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Lyda's expression flickered. "It's a little early for you to become possessive, Gen. Though I think I like that you're feeling it."

Gen flushed. The interested glitter in Lyda's eyes only deepened it. She shifted to the sleeping Noah, a safer topic. "You called him a lost soul. Can you explain?"

"Noah is too difficult to explain with words. You'll understand if you spend more time with him."

Similar to what Chloe and M had implied. Interesting. "Will he break my heart if I care too much about him?"

The woman gave her a sharp glance. It was a pretty deep question, but it seemed the best way to target the sadness she'd seen in Lyda's gaze last night.

"The heart always gets broken when it cares. That's part of caring. And he breaks the heart of anyone who does. It doesn't make him any less appealing. In some ways, it's part of what makes him so irresistible." Lyda took both her gloves off, reached out a hand. "Come down here."

It was an unmistakable order, made even clearer when Gen hesitated. "Now, Gen."

She closed those few steps between them, sank down in the cushion of dirt Lyda's efforts with the trees had wrought. Lyda took her hand, her fingers wrapping around Gen's as she knelt. Gen laid a tentative hand on Lyda's bent knee and wasn't discouraged from keeping it there. She smelled coconut and almond butter sunblock. "Do you want a kiss, Gen?" Lyda asked.

"Yes." Gen cleared her throat. "Do you?"

"Yes. A soft, pretty girl kiss, your mouth trembling because you're not certain where this is going or how much of yourself you'll risk."

As Lyda regarded her steadily, Gen realized she was inviting her to initiate. She eased forward, those mesmerizing eyes and sensual lips beckoning. Putting a hand on Lyda's arm, she followed it up to her shoulder, to her neck, shyly teasing the ponytail over Lyda's shoulder. She caressed her face, neck. The line of shoulder again. Lyda stayed still, watching her, which increased the charge. At length, Gen leaned in, pressed her lips against Lyda's.

The woman didn't respond immediately, allowing Gen to explore and coax, the tip of her tongue tracing the seam. She put her other hand on Lyda's opposite shoulder to steady herself. She played with Lyda's lips, seduced, sent yearning, unspoken messages she herself couldn't yet decipher.

When Lyda at last cupped the back of her head and took over, Gen sighed into her mouth, her lips parting. Lyda's tongue tangled with hers, her arm circling Gen's waist, pulling her between her thighs. Gen caught the belt loops of her jeans, fingers sliding along the small of Lyda's back, the delicate bones of her spine. Lyda's thighs trapped her on either side as the woman delved deep in her mouth, her hand dropping to grip Gen's ass, the bare cheek exposed by the thong beneath the skirt. As Lyda tightened her fingers enough Gen felt those flogger marks, she let out another needy breath.

Lyda raised her head. Gen was practically reclined in her arms, her knees folded beneath her. She hadn't appreciated a woman's strength before. It was different from Noah's, more sculpted and soft-skinned, but Lyda had it in good measure.

"Drop your head back. We have an audience."

Gen complied so she saw Noah from an upside-down position. He had his chin propped on a hand and was studying them with avid appreciation.

"Men are so simple," Gen said, a little shakily.

When he grinned, Lyda snorted. "Isn't that the truth?" She eased Gen back up to a sitting position. "Come to the club on Wednesday. We'll see how you do as a Domme. For now, go home. And don't think too much. It gets in the way."

"Of what you want?" Gen said, feeling a little spirited. Lyda's eyes sparked, her lips tugging.

"Of what we both want," she replied.

Chapter Seven

A straight dismissal. Lyda's brief answer to a couple questions hadn't given her much in terms of reassurance, but that kiss...well, that had given her something. Enough to keep her on this crazy course. And give her an overwhelming case of hormones.

That day when Gen came home, she considered fishing the vibrator from her sock drawer to deal with it, but in the end she held off, though she wasn't sure why. She told herself she'd do it before Wednesday, indulge a few dozen outrageous extension fantasies about Lyda and Noah so she didn't go to the club a mass of nerves. Yeah, like that would help.

Marguerite gave her a speculative look on Monday, but she didn't say anything. Fellow club members could have told M how things had gone, since it had all happened on the public floor, but the idea of M checking on Gen didn't bug her. She'd realized a long time ago Marguerite had a hawklike protectiveness of her two employees. M never pried or asked questions unless she had a specific concern, which made that trait unobtrusive most times.

Chloe was a different matter, but she wasn't there Monday, and Gen was off on Tuesday. She had time to get in the right mindset to talk to the younger girl about her club experience in a casual, fun way, rather than as a potentially life-altering experience.

She told herself she was being overly dramatic, but when she flipped through magazines in her craft room Monday night, looking for collage material, she realized she was seeking their features. Noah's mouth. Lyda's eyes. She wasn't trying to match the physical elements. It was the way Lyda looked at Gen, at Noah, that sense of expectation, control, confidence. The set of Noah's mouth, aroused, amused...or when he was in that quiet place in his head.

Closing her eyes, Gen remembered Lyda's hand closing on her nape, bringing her between Lyda's legs to taste her flesh. Directing her how to pleasure her Mistress. There was no tentative wait-and-see to Lyda. Not like Gen had been with her husbands, following their lead so as not to undermine their traditional role in the bedroom.

Now she wondered if it had really been that, something derived from the low expectations of her upbringing, or an innate personality trait. She liked the feeling of someone she could trust taking charge, though her husbands had fallen so short in the trust department, she'd turned her desire for that into a character flaw. Lyda made her look at it differently. The way she treated Noah and Gen suggested Lyda considered their submission a gift, one she took seriously. At no time during their extraordinary evening together had Lyda betrayed Gen's trust, manipulated her feelings or tried to make her feel inadequate. Anything like that had come from Gen's own insecurities--she knew enough about herself to be honest on that score.

Then there was Noah. She'd been so wary of men for so long, expecting them to be disappointments. He'd come into her world sideways. She'd been told he was a submissive male, and then been thrilled by the mix of what that meant for Noah. His sudden passion when she'd desired it,

how strong he could be when she needed nurturing. His odd vulnerability, sleeping on the patch of grass near Lyda, or his chagrin for upsetting Gen, that first night in her kitchen.

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