“That’s what I want.”

He nodded and his lips brushed hers. When she parted them, inviting, he swore softly. “You’re going to destroy me,” he stated. Taking the pins from her hair, he brought it tumbling down. He spread the silk of it over her shoulders, an intimate but not indecent gesture that she knew was just confirming their conversation. She swallowed, aching, somehow wanting at this moment to do as she had done at The Zone. Go to her knees, press her body against his calves, tell him how she needed him.

His Dominance, his care. How much she needed to let go at last. She could sit here between his knees, at his feet, holding on to him while he held his court, happy to be quiet and still just under the touch of his hand.

“I want to feel like I’m yours.” I want to be yours. She leaned into his touch, rose upon her toes against his hold and put her lips against his ear, caressing him with her breath. Now the words flowed out of her with the ease of terrifying truth.

“Make love to me, please. Master.”

She’d accepted that her wanting him was inseparable from wanting his Mastery, that undeniable part of himself. Understanding that truth in herself had been as much a source of her fear as simply wanting the man. But now it thrilled her to feel her words ripple through his powerful body, tighten his hand on her throat, his eyes inches from hers, those firm, stern lips. And it brought a wave of energy different in its nature from what she knew as Mistress, but no less potent.

“Damn it,” he muttered against her, his fingers digging into her hips as she shifted, rubbed her abdomen discreetly against his groin.

Marguerite felt a flood of ebullience, almost giddiness. When she drew back she knew her eyes were likely sparkling with feverish exhilaration. “I know you have to finish your evening with your guests.” She slipped from his grip. “I’ll ask your friend to keep me company. Let me know when you’re ready to call it a night.” She turned away from him, glanced back. “What’s his name?” Tyler wanted it to be perfect for her. Everything perfect. Which mean he couldn’t take her down underneath him here on the grass in front of fifty strangers. Good God, she wasn’t wearing underwear. There were no panty lines beneath the formfitting dress, which climbed way too high on those gorgeous thighs. “Josh.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Torture is a two-way street.”

She blinked, something almost like a smile playing on her beautiful lips. “I need you. I hope the party is over soon.” She turned to Josh, who’d nearly dumped Tyler’s drink on the ottoman in his haste to rise at her approach.

“Josh?” She extended her hand. “Tyler tells me you have a beautiful and wonderful Mistress. Your wife. I’d like to hear about her. Let’s go sit in the gardens until Tyler finishes with his guests. Would you take me there?” Josh noted the way her eyes assessed his movements, drifted over him in the way of a Mistress. But he didn’t sense her intentions to be improper. He imagined it was just to spike Tyler’s blood pressure, which she seemed to be doing admirably well. Her blue eyes as clear and fathomless as a crystal ball, she lowered her hand to his elbow, her fingers playing along his biceps. With Mistresses who were strong Dominants, it was almost second nature to casually touch a man they knew was a submissive. It made the situation even more curious.

As he took her hand, Josh got sensory overload as an artist, as a man and as a submissive. But because he was very much in love with his wife, devoted to her monogamously as his Mistress as well as spouse, he also picked up something through all of that. Vulnerability. This woman was doing a masterful job of covering it, but he sensed that she was hanging on the edge of a cliff in a situation she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle. Because of that and because her hand was cold he enfolded it in his, offering warmth and reassurance.

Faint surprise crossed her remarkable features, as well as a bit of relief.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said and meant it, already liking the complicated woman who had captured Tyler’s interest. “I would love to sketch you.”

“I would like to see all your tattoo art.”

It startled a laugh out of him. “We’ll negotiate it out.” He would sketch her and give the result as a gift to Tyler, for it was obvious she was about three steps away from being devoured by the look in his eyes alone.

“Marguerite.” In two strides, Tyler caught up with them, took her free arm.

Keeping his hand on Josh’s shoulder to hold him there, Tyler took her lips in a hard kiss, his hand moving to her nape. When he let her go, his grip on Josh’s shoulder eased, but he kept the three-way contact, a message that Josh had his confidence in her care. Marguerite noted Josh had automatically stayed in place at the commanding touch. She lifted her eyes to Tyler’s face, the promise there.

“I won’t be long. I’ll come to you as soon as I’m able. Sooner,” he added, with a touch of frustration in his tone that would have made her smile if she weren’t so overwhelmed with need. Nodding, she turned and moved away with Josh out of the pool house. Onto the path to a whole new world for herself.

Chapter Seven

Tyler seriously considered fabricating an outbreak of salmonella in the hors d’oeuvres and an impending locust plague, either of which would require everyone to leave now. He hoped he was embroiled in his last conversation of the evening, which he’d strategically arranged to be on the edge of the crowd near the gardens so he could slip away. He’d had to force his mind to stay on the courtesies required of a host to ensure his guests were enjoying themselves and where appropriate, achieving their objectives in attending.

But with every moment that passed a beast stirred within him, growing ever more hungry and ferocious. She’d come to him at last. Was waiting for him. His mind was full of her, every delicious move of her body in that dress that should have been illegal for public consumption. The way her hand had brushed down Josh’s arm, the graceful fingers playing on his skin while her eyes challenged him. The damned sorceress.

He’d had submissives that enjoyed flirting and being coy in a pretty way, playfully goading the Dominance from him. Marguerite was a Mistress who demonstrated the tendencies of a submissive only under his touch. Even there she had a Mistress’s aggressive way of unsheathing her claws to drive him insane. Well, it worked. He reminded himself the last group he was with right now were all promising talents deserving of his attentiveness and encouragement. He therefore tried not to convey the deadly impatience of a predator coming out of hibernation, ready to tear into whatever stood between him and dinner.

Backing away with a smile and nod, he caught hold of Sarah, passing him with another tray of wine. “Sarah, Michael Atlas is going to take over as host for the rest of the evening. Anything he needs, just help him out. If he wants to line up all the cars and drive a monster truck over them, let everyone run naked across the front lawn or hunt down locals for human sacrifice, I don’t care. Just don’t disturb me.”

“You look disturbed enough as it is.” She chuckled. “She’s by the Aphrodite statue with Mr. Martin.”

“He’s probably coaxed her out of her clothes for a modeling session.”

“I’m sure he values his life far more than that. Plus, Miss Marguerite has seemed very resistant to your considerable charms. I can’t imagine Mr. Martin would succeed where you’ve had limited success.”

“Remind me tomorrow why I don’t fire you for your backhanded compliments.

And keep in mind it depends on whether the woman in question wants to tempt me to commit homicide.”

Sarah laughed as her employer disappeared down the garden path. She wondered if he would break into an undignified sprint and hurdle the hedges once out of her sight. Robert would be sorely aggrieved if a single branch of his rosebushes was snapped. She’d have to put the blame on Mr. Winterman’s rowdier guests.

Tyler did take a couple of shortcuts, but avoided the drastic assault on the vegetation that Sarah had feared. He came upon Josh and Marguerite, bathed in the moonlight gleaming off the statue of the goddess. Marguerite sat on the edge of the koi pond, trailing her fingers in the water, letting the fish nibble at them. Josh was lying on the soft grass, hands linked behind his head, staring up at the stars, one bare foot propped up on the fountain wall next to her thigh. She clasped the fold of his jeans at his calf as she leaned over to play with the fish, demonstrating that casual intimacy a Mistress employed so easily. So deliberately. The edge of the mid-thigh skirt had inched up her bare leg. Tyler’s mouth nearly watered at the idea of pushing her to her back, spreading those long legs and burying his face in her heat, making her bow up and cries of pleasure break from her sinfully tempting mouth.

“Okay. Here’s another one.” Josh spoke, still looking up at the stars. “Favorite movie.”

“Armageddon.”

Josh tilted his head down. “Now that surprises me. I would have expected some artsy foreign chick-flick I’m expected to know about just because I travel in artsy circles.”

“Do I look that pretentious?” Her eyes glinted and she made a figure eight over a koi with the pale white color of a phantom. He turned in endless circles, following her impression in the water, apparently happy to please her with the game. Tyler knew just how the graceful beast felt. “Good saves the day. Love is reunited and Bruce Willis proves there are heroes that can make everything all better. I don’t believe in any of that of course, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish it were true. I love that type of story.” Josh grinned, obviously enjoying her. This was a side of her Tyler had not yet seen, so despite his hunger he stayed still, curious. Whether it was the circumstances, the stress she’d been through coming to this decision, or perhaps it was that Josh was not threatening or a challenge to her, this Marguerite was almost…girlish. And, an added bonus, she was making Josh feel better.

“And how about you?”

Josh studied the sky, a smile still flirting about his sensual lips. “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman for such obvious, crass reasons I refuse to discuss it further.” She had never laughed, never that Tyler had heard, and she didn’t now but her eyes laughed at Josh. “Of course.” Then her gaze shifted. With a flood of heat to his loins, Tyler recognized she was looking for him in the shadows. He stepped out of them, let himself be seen. At the yearning look that flashed through her eyes, he couldn’t summon a smile, even a cordial word. He could barely resist the need to fall to his knees.