hospital where Krista worked as a surgical tech loomed near, he’d discovered his passion for his favorite recreational activity declining. Dread made for a piss-poor stimulant.

  “Just you today?” Jackson asked with a lift of one mahogany brow as they met up with Dax.

  “Me and all of you.” He winked at Mandy and Vicki before jumping onto the yacht. “I’m sure I can
talk one of you into sharing,” he tossed back, positive his mood would improve.

  Sleek, teak decking gleamed under the afternoon sun as Dax strode toward the cockpit where he spotted Zach and Sandie. His wealthy friend had wasted no expense when ordering the custom-built yacht. As one of the top heart surgeons in the state, Dax had amassed his own share of financial success, but it still paled in comparison to the millions Zach had inherited from a grandfather he’d never known about until he’d reached adulthood.

  Peeking into the compact space where Zach sat next to his girl, Sandie, Dax assessed her well-being with a critical eye, relieved to see the bruised swelling decorating her cheek had healed. It hadn’t been that long since the woman had snuck aboard this very yacht to hide from murderous thugs. “When are you going to ditch this son-of-a-bitch and play doctor with me?” he teased the cute, emerald-eyed submissive with a choppy, short hair style that suited her.

  “I can’t, Dax.” Sandie feigned a disheartened sigh with a side-long look toward Zach. “What’s a girl to do when a guy falls for her Down syndrome, nine-year-old brother and flighty mother?”

  Zach snorted. “The kid’s cute, and cut your mother some slack, Sandie.” Turning to Dax, he explained. “Victoria turned down my offer to move both her and Billy to Miami because she’s hooked up with the undercover agent who helped her take down Deveau.” Cutting his blue eyes back to Sandie, he said, “After being married to your stepfather for over ten years, Marchand will be both good for her and to her.”

  “And if he’s not,” Dax drawled, “I have no doubt Zach here will step in. You’ve sure changed, bro.” His friend had fallen fast and hard for his stowaway, much to Dax’s astonishment when he’d popped in at Zach’s apartment and the first change he’d noticed was the possessive glint in Zach’s eyes when he’d looked at Sandie.

  “Trust me, he can still be an asshole,” Sandie said on a dry note.

  Dax laughed as his mood lightened. “Of course. We wouldn’t love him nearly as much if he changed completely.”

  Zach scowled. “Sean and the Carlsons are topside. Go join them while I get us underway. And you.” He swiveled toward Sandie as he flipped the powerful motor on. “Keep it up and I’ll remind you of just what a jerk I can be.”

  “Oh, good. I can’t wait.”

  Dax’s smile slipped as he climbed the spiral stairs leading to the top tier of the luxury cruiser. He remembered Kurt gazing at Krista with the same proprietorial regard as Zach did Sandie. Like Sandie, Krista possessed a submissive mien that drew dominant men such as Dax and his friends with the irresistible pull of a strong magnet. Only, Krista carried her submissiveness a step further with an eagerness to see to her Master’s pleasure first and above all. Tightening his jaw, he fought to tamp down his irritation. Distance and time had both failed to get her out of his head. His return to indulging in kink hadn’t seemed to help either. What the hell would it take for him to quit thinking about her, stop lusting for her?

  A day of mindless fucking, that’s what he needed, Dax decided when he spotted Trevor stripping his guest under a dangling chain station as the yacht cleared the harbor. Although, if he went on past experience, that might not do the trick either. With few options while overseas, Dax had indulged in a vanilla affair with a nurse in their group, breaking both his rules about sticking to experienced submissives in the lifestyle and fucking a co-worker. Marissa had been nice, attractive, and wanted nothing more from him than a few hours a week of stress-relief sex. One would think it perfect for the time and place. Yeah, Dax scoffed, one would think that.

  “Why don’t you quit scowling and join me?”

  Trevor smiled with encouragement as he beckoned Dax over. Striding down the port side, Dax raised a hand to Troy, who stood at the aft skeet shooting station with a woman Dax didn’t recognize. With the convenience of the equipped cruiser at their disposal, Dax hadn’t visited any of the Miami BDSM clubs to play with either established members or get to know any of the new ones.

  “Unlike you, I can wait until we won’t risk returning from our cruise to prudish complaints from the marina office. Where’s Sean?”

  “Has his newbie stretched out on a lounge on the bow. He surprised us with that one,” Trevor replied as he lifted the woman’s hands to the dangling cuffs and secured her wrists. After checking to make sure the restraints weren’t too tight, he ran his hands down her smooth back and palmed lush buttocks that drew Dax’s gaze and interest. He did enjoy a plump ass. One thing hadn’t changed in his absence: Sean never played with the same sub more than once or twice, and since this newbie was the third different woman the psych doc had hooked up with in the last few weeks, he’d stayed true to form. It surprised him she was a newbie, though. Like Dax, Sean’s preference ran to more experienced women.

  Trevor peered around his guest’s shoulder and winked one dark brown eye. “You don’t mind onlookers, do you, sweetie?” he asked, referring to Dax’s earlier remark about stripping her before they’d hit open water.

  “No, Sir, I don’t.”

  Between the woman’s soft-spoken reply and the sway of her full breasts with their turgid, berry nipples, a small curl of lust stirred to life. Dax took that as a positive sign as he stood before the attractive brunette. The cooler breeze coming in off the ocean, combined with the picked-up speed of the yacht, helped cut the uncomfortable humidity that was a given on any summer day off the coast of Florida, even as late as September. After gaining experience operating under primitive conditions during Africa’s sweltering hot temperatures and piss-poor excuses for air-conditioning, he could find a token of appreciation for his state’s uncomfortable summer weather.

  “What’s your name?” Dax reached out and cupped one breast, stroking his thumb over her nipple.

  “Crystal, Sir.” Her breathy answer drew smiles from both men, the thrust of her pelvis another telltale sign of need they would ignore in favor of drawing out the erotic torture of making her wait for relief.

  “Crystal’s a sub I met at Chains last week. She’s not a newbie, but two men will be a first for her.” Dax smiled, Trevor’s subtle warning to go slow unnecessary but appreciated. The Pensacola DA was the most light-hearted, fun-loving of the seven of them, but his protective streak matched anything he’d seen from the others, including Troy, his older brother by one year.

  More often than not, Dax liked it rough and intense, and those moods were better suited for a scene with an experienced submissive of like mind. One reason he and Sean were so close was their shared interest in stricter domination than the others practiced. That, and the similarities in their childhoods that had driven them to act out and landed them in the same summer camp for juvenile delinquents. But he had no trouble holding back his preferences to give a sub what she needed, like a slow, thorough introduction into ménage.

  Trevor lifted a multi-strand flogger, letting Crystal see his intentions before stepping behind her. Dax looked down into her flushed face and wide blue eyes, then had to shove aside the intrusion of another pair of blue eyes, these brighter, and portraying a sub’s desire to please that was every Dom’s dream. Irritated with the unwanted remembrance, he focused his concentration on the sub he could have if he so chose.

  “Look at me.” He punctuated the command with a tight grip of her hair at the nape. As he pressed the heel of his palm against the base of her skull, she had no choice but to tilt her head up. Excitement flared in her eyes, which boded well for her being an obedient sub.

  “Eyes on me.” Dax traveled a path down her arched neck with his free hand until he covered one breast and her nipple threatened to bore a hole in his palm. The first snap of leather across her ass drew her surprised gasp and full body shudder, but she managed to keep her eyes focused on Dax. He praised her effort with a small smile and two simple words. “Very good.”

  Instead of seeing a sign of pleasure over earning a Master’s approval, an expression of self-centered want crossed her face. Trevor struck again as Dax kneaded
the soft fullness of her other breast. “I think your sub can handle a touch more, Master Trevor.” Instead of gratitude, her flushed face filled with a greedy absorption upon the next sharper lash. Dax found his interest in the scene waning, turned off by the way Crystal seemed more interested in focusing on her own needs rather than pleasing them. That shouldn’t bother him, as this scene was about her. But he couldn’t help comparing the way she concentrated on herself to how Krista had centered on both her husband and Dax’s pleasure during her ménage.

  The disappointment of seeing Crystal wasn’t more of a service sub cut deeper than warranted as most subs weren’t, only those special few, like Krista. Some women checked out the lifestyle for either something they’d been missing or as a short, temporary walk on the wild side. Few embraced it with enthusiasm to serve, desiring to put a Master’s needs above their own. With considerable effort, he reined in yet another unwelcome, intruding thought of a sub not for him and concentrated on the one before him.

  “Dax?”

  Trevor’s single-word inquiry came as Dax palmed Crystal’s soaking pussy. “I’d say your sub takes to flogging like a fish to water. She’s good, but impatient for her own pleasure.”

  “Hey! What’s wrong… ouch!” Crystal glared daggers at him as he pressed against the soft skin of her labia and felt the heat from his punishing pussy-slap.

  “Thank you, Master Dax. She’s known for being a bit mouthy.” Looking sideways into her flushed face, Trevor grinned, his look revealing his enjoyment of the feisty sub. “I did warn you, sweetie, about following my orders today if you wanted to come along, which included no talking back. But hey, I enjoy a punishment scene as much as anyone, so by all means, keep it up.” He reminded her of his apparent consequences for infractions by delivering a painful sounding strike that parted the foot-long, braided strands so they landed spread apart and the pain covered a wider area.