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she’ll never finish college.”
    “I suppose she figures starving kittens won’t divorce each
other and send her to live with her brother.” David glanced away from Sam to
glower at his father.
    Howard ignored David’s accusation. “She needs a man to keep
her in line and give her direction. She can love him and a few babies instead
of an endless parade of animals.”
    David refocused on Sam. “I don’t disagree.”
    Joaquin pulled a royal straight, ending the hand and saving
Sam from having to respond to the knowledge and permission in his friend’s
stare.
    * * * * *
    That evening, Sam leaned against the hotel’s poolside bar
with a bottle of beer in his hand and a hard-on in his pants. Public erections
weren’t part of his life anymore. Years of forty-hour weeks first working in,
then managing, the fetish club he now held fifty percent share in, had
desensitized him. Visual displays were standard procedure. Yet there he stood,
undeniably stiff.
    A few yards away, Melanie lounged naked by the kidney-shaped
pool. Practically naked. The tiny green triangle of cloth that made up her
bikini bottom bunched toward the crease of her shapely ass, giving him a big
eyeful of her tanned cheeks, and her top’s ties dangled toward the ground. She
rested her head on folded arms, her face turned away from the hotel. Sam took a
long pull from his beer while studying the pale hollow under her arm and the
bare, full curve of her breast.
    That’s where he’d start. He’d start right there, running his
tongue over the swell of flesh compressed between her chest and the lounger. He
wouldn’t be able to reach her nipple, but that would come later. He could taste
the suntan oil and salt just fine by dragging his open mouth across her
shoulder and down her back.
    A skimpy bow secured her bikini bottom at her hips. One
quick tug and the bow would give, leaving her ass bare to his view. Her slim,
curvy legs were already spread—nothing lewd, but enough that he’d be able to
admire her slit and maybe get a taste of her cream while he was down there.
    Once he woke her up with his tongue, he’d turn her over onto
her back and get down to the real business of slaking the need that had kept
him awake most of the night after leaving her, untouched, at the door of her
hotel room. The long, thin cord hanging from her ear buds would fit nicely
around her slender wrists. He could stretch her arms taut above her head,
secure her to the lounger’s frame and feast on her pussy until she begged him
for relief.
    Cock aching, Sam straightened and left the bar behind.
Melanie didn’t stir as he walked around her lounger and sat on the chair beside
her. He rested his forearms on his spread thighs, relishing the discomfort as
his fly constricted the painful thickness of his erection.
    Her lips, shiny with gloss, were slightly parted in her
sleep. She didn’t wear any sunglasses. This close, he could hear the music
coming from her ear buds—not enough to make out the songs, but enough to know she wouldn’t hear anything coming at her. Sam frowned and swallowed another
mouthful of his still-cold beer. The sun blazed high in the sky and beat down
relentlessly. Stupid. No, that was wrong. At dinner last night, while David and
Jovanna provided a buffer, she’d proven herself well-versed in everything from
world events to art, able to hold her own in conversation. He couldn’t call her
stupid. The nubile young blonde occupying his fantasy was reckless .
    He should leave her alone. If he was smart, he’d walk
away—but he wasn’t smart. He was the stupid one, thinking he could enjoy
something noncommittal with a stranger, thinking he’d feel differently about
responsibility if he didn’t know the woman. Years of watching casual encounters
at his club should have kept him from the mistake he’d made during their
flight. Casual Dominants could play for the sake of playing and walk away
without more than surface obligation to the submissives they