The mildly warm water jarred his body as he plunged beneath the surface. The lust she had ignited transformed into fury. He hadn’t flown thousands of miles to get dunked into the ocean by an uppity sub. He surfaced, sputtering sea water from his mouth. Luckily, he’d always been athletically inclined, but swimming in his favorite boots wasn’t easy. However a lesser man would have drowned. Damn things were likely ruined by the unexpected dunking.
Fuck.
Carter swam to a nearby ladder attached to the docks and hauled himself up out of the water. He reached the top rung just in time to watch that little sub’s gorgeous ass sashay away. A large male hand helped him up over the top until he stood, sopping wet and ready to roar.
Carter shouted, “What the fuck kind of greeting was that? Who the hell was she?”
Because he wasn’t done with that sub in the slightest. That gorgeous ass of hers was just begging for a strong hand to show her who was boss. Preferably his hand, with her ass bare and glowing ruby red from his touch. And then he intended to leave the island because he hadn’t traveled all this way for a headache of this magnitude. Carter had his own problems and didn’t need anyone else’s.
The man who’d helped him back onto the dock was dressed in black slacks and a long sleeved blue dress shirt. His ginger hair was longer than the average businessman’s, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviators. How he could wear formal business wear in this heat and humidity was beyond Carter.
“Carter. I’m Jared McTavish. I apologize that your welcome was a bit wetter than intended,” he said in a rolling Scottish brogue.
“Yeah, well, you can charter me the first boat off the fucking island after I discipline that sub. I didn’t come here for this. I have a herd of horses to train. What kind of establishment are you running anyhow if a submissive can act out like that?” Carter demanded, his voice booming as he yelled at the man.
Jared nodded. “I understand your concern. Jenna will be dealt with at the club tonight by my hand. I can promise you that.”
“Do all the subs run roughshod over the place?” Carter asked. If so, then he was gone. That was something he ensured at his club: that submissives knew their place and how to act. When one stepped a toe out of line, she was disciplined and dealt with accordingly.
Jared shook his head and said, a grimace on his face, “No. And I admit, I’ve never had one do something precisely like that. I can promise you, I will rectify the matter and see to her discipline. At least stay the night, see if I can change your mind. If not, I will have a ferry ready for you first thing tomorrow, or could even charter one of the DFC’s jets to fly you home.” He gestured toward a waiting golf cart. “If you would like to come with me, I will escort you to your villa. Additionally, I will have your clothes dry cleaned—on the house, of course. If there’s anything that is a total loss, it will be replaced at no cost to you.”
“And that sub?” Carter said. It was clear Jared wasn’t remiss in his duties as a Master, but he still wasn’t sold on the place.
“Will be dealt with, I can promise you that,” Jared responded, his face unreadable behind his aviators.
“I want her for my week-long stay. Clearly you have some subs who need to be properly trained,” Carter replied, certain he had lost his mind the moment that little thing had pressed herself against him. A saner man would walk away and find greener pastures.
Jared grimaced. “We pride ourselves on safe, sane, and consensual.”
Carter snorted. “Relax. I won’t hurt her. I might tan her fucking hide a few times, but I would never truly harm a sub. If that’s what you think of me—”
“I mean no offense, but I protect those under my care, including my employees,” Jared replied, his countenance and bearing staunchly protective. Like he would be only too happy to put Carter on the nearest boat if there was even a hint of the possibility a submissive would be harmed by him.
Carter respected the hell out of that. They did the same with any of the subs who came into their club. Fuck, he might actually like Jared, if he hadn’t had such a rude and wet welcome.
“I’ll stay. But I want her or I walk,” Carter tossed out the ultimatum, again wondering if it was a wise move on his part.
“Understood. I will see what I can do to arrange that Jenna is your submissive this week.” Jared said, “If you’ll follow me, we can get you situated. I’ve procured one of our exclusive luxury villas for your stay.”
Carter nodded, trailing behind him to the cart. He had a name for his little termagant. Jenna. It suited her.
Chapter 2
She shouldn’t have done what she did.
Jenna knew her actions had consequences. They always did. Maybe if she wasn’t so tired from working late last night at the Dungeon Club serving drinks, and then being up at the ass-crack of dawn to run errands for the front desk, just to earn a little extra cash, then perhaps she wouldn’t have sassed the man—among other things, like shoving him into the ocean.
Way to go and completely screw up the job she needed. Jenna was just so damn tired. The burdens she carried got heavier by the day.
Jenna hadn’t meant to run into that guest. She’d had her head down, trying to flash forward through her day, and hadn’t seen him until she’d plowed into his firm, broad chest. The rebound almost knocked her off her feet. His hands had closed around her biceps and short circuited her brain patterns… because, heaven help her, what a man. A dominant alpha with dark chestnut hair that nearly grazed his massive shoulders. His forthright hazel gaze had been brown, with specks of green and gold. Full lips that were shrouded by a few days’ growth of dark stubble. Sinful didn’t even begin to cover his handsome face. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d called him sasquatch. The man was a freaking giant. So large he’d blocked out the sun—with a little help from his black Stetson.
Her body had purred at his innocent touch. And it had fueled the flames of her anger, much like poking an angry bear. Before her brain had time to process what she was doing, she was shoving him into the water.
But that was why she now stood, somewhat contrite, before her boss, Jared McTavish. Master and owner of this fine island establishment. From the way his gaze assessed her from behind his desk, Jenna knew she was walking a razor-fine line.
Dammit.
“Jenna, I can’t begin to understand why you would act out that way with a guest. Carter Jones is the owner of a lifestyle club in Wyoming and someone I’m hoping the island can do business with. Mind telling me what happened today? And why you took it upon yourself to so rudely welcome a guest?” Jared asked, sitting behind his desk, decked out in club gear. The Dom was a beautiful man, with his expanse of muscular chest bare.
There was no excuse she could offer, at least not one he would understand. She hid her trembling fingers. “No, Sir.”
She couldn’t really explain it herself. Except that man with his I’m a big bad Dom attitude and forthright gaze had pushed her buttons the wrong way. The fact that he apparently believed that because she was submissive he could swagger off the boat, wave his dick her way, and she should be thankful for it, had pushed all of her buttons—all the wrong ones. Her mom had always said she must have a
