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“Sure,” she said eagerly. “Count me in.”
His gaze fell once again on her scars. “Your body will be on display for the demo. Is that a problem?”
She hesitated a moment, her hand coming up, perhaps unconsciously, to cover her chest. But then a look of determined resolution came over her face. “Not a problem,” she said staunchly. She dropped her hand to her side, her chin lifting in defiance. “I have nothing to hide.”
~*~
Kendra had gotten so involved with Chef Henry and another sous chef about some healthier meal alternatives they might incorporate into the menu that she’d lost track of time. She barely had time to dash back to her room to change. She chose a lacy demi-cup bra and a pair of matching thong panties, which she covered with a sundress. Abbie would probably wear her stilettos for the demo, but Kendra decided the safer option for her was to go barefoot. She pulled her fingers through her short hair and brushed on a dab of lip gloss. It would have to do. She dashed up the stairs to the demo room with only a minute to spare.
After leaving the dungeon the night before, she’d been both elated and deflated at the same time, if such a thing were possible. The elation was a natural result of the intense and deeply satisfying scene. The deflation came at how abruptly things had ended, even though she recognized it was probably the right decision in the heat of the moment.
Fortunately, she’d still been awake when Abbie had tapped at her door sometime later, and a long, sisterly conversation in the dark had comforted Kendra. Abbie, always her cheering section, had helped her see how empowering just returning to the scene had been for her. And she’d applauded Kendra’s decision to hold off on sex that first night, agreeing that passions sometimes ran too hot after a good scene with someone new, which could lead to regret later.
“There’s no rush,” Abbie had wisely advised. “There’s definitely a spark between the two of you. It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. But it’s not like you’re just here for a few days. You’ll know when the time is right. Trust your instincts.”
In the light of day the next morning, Kendra was glad they hadn’t fallen instantly into bed. If and when she did make love with Dylan Gold, it would be because she truly wanted to, not because he’d pushed all the right sub buttons during an especially hot scene.
She’d definitely wanted to this afternoon, saltwater or no. His amazing kiss had left no doubt in her mind. She wanted this man. And it had been a long time since she’d wanted anyone at all.
When she got to the ajar door of the training room, she saw Dylan standing in front of a group of people. They were sitting on folding chairs in a semicircle set several yards back, no doubt to keep them clear of the bullwhip’s reach.
Dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged his muscular biceps and showed off his tats and copper tan, he looked good enough to eat. Standing by a whipping post, he held a long, sexy red and black leather bullwhip with an intricately braided, tapering thong that ended in a wicked-looking popper.
As he looked up and saw her, his face split into that adorable lopsided grin. “Ah,” he said to the group. “Here’s our subject now. Can you close the door behind you, Kendra? And then please join me.”
Kendra did as he asked. As she walked to the front of the room, she noted the participants as she passed them. There were four men and two women seated on the folding chairs. Three of the men wore either jeans or shorts and casual tops. The fourth, an imposing figure with a full head of salt and pepper hair with a matching Van Dyke beard, was dressed all in black leather. The woman beside him wore a short, tight dress that rode high up her thighs. There was a thick, rather uncomfortable-looking slave collar around her slender neck. Her tan legs were bare, her feet shod in very high heels.
The other woman seated farther down wore a silky, full-length gown that looked more like a nightgown than a dress to Kendra, her large, heavy breasts clearly outlined against the satin fabric. A man was kneeling on the floor beside her. He wore nothing but a leather thong and a slave collar, evidence of a recent whipping marking his shoulders and back.
Kendra took her place beside Dylan. “This is Kendra. She’s an experienced player in the scene who knows her way around a bullwhip.”
He smiled at her but his bearing and manner were professional, reminding her this was not a personal scene. His eyes flickered over her. “You’ll need to remove that dress for the demo.”
