Page 2 of Over the Line

“It’s happened a handful of times.” Gregorio folded his arms across his chest. “She’s earned the name ‘the Brat’ around here.”

Something he could handle. “Challenging.”

Gregorio laughed. The sound was both ominous and sympathetic. “A few other Doms have felt the same way,” Gregorio said. “Sydney has a history of battering hearts and egos. Protects herself emotionally—with good reason. And she never plays with the same person twice.”

Water in hand, she walked around to the far side of the firepit and stood there alone. He responded to the unspoken cue. After finishing his beverage, he crumpled the can and passed it off to Gregorio. “Wish me luck.”

Gregorio shook his head. “You’ll need more than luck, my friend.”

Michael moved toward her.

Perhaps hearing his approach, she looked up and watched as he closed the distance.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said, as he stopped near her and tipped his hat.

“I was hoping you would be brave enough to come and talk to me,” she admitted with a smile that could roll his socks down. “I saw you talking with Gregorio. No doubt he tried to frighten you away with tales of how terrible I am.”

“And are you?”

“I suppose there could be some truth to it.” She shrugged easily. “But a good story is always entertaining, isn’t it?”

This close, she smelled potently dangerous—spiced vanilla blended with unadulterated pheromones. The combination created a cocktail he couldn’t get enough of. “Either way, not much scares me.”

“A man among men.”

“Michael Dayton. Master Michael.” Although the sun hadn’t completely vanished behind the distant mountain peaks, torches were being lit, adding to the ambience and catching streaks of red in her hair. He wanted to touch those strands, to curl them around his fist as he held her down and made her scream out his name.

“Sydney Wallace,” she said, returning the formality.

“May I call you Sydney?”

She rolled her glass between her palms. With a tease in her voice, she said, “I’m hoping you can be considerably more creative than that.”

He tipped back the brim of his hat to get a better look at her. She intrigued him. “So name calling is not on your limits list.”

A server, this one a woman in a French maid’s outfit that left nothing to the imagination, walked nearby. Though she was curvy with luscious bare breasts, he only had eyes for the woman he was with.

Sydney placed her glass on the tray. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t need something to toy with.

When they were alone again, she said, “I understand you’re divorced, Mr. Dayton. No kids. You have a ranch you’d like to protect from gold diggers. You scene every once in a while, and you’re not looking for a serious commitment.”

“Do you know my blood type?”

“No.” Her quick grin was engaging. “I only asked about the important stuff.”

“You found out a lot in a short amount of time.”

“I like being prepared. If I’m going to spend an hour with a man, I want to make sure the time is worth it. I don’t think it’s fair to either of us if there are false expectations.”

“You’re mistaken, Sydney.”

“About which part?”

“We’ll be spending more than an hour together. I can’t get you properly warmed up in under sixty minutes, and I intend to keep you on the edge, writhing for an orgasm for much, much longer than that.”

Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noticed how blue they were, a shade of ice, a shocking contradiction to the heat she radiated.

“That’s a bold statement, Michael.”

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