Lyon on a Leash (6 page)

Fear gripped her over the zealous intent she read in the eyes of a couple of the men headed toward her. These men were dead-ass serious about meeting and securing a Mistress. At a nod from Ada, Francis strode across the room toward her.

“Mistress Rose, I have a seat for you and I will stand by to make sure you receive the privacy you need.” He pointed toward a comfortable leather chair with a nearby side table near a small alcove in the room. Ada pulled another chair alongside while Francis ran interference. Vera would forever be in Ada’s debt for sending Francis to her.

Inhaling, she released a pent-up breath and sat down. She picked up the program Ada had left on the table and flipped through it. Within minutes, she’d found the two men who would be her first choices. Her heart picked up its pace. She was so close to fulfilling this part of her journey. Confident of her choices, she glanced around the room seeking their faces.

She understood Marguerite’s advice not to get sidetracked. Some of these men were damned gorgeous and the missing piece of erotic dreams. Most of the bodies looked as though they had just left the gym. Others could grace the covers of any romance novel.

A quick glance at her watch said she’d need to get to the two men first and then if they didn’t work, she’d talk to the third, her “possible”, even though, based on his profile, she didn’t think the third submissive would work. He seemed to have a hard time explaining why he wanted to serve. He spoke more about what he wanted than what he was bringing to the table for a potential Mistress.

She waved Ada over and showed her the two men she wanted to interview and was intrigued by the woman’s pleased smile. At least one of the men had an ally.

The first man, Amelio, was a programmer with thick, dark hair and a sexy smile. He kissed the back of her hand and told her a little about himself. But when she asked about relocating to Atlanta, he balked. She toyed with the idea of discussing his reasons but decided it wouldn’t matter in the end. As handsome as he was, not living in Atlanta was a deal-breaker for her, so the interview was over fairly quickly. Her chest tightened as she realized she was down to one man. Crossing her fingers that the next submissive would be a better fit, she asked Ada to send him. A slight heaviness filled her as she watched Francis walk through the room and stop.

Vera noticed the gentleman stand and released a gratified burst of air. She recognized him from his pictures.
Marcus Lyon
. The upside was he had on a suit. Not that she minded watching good-looking bodies, but in this venue, discussing the type of service she had in mind would be easier with him clothed. She watched him walk forward.

Her smile dipped when she realized she wasn’t the only Domme giving him a look over. There was a blonde with long hair who craned her neck to watch him from behind. Vera didn’t appreciate the speculative gleam in the woman’s eyes. But she knew how to handle that.

Her gaze returned to the man on his way to her. He was bow-legged, with a confident swagger, an added plus. Vera preferred Alpha submissives, men with strong personalities and who, in any other situation, were not submissive at all. The heaviness rose from her shoulders, replaced by a giddy feeling she knew must show on her face. She couldn’t stop smiling. Nervous butterflies raced in her stomach.

He’s the one
.

After introductions were made and he sat across from her, they stared at each other for a minute. His hair had been brushed back from a widow’s peak in his wide forehead. A bucket of autumn colors exploded in the strands of his hair. A delightful mixture of brown and gold strands brushed against his collar. His angular jaw and high cheekbones made him appear determined and yet she didn’t get arrogant vibes from him.

But it was his clear, hazel eyes that drew her. There was something serene, almost peaceful in them. It called to her and settled the jittery feeling in her stomach over her initial reactions to him.

Pussy tingling, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. Her tongue swept across the seam of his lips.

He opened.

She ventured forward with bold strokes, eager to taste, to claim him as hers. His light moan lit a fuse in her. She grabbed his hair, pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

“Now that’s how you say hello,” a masculine voice said somewhere behind them.

The words fell like a splash of cold water. She jerked back, remembering where they were.

She’d always thought the phrase “eyes blazing with passion” was a way to create drama when there was none. Looking at the heat in his eyes, she wondered if the phrase was too tame. The lazy smile curving his lips screamed he’d like nothing more than to be devoured, or to devour her. Forcing her attention away from his glistening lips, she looked at the program and then back at him.

She coughed to clear her throat and get back on track before the auction started. “Marcus, I require anyone who serves me to live with me in my home in Atlanta. Is that a problem for you?”

He didn’t blink. “No, ma’am, as long as there is chemistry and a basic foundation of good will, relocating is not a problem.”

Something eased inside her chest. She liked the steady confidence he projected.

“I noticed in your profile you do freelance graphics and that you have a wealth of knowledge and command of the Internet. You and a partner created a few anime books online. I’ve looked at them and they are impressive.”

His eyes widened. A moment later he blinked and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

At his look of disbelief and pleasure, she eased back into her seat, crossing her legs as warmth unfurled in her belly.

His tongue swiped his lips as he watched her cross her legs.

An overwhelming feminine sense of power swamped her at the appreciation in his gaze. She continued. “Since I’ve read about you, let me tell you a few things about me.”

He nodded and gave her his complete attention.

She’d practiced her spiel in front of a mirror to make sure she got it right. After moving and replacing the program on the table a couple of times, she realized she couldn’t remember a single sentence. Marguerite’s words of her inexperience blast on speaker in her mind. She shook off the paralysis. Smiling, she spoke in what she hoped were confident tones. “I am an attorney in a fairly large law firm in Atlanta. I specialize in intellectual property law and I enjoy it but what I’ve always wanted to do is write.” She glanced at him, noticed his eyes hadn’t glazed over as Marguerite and Drina’s did when she talked about her dream. Seeing she still held his attention, she relaxed a fraction.

“I’ve written a couple of novels that I’ll be sending to various agents. I have a few smaller works on Amazon. Unfortunately, writing requires a lot of time and creative energy. Currently, I only have one of those things going for me right now. My time is limited because of work and other things.”

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit that she had to delay her ardent pursuit of writing, but she was a realist. Bills and other commitments required she work for at least another two years. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t prepare for her future, and that was another area where she needed Marcus.

“I need someone to assist me in making my dream of becoming a writer a reality.” The more she talked, the more at ease she became. It took her a moment to realize part of it was the way he listened. His eyes never left her face, and his body language said her words were important to him.

Confidence growing, she continued. “I write crime stories and for the most part. I have a small following. But I want a bigger presence online. I need someone I can trust to create and run my blogs, update my websites and Facebook page. I need someone I can trust to handle any and everything pertaining to my writing career until I can step into it myself. I choose to spend the little free time I have time writing rather than doing all the other marketing things that are important for success. I need a creative person with skills and knowledge of the Internet. I can teach him the rest.” Heart slamming in her chest, she paused. “Can you be that person?”

“How should I address you, ma’am?” His earnest eyes focused on her.

“You may call me Mistress.” The word tasted funny in her mouth. It had been a long time since she’d been addressed that way. And even then, just during hour-long sessions. But that title suited this situation and she wanted to hear the word on his sweet lips.

“Thank you, Mistress.” He paused as though collecting his thoughts.

Chalk up another point for him. She appreciated a man who thought on his feet but only spoke when he had something relevant to say.

A tap on the microphone interrupted them. “Ladies, I am Madame Chertier, your hostess for the auction. Welcome to the House of Chertier.” The applause was deafening in the small space. She nodded at the tall, distinguished-looking man standing next to her. “This is Bradley, my husband and collared submissive. We met over twenty-five years ago at a charity auction similar to this one, in Bristol, and we are still going strong.” The platinum-blond statuesque woman bent forward and accepted a kiss on her cheek from her adoring submissive. “Ever since then we have wanted to bring the passion, glamour, and excitement of the slave auction from England to New York. And for the past fifteen years, we have done that.” There was a loud round of applause. She nodded and took a bow.

“Thank you for coming. First, I want to welcome Mistress Rose.” She pointed toward Vera. “Her flight cancelled last night in Atlanta and she was unable to make the opening ceremonies. This morning her flight was again delayed, and she has just arrived. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” There was more applause, with a few curious stares directed toward her.

Vera nodded and smiled, glad when Madame Chertier moved on.

“This year we have assembled some of the most handsome and talented submissive men from around the country. You have your programs. It specifies their kinks and their specialties. Some you know from last night’s social.” She winked at someone in the audience and there was a burst of applause.

“We have a variety of submissives, from gorgeous sissies to exotic pets, domestics, warriors, knights, and sex slaves. Tonight’s charity auction proceeds will go to the Annie McDowell Cancer Research Foundation. All of you received information about the research facility in your auction packets. Just a recap of the rules: ladies, the submissive you win will be yours to use as you please for the next twenty-four hours. After that, whatever happens is negotiated between the two or three of you.” She winked again.

There was more applause and lots of whistling. “We suggest you take that time to get to know one another. As most of you know, we offer a longer period with counseling to fast-track the process for those who wish to take their relationships further. We have three Dommes already signed up and we’ll be seeing you here at noon tomorrow.” She looked at her husband. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” His arm rose. “Welcome everybody, and happy hunting.”

Madame Chertier laughed. “In that case, we’re ready to begin the grand event.” She paused dramatically. “Gentlemen, you know what to do.” Music with a funky beat filled the room as the men started leaving.

“The answer to your question is, yes, I am that man.” He kissed the back of her hand. “It has been my pleasure talking with you, Mistress. If you will excuse me?” Marcus placed his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to rise.

She nodded and watched his ass as he and the other men left the room.
Nice
. Ada walked over to her. “We have seats provided for you.” She waved toward another part of the room.

Nerves back full force, Vera nodded and stood. One thing Marguerite had drilled into her was never to let anyone know you doubted yourself. Tonight was a night of firsts for her, first auction, first time securing a submissive, and first time as a life-style Domme. She swallowed around the block of uncertainty lodged in her throat and straightened her back. This was the big leagues and she’d come to play.

As she walked toward the other Dommes, Vera met their eyes, spoke to those who spoke to her, and ignored those who ignored her. Ada had said there were twenty-eight Dommes but it felt like more in the small space. Most of the room held a makeshift runway, which meant they were required to sit fairly close together. It didn’t escape her notice she was the youngest female in the group.

The hairs on her neck rose. She knew nothing good would come of looking but she couldn’t help herself. When she turned, she met two pairs of hostile eyes, one blue, the other brown.

A chill rolled down her back but the heat of her anger consumed it. What was it with people and attitudes? It seemed Marguerite was right. The barracudas had come to play. Normally, Vera preferred to hang on the sidelines, but if she had to bring her bitch attitude to match bitch attitude, she would.

A punchy tune with an island flavor filled the room and Madame Chertier took the stage again. “Ladies, you know why we’re here tonight and it’s for a great cause. Open those purse strings and show some love.” Vera clapped when she realized everyone else was slapping their palms together.

In truth, she wished she could’ve purchased Marcus without going through the parade of flesh. The gorgeous Latino strutting across the stage, with muscular abs and tight buns, was a joy to look at, but she’d read the profiles of every man in this auction. Few of them offered more than a body. And as a woman who’d struggled with her weight as a kid, had been laughed at in school for her fair complexion, freckles, and gap-tooth, she needed a man with something upstairs to match a decent body. Looks changed. But a sharp mind stood the twists and turns of time.