Read Online Club Helix: The Power Games by Brynley Bush - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brynley Bush
Tags: Contemporary
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general rules going forward, the photo shoot tomorrow, and maybe even the first group challenge.” I shrug. “We’ll find out when we get there.”
“The photo shoot? What photo shoot?”
“As a little pregame bonus round, the show has arranged for a photographer to come take boudoir photos of each of the submissives tomorrow. I have a feeling there’s some kind of sponsorship incentive behind it, but it will be fun for the Doms to pose their subs for the photos, and for the subs to show off all the sexy clothing they brought. The photos will probably also be used for hotel publicity in the future.”
She falters and I stop.
“Ava, I told you what will happen if you’re ashamed of your body,” I remind her softly.
“It’s not that,” she hedges. “It’s just…” She takes a breath and then lifts her gaze to meet mine, that little chin tilting up again. “I didn’t bring the right clothes to wear for something like that.” She smiles wryly. “I was at NYU on a full academic scholarship, but they don’t really factor in a bondage-and-lingerie budget for the average college student.”
That explains her shorts and T-shirt during the audition, and the damn flannel shirt that practically covered every inch of her body that she was wearing last night when I’d finally slipped into bed next to her. It also explains why she’s here competing in the games.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say unquestioningly. “I’ll also make sure you have something appropriate to wear to bed. If I allow a submissive to sleep in my bed, which I usually don’t, I sure as hell better be able to see her curves.”
“What’s wrong with what I wore to bed?” she asks indignantly, although her eyes are sparkling with a hint of humor. “It’s comfortable!”
“You can be comfortable on your own time,” I say firmly. “On my time, you dress to please me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she says teasingly, giving me a mock salute.
Her smile fades as I pull her forcibly to me, taking her mouth ruthlessly. But when I pull away, her breath is coming in short little pants.
I’ve made dinner reservations at the Barrymore, and we share a bottle of wine on the outside patio near the long fire pit while we wait for our table.
“The man you were with at the pool. Who is he to you?” I ask.
She casts a cautious look at me. “That’s Emmett. He’s my roommate,” she says, suddenly cool.
“In New York?”
She nods, clearly uncomfortable with my line of questioning.
“Are you romantically involved with him?” I ask, my voice harsher than I had intended.
“No.” Her response is quick, and I can see she’s telling me the truth, but it’s equally obvious that he’s far more to her than just a roommate.
“I looked at your application. He’s also your sometimes Dom?” I add skeptically, cocking an eyebrow at her, daring her to deny the obvious untruth.
“Yes,” she says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.
I lean forward, making sure I have her full attention. “This is your one warning. Don’t ever lie to me again, Ava, or I promise you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
She pales at that, her slender throat swallowing hard before she picks up her glass and takes a sip of wine. Then that shuttered look that I’m starting to recognize slides into place.
I decide not to press the issue for now.
“Why don’t you like to be called Avalon?” I ask softly. The more determined she is not to tell me, the more determined I am to find out.
I study her face closely as she takes another sip of wine, wondering if she’s going to give me an honest answer this time. I can see the indecision flit across her face as she considers whether to answer me at all, but then she sighs, and I know I’ve won this small victory.
“My parents named me Avalon after the mythical island in the legend of Arthur. My father used to tell me he chose the name because it was a magical place that was happy and blessed, and
“The photo shoot? What photo shoot?”
“As a little pregame bonus round, the show has arranged for a photographer to come take boudoir photos of each of the submissives tomorrow. I have a feeling there’s some kind of sponsorship incentive behind it, but it will be fun for the Doms to pose their subs for the photos, and for the subs to show off all the sexy clothing they brought. The photos will probably also be used for hotel publicity in the future.”
She falters and I stop.
“Ava, I told you what will happen if you’re ashamed of your body,” I remind her softly.
“It’s not that,” she hedges. “It’s just…” She takes a breath and then lifts her gaze to meet mine, that little chin tilting up again. “I didn’t bring the right clothes to wear for something like that.” She smiles wryly. “I was at NYU on a full academic scholarship, but they don’t really factor in a bondage-and-lingerie budget for the average college student.”
That explains her shorts and T-shirt during the audition, and the damn flannel shirt that practically covered every inch of her body that she was wearing last night when I’d finally slipped into bed next to her. It also explains why she’s here competing in the games.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say unquestioningly. “I’ll also make sure you have something appropriate to wear to bed. If I allow a submissive to sleep in my bed, which I usually don’t, I sure as hell better be able to see her curves.”
“What’s wrong with what I wore to bed?” she asks indignantly, although her eyes are sparkling with a hint of humor. “It’s comfortable!”
“You can be comfortable on your own time,” I say firmly. “On my time, you dress to please me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she says teasingly, giving me a mock salute.
Her smile fades as I pull her forcibly to me, taking her mouth ruthlessly. But when I pull away, her breath is coming in short little pants.
I’ve made dinner reservations at the Barrymore, and we share a bottle of wine on the outside patio near the long fire pit while we wait for our table.
“The man you were with at the pool. Who is he to you?” I ask.
She casts a cautious look at me. “That’s Emmett. He’s my roommate,” she says, suddenly cool.
“In New York?”
She nods, clearly uncomfortable with my line of questioning.
“Are you romantically involved with him?” I ask, my voice harsher than I had intended.
“No.” Her response is quick, and I can see she’s telling me the truth, but it’s equally obvious that he’s far more to her than just a roommate.
“I looked at your application. He’s also your sometimes Dom?” I add skeptically, cocking an eyebrow at her, daring her to deny the obvious untruth.
“Yes,” she says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.
I lean forward, making sure I have her full attention. “This is your one warning. Don’t ever lie to me again, Ava, or I promise you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
She pales at that, her slender throat swallowing hard before she picks up her glass and takes a sip of wine. Then that shuttered look that I’m starting to recognize slides into place.
I decide not to press the issue for now.
“Why don’t you like to be called Avalon?” I ask softly. The more determined she is not to tell me, the more determined I am to find out.
I study her face closely as she takes another sip of wine, wondering if she’s going to give me an honest answer this time. I can see the indecision flit across her face as she considers whether to answer me at all, but then she sighs, and I know I’ve won this small victory.
“My parents named me Avalon after the mythical island in the legend of Arthur. My father used to tell me he chose the name because it was a magical place that was happy and blessed, and
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