Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

He wanted her in his life, wanted to see if they matched as well as he believed.

No, he wouldn't let her run away, not if the need to explore proved to be her only objection. He smiled down at her, thinking of how she'd look cuffed to his bed while they…explored. But deeply held opinions rarely changed with logical arguments. So for now, his plan must be to keep her near, and he just happened to have the perfect way to do that.

As they neared the stage, he stopped. “Rona, this coming Saturday, I'm holding my annual Christmas party for those in the lifestyle.” He touched her cheek and caught a trace of her citrus and vanilla scent—tangy and sweet, well suited to her.

“I'd be pleased if you'd come. You will meet plenty of unattached doms.”

“Really? Even though I said no to…seeing you?”

“Even though.” He wanted to see what they had in common—and what they'd fight about. He already knew she'd be an interesting opponent, forthright and clever. He might deliberately lose an argument just to hear her husky laugh. Then again, considering her obvious intelligence, she'd probably win all by herself. He pulled an invitation from his wallet. “Since you're new, I'll make sure you don't get in over your head.”

“Well. Thank you. I'll think about it.” From the flare of excitement in her eyes, he knew she was hooked. He'd have time to convince her to give them both a chance at happiness. And those soft curves would feel wonderful under him.

Smiling at that thought, he handed her the bag containing the rabbit vibrator he'd bought. “I got this for you, lass.”

“You what?”

“I would have enjoyed showing you how it works, but since you prefer otherwise, you may simply think of me when you use it. Tonight.” Before she could recover from the shock, he kissed her lightly on her soft, soft lips and walked away.

The lunch crowd in the hospital cafeteria had thinned quite a bit by the time Rona managed to cut free of her phone and e-mails. The scattered tables held a spattering of nurses in scrubs, med students, two surgeons between cases, and a few visitors. She set her tray on the small table and sat down across from her friend. “I hate hump day.”

Brenda laughed and dipped a french fry in ketchup. “Me too. Speaking of humping, did you know that Charles Madigan got a divorce?”

“Really?” Rona dumped a sparing amount of ranch dressing on her healthy salad. Dieting was tiresome, but the anticipation of baring…everything…this weekend proved more than sufficient incentive.

“Makes good money, our age, single, gorgeous. Why aren't you looking interested?”

“He's all right, but I want…more.”

Brenda frowned. “More like in that bar you went to?”

Rona laughed at the disapproving tone. “Uh-huh.”

“And how the hell do you figure on finding…more? You got a plan mapped out, Ms. Obsessive-Compulsive.”

“Thanks a lot. You know, if you don't write down what you want, you'll never know if you get there.” Rona nudged aside the insipid-looking excuse for a tomato, then speared some romaine leaves. “Actually, a man invited me to a party.” She snickered. “A more party.”

“Oh…my.” The brunette pointed with a french fry. “Did you meet him at that club?”

“Yes.” The memory of Simon's implacable voice threatening to chain her legs apart sent heat through her body in a mighty wave. Knowing she'd turned red, Rona lowered her head and poked at her salad. “And again at a street fair.” Where he bought me a vibrator. And told me to think of him while using it… Oh, she certainly had. The jerk had known she would.

“Twice? And now a party? Ooooh, this sounds good.”

“No.” When eagerness to see him roused, Rona stomped it flat. “I'm not going for him. I want to meet other guys. Getting involved isn't in my plans.”

“So enjoy him without getting involved. Like Max does.” Brenda jerked her chin toward the surgeon. He was notorious for his having affairs with several women simultaneously, although he'd discovered the dangers of dating two OR

nurses at once.

Rona studied him with rising hope. That might just work. “Sex with Simon one night, then with someone else a day or so later, and so on. No way could anything get serious.”

“That's the spirit.”

Boy, it sounded a bit— a lot—slutty, but making up for lost years wasn't for sissies. And tonight she'd revise the rule list: No sexy seconds unless dating additional men.

On Saturday evening, Rona walked through the open front door of Simon's three-story, stone-and-stucco house. A myriad of guests stood in small groups under a huge sparkling chandelier, and laughter and conversation filled the foyer. The party had definitely started.

“Merry Christmas!” A young woman in an elf costume with bright green fishnet stockings hurried across the gleaming dark wood floor.

At the high-pitched greeting, people glanced toward Rona. A second later a man disengaged from a small group and strode across the room. Master Simon.

Rona pulled in a breath as her nerves went on alert as if someone had called a code blue for a heart attack.

Arriving first, the elf beamed at Rona. “Come on. I'll take you around.”

“Mandy, I'll show her to the dressing room,” Master Simon said as he stopped behind the elf. He squeezed the young woman's shoulder. “Thank you, pet.”

The elf gazed up at him in adoration, then scurried away, the white pom-pom on her red hat bouncing with each step.

Simon watched her for a second, and he murmured, “So much energy.” Then his black gaze turned toward Rona like a dark laser beam, the type that would cut a villain right in half.

Her heart gave a violent thud. The man had dressed simply, in black slacks and a white shirt that set off his dark tan, yet when a smile lightened his stern face, her blood fizzed in her veins like a shaken Coke.

“Rona. I'm pleased you came.” He held out his hand, waiting patiently until she gave him hers. His fingers closed, encasing her in warmth.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said, falling back on proprieties. She caught sight of his guests and frowned. Although the dominants remained fully clothed in jeans or suits or leathers, all the submissives were in elf costumes. One wore only a Santa hat and red nipple clamps. Oh Crom. Rona's stomach sank as she glanced down at her slinky black dress.

Growing up, she couldn't afford the trendy clothing her friends wore, and had hated never fitting in. Shallow or not, her feelings hadn't changed. She stepped back. “I don't think that I—”

He chuckled. “Relax, pet. I took the liberty of selecting an outfit for you.”

An elf pranced by wearing only red high heels, a red thong, and a hat. Rona winced. Do I even want to know what he got me?

Ignoring her hesitation, he set a hand on her low back and steered her across the foyer to a powder room. “I left your costume on the counter in one of my company bags—look for a Demakis International Security logo.”

“Well.” All arranged. He'd obviously put some thought into making her comfortable. “Thank you.”

“I think a more enthusiastic expression of gratitude is in order.” With one finger, he tilted up her chin. Before she could protest, firm lips explored hers, teasing for a response. When she sighed and leaned toward him, he yanked her against his solid body and took the kiss from sweet to devastatingly possessive.

Crom. Her memories hadn't come close to how he really kissed or how easily he could control her. Heat pooled in her belly like molten lava.

When he pulled back and steadied her on her feet, she was breathing like an asthmatic having an acute attack.

“Now that was a very nice thank-you,” he murmured. “Go change, lass. Then meet me in the living room. I'll explain the rules and introduce you around.”

As he pushed her gently into the powder room, she frowned. Rules?

In the living room, Simon did the rounds, greeting his guests, making introductions. Along with the local BDSMers, quite a few friends had arrived from out of town. Busy or not, he kept an eye on the arched doorway, his anticipation rising. He spotted Rona the minute she walked into the room.

She paused in the doorway. Her hands rubbed the white fur downward in a nervous gesture, although her face appeared serene and self-confident. To come to a party by herself, to try something so new… Brave lass.

And she looked beautiful. A fuzzy red Santa cap with a white puff ball at the end sat on her wavy blonde hair. The long-sleeved, red velvet coat trimmed with white fur reached only to the top of her creamy white thighs. Right where he wanted his hand. If she bent over, everyone would have an enticing glimpse of the ribbon-tied, peppermint-striped bra and thong set he'd bought.

Wanting her to feel comfortable, he'd chosen relatively conservative clothing.

Of course, being a dom, he'd selected for his own pleasure also.

The wide sleeves would accommodate wrist cuffs, and only a securely fastened leather belt held the buttonless coat closed. Poor sub. Belt and ribbons could and would be removed over the course of the evening. He hardened at the thought of revealing those sweet curves.

When she spotted him, her eyes lit up in a way that made his chest compress.

Her head might tell her not to get involved, but apparently her emotions matched his. He'd do his best to see that her emotions won.