Page 6 of Under His Command

“You couldn’t convince her to move to San Diego?”

“And give up her bridge game with the girls every Wednesday, and singing in the choir on Sundays? The only way Colt talked her into moving out of the old home place is because two members of her bridge club live in the complex already. The man who drives her to choir practice lives there, too. I think she’s sweet on him. Colt finds him annoying, just like a protective only son, but he’s anice,older gentleman, and really seems to care about her, so he’s trying not to snap him in two like a twig.”

The visual made Cassie wince. Colt could do it with the flick of his wrist, although he’d never do it to a kindheartedsenior. She could only imagine his frustration and worry with his aging mother living hundreds of miles away from him. For her part, Marie Jameson was a hoot. Mentally sharp and active at seventy-eight, she had no trouble picturing the lively woman sparking with a sweetheart.

“I’m glad she’s doing well. Send her my love, will you?”

“Yes, and I’m supposed to say thanks for the flowers you sent.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. How did she fall, exactly?”

“Salsa dancing.”

“What!” Cassie squealed, shocked, but not really. That was just like Marie.

“I know. Colt about flipped out. But you can’t get that woman to slow down. She said she spun right instead of twirling left, and she and Henry, that’s her man friend; they’re so cute you wouldn’t believe it, Cass. But they both went down in a tangle of legs and support hose.”

The mental picture had them both laughing and close to tears.

“Don’t let Marie hear you say anything about her support hose or you’ll be out of the will,” Cassie warned only half teasing. “Is Colt okay with her staying? I know he worries about her.”

“He tried laying down the law, but his alpha male, Lieutenant Commander, badass dom traits don’t work on his mother.”

“Only on you?”

“Me and every other woman who isn’t his mother, especially if they’re submissive. You should see it at our club. Some subs, mostly the new ones, who don’t know we’re married—or ignore his collar around my neck—think they can lure him away. When they try, he turns his SEAL instructor’s death stare on them, and they fall to their knees, begging forgiveness, only to scurry away and hide in a corner the rest of the night.”

“You don’t scratch their eyes out for trying to poach your dom?”

“I don’t have to. Colt shuts it down before they finish batting their lashes and flashing their fake tits.”

“They actually do that? You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not. Colt has had to call upon a dungeon monitor or a friend to teach the persistent ones some manners. One bitch got to ride the carousel as punishment when she just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You’ve mentioned that punishment wheel before,” she shuddered. “It sounds intense and like something you’ve got to see to believe.”

“You can. Colt wants to drive up to LA when we get back. How about on Saturday you come as our guest?”

Jules had been keeping tabs on her love life—or lack thereof—long distance and wasn’t pleased. Cassie hadn’t been out on more than a handful of dates in the past two years, and those were disasters. Her friend kept harping at her to get active in the local BDSM community in Boston, that she would never find what she needed by dating vanilla guys. But Cassie couldn’t do it, not without her best friend by her side, who’d always been her wingman in college, including when they attended their first munch her sophomore year.

She found it hard to believe a decade had passed since that long-ago day. Both were undergrads at USC. Cassie had a class with Jules, and they joined the same study group. The two girls instantly connected, moving into an apartment together the following year. They were good students and study-focused, but not so much they didn’t believe in the full college experience, which meant attending a few parties, including at least one at a fraternity or sorority. Most were boring with guys drinking too much beer, acting like asses, and only looking to score, but something happened at one that stuck in their minds and ended up as a turning point for them both.

It was a Saturday night at a frat house off campus. The beer was flowing, and the guests had gotten pretty loose—nothing unusual. As the hour got late, several of the partiers got wilder and more amorous than she and Jules were comfortable with. They decided to leave, but as they were making their way through the crowd to the front door, one guy took down the engraved wooden hazing paddle from its place of honor on the wall. It wasn’t called that, of course, but everyone knew what it was for. Then he proceeded to give his girlfriend a few teasing whacks in front of everyone.

Cassie and Jules expected her to throw a fit, but she giggled. In fact, she appeared to enjoy it, wiggling her hips and grinding her butt against him, inviting more. The playful spanking soon became a hot clinch with some heavy groping. The next minute, they were running up the stairs, paddle in hand, and everyone knew the spanking, and then some, would continue in private.

That was the only thing of interest in an otherwise boring party, but it left them both fascinated and seriously turned on. At first, they laughed it off, making jokes about it. But it stuck with them, and when it kept coming up in conversation, they turned speculative, wondering what it would be like being spanked for real.

Not long after, Jules found a notice tacked to an events board for a once-a-month BDSM munch held at a local restaurant. The flyer claimed it was a safe place for “curious newbies” to make contacts and learn more about the lifestyle. Cassie had stated an empathic “no,” but after several weeks of arm-twisting, her friend had gotten her to agree. Still in a speculative phase, they expected little to come of it; then Colton Jameson walked in.

Arriving late, he drew every female eye, and a few appreciative male ones, too. They ate him up as he sauntered in, his tight black tee shirt stretched across his broad chest, the short sleeves failing to conceal his bulging biceps, and a tattoo peeking out on one arm. In his late twenties, he was older than college age, but they found this in his favor, and he was gorgeous, exuding more confidence than anyone Cassie had ever met.

Both girls were practically panting when he took the only empty seat at the table opposite from them. Worse, when he looked at them with his warm, chocolate-brown eyes and flashed a brilliant white smile their way, they nearly melted on the spot. It was a miracle they didn’t slide jelly-like off their chairs into a puddle beneath the table.

Colt introduced himself to the group as an experienced dominant looking for a new sub. Nothing permanent, he clarified, in a refreshing, straightforward manner. He wanted to keep things casual because he was only in town a few times during the year for training or between assignments for the Navy.

The word casual nixed Cassie’s interest, and she bowed out, leaving her friend a clear shot. Lucky for her, too, because he had zoned in solely on Jules. At five feet eight, with cover model looks, beautiful green eyes, full pouty lips, and a trim figure, it wasn’t surprising. Lunch had turned into dinner, just the two of them. Then more dinners, followed by breakfasts, and Colt had soon changed his mind about casual.

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