Uncharted Waters: Club Oasis Series, #1

By Calli Lee

Shay Summers' life screeched to a stop four years ago.  An unbearable tragedy left her despondent and battling her will to live. With heroic determination, Shay built a new life, and she thinks she's ready to open her heart again. At the urging of her good friends, Shay joins Club Oasis. The famously exclusive BDSM club is the perfect place for Shay to explore her sexually submissive side and re-ignite her inner-fire. Club Oasis is full of sinful temptations, but only one treat grabs her full attention—Master Drake. Shay is more than willing to ride the hottest dominant in the kink park, but she has no intention of anything beyond a casual adventure. 

 

Drake Jonas has lived the dominant/submissive lifestyle for more than a decade and is ready for his happily ever after. He's tired of casual relationships but knows better than to get involved with someone outside the lifestyle. That's why he's not made his move on the beautiful mystery woman he's been pining for at his gym. Until one fateful night when she walks into his club.

 

Drake's masterful touch unleashes the passion Shay buried long ago, but it may not be enough to capture her heart. As the fire between them blazes and begins to thaw Shay's heart, Drake's decisions outside the club threaten to push her away.  While Drake knows BDSM, Shay knows the realities of love and loss. In order to persuade Shay to risk it all again, Drake has to trust his sub enough to surrender his pride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calli Lee
• Release date: Feb 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781735967219

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

No. Not child’s pose. Please, not child’s pose. Shit. Child’s pose. He knew that was her next move. He knew her stretching routines—all of them. Sick bastard, he thought, biting back a grunt and discreetly adjusting his now hard junk.

Dude, who are you pissed at? Sean chuckled.

No one. Why?

You just look pissed. Glancing across the gym, Sean, his best friend and frequent pain in the ass, spied the object of Drake’s frustration and couldn’t help but grin.

You know, you’ve spent so much time leering at her I bet your periods are synced up now.

Fuck you, Drake growled under his breath.

Seriously, man, why don’t you speak to her? Gawking at her all the time is getting pretty creepy. You better hope she doesn’t notice you doing it or she’s going to put a restraining order on you.

Shut up. No way she’s seen me.

Drake knew how to be invisible. His mystery woman always did at least five minutes of stretching after her workout, so she was almost done. Which meant maybe he could focus on his own damn training. Her workout today had been more rigorous, and she wasn’t the only one who had struggled to get through. He damn near hadn’t made it. Her dead lifts had all but sent him to the locker room to jack off.

Six months ago, she’d walked out of the ladies’ locker room, and he’d been hooked. He hadn’t been the only one. Plenty of men had tried to talk to her at first, but each time he’d spotted someone trying to help her, she’d politely turned them away. Only once did he think he was going to have to step in when an overanxious would-be suitor wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’d shown her claws then, and he’d loved every minute of it. Ms. Polite had a temper when pushed, and she’d let the guy have it.

Drake’s libido stirred to life any time he saw a beautiful woman with some fight in her. This one in particular had his full attention.

A gym regular now, she was clearly serious about her gym time. Word had spread to leave her alone—she wasn’t looking for a hookup. Over the past months, she’d steadily increased her reps and weights, meaning she had a goal in mind. She always came and left alone, didn’t do small talk with people, and was laser-focused on her work. That kind of focus would serve his dominant nature well, as would her spirit. She would be a disciplined student who would require a heavy hand at times to keep her in line. Yeah, eager little student, he thought. Pervert. Maybe Sean was right. He needed to get a grip and let this go. Speaking to her was not an option. Drake was at the age where he wasn’t interested in a girlfriend, and it was highly unlikely she would be able to handle the type of serious companionship he did want. He’d spent the better part of his adult life as a sexual Dominant, and more often than not, he met like-minded people at clubs or play parties. A few of his previous submissives had been introduced to him through other Doms.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t fantasize. Tonight, he was going to dream of how her ass looked when it was flexing. If she were his, he’d push her to do more than five minutes of stretching today—he wouldn’t want her too sore. Drake’s imagination reeled with scenarios. What had happened today to make her push beyond her comfort zone? Had she had a hard day at work? Had she gotten into a fight with her boyfriend? This was par for the course with him. Every time he saw her, he imagined her in countless scenarios, guessing what her life was like outside the gym. And guessing was all it was. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. He could get it, but why torture himself any more than necessary?

How’s the knee? Sean’s question was like a bucket of ice water.

Meh. It’s okay. Nothing’s torn. I’m still going light on it though.

You ever figure out what happened?

Nope. And you know my mom is nagging the hell out of me to go to the doctor. She’s like a pit bull. It’s fine though. Ice and ibuprofen seem to be helping.

Maybe sensing Drake’s unwillingness to continue this conversation, Sean switched topics, thank God. Did Jack get ahold of you about the woman he wants you to meet? The one he wants you to take through the club?

Yeah. I told him I’d meet her and show her around. Make sure she was okay. Turning, Drake finished putting the plates on the bar.

What night?

Saturday. Seeing Sean’s face, Drake knew where this was going. Sean had the worst poker face known to man. Every time he tried to look nonchalant, he ended up looking like an idiot. Stopping what he was doing, Drake gave Sean his full attention. What is it? Why do you care?

Nothin’. Sean shrugged a shoulder. I just want to see her. Jack’s never allowed someone to attend who’s not a member. I’m just thinking she must be—you know—fine.

Yep, an idiot, Drake thought. Jack said she’s a close friend. She sounds like family.

Sean looked a little less like an excited puppy.

How old is she?

Don’t know, don’t care, didn’t ask. Because I’m obviously obsessed with a woman who I will never claim. Lately, Drake was more often frustrated than not. His days felt longer and the nights lonelier. Rubbing the back of his neck, he rethought his decision to ignore his feelings for this woman. He came to the gym craving to see her and, at the same time, denying himself the chance to get to know her. Maybe he was a masochist.

Shaking thoughts of this woman from his head, Drake hurried to end this conversation with Sean. I’m just taking care of a friend. And if you come Saturday, behave or Jack will put your head through a wall.

***

Tentatively moving back farther onto her heels, Shay knew her legs were going to hate her in two days. Christ on a crucifix! The stretch pulled the muscles deep in her butt, down her too tight hamstrings and into her calves. She stretched her fingers outward in the opposite direction and pushed her chest into the mat, feeling and actually hearing her vertebrae shift into alignment. She wanted to stay here forever, in this sublime mental space where nothing existed except her and her body. But she needed to move because she didn’t want anyone to think she was dead, and she still had to get dinner before it got too late.

Easing herself out of her position, she stood, hearing her knees make that all too familiar Rice Krispies popping sound. She didn’t spend too much time thinking about it though—age was a gift not afforded to everyone.

The music playing through her earbuds slowed to a calm pace, soothing her back into reality. Standing, she did one final stretch. She smelled like a petting zoo, her muscles were full of blood, her mind was calmer and centered—like a pendulum returning to its natural state. Walking to the locker room, she glanced at him from under her lashes. This was definitely a membership perk.

All six-foot-four thick, sculpted man. He carried himself confidently, powerfully. She didn’t come to the gym for hookups—she respected others’ privacy and the time they were dedicating to improving themselves. But she sure as hell wasn’t dead or blind. He was all grown man, mature and someone who looked like he knew what it was to work and live. His skin was tan, not from a bottle or a booth, but from a life spent outdoors. He was the stuff her fantasies were made of—heck, he’d even starred in a few recently.

Missing the touch of a man had driven Shay to more dates with her handheld. Lately, it seemed as though her sex drive was on overdrive. At first, she’d relied on memories of Nate to get the physical release she needed, but eventually, that had made her depressed. Next, she’d conjured up fantasies of other people, imagined beautiful men and women doing wickedly kinky things to one another, and that always got her the orgasm she sought. But recently, and without warning, Spartacus had inserted himself into her fantasies. While he didn’t have the beard, he had 100 percent everything else.

She was too chicken to imagine him touching her, so she’d relegated him to voyeur. Was he as voyeuristic as she was? What did he like to watch? What would he command her to do as he watched? Even replaying the memories caused her inner thighs to clench. Slow your roll, girlfriend. You have plans that do not include him. Stick to your guns. Walking to the ladies’ locker room, she tossed her towel into the hamper, gathered her stuff, and headed to the parking lot.

Focus, girl.

***

Yep, two days had passed and her legs were screaming at her, full-on hateful cursing. At one point she thought she was going to have to call someone to help her off the toilet. Every step resulted in a squeaked moan or curse word. She pushed it because she had an amazing outfit for this weekend that looked better without cellulite. It was important to look her best. Some days, working out was therapy; other days she did it because she didn’t want to die of some dreadful disease or be some old woman with brittle bones and a fear of falling. This week, it was pure vanity driving her to do too many squats and run until her knees required bags of ice. Her body wouldn’t look as supple as the twentysomethings she would see in all their glory this weekend, but she’d be damned if she didn’t look hot as hell. Tired of her predictable routine and being isolated, she’d reached out a few weeks ago to one of her best friends, Marcy, and asked her about club Oasis. Marcy’s brother, and Shay’s only other best friend, Jack, owned Oasis. It was the most exclusive and safest sex club around.

Shay, are you serious? Marcy had squealed. Really serious? Because I want this so much for you. I know I’ve been pushing, but I don’t want you to do it just to get me off your back.

Yes, Marcy, I’ve really thought about it. Sometimes what we need is a good push from a friend. I trust you completely, and I know that you and Jack would never put me in a situation that’s unsafe or uncomfortable.

Oh, girrrlll, it’s going to be uncomfortable, but in all the best ways. Okay, I’ll call Jack and see when the best time is and get all the deets.

Shay remembered a time when Marcy had not been the confident and vivacious woman who cheered her on now. When they first met, Marcy was like a scared animal. Eyes as big as an antelope’s, wary and darting nervously around. Her face was sunken and pale. Shay’s response to her had been immediate and profound. Marcy had needed protection, a friend, and Shay had given it to her. Now, they loved one another like sisters.

Once again, Shay wasn’t sleeping well. After she made up her mind to explore a new life, a different way of being, the dreams had increased and so had her sleepless nights. The more she thought about opening herself up to strangers, the more her anxiety grew. Was she conjuring up images and memories out of guilt? Her head knew this was the right thing to do. Nate always wanted her happy. He would want her to move on with her life. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. But her heart ached for the man she would never see again.

She was an emotional wreck. At times she was mired in emotional quicksand, unable to move. Sadness brought her life to a stop. She would sit so still and frozen that she felt the pull of gravity on her bones. At other times she felt like a Tasmanian devil—too many feelings and emotions spinning through her mind and body. She feared she would explode from the energy of it all. It had been hard, but Shay had fought her way back to what her dad called an even keel.

She didn’t know how the hell she’d survived at all. A year after Nate’s death, she’d found herself unable to function and take care of herself. One day she’d walked to the mailbox, and there was no mail. A light bulb exploded in her head. She wasn’t able to remember the last time she’d gotten any bills. Panic rose in her chest. She raced back into the house, logged onto her computer, and checked her bank account. She was terrified that she hadn’t paid the mortgage and would lose the house, her and Nate’s dream home.

For a year, Jack and Marcy had taken care of her bills. They’d set up her account to autopay everything, and they’d handled Nate’s estate. Jack and Marcy were why she hadn’t drowned in sorrow. Guilt over her friends having to care for her propelled her to get her ass up. Two years later, she managed to get herself cleaned, dressed, and actually out of the house for simple errands. For a couple of years now, she’d maintained a balanced life, gradually immersing herself back into the world. Too much energy? Go to the gym. Somber and melancholy? Read a book with a guaranteed happily ever after. Lonely or feeling sorry for herself? Volunteer at the women’s shelter. But all of these were substitutes, and she recognized that now. She had no place to put her love, and it was killing her.

Tonight, lying on the couch in her sunroom, in her shorts and a tank top, she stared out the window at the darkness, waiting on the morning light. It was a familiar space, this room, this feeling one she’d grown to love more than hate. Right after his death, unable to sleep, Shay would stumble into this room and lie here paralyzed in unimaginable pain.

As the days and months passed, she began to seek and find solace here, a place where she was able to shut out the busyness of her mind and focus on him, on what they used to be, on herself and on her future without him.

This room, with its unobstructed view of the world, had become a cocoon, a safe place where she had evolved. And tonight she would take another step toward building a world in which his physical self did not exist. But for her, he would always exist… because energy didn’t die.

You are nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Only the dawn of morning heard her soft whisper.

***

The butterflies were ramping up to a full-blown migratory pattern in Shay’s stomach. Hand on her belly, she took the short walk up from the valet to the front door of the club. It really didn’t look club-like. Instead, it was a beautiful home with a grave-looking security guard at the door who was ginormous, like something out of the past when Vikings fought and pillaged the world, but professional nonetheless. He opened the door, and Shay stared, nerves gripping her body, making her tremble like she’d had too much caffeine.

Good evening, ma’am.

Oh my God, I’m going to throw up. Please don’t throw up. God, please don’t let me throw up.

Ma’am, are you okay?

Yes, I’m sorry, just trying to calm myself. She stared forward but found herself frozen in place. Was she paralyzed?

Of course, ma’am. Megatron grinned and held the door for the crazy lady.

Okay, let’s go, Shay.

Entering the front room, she felt warmth envelope her. The space was lit with soft, low lighting. The faint smell of spice, like a man’s cologne, tickled her nose. Anticipation swelled inside her chest at the same time her stomach lurched again. When was the last time she’d felt like this? God, she couldn’t remember. A nervous laugh escaped her as she looked around for someone named Greta.

Hi, may I help you? A petite platinum blonde with short pixie hair bounced toward her.

Still trying to reign in her nerves, Shay pulled her shoulders back, conveying more confidence than she felt. Yes, I need to see Greta.

I’m Greta!

No doubt Greta was going to be a blast. Hi, Greta, I’m Shay Summers. She extended her hand. Jack said I was to meet you when I arrived.

SHAY! Greta squealed and hugged her like they were long-lost sisters.

So that’s a no on the handshake.

Oh, I’m sorry. Do you mind? I’m a hugger. Jack tells me all the time to ask permission. But I have impulse control problems. Greta’s smile beamed.

Uh, no, it’s fine.

You are truly a beauty, Shay! Let’s get you to the locker room and ready.

Walking through a lovely hallway, Shay heard the faint sound of music muffled by walls. Her gaze swept from wall to ceiling and back around again, cataloging all the soft, warm grays, smoky purples, and deep magentas bathing the rooms. As she memorized each detail, the knot in her stomach loosened. The club was different from the images she’d seen on the internet. Mentally she chastised herself. She should have known what to expect. What surrounded her now was classy and sexy, like Jack. Of course his club would be a representation of the man himself.

Do you have any questions about tonight?

Only a million. Shay smirked at Greta. I read all the documents Jack sent over, and I know the rules. I understand this is very unusual, and I truly appreciate his willingness to do this.

Greta walked them into a modern, luxurious ladies’ locker room. Painted a fresh light peach with gold fixtures, it conveyed serenity. A large sitting area with a wall-mounted television made up the center of the room while soft spa-like music filled the air. Shay spied a steam room, a misting room, and a beautiful woman who must be serving as an attendant.

Greta handed the