Essential Master (Doms of Napa Valley)

eXcessica publishing

Essential Master
© May 2013 by Dakota Trace

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book
may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publisher.

This
is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work
are 18 years of age or older.

This
book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually
explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some
readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

Excessica LLC

P.O. Box 127

Alpena, MI 49707

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

[email protected]

www.excessica.com

Cover design © 2013 Dakota Trace

First Edition May 2013

Warning:
the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without
monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in
prison and a fine of $250,000.

Disclaimer:

Certain items and events in this book are copyrighted
and owned by the following:

Kindle – Amazon.com

Chevy Tahoe –
General Motors

Honda Civic – Honda
Motor Company

Firefly Series – Mutant
Energy Productions

Serenity – Universal
Studios Inc

Dedication:

A special thanks goes out to not
only my lovely editors, Gloria and Sheri, but also all of the wonderful women
who’ve taken the time out off their busy schedule to beta read this story.
Without you ladies, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do.

Prologue

Los Angeles, California

“Tarquinio, you’re not welcome here
anymore. I won’t tolerate your kind in my establishment.”

When Master Nicholaus Tarquinio and his
sometimes submissive lover, Stephanie McKeown, approached the front of the
club, the last thing either had expected was the owner to block their progress.
Wrapping an arm around Stephanie protectively, Nicholaus tucked her into his
side. She had been his heart for the past ten years, ever since his publishing
company had hired her as his security during a previous book tour. His
instincts demanded he place her safety above all others, even if she protested
his caveman tactics more than once.

“This seems pretty sudden, Sam.” He would
try diplomacy first. Maybe something had happened with their credit card again.
“Both Steph and I’ve been members for the past five years. Can I ask what
brought this on?”

Lean with thinning blond hair, Samuel
Kitchner crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Rumor has it you and your sub
are looking for a third.” His beady eyes darted to Stephanie, taking in her
lush body with an undisguised hunger. Not that Stephanie had ever shown the
slightest inclination in the club owner.

“And what of it? We wouldn’t be the only
ménage the club has. I don’t see how that makes me unfit to grace The
Darkside.” It took some doing, but Nicholaus was able to keep his voice even.
He had a sinking feeling in his stomach why Sam was throwing him out of the
club. Dammit, why did he have to lust after both women and men? It wouldn’t be
the first time he’d been kicked to the curb because of it. It amazed him at
times how intolerant some of the people in the lifestyle could be.

“It does when you want to suck cock. The
Darkside isn’t a leather boy bar. If you want to find some dick, go find one
somewhere else. You’ll not find what you’re looking for here.”

“Fine. We won’t bother you again.” He
turned to leave, but as he suspected, Steph wasn’t going to let it go. She dug
her heels in, tugging against his grip. He released her reluctantly.

“No, it’s not fine, Nicky.” Her hands went
to her svelte hips as she tossed her head, her violet hair brushing her cheeks,
anger in her gaze. “Not only do we have stuff in our locker, but we’ve paid our
dues for this month. Either he lets us in to get our stuff and gives us a
refund on our remaining dues, or he’s stuck with us until the end of the
month.”

“And who’s going to make me?” Sam spat,
glaring at them.

Nicholaus was suddenly glad that her
leather get-up didn’t allow her to carry her weapon. As hot as his sub was at
the moment, she might just pistol-whip the other man. He knew he was right when
a saccharine-sweet smile crossed her face, and she went to nose to nose with
the owner.

“Me. Won’t your wife’s voters be interested
to know the night club you own happens to be a BDSM club where you see your whores?”

The color ran from Sam’s face. It was true,
Eleanore Kitchner’s career would suffer if her constituents found out her
husband had extramarital affairs on the side. Not that the woman minded. All
persons at the club knew the owner’s marriage was nothing more than one of
convenience. Eleanore, a closet lesbian, got a husband for her conservative
voters, and Sam got a healthy allowance every month, rumored to be nearly
twenty-five grand. All she asked in return for her money was that her husband
be discrete - hence the Darkside. In fact, they’d even signed a privacy
contract when they’d become members. The idea Steph was threatening to go to
the press with Sam’s dirty little secret was an indication how pissed she was.

The expression on Sam’s face was comical.
His mouth opened and shut before he finally sputtered. “I have a contract. You
wouldn’t! You happen to like Eleanore. You wouldn’t ruin her career over this.”

Steph narrowed her eyes. “Just like you
wouldn’t take our money - then deny us access to the club.” She poked him in
the chest with one finger. “It’s simple, either you let us stay until the end
of the month, and we leave quietly, or you refund us our money and let us
retrieve our things. Your third choice is for me to call up the papers and give
them a story they won’t forget.”

“I’ll sue…”

She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Which
will only drag your wife’s name further through the mud. It’s your choice,
Sammy-boy. So what’s it gonna be?”

The muscles in Sam’s jaw clenched. ‘Fine,
you can stay out the month, but if even one whiff of fag boy’s desire gets
around to the rest of the members, kicking you out will be the least of your
worries.” He turned and stomped back into the club.

Steph turned into his arms, her face
nestled in the hollow of his throat. He loved how tall she was, especially at
times like these. “I’m sorry, Master. He’s an ass, a narrow minded bigot who
couldn’t find his dick in the dark.” She looked up at him. “You want me to go
medieval on him?”

He threaded his hands through her hair
before pressing a kiss against her upturned lips. “I don’t know what I did to
deserve you, sweetheart, but I thank the heavens above you’re mine.”

A cheeky grin crossed her face. “You bet
your ass. Just try to get rid of me.” She burrowed back into his arms. “I love
you - kink and all.”

* * * *

Napa Valley, California

“So how’s my favorite patient doing this
afternoon?”

Looking up from the cooking magazine
cradled on his lap, Zebadiah Pellegrino tried to smile at the bubbly blonde
nurse. Her name was Ashley, Amanda, or something else that started with an ‘A’.
Today was the first day he’d been lucid for more than a few minutes at a time
since the attack at New Beginnings. The last clear thing he’d remembered was
talking to Ethan Tremaine, the owner of the club, and being carted away in an
ambulance. “Sore, ma’am.”

She sighed. “Haven’t I told you not to call
me ma’am?” She winked at him. “Makes me feel like I’m old. But honestly,
Zebadiah, how do you feel? Do you feel up to a visit or two?” She chewed on her
lower lip nervously. “You have several friends waiting outside who’ve been
pouring in here ever since you got out of surgery.”

The word surgery had him curious. The nurse
who’d responded to his call when he’d first awoken had told him the doctor
would be coming by later to talk to him. So far however the only person he’d
seen was her and…he spied the name on her tag as she moved closer…Angela.
“Surgery?”

She nodded. “Yes. You have a remarkable set
of friends. Not only have they been stopping by, but also the nurse’s station
phone has been flooded with them. Including a man claiming to be your boss. The
majority of the phone messages have been from him.” She reached into the pocket
of her smock and pulled out a stack of pink message slips.

Remaining calm wasn’t easy but he tried as
he accepted the messages. Thumbing through them, he cringed as each one became
progressively more hostile. As the junior dessert chef at one of Napa Valley’s
many eateries, he considered himself lucky to land the job right out of
culinary school, and his stupid decision to submit to the wrong woman had
endangered his job once again. The message wasn’t promising. But before he
called, he needed to know what to tell his boss. “Any idea on the ETA of the
doctor? I need to know what’s going on before I call my workplace.”

“I understand.” She picked up his chart and
flipped it open. “Let me check in at the nurses’ station. While I’m doing that,
would you like some company? There are several of your friends who just showed up.”

He nodded. “Sure, why not?” It’d give him
something to do other than worry about his job. Leaning back against the
pillows, he closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was gonna do if he lost his
job. He had a small nest egg he’d been saving in the hopes of opening his own
bakery, but if his boss, Harmond, fired him it would dwindle quickly. And
heaven forbid his parents find out about his stupidity. They’d wash their hands
of him for sure. If he didn’t ache all over, he’d kick his own ass for allowing
his sexual needs to land him in this situation.

The opening of the door drew him out of his
dark thoughts. Opening his eyes, he gave a halfhearted smile as Ethan Tremaine
and Davis Clayton, the co-owners of New Beginnings walked into the room. Both
men were uber-masculine but at opposite ends of the spectrum physically and in
attitude. Slender, but well-muscled and quiet, Ethan personified the epitome of
his Asian ancestry, while the tall, massive and loud-mouthed Davis was like one
of the California Redwoods, in whose forests Zebadiah had grown up. However,
both men were his good friends.

“Hey, guys. Come to see a battered-up sub?”

Ethan moved towards the window, setting
down a beautiful peace lily before turning around to face him, while Davis
brought over a bouquet of colorful ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons. Just the sight of
the massive man carrying around such a whimsical gift made Zebadiah smile.

“A still alive sub, Zebadiah.” Ethan came
over to the bedside, his alert eyes taking in every inch of his appearance,
until Zebadiah felt like he should be in a petri dish under a microscope.

“Yeah, I must be.” He winced as Ethan
lightly traced the bandages around his knee. “I’m in too much pain not to be.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Ethan
pulled his hand back.

Zebadiah shrugged. “Even breathing hurts at
the moment.”

“Has the doctor come in yet?” Davis asked
as he looped the balloons around the bedside railing.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon. My boss wants to
know when I’m gonna be back to work. He’s already pissed I’m going to miss a
couple days if his last messages are any indication.”

Davis’s brow furrowed. “He’s harassing
you?”

Zebadiah looked away. “Don’t worry about
it, Master Davis. I’ll deal with him.”

Crossing his arms across his huge chest,
Davis arched a brow. “You’ll come to me if he gives you any guff about this.
You’ve worked for him for over two years, and are eligible for the Family
Medical Leave Act. If he violates your rights, I’ll take his ass to the
cleaners.”

And as an attorney with a near perfect
record for winning, Zebadiah didn’t doubt for a moment Davis could do as he
boasted. He opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the entry of
his doctor, a pretty brunette woman carrying what obviously was his chart.

“Mr. Pellegrino? I’m Dr. Standerton. I
apologize for the delay in getting to you today. I had an emergency surgery.
How are you feeling?” She set down his chart on the foot of the bed.

“Really sore, but the pain is tolerable.”

She nodded. “I need to check your knee. Would
you like your friends to leave?”

He shook his head as Ethan and Davis moved
to the head of the bed on either side of him. “No, they can stay.”

Dr Standerton nodded. “Okay, I’ll be as
gentle as I can, but I need to check the incisions on either side of your
knee.” Then she began to unwrap the bandage. Even as gentle as she was, each
brush of her fingers sent fresh agony up his leg to settle at his spine. When a
long moan slipped free, she looked up. “Have you been using the morphine drip?”

Clenching his teeth, he shook his head. “I
hate the way it makes me feel. It feels like I’m melting into the bed.”

A disgruntled sound passed the doctor’s
lips. “Mr. Pellegrino, how are you supposed to heal if you refuse to take the
meds I’ve prescribed to you? You’re already looking at six weeks off because of
the surgery you underwent last night to repair your torn ACL. Of course, if
you’re wanting to undergo another reconstructive surgery, and more time off
along with a possible limp, keep refusing to take your meds.” She sighed and
softly continued. “A body can’t heal, Zebadiah, if you’re in pain and fighting
it. If the morphine makes you feel sick, we’ll switch your pain meds to
something with less severe side effects.”

“Okay.” He fought tears of both pain and frustration.
“Are you sure it’s gonna take six weeks?”

She nodded. “And that’s being optimistic
about your therapy going well.”

He sighed. He was
sooo
screwed. Looking up at Davis, he wet his lips before speaking.
“I may just be taking you up on your offer, Davis. Harmond is going to shit
pink kittens when he finds out I’m out for six weeks minimum.”