Page 67 of Over the Line

Sydney ended up spending the next few days being somewhat of a glorified cook and pack mule. Her clients were younger than she was and were on their honeymoon. They were focused on each other, and three was definitely a crowd. For the first time in years, she found herself lonely for the type of easy companionship that the newlyweds shared. And honestly, part of her time with Master Michael had been like that.

What would it be like if she enjoyed more time like that with him?

At night, she knew the couple was trying to be quiet, but the tent walls were thin, and the mountains were otherwise silent. She spent hours tossing and turning on her cot, fantasizing about Master Michael forcing her to yield to his will.

Not soon enough, the excursion drew to a close.

Under a cloudy afternoon sky, they returned to their vehicles at the trailhead.

The appreciative couple had tipped her a shocking amount of money. The envelope of cash would pay off her credit card and put her in a much better financial position to survive the lean period between the end of summer and fall activities and the beginning of the ski season.

She generally led some autumn mountain trips to see the aspen trees change color, but after the first good snow or wind event, that ended. As long as the weather held, she could still arrange biking or hiking, especially at Moab.

Often, she headed south and looked for other work, but this money would allow her to take an unplanned vacation.

She cranked up the music, trying to drown out the idea of having extra time to spend with Master Michael in late fall. After all, she hadn’t heard from him in days. And that caused even more crazy thoughts to collide. What if he had gone to the Den last weekend and found someone else to submit to him?

How had she gone from wanting a one-night Dom to fearing that he was seeing someone else?

When she was finally in cell phone range, she exited I-70 near a small coffee and ice cream shop.

The notifications screen was all but bare. Leaundra had left a voicemail with the tentative date of her wedding, a year in the future.

Sydney had a handful of emails, including one from the Den with a list of upcoming activities.

She also had a message from her friend Vanessa, asking if she was going to be attending an upcoming event at the Den where a new entertainer—singer Zephyr ‘Zeph’ Rockwell—would be welcomed into the club.

At one time, rocker Evan C had been used to provide the entertainment, but after he’d been an ass to Master Alexander Monahan’s new sub, Master Damien had revoked the star’s membership.

Along with several other people, Sydney had cheered the decision.

But that was the end of her messages.

There was nothing from Master Michael.

With a disappointed sigh, she dropped her purse on the console then headed inside for a mocha latte drizzled with raspberry syrup.

Figuring that Murphy’s Law would be at work and that she would have missed his call while she was getting her drink, she picked up her phone.

Still nothing.

Exhaling her frustration, she dropped her head against the seat back.

Then, with her phone close by, Sydney finished the drive home.

Back at her condo, she dragged in her backpack and went to toss it on the bed. But the outfit she’d bought in Miami was in the middle of the mattress, waiting. In her haste to meet the newlyweds, she hadn’t put it away. Now the sexy pieces seemed to taunt her.

She wanted to wear them for Master Michael.

The harder she fought to keep thoughts of him out of her head, the stronger the memories became. It was as if she could feel his belt scorching her skin. The welts that had adorned her buttocks and thighs after her time at the Eagle’s Bend Ranch had long since healed, and she craved new ones.

Tamping down her desires, she hung the outfit in her closet, then shut the door.

Afterward, she unloaded the car and stowed the camping equipment in the garage.

Even after she had spent a ridiculous amount of time in a much-needed warm shower, the damn phone remained silent.

Now what?