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She swallowed, dragged her mind away from what he had planned, and focused on his voice. “I…what do you do for a living, Sir?”
Please be something nice. Veterinarian? Pediatrician? Lumberjack?
Atticus laughed. He’d come back to her almost silently, damn him. Quietly enough that the deep rumble combined with his hand on her ass nearly sent her through the roof. “Easy there, subbie. My profession isn’t one I discuss, especially not during a scene, but seeing as you’re so nervous and I want you to relax, I’ll give you a hint.”
Oh, fuck, he’s a contract killer. An assassin.
“I take care of people. When they need help, I give it.”
Okay, that wasn’t the answer I expected. It sure as hell wasn’t the response she’d get from an assassin, was it? They didn’t help people…or maybe they did, depending on the circumstances.
She jerked helplessly as his hand slipped between her thighs, long fingers teasing her labia. They parted her gently and she winced as a lone fingertip probed her dryness. “I’m sorry, Master Atticus. I’m not…wet.”
There was no laughter, nothing said to make her feel ashamed or inept. He simply began to toy with her clit, circling it languidly as though they had all the time in the world. “So I see. I’m in no rush, Anarchy. I haven’t fucked a pussy yet that hasn’t been ready for me when the time came.”
Nervous giggles bubbled up in her throat. Her non-submissive persona was dying to make a joke, say something to alleviate the pressure in her chest.
Cold liquid dribbled between her buttocks, followed by Atticus’s finger. It ran up and down between her cheeks, pausing every time over her anus. When she tried to clench, he tutted at her softly. “Do you really want me to stop playing with your clit so I can hold these naughty cheeks wide open, sub?”
Heat erupted over her face and neck. No, no she did not.
“If you’re a good girl and don’t fight me, maybe I won’t use my cock to stretch this tight hole. If you’re a good girl and relax, I’ll use the very nice finger-sized butt plug I’ve chosen for you instead.” That damned digit pressed insistently against her rear, and she wiggled her hips as she felt the muscles begin to accept the intrusion.
Voices intruded into the bubble she’d built around their scene. With the blindfold on, she’d managed to delude herself into thinking they were alone. She stiffened as comments whispered around her. Questions, queries, a smattering of laughter that knocked her confidence clean out from under her.
“I thought she was Jasper’s sub? It’s not like Atticus to take sloppy seconds.”
“I feel sorry for her. She’s served Jasper like a dog, never even looked at another Dom, and suddenly she’s handed over to Atticus? It was only last night she was curled up at Jasper’s feet after he finished scening with Kaitlyn.”
“Maybe she isn’t hardcore enough for Master Jasper.”
The small amount of building pleasure from Atticus’ skillful manipulation of her clit fizzled and died. Suddenly, the blindfold was claustrophobic, the restraints too overwhelming, and panic seized her down to the roots of her hair.
Her arms pulled against her cuffs, wrists screaming in protest. She bucked, legs kicking. She felt the vibrations of impact radiate up her right leg, heard Atticus grunt, then the murmurs faded into tense, uneasy silence.
Heavy weight came down on her, pinning her carefully in place. Atticus’s hands slid down her arms until they covered her clenched fists—he was so fucking big, he covered her completely without even having to stretch.
“Calm down before you hurt yourself.” His tone was kind, with a hard undertow of dominance. It sucked her in, tossed her around, then smoothed out all the jagged edges of her panic like a rock at the bottom of the sea. “Do you want to safeword, sweetheart?”
Anarchy burst into tears.
Damn him for being so nice. Jasper had put him in an awful position in the role of rebound Dom. Atticus should be furious with the sadist for saddling him with a useless, heartbroken submissive. How many Doms would take on a responsibility like her and still find it in them to be understanding when she had a complete meltdown and fucked up their scene?
The warmth of him, the weight of him, soothed her. He squeezed her fists in time with his breathing until they relaxed, then he simply ran his palms up and down her arms until they no longer fought against the cuffs and chains. “That’s a sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. “Such a clever girl, listening to me without hearing a word. Sometimes all we need is a touch, simple contact, to chase away the fear.”
The blindfold was wet.
She felt ridiculous.
“Do you want to safeword?” he asked again. “Or can you tell me what triggered you?”
“I’m not enough, am I? Not submissive enough or masochist enough for him. Not strong enough for you. You know it, I know it. They know it.”
“They?”
“The ones watching us. They know I’m a failure. They’re wondering why I couldn’t keep Jasper happy, why you’ve ended up with the reject of another Master. I heard them,” she mumbled, pressing her face forehead first into the bench. “They’re right to wonder. I’m doing some of that myself.”
“Bullshit, Anarchy. This has nothing to do with anyone but me and you. They’ve got no opinions that hold water with me and, quite frankly, they’re full of shit.” Atticus’s weight shifted and she felt the solid length of his erection dig into her ass. “I’ve got you because Jasper is a complex man with his dominant instincts in the right place. He doesn’t want to unleash his sadistic side on you and give you a reason to hate him. He’s had too much of that in his life already. Why do you think I want to see the two of you together? Because he deserves your love as much as you deserve his.”
