He stepped close and bent so he spoke by my ear. “I know what wouldreallymake you feel better, Freya.”
“I’ve had that, from Ricardo.”
“Since this morning?” He pulled back a fraction and the scent of his cologne surrounded me.
“It was quick, but hit the spot.”
“Lucky you. Lucky him.” He smiled and twitched his eyebrows.
“So…?”
“So a trip to The Dungeon isn’t something you’d be interested in?”
“The Dungeon?” Now my interest was piqued. Jonathan was heavily into BDSM and a member of the exclusive sex club just west of South Beach. He was a Master and the few times he’d taken me there it was clear he was an experienced and skilled Dominant.
“I could be persuaded,” I said, going for nonchalant while trying to contain a bubble of excitement.
“If you have to be persuaded, I’m not taking you.” He chuckled and straightened. “See you later, shooter.”
I didn’t bother to hold in a pout as he turned and disappeared through the door with Ricardo.
Damn it. Why hadn’t I just said yes straight away?
Now I was really going to have to blow some holes in paper cut-outs.
Frustrations with team changes were bad enough. But throw in sexual frustration and I was likely to go into meltdown.
Chapter Three
As it turned out I didn’t get to the bar for a drink with Ricardo and Jonathan. At the range I met up with Jenny, another female officer and one of my few girlfriends, and we went out for a meal and a chat.
Her company bolstered me. We both lived and worked in a man’s world and there were times it was good to share what only another woman in the same situation could understand.
When I arrived at the station the next day I was in my gym kit. Like all SWAT teams we had time allocated to working out and honing our skills. Being the best of the best was a full-time job.
I bumped into Ricardo and Jonathan, both in grey sweats and white T-shirts on my way up the steps.
“Seen our new crew yet?” I asked.
“No.” Ricardo shrugged. “But I dare say we will.”
We wandered into the lobby of the gym. “Did you go to the club last night?” I asked Jonathan, even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t enquire.
“Why?” he asked, holding the door open for me.
“No reason. Just making conversation.”
“You’re curious.” He raised his eyebrows.
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Of course you could.” He glanced around, and, evidently realising it was only us and Ricardo, he slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me close. “You care if I’m working on another submissive, giving her pleasure and making her come over and over and over again.”
“I’m not your submissive.” That was a better answer than to tell him I abhorred the idea of him with someone else. Jonathan was on my team. Jonathan wasmine.
“Not my submissive? Oh yes, you are,” he said. “When you wear my collar you do as you’re told. You bend to my will. You take what you’re given and say thank you the way any good little submissive does.”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a flood of pleasurable—extremely pleasurable—memories filled my mind. Being submissive was against my nature. I was a woman in control. I was no pushover and I certainly didn’t belong to one man. My occupation, senior position and my relationships with both Ricardo and Jonathan proved that.