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Finding Master Right

By:Sparrow Beckett

Finding Master Right



Sparrow Beckett

InterMix Books, New York



Chapter 1



“Hey, that guy’s cute. I wonder if he’d let me give him a blow job.”

Kate arched a brow at her friend. “Uh, I think your collar’s on too tight. That’s your husband.”

“I know.” Janine sighed dreamily. “Did I tell you what he did to me last night?”

Kate’s cheeks heated. They didn’t have many TMI moments between them, but Janine had been getting more graphic lately. She guessed it went with the exhibitionist streak Janine’s husband never let her explore.

“Ugh.” Janine groaned, then stood from the couch they’d been lazing on. “Someone spilled red wine on the carpet. I’ll be back.” Walking backward across the living room, she fake-smiled and said, “Look happy and approachable!”

Kate rolled her eyes. For the past hour, she’d been doing just that. But she was afraid her happy-and-approachable face looked very much like a single-and-desperate face.

With a discouraged sigh, she scanned the living room, taking in the array of Halloween costumes. Heavy metal played in the background, pumping up the gritty feel of the decorations. Her best friend, Janine, had busted her ass trying to imitate the dark mystery of the underground BDSM dungeon she belonged to. Kate had only been there once, briefly, for a bondage demo, but now it featured as the setting for most of her fantasies.

In the corner of the room, a muscular blond caught her attention. He wore a red cape and carried a large hammer. His long hair swayed as he moved his head to the beat. Standing at the finger food table, a shirtless man wearing camo pants and dog tags shoveled about a dozen pigs in a blanket into his mouth. Despite his ravaging the snack table, his dark skin and a strong jawline gave him major sex appeal. Another guy brushed past him, balancing on tall heels, dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Cross-dressing wasn’t her thing, but she had to admit he wore the costume well. Her gaze swept over him from head to toe. Damn, his legs looked better in fishnets than hers did. Upon closer observation, she spotted the chain around his neck. A subtle nod to a Master or Mistress?

How many of the attendees were Doms? And which ones? Since first exploring the world of BDSM, she’d learned not to judge based on appearances. Thor looked like the type to take control in the bedroom—strong, confident, one hundred percent male. Or maybe that was her libido talking. She’d seen some pretty macho guys fall to their knees for the right person.

That was her too. On the outside, she was a no-nonsense, don’t-take-shit-from-anybody kind of girl. But somehow she knew the right person would make her melt. She just had to find him.

Janine was supposed to be signaling which ones had potential to be a good match, but playing host kept her busy. A few guys had wandered over, drunkenly flirting, and she’d shooed them away.

Growling in frustration, she sat back on the couch and eyed the party food on the table. Her stomach grumbled. Starving herself all day to look better in the corset she’d borrowed had backfired.

Pessimism wouldn’t get her a Dom, and she hated pity parties, so binging on junk food and sulking wasn’t an option. She just had to trust Janine to play matchmaker.

Finally, she spotted her friend on the other side of the room, whispering in Jack Sparrow’s ear, then gesturing toward Kate on the couch. Shit. The pressure was on. Janine had gone through all the trouble of setting this up for her—if she didn’t at least get a guy’s number, all of this work would have been for nothing.

Kate shamelessly checked the guy out. His dark goatee made him look wickedly sexy, even if it was fake. Dark, devilish eyes met hers, then narrowed. Yes, please. Sign me up.

After a nod and a smile for Janine, he strolled toward Kate. Damn. She gripped the couch cushion to keep from chickening out. A sexy pirate was coming her way and even his swagger was hot.

Straightening her shoulders, she gave herself a pep talk. Calm, cool, and confident. Just like she was with her clients.

He stopped in front of her.

With an uncharacteristic gulp, she looked up. “Hi.”

“Kate?”

Ugh. Even the way he rumbled her name made her all shivery. “Yes.”

He grinned, revealing crooked teeth. Up close, he wasn’t as handsome as she’d thought—it was his costume that gave him the sex appeal—but she wasn’t exactly a supermodel, and she didn’t expect that in a guy either. “Janine told me to introduce myself to the pretty kitty on the couch. That must be you. I’m—”

“Jack?”

He chuckled. “No. Vince.”

Short for Vincent? Even his name was pretty damn sexy.

“Nice to meet you.” She scooted over so he’d have room to sit down.

As he obliged, a whiff of his scent hit her. Cologne. She almost choked on it. Someone needed to tell him not to bathe in it.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked.

“Isn’t the rum gone?”

He leaned back and let loose a burst of laughter. “You’re funny. I like that. Janine says you’re looking for a Dom.”

Her cheeks heated. When he put it that way, she sounded like a cheap loser. Needing someone to play matchmaker in order to get a date certainly didn’t make her feel pretty. But was it her fault she was picky? Or that her fantasies were so kinky that vanilla guys were out of the running?

Unsure of what to say, she shrugged and looked in the other direction. This was more awkward than she’d thought. Couldn’t they just make a list and check off boxes? Kick it old school, like an arranged marriage?

Unfazed, he continued. “What kind of things are you into?”

Other than actually finding a partner, that was the biggest problem. She had no idea what she was into. Domination sounded good, but terrifying. Browsing social sites for kinksters only made her more confused, and a little creeped out. She couldn’t even count the number of unsolicited cock shots that had been messaged to her from admirers since joining. Maybe she should consider them compliments.

But here was a real live Dom, sitting next to her. This was her chance to get what she wanted—and she always got what she wanted. That is, when she knew what that was.

“I’m not exactly sure,” she answered. “I have zero experience.” Other than that one night at the club, and being a bit of a voyeur with Janine and Chris, she hadn’t experienced much firsthand.

Chris and Janine were her main connection to kink. Though she didn’t watch them play, the dynamics didn’t have to be obvious to be effective. Chris had a damn good Dom eye. One arch of the brow had Janine zipping her sassy mouth shut. When he crooked a finger, she walked, like the other end of a magnet, to his side. He smacked her ass when she teased him, which only made her do it more.

Although every feminist, social-worky bone in her body told her it was traitorous to want to submit to a man, Kate wanted to try it. Keyword try. Besides, she and Janine had talked about this at length—wasn’t part of feminism being in touch with her own sexuality and being unapologetic for what she was into? She had major doubts she could submit her will to anyone, but it starred in so many of her fantasies that not trying it seemed silly, even though fantasy and real life rarely matched up. She’d made a profile on two websites but it hadn’t amounted to much aside from opening her eyes to some fetishes that shocked her. So much so that it’d turned into a joke between her and Janine. There’s always weirder on KinkWorld they’d say when faced with anything out of the ordinary.

Vincent—she decided to call him the sexier version of his name in her head—leaned against the couch, drawing her attention back to him. “Everybody has to start somewhere. Maybe we can figure it out together. What kinds of things turn you on? Pain? Being told what to do? Being shared?”

Shared? She grimaced. He expected her to answer that? Normally, she wasn’t the blushing type but right then her face felt two shades past tomato. Talking turn-ons was too personal, too fast. She laughed nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good place to start.”

“Well, some things I can guess, if it’s easier for you. You’re looking for a Dom, so you must be submissive.”

She stared at him. Was this type of forwardness typical of Doms? Apparently small talk wasn’t his forte.

But how to answer his question? The idea of someone inflicting pain—small amounts—was one of her biggest fantasies. And admittedly, some of the photos she’d seen—women on leashes, kneeling at men’s feet, heads bowed—were pretty damn hot. She’d like to try spanking, at least once. Maybe bondage, but she needed full control. Forget a safeword; she wanted to direct every moment. That didn’t bode well for being a submissive. She knew that much.

Janine often teased her, calling her a rogue sub—a brat with no one to control her. She’d scoff and pretend to be offended by the idea. Truthfully, it was fascinating. She’d seen Janine challenge Chris, seen what it had amounted to for her friend. What would someone like Chris do with someone like Kate?

And could anyone make her crave submission? She’d seen the blissful look on Janine’s face when she knelt at Chris’s feet. She’d daydreamed about someone making her feel that way too. To have that deep connection to and synchronicity with another person seemed almost impossible, but somewhere, deep inside herself, she thought she was capable of that. In admitting it to herself, she felt as though she’d put the universe on notice. Unfortunately, the universe expected her to do some of the footwork.

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