ROAR (27 page)

God, delving into the lifestyle again after all this time made him nervous as hell, but he reminded himself he’d been trained by one of the best.

The two ended the call, and Kristoffer spent the next hour lying in bed thinking about the scene he’d like to do with Pamela next Wednesday at the Masters at Arms. A smile spread across his lips.

When his cock grew hard in anticipation, he took himself in hand as he’d done many times since the night of the tour at the academy.

Bloody hell. I’m screwed. The battle may already be lost.

*     *     *

Pamela chewed on the end of her pen. She’d thought journaling would be a piece of cake, but this second exercise was proving harder than expected. Thinking that her biggest issues stemmed from her disastrous relationship with Marc, she’d been unable to come up with more than a few sentences. Kristoffer had asked her to identify significant authority figures. Had she truly seen Marc as having authority over her? No. She also hadn’t surrendered much of herself to him.

She ripped out that page and wadded it up then applied pen to paper again. What other man in her past had influenced her? She’d dated a pitifully small number of guys.

Daddy.

That would be a minefield she wasn’t sure she wanted to navigate. But Kristoffer’s instructions came back loud and clear.

“I want you to look back on all the relationships you’ve had over the course of your life with male authority figures…and determine how they contributed to your desire to serve and submit.”

She couldn’t very well say she’d been thorough if she left off the first—and possibly only—man she’d ever loved. Dad was her hero. Brave, handsome, doting—well, when he was home and could be. At least his deployments hadn’t taken him away as often as other kids’ dads and moms in military service had. Her friends on base were in the same boat, and the other dads tried to fill in for them on special occasions.

She decided not to journal about her parents’ divorce, choosing not to reopen those wounds. Besides, her unresolved hurt feelings were aimed more toward Mom than Dad. Dad hadn’t abandoned her.

Trying to formulate how to write about her dad, she thought back to some of their special moments together.

When I was eight, my dad promised he’d be home for my birthday so we could have a special Teddy Bear tea party. Mom tried to prepare me that he might have to go out on a mission or otherwise not be able to attend, but I set up the party on the deck, wore my best frilly dress, and waited. Mom joined me after what seemed an eternity of waiting and watching for him to come through the door. I’d just poured our first cups of fruit juice when the screen door squeaked and out came my dad in his blue Air Force uniform. So tall and handsome with a huge smile on his face. He apologized for being late, but said nothing would keep him away from our special date. Mom faded into the background, and suddenly, it was the two of us. He made me feel like a princess. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.

Wetness rolling down her cheeks brought her out of the memory. A teardrop had landed on the word princess, smearing it. She dabbed her sleeve on the spot to dry it and smiled.

“My hero.”

Too bad everything had to change.

Pamela closed the notebook. She’d delved into the past long enough. She didn’t know if this journal entry was going to be what Kristoffer was looking for, but she needed a walk in the fresh air. She’d been cooped up too much today.

Grabbing a heavy sweater, she nearly bounced down the stairs and set off for a walk in the neighborhood. Thoughts of childhood drifted away to be replaced by images of Kristoffer.

What could he learn from her ramblings in her journal that would help?

She shrugged and returned to her apartment and opened the journal again. But instead of delving deeper into her feelings about her dad, her thoughts turned again to Kristoffer. He’d said she would only have to reveal to him what she wanted to from her journal, so she decided to be honest.

Kristoffer, as Roar, has broken through to me like no other Dom. If only our relationship could go somewhere, but that isn’t possible. Am I going to be able to let go when the time comes? Or is it already too late for me to move on to someone else when he’s finished with my training? Given my crazy life and travel schedule, I suppose I could ask if he’d be interested in a Top/bottom ongoing relationship. Would that be possible, given his vows to Tori?

Would that be fulfilling enough for me? I’m not sure. I don’t need marriage and the picket fence, but I do need someone who will be a rock for me. Someone who will be by my side through thick and thin.

Was she wasting her time hoping for something that Kristoffer could never offer?

K
ristoffer called her just before she sat down to lunch on Wednesday.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress comfortably. No alcohol today. Eat dinner by six, but nothing that would upset your stomach. We’re going to the Masters at Arms Club tonight.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. So soon? They’d only had the lab work done a few days ago. Sounded like someone had pulled some strings.

Kristoffer hadn’t given her any specific instructions on what to wear—or not wear—only that she be comfortable. After selecting and rejecting half of what resided in her closet, she settled on well-worn jeans and a turtleneck. The less skin she showed the more comfortable she’d be.

When she heard a knock at the door after dinner, she took a deep breath as she checked through the peephole. She’d given Kristoffer his own key to her building to avoid having to buzz him through every visit, but she hadn’t taken the giant step of giving him a key to her apartment.

Kristoffer. No,
Roar
now. Punctual, as always.

She opened the door and smiled, waving him inside. Before he took a step, his gaze swept over her body from head to toes. He smiled, but didn’t say anything. Had he figured out her reason for covering so much of her body from view? Of course, he could demand that she remove anything he wanted. She’d made sure to wear a bra and tank under the turtleneck and panties under the jeans. At least she could delay her exposure a little longer.

“I’ll just grab my coat.”

“Wait. We aren’t leaving yet.”

Unsure of herself, she met his gaze and waited for instructions. “Before we make our first foray into the public eye, I want you to know the protocols I expect you to follow.”

She glanced at him and tilted her head before remembering herself. “Yes, Sir.”

“First, you will look directly at me only when told to. At all other times, you’ll keep your gaze somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes—or feet, if I’m not wearing any.

“Yes, Sir.” She assumed a submissive pose with her gaze on the floor between them and her hands clasped behind her back.

“That will give you fewer distractions. I hope.”

He didn’t sound confident in her ability to focus, but that made her more determined to perform well for him tonight. She’d maintain her full attention on him if it killed her, just as she’d done when kneeling on the rice, well, after a while.

Certain she’d nailed the pose he wanted, she couldn’t help but ask, “How’s this, Sir?”

“You’ll not speak unless asked a question or opinion. If I need to convey information to you about any corrections I want to see or anything else, I will. Don’t seek approval or praise. When earned, you’ll receive it from me. You won’t have your hearing cut off, so listen carefully to me and only me tonight. I don’t care who else is in the club or what’s happening around us. You’re with me tonight and will give me your undivided attention. Nothing and no one else matter.”

She opened her mouth to say she understood, but clamped it shut again before disobeying him.

“Very good.”

He walked into her bedroom and returned to place her only pair of four-inch mules on the floor in front of her. “For now and until we’re inside the club, you’ll wear these. They’ll be easier to remove than your socks and sneakers.” He bent down to untie and remove her walking shoes and socks then guided each foot into one of the mules.

She waited to see what other apparel he’d demand she change, but when he held up her leather coat, she slipped her arms inside the sleeves, pleased she could keep herself clothed. For now.

“What are your safewords?”

She’d had a little more time to think about them since their first scene. “I’ll be using Jeannie for stop, and Cocoa Beach for my slow-down one.”

Roar chuckled. “A fan of
I Dream of Jeannie
, I see. How appropriate.”

Appropriate? She smiled a little uncertainly, but didn’t say anything because he hadn’t asked her a question. She’d envied the sexy genie who won over the handsome Air Force officer with wit and charm, not to mention a few blinks of the eyes, in the syndicated show she’d watched incessantly as a teen.

The drive downtown in his Jag raced by, and soon he cruised up and down the streets of Five Points, searching for a place to park. He eased into one and helped her out of the car. Before she could take a step forward, he halted her with his hand on her shoulder, setting off a tingling throughout her body.

He opened the trunk and retrieved what she assumed would be his toy bag. She wondered what he’d brought with him to play with.

As she moved along the broken sidewalk beside him, she found her thoughts consumed with not stumbling while keeping up with Roar’s longer strides. When he stopped abruptly, she continued for a couple of steps before realizing it.

“Where did you let your mind roam this time, Sprite?”

“Actually, I was concentrating—only paying more attention to my feet than yours. I didn’t want to fall.”

His laugh told her she wasn’t in trouble. He opened an iron gate and led her inside a small yard in front of a familiar and imposing brick structure. At the top of the steps, he stopped and knocked.

It’s been a long time.

More than four years. The door opened, and they were ushered inside the entryway, familiar even with her limited view. The scent of leather assailed her.

A soft-spoken woman asked, “May I have your names, Sir?” She didn’t recognize the voice.

He answered for them both. “Yes. Scene names Roar and Sprite.”

So Sprite had become her scene name, too. It had certainly grown on her. She was so looking forward to tonight.

“Yes, Mistress Grant has arranged for you to play here tonight.” Pamela had heard Grant became one of the co-owners of the club a few years ago and now ran it.

Roar stroked Pamela’s cheek, bringing her focus back where it belonged.

I can do this. I can make him proud of me.

He helped remove her coat and handed it to the hostess. Without another word, he guided her toward the entrance to the sunken great room. Remaining mindful of his every step, she followed him down the few stairs. She could see table and chair legs set up much as they had been years ago, but didn’t look up to see what changes might have occurred under Grant’s directorship.

He led them over to a corner and pulled out a chair. She started to sit, but he took the seat and pulled her onto his thigh. Trying not to show any hesitation, she straightened her back as he ordered a glass of ice water with a slice of orange for her and an IPA from a local brewery for himself.

“You’re doing very well, Sprite. I am proud to be your Top tonight.” He reached up and stroked her cheek. She smiled.

Someone in sleek black leather pants delivered their drinks. When she spoke, Pamela recognized her as none other than Mistress Grant. She’d served as the bartender many times when Pamela had played here before and must still enjoy that duty even with her current status. Pamela had met her again once at the Forseti Group. The woman had the ability to do anything and everything at once, apparently.

“What a pretty lap decoration.”

Don’t respond. Don’t react
. She wasn’t even supposed to thank her for the drinks. She wasn’t sure she could speak without revealing how insulting she found the label.

“May I touch?” she asked Roar. He must have nodded because Mistress Grant began to stroke Pamela’s hair as if she were a dog. While the two women had been equals in Gunnar’s boardroom last month, the Domme clearly wanted to put Pamela in her place.

She chuckled as if aware of the effect she had on Pamela. “Roar, I’ve prepared the room you requested for you and Sprite to play in tonight. No hurry, though. You have the room for the entire evening.”

Roar stroked her back. “Excellent. Thank you. She just began training with me a couple of days ago, but we were in need of something special for tonight’s lesson.”

The two of them spoke a bit about plans for Gunnar’s upcoming mission, and despite Pamela’s best efforts to stay focused, other conversations around her filtered into her mind. She tried to see if she heard any voices she recognized, but none sounded familiar. People came and went all the time in clubs like these.

A pinch to her thigh brought her back to the moment. “Mind telling me what you’re thinking about, Sprite?”

She worried her lower lip, but knew she would have to respond. Maybe she could also find out some information. “I was wondering if anyone I know is here tonight.”

“What difference would it make? You’re supposed to be focused on me.”

“Oh, and I am, Sir.”
Liar
. “It’s just that you haven’t given me anything to do yet.”

He chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be working with a brat?” She batted her eyes innocently, and he shook his head. “Finish your water. I want you to stay hydrated tonight.”

She picked up the glass and chugged it, anxious to start. Well, continue. They’d started back in her apartment tonight.

“Thank you again, Mistress Grant.” Roar indicated for Pamela to stand, and she did.

He took her forearm and directed her toward the hallway that led to the eight private play rooms.

Don’t anticipate.

Don’t analyze.

Stay in the moment.

She kept up the mantra all the way down the hallway until he stopped at the second door on the right. She’d never been inside this room before.