Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

“You are so—” Jessica’s rabbit hopped, missed the railing. She fumbled, secured it before it fell.

Giggling uncontrollably, they all stared down at where it would have landed…on the balding man.

He leered at them and cupped his crotch.

“Ew. I wouldn’t have him. Not even after a bottle of tequila.” Jessica shoved her poor rabbit back into the bag.

“That’s pretty harsh.” The “not even” rating was the lowest of all. Linda considered, then saw the guy licking his lips, rubbing his pelvis vigorously. “Well, maybe not.”

Kim looked down at the floor, and her nose wrinkled. “Not even if he had a cock piercing.”

After putting her vibe into her bag, Sally said, “Not even if he killed a palmetto bug for me.”

“Ouch,” Linda said. “But you’d think there’d be a better class of male in this establishment.” She looked around hopefully. “A few older ones—you know—for my enjoyment? I haven’t spotted an AYW-ID yet, and I wanted one for my record.”

Gabi studied her glass. “I’m so trashed I can’t remember what an AYW-ID is.”

“Anything you want,” Sally started, and Jessica sang along for the last part, “I’ll do. AYW-ID.”

“Oh. Right.” Gabi took the last swallow of her drink. “I knew that.”

Linda gave up checking the dance floor. Maybe, like cream, the better guys rose to the top. She turned her attention to the balcony on the far wall. The waiter over there wasn’t bad. He was serving a skinny young man who didn’t look old enough to be in a bar. Past that table was a group of men seated in a cluster of chairs. They looked older. She tried to focus.

The one on the left looked over. Pale eyes in a darkly tanned face met her gaze…trapped her gaze. Knocked the bottom out of her stomach and her drink out of her hand onto her boot. Sam. “AYW-ID,” she whispered. “AYW-ID.”

“Really? You found a hottie?” Gabi half stood, froze, and fell back onto the couch, moaning. “Marcus is over there. They’re all over there.” She pulled her policeman’s leather jacket closed.

“Seriously?” Jessica scrambled to her feet.

“Oh, God, they’re staring at us.” Kim balanced herself on the couch. “You think we could go out the back?”

Jessica’s hands were over her mouth, trying to stop her laughter. “Girl, you can’t even stand up.”

“Damn chauffeur should have picked us up sooner.” Gabi scowled. Then her eyes widened. “How long do you suppose they were there?”

Linda risked a quick glance. “However long, they’re headed over here now.” Exhilaration bubbled in her blood. Sam is here.

“Here! Noooo, Z mustn’t see these.” Jessica frantically shoved her wealth of toys in her oversize bag.

“The gag! And I didn’t bring a purse.” Gabi staggered over to the couch, dumped her sack of toys, and tried to force them into her jacket pockets. A bright red ball gag hit the floor and bounced under the couch. She dropped to her knees with a painful-sounding thud and tried to retrieve it.

“Can’t even stand? Now that’s downright pitiful.” The deep voice was as slow as the Mississippi and held a faint Southern drawl. The man’s sharp blue eyes were several shades darker than Sam’s.

Gabi’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

Linda tilted her head. Would this be Gabi’s Marcus?

“Have to agree. Better get them home.” Sam tucked his thumbs under his belt, drawing her attention to where his long sleeves had been rolled up, revealing his muscled forearms and powerful hands. She knew how those hands felt on her body. And those fingers sure didn’t have any trouble finding her clit—or G-spot either.

Jessica shoved her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “Hey. You don’t get a say in this. It’s my bacher…balorette…bachette… It’s my party.”

Master Z put his hand on Jessica’s shoulder and then tilted her head up. “Kitten, you make an adorable drunk.”

She beamed at him. “I do?”

“Indeed.” He hooked her purse on her shoulder, scooped her up in his arms, and headed for the stairs. “Let’s see how good you are at drunken sex.”

“Sumisa.” Raoul pulled Kim to her feet and caught her as she tipped sideways.

“I’ve got bribes to get out of trouble.” She held up her bag.

“Planning ahead, are you?” When he lifted her into his arms, she buried her face against his shoulder.

Linda gave a sigh of envy. The Masters were so sweet. Sam was too. She smiled at him before noticing his stern expression. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Oh boy, she was going to catch hell. A thrill ran through her at the thought. What would he do?

Lips quirking, Marcus took Gabi’s newly retrieved ball gag from her hand. After studying it for a second, he tried to tuck it into her jacket pocket and found the pockets full. “You’ve been busy, sugar.”

“I…” She batted her eyelashes at him, slipping the gag from his fingers. “Guess we’d better go, huh?”

“I do believe that would be wise.” With an arm around her waist, he tried to help her down the stairs.

Halfway down, she staggered.

Laughing, Marcus bent over and picked her up. As he straightened, Gabi flung the hated ball gag over the railing. It bounced along the floor and hit an older man’s foot.

Linda exchanged a look with Sally, and they both burst into laughter.

The chauffeur passed Marcus and Gabi on the stairs. He nodded at Sam, then gave Linda and Sally a concerned look. “Where are the others?”

“Their Mas—um, friends took them home,” Sally said. The laughter faded from her face, leaving a vulnerable sadness behind. “Wish I was so lucky.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Linda wrapped her arms around the young woman. “You’ll find your special one. You will.”

Blinking wet eyes, Sally squeezed her back.

Feeling luckier than she could say, Linda held the young woman and looked up at Sam. He was watching them, his expression gentle.

After a minute, Sally pulled in a slow breath. When she lifted her head, her usual vivaciousness was back. “Well, until I find the perfect one, let the good times roll.” She gave the chauffeur a wicked grin. “Let’s go, Jeeves. I’m your only passenger, so I expect awesome service.”

“Yes, miss.” With the hauteur of an English butler, he gave a slight bow and offered his arm when she staggered slightly.

As the two walked toward the stairs, Linda realized with a jolt that she was the last one left. Uh-oh. She turned her head.

Sam was watching her. His gaze ran slowly over her Domme outfit, and then his lips curved in a hard smile. “Did you give some submissive a thrill, Mistress Red?”

After a second, she remembered the young man. She laughed, laughed again, and said triumphantly, “I did.”

Sam’s brows drew together. “What? What did you do?”

“Just paddled his butt.”

Sam growled, the sound as low as any wolf.

Oops. She eyed him worriedly. “Are you upset?”

His face went unreadable as if he’d frozen his emotions.

Worry slid into her veins like cold grease. Why didn’t he answer? “Sam. I didn’t… It was just a game. Really.” Remembering the outcome of the game, she started to grin. “I beat Jessica and won a toy.”

After a long second, his eyes filled with amusement, and he barked a laugh. “You’re sloshed, missy. Time to go home.”

With an easy swing, he pulled her to her feet, then wrapped an arm around her as he guided her toward the stairs. She only tripped twice…well, maybe three times…and dropped her sack once before he huffed a laugh and swung her into his arms.

She gave a happy sigh. Okay, admit it, I was jealous of the others getting carried.

Outside, Sam set her on her feet beside his truck. Linda’s ears rang in the quiet night. A car moved past with a glare of lights and a wash of gas fumes. As she tried to read Sam’s expression, she realized she was seeing two of him. She blinked. Heavens, she couldn’t handle one Sam; two might make her heart stop. She giggled.

“That’s a pretty sound. You don’t laugh enough, girl.” He pulled open the truck door.

She grinned at him. “I’m happy. Cuz I’m with an AYW-ID.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head before he lifted her onto the passenger seat. Once behind the wheel, he asked, “What the hell is an AYW-ID?”

“It’s when you look at a man and think, ‘Anything you want, I’ll do.’”

“Is that right?” He turned on the engine, then nodded at the brown paper bag clutched in her hands. “In that case, tell me what’s in the sack?”

Oh, heavens. “Nothing interesting.”

Standing in his bedroom, Sam smothered a grin. Linda was seated in the center of his king-size bed. Naked. As she’d tried to remove her skintight latex shirt, he’d discovered she knew a fair number of interesting curses.

When she looked up at him, her big brown eyes held more than a hint of anxiety. But although some of the alcohol had worn off, she still wasn’t completely sober, and he didn’t beat on drunken masochists. He needed her either capable of using her safe word or for her body language to not be muddled.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a good time though. He’d spent part of the afternoon adding chains to the frame of his bed. Rope would have been easier, but nothing beat the clinking of chains when a submissive yanked on them. Yeah.

“We’re going to play now?” She looked up at him. “You don’t mind that I’m on the drunken side?”

“Nope.” He liked seeing her like this, relaxed. A little giggly. No haunting worries visible in those eyes—none but what he put there. He winked at her. “I intend to enjoy the hell out of it.”

He buckled her into leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Maybe he’d leave them on. Nice easy access in the morning.

After shoving a thick foam wedge under her ass, he chained her arms to the upper posts, leaving her legs free.

“Sam.” She took a gulping breath as she tested the restraints.

“Chains and bedposts. Just call me old-fashioned.” He curved his hand under her jaw and kissed her, not viciously but rougher than normal. Giving her a hint at what would be coming.

The way her breathing sped up was damned appealing.

He put a tweezers clamp on her left nipple, tightening until she whined, then backing off quite a bit since her sensitivity might be impaired. After doing the left, he stopped to kiss her and remind her who he was. Being intoxicated could let old fears surface. She needed to see him, hear him.

“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispered, her expression half-worried, half-eager.

“Not much.” Mostly when the clamps came off. But she wouldn’t be thinking about pain by then. He picked up his handmade cunt-spreader setup. “Spread your legs, girl.”

Her eyes widened at the clamps dangling from the two Velcro straps. “What are those?”

Under his stare, she slowly moved her legs apart.

When he dropped the straps next to her hip, she caught on to where he intended to put those clamps.

He smothered a grin when she started to bring her legs together to cover her vulnerable pussy bits.

“No,” he growled.

She stopped, legs still apart. When he traced a finger over her inner thigh, she shivered. Damn, but she had delicate skin. Soft. So white he knew the sun’s rays had never touched it.

For his own enjoyment, he teased her for a while until she was pleasingly wet and squirming. Then he wrapped a wide strap around each upper thigh as high as he could get. Out of her sight, he plugged in his favorite toy and set it conveniently at hand on the floor.

“Let’s see what you got tonight.” He picked up the brown paper bag she’d forgotten in the truck.

Her face turned a satisfying red, then outraged. “Leave that bag alone!”

“Nope.” Once he had a look at what she’d bought, he’d know what to do about her legs. He pulled out a tiny bottle. Orange-flavored lubricant? He snorted, remembering Gabi’s surprise when she’d given him a blowjob and discovered he’d used an orange-flavored condom.

After tossing it onto the bed, he found the next toy. A long, thin vibrator that curved upward to a flat, ribbed tip. He studied it a minute, then realized the shape was designed to reach the G-spot. Perfect. He gave her an amused look. “You were busy at that party, weren’t you?”

She was so fair-skinned that her blush reached a bright red. “Those are my toys. Not yours.”

“I don’t intend to use them on me, missy.”