Caught Up in You
Page 7

Author: Roni Loren
“But dominance is not your natural state,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re more than capable of being in that role, but I can tell you have to work hard at it.”
She frowned, his matter-of-fact assessment like a bucket of cold water over her head. “I don’t understand.”
His too-keen eyes evaluated her. “After a session, you don’t look satisfied or fulfilled. You look spent. And I know you don’t use your membership benefits here. The only people you dominate are the ones paying for the privilege. You don’t play with anyone for your own enjoyment.”
She glanced away, focusing on a spot over his right shoulder. Truth was, as sexually pent up as she could get, she never had the desire to take up one of the submissive members on their offers. She’d been abstinent since about a month after the attack. The first few weeks afterward had been filled with a backslide into drinking and far too many one-night stands. She’d been on a mission to erase the memory of that last person who’d touched her by having any and everyone in her bed. But after waking up hungover in some strange apartment, parked between a guy she’d picked up at a bar and his girlfriend, she’d hoofed it to her therapist and returned to The Ranch to ask for her job back. And thank God she’d done those two things. She didn’t even want to think about where she’d be otherwise.
Dominance really wasn’t about getting off for her anyway. It was a release of different sorts. It kept the hungry demons at bay—the whispers of old addictions, the threads of insecurity, the temptation to tumble backward and not feel. It centered her. “I just haven’t found someone who interests me yet.”
“Hmm,” he said, obviously not buying that ocean-front property in Arizona she was trying to sell. “Or perhaps you’ve got a longer and more important journey left on the other side of the equation, and what happened to you blocked you from accessing that side of yourself. When you first approached me last year, before Davis, you wanted to do the submissive part first. It was what you were drawn to.”
She shook her head. “I’m not a submissive, Grant. Men have controlled me all my life. I can assure you, I gain no satisfaction from being at someone’s mercy.”
“Or maybe you’ve met the wrong someones.”
“Well, there’s no fucking doubt about that.”
He gave her a kind smile. “I could see if some of the clubs in Dallas are looking for part-time dommes, if you’d like. You could earn extra money that way, though their screening processes for members are going to be more lax so you may get some jerks in the mix.”
She shook her head. The last thing she wanted were guys who thought dominatrix equaled prostitute. No way. As she sat there, frustration started to morph brick by brick into resolve. “No. I’m tired of this. Davis is dead and letting him haunt me means he wins. Fuck that. I need to try again.”
Grant watched her for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll tell you what, darlin’. You find a dom you’re comfortable with to complete the other half of your training and when you’re done, I’ll be more than happy to let you take on a few trainees or a small class. And if you do well with those, I’ll even recommend you to The Plantation in New Orleans. They pay well and are looking for new trainers. It’d get you out of town and a place to stay rent free.”
A ticket out of town and more money? It was exactly what she needed. “That would be amazing.”
“Do you want me to ask Colby if he wants to take you on? Or maybe Kade Vandergriff? Kade’s looking for a sub, though I think he prefers one who is going to submit to the full experience.”
“No.” She adored Kade, but didn’t want to muddy the waters with a friend. She didn’t need to take the training to that level to get the benefit. “I’d prefer to keep sex out of the training.”
“Not a problem,” Grant said, making a note on a pad on his desk. “I’ll talk to Colby later and see if he’s interested.”
She wet her lips. Colby was a friend and a good guy. She’d assisted him in more than one training class, but the thought of submitting to him left her feeling hollow inside. However, the sooner she could get this done, the sooner she could put some real money in her pocket and get the hell out of town. “Thank you, Grant.”
He gave a quick nod, though he looked more resigned than pleased. “Anytime, Kelsey. But please make sure you’re truly ready to do this and that this is the job you want. I think you have potential to be a terrific trainer, but unless you feel a passion for that role, the position will drain you dry. A nice paycheck won’t fill in the gaps.”
She glanced away, her body feeling heavier in the chair than it had a moment before. The Ranch had been her saving grace after she’d recovered from the attack. It had provided her a job, structure, and a group of friends who had treated her like family. She loved the strange, alternative world that existed behind its gates. But despite the good people, the posh resort, and the luxury of the surroundings, she never felt more excited than when she was crammed in that tiny, hot kitchen at the Sugarcane concocting a new recipe and chatting with her customers. That was what put the froth in her coffee each morning. That and serving her favorite patron . . .
But that dream was going to have to be put on hold for a while. Culinary school would have to wait. Her life would have to wait.
Again.
Perhaps payment for former sins was never really done.
But at the very least, maybe she could put a vicious ghost to rest.
CHAPTER FIVE
Wyatt leaned back in the seat of his brother’s car, plucked off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes, a blinding headache booming behind his lids. “Half of me is hoping you’re fucking with me about this and that you’re going to say ‘just kidding’ when we pull up.”
Jace glanced over at him, wryness tugging at the side of his mouth. “Sorry, brother. ’Fraid not. But if you’re going to give Kelsey shit about this, I’ll turn around right now. Just because she’s not as innocent and vanilla as you thought she was shouldn’t make a difference.”
“It’s not that,” Wyatt said with a tired sigh. “It just makes the favor I was going to ask her for a little more complicated.”
“Why is that?” Jace asked, merging into the other lane and throwing a what-the-fuck glare at the interminably slow driver they were passing.
Because it made her even more enticing. Because the idea that the sweet waitress had a down and dirty side made his cock ache. Because the thought of her submitting to his will had old desires burning holes through a wall he’d erected a long time ago. “Because I don’t . . . do this.”
“You used to,” Jace said pointedly.
“Don’t start.”
“No, I will fucking say what needs to be said, Wy,” Jace said, irritation cutting through his normally laidback manner. “You think you can turn that shit off? That you can simply pack it away in a neat little box and pretend that isn’t part of you? You may be able to convince yourself of that, but I saw you in action in college. Don’t forget who brought me to my first play party.”
“I didn’t bring you. You followed me.”
“And thank God I did because I might never have figured out what all the stuff I was feeling meant.”
Wyatt shook his head and adjusted his glasses back in place. Jace was the one and only person in his life who knew Wyatt had been in a D/s relationship when he was in graduate school. But his brother also knew what had happened and should know better than to push him on this. “I’m glad you found your thing. But I have no interest in traveling down that road again.”
“Right. Because I’m sure you find that scheduled Saturday night fuck very fulfilling,” Jace said, throwing him a look. “Pick up dry cleaning, shop for groceries, screw fuck buddy of the month.”
Wyatt scowled. “It’s not like that.”
“I bet you even put it on your calendar,” Jace said, on a roll now. “Do you draw in a little heart there? Or maybe a happy face?”
Wyatt grunted, but had to wrestle back a smile on that one.
“Holy shit!” Jace said, his expression lighting like a dog who’d stumbled upon a favorite bone. “You do put a smiley face, don’t you? You sick fucker.”
He shrugged. “I may put a star.”
Jace laughed hard at that, his eyes watering with the effort.
“And for the record, the woman I was . . . spending time with is not in the picture anymore. So no more Saturday night appointments.” And really, Wyatt hadn’t felt any regret over that. Their get togethers truly had become about as interesting as picking up his dry cleaning. He got more out of one morning at the diner with Kelsey than a slew of Saturday nights with Gwen.
“Fantastic. You’re unattached and in lust with one of my favorite women. Perfect time to live a little and have some fun.”
Wyatt stared out the window, watching the dark of night creeping over the fields. “No, it’s not. Even if I wanted to try this world again, Kelsey deserves better than what I can offer. You know I’m not cut out to do all that relationship stuff. My life doesn’t have room for that. I’ll end up hurting her.”
Jace smirked as he pulled off the road and took a left onto a half-hidden driveway. “And what makes you think she’s looking for a relationship, genius? You’re getting all noble and shit, but why would you assume all women are pining away for roses and a ring? Kelsey’s been through a lot—much of which has been caused by men.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, sensing Jace was talking about more than drug dealers being after her.
A flicker of regret passed over this expression. “It’s her story to tell, not mine. But all I’m saying is that I doubt she came to work at The Ranch because she was searching for the One with a capital O.”
Wyatt focused on the large cedar building looming in the distance as he absorbed Jace’s words. Why had he assumed that? Maybe that wasn’t what Kelsey wanted at all. He’d met those women out on a husband hunt all the time. Girls like that flocked to guys like him—ants to a Popsicle stick. They got wind of his money and position and were already building dream houses on the beach in their minds. He could smell it on them like over-spritzed perfume. He’d never gotten that vibe from Kelsey, not even a whiff.
“Maybe you’re right,” Wyatt admitted.
Jace leaned out of the car to press his finger to a machine at the entry gate, then turned back toward Wyatt. “I’m always right. I thought we’d established this by now.”
Wyatt sniffed, so used to his brother’s ego that he didn’t bother to respond to it. “This whole plan might work out after all.”
The gates in front of them swung open, and Jace pulled forward. “Oh, and one thing I forgot to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
He sent a sly grin Wyatt’s way. “Your sweet waitress who I know you’re weaving filthy slave fantasies about?”
Wyatt grimaced but didn’t deny it.
“Yeah. She’s a dominatrix.”
“She’s a—” Wyatt’s head dropped back against the seat. “Ah, fucking hell.”
* * *
Kelsey stripped down in the locker room and donned the standard black bra and panty set that most female submissive trainees wore at The Ranch. Colby had also told her to wear a basic leather collar for their first session. She knew why he’d made the request. He’d obviously sensed her reluctance to take the role even in their initial limits negotiations and wanted to put that psychological symbol in place early. And it’d been a powerful one. The minute she’d fastened the simple strip of leather around her neck, her heartbeat had picked up speed and her skin had gone clammy.