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“Nice,” Abbie said, trying to modulate her grumpy tone. “At least someone had a good time last night.”
Kendra’s smile vanished as she looked at Abbie with concern. “Oh, shit. What happened? The scene with Ryan didn’t go well?”
“The scene went well enough,” Abbie replied. She sighed. “Actually, the scene went great. He gave me a full body flogging and a super-hot spanking, and he even let me worship his cock afterward.”
“Wow. That sounds pretty sweet. So what’s the problem?”
Abbie relayed Master Ryan’s abrupt, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am departure with zero aftercare, getting more pissed by the second as she did so.
“That sucks,” Kendra said, glowering on Abbie’s behalf. She narrowed her eyes, frowning in thought. “I have to confess—I’m kind of surprised. I know you tell me you don’t see it, but I’ve noticed him watching you sometimes with this look in his eye. The guy’s into you. I could swear it. That’s why I pressed so hard for you to bid on him. I was sure, given the right opportunity, there’d be a real connection between you.”
“That’s the thing,” Abbie said plaintively, tears filling her eyes for the hundredth time that day. “The scene was perfect, right up until his sudden vanishing act. We were totally in sync. He wasn’t just going through the motions.” Abbie stared out at the ocean, blinking back the tears. “One minute he was there—all in. Then, the next, he was gone. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t figure out what happened.”
“I have a novel suggestion,” Kendra said with a lift of her brows. “How about you just ask him why, after such a hot, intense scene, he did a vanishing act?”
“I can’t just ask him,” Abbie sputtered indignantly. “It would be weird. He’s a Master. He doesn’t owe me any explanations. The auction scene was over, I guess, at least as far as he was concerned. Anyway, it would be too forward.” She frowned at her cousin. “You know I’m not like you, Kenny. I was never good at confronting people.”
“I’m not saying you have to make a scene, sweetie,” Kendra said placatingly. “I’m not talking about confronting him, hands on your hips, and demanding what the fuck he thought he was doing. But you guys are friends, right? You’ve known and worked with him for over a year. You shared a very intense scene together last night and then he just walked out—scene interruptus. Surely you owe it to yourself to find out what he was thinking.”
“I do want to know. I’ve thought about nothing else since last night,” Abbie admitted. “But what if he pats me on the head and tells me it was just another scene and he’s not into me like that?”
“Then, at least you know,” Kendra replied with a philosophical shrug. She took Abbie’s hand and gripped it between both of hers. “I know you have a major crush on the guy, but if he’s not into you, wouldn’t you rather know that for sure? Instead of endlessly wondering?”
“You’re right,” Abbie said, jumping to her feet, energized now that she had a plan. ”I’m going to do it. I’m going to talk to Master Ryan. After all, communication is paramount in BDSM, right?”
“Right,” Kendra asserted, raising a fist of support into the air. “You got this, Abs.”
“Hey there, Abbie,” Dylan said, appearing beside them dripping wet, his tattoos gleaming in the sun. He dropped his surfboard and settled on the towel next to Kendra. Squinting up at Abbie, he asked, “Was your scene with Master Ryan last night everything you hoped?”
“Not exactly,” she admitted, managing a rueful smile. “Kendra can fill you in on the nitty gritty. I’ve got a Master to confront. Later, guys.”
She stalked away, determination propelling her forward. Kendra was right—she deserved an explanation, even if it wasn’t one she wanted to hear.
~*~
Ella and Ryan were sitting in his office, having just finished their weekly meeting with Scott, their general manager for the resort. Scott handled all the boring, technical day-to-day stuff of running the place, freeing them up to focus on the BDSM programs.
When Ella and Ryan first embarked on this massive project of creating a BDSM paradise on the private resort island, they’d agreed they would each take at least one week off per year. Their fiscal year was coming to an end and Ryan had yet to take his allotted time off. Since he’d recently completed a month-long slave training stint, they’d agreed it was the perfect time for him to take his vacation week.
“So, what are you going to do with your time off? Have you decided yet?” Ella asked.
A sudden image of Abbie suspended and bound in his private dungeon, her body stippled with welts, sweat trickling between her perfect breasts, her flaming red hair wild around her face, leaped full-blown into his mind’s eye.
