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Barely sparing him a glance, Atticus flexed his hips, spreading swollen labia around the broad head of his cock. “You were told not to interfere, Jasper. Relinquishing your claim to her was final, remember? Walking away sealed the deal.”
If Atticus pressed one more inch into that pussy, Jasper was prepared to snap that impressive dick off at the root and feed it to his friend. “I was wrong.”
With a scoff, Atticus’s huge hands gripped curvy hips. “We’ll discuss it after I’ve finished my scene with my submissive, J. Just because you finally figured out you fucked up doesn’t mean you have the right to interrupt. Anarchy’s been a good girl, she’s been abstinent for months, and now she gets the reward she deserves.” Dangerous green eyes met Jasper’s. “A long, rough, dirty fuck with a cock worthy of this tight little cunt.”
Don’t do it, don’t lose your temper.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” Atticus’s gaze didn’t leave Jasper for a second. “Tell me what you need, Anarchy. Loud and clear if you please.”
She moaned, whimpered, her hips wiggling with a plea. “Fuck me, please, Master Atticus. I want to come again, please.”
“Such a polite little sub, aren’t you?” His hips rocked, working more girth into the ecstatic submissive. “Come back later, Jasper, on your knees with an apology. Maybe she’ll listen to you, maybe she won’t give a fuck. Either way, she’s mine for the foreseeable future.”
Walk away. Back away slowly before you do something you’ll—
Ruthlessly, Jasper wrapped a chain around his desire to murder his friend and throttled it until it whimpered and died. He had no right to do this, was breaking several club rules and drawing unnecessary attention to himself in the process.
If he dropped to his knees now, maybe Atticus would take pity on him and give Anarchy an opportunity to return to Jasper. But aside from the blow to his pride, if he acquiesced, how could he ever ask Anarchy—or any other submissive in the future—to submit to him?
Spine rigid, he made his choice.
Too much of his life had been spent on his knees before his father, waiting for the pain of the belt to stripe his back. Every lash designed to subdue the whimpering boy and twist his innocence into a need for retribution.
Losing Anarchy before he’d ever really had her—and what a crock of shit that was—wouldn’t drive him onto his knees again. By all accounts, she was rejoicing in her newfound freedom, exploring her sexual needs with Atticus, and doing what she should have been doing for months.
Finding happiness.
Inclining his head, Jasper spun on his heel. Before he’d taken two strides away, he heard the quick slap of flesh on flesh and Anarchy’s broken scream. Pain and pleasure twined into that sound, haunting him as he walked away without looking back.
He stalked out of the barn, along the walkway, and into the social area feeling as though someone had just sliced his belly open and spilled his vital organs in a messy heap at his feet. His bad mood seemed to shimmer around him like a forcefield, parting people without him saying a word.
His new antisocial powers worked like a charm at the bar; he stepped up and tapped his fist on the wood without a single cheery voice interrupting the darkness circling in his head. He barely resisted pounding his knuckles into Liam’s pride and joy.
“Well, don’t you look thrilled to be here,” Liam commented dryly. “Think my bar sales just plummeted thanks to your sour face.”
“Fuck you, Carradine.”
“Ah, gentleman wit. What’s crawled up your ass tonight?”
Jasper’s lip curled before he could stop it. “Are you a fucking shrink or a bartender, Liam? Just get me a bottle of Ketel One.”
“Hey, hey.” Liam leaned closer, concern in his gray eyes. “You only hit the good stuff in bulk when the world’s gone to shit. Does this have anything to do with your shadow drifting into the play area with Atticus?”
A throaty growl rumbled in his chest. “Ketel One, Liam. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Fine, but if I see you go anywhere near the walkway, I’m getting Braun and Loki to drag you over to the house for a cold shower.”
“Trust me, I have no inclination to go in there for the rest of the night.” Jasper waited impatiently for the blond Dom to fetch his bottle. The moment it hit the bar, he wrapped his long fingers around the glass neck and pushed himself away. “Thanks.”
“You want a glass to go with your poison?”
“No.”
Bottle in hand, he ignored the hails from the seating pit. He didn’t want company, he especially didn’t want Connie poking her meddling fingers into his brain, and someone would die if they hit the wrong button on his control panel.
He was such a fucking idiot.
The moment he passed through the double doors into the reception area, he ripped the foil and the cap off the bottle. He didn’t even look to see whose turn it was to man the desk for a few hours, he just stormed straight out into the cool night air and breathed deep for the first time in what seemed like decades.
