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Would he have sex with her tonight? God, she hoped so. For all the time she’d known him, he hadn’t had sex with any of the subs he escorted into the play areas. Oh, he made the women scream and cry and beg and come, but not once had he unzipped those leather pants and given himself release.
Anarchy assumed he masturbated at home, away from voyeuristic eyes. She liked to think he thought of her as those long fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked himself until his orgasm struck.
The same way she lay in bed after a night in his presence, fingering herself to fantasies of him. Moaning his name in the dark as though it was his hands guiding her to climax. Wishing, night after night, he’d hear her and know she was his.
Maybe tonight would be the night they both ended their celibacy.
She was a little disconcerted when Jasper stopped outside Master Braun’s office. The doors to barn two, where the majority of the impact play took place, were just a bit further down. Her heart twisted at the thought that maybe he didn’t want to scene with her in public. That maybe he was ashamed of being with her in this context in sight of his friends and fellow Masters.
No, I’m not thinking like that. If being his submissive for the night means we have to hide away, we can hide every night. I don’t care if only the darkness sees us, it can be our secret. Pleasing him is all I care about.
Jasper opened the door, stepped to one side, and gestured her in with a gentlemanly flick of his hand. “After you, Anarchy.”
Of course, she obeyed. Conflicting feelings distracted her enough she barely registered the basics of the room—big wooden desk, manly chair, visitor’s chair, couch, filing cabinets, computer—before she turned and presented herself for her Master.
Silence reined for several long moments, sending her nerves haywire.
“Would you sit down please? Wherever you like.”
This wasn’t going exactly the way she’d imagined. Aside from that fleeting brush of his fingers over her arm in the bar, Jasper hadn’t touched her. He wasn’t doing any of his usual routine; she’d watched him with enough pain sluts to know his habits down to a tee.
Steps hesitant, she moved to the couch and sat down on the springy seat. Eyes wide, she tilted her head back to stare up at him, rather than at his crotch. Maybe he wanted a blowjob, a handjob? She could do that. Giving him pleasure was her only thought.
He stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest. The black silk shirt with the Avalon logo of two linked A’s, one gold and one silver, strained over his biceps. His tattooed forearms were alive with two of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. With his feet hip-distance apart, he scowled down at her.
Scowling? Oh, that wasn’t good. Had she done something wrong?
His expression was fierce, but his tone when he spoke was anything but. He said her name, and she heard the gentle regret in it. Her dream began to unravel, one thread at a time, until a twisted pile lay heaped between them.
“Anarchy,” he said again, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, already understanding there would be no scene, no opportunity to show him how much she needed to give herself over to him. “Kitten, you’re a good girl. You’re not in trouble.”
Kitten. He used that pet name for her so rarely, it gutted her that he used it now. Good girl caused her unmitigated pain, more than his whips and implements of play ever could. She wasn’t his good girl. She was destined to never be his good girl.
“You’re special, Anarchy. I haven’t told you that before, and I should have. There’s so much you have to offer, and you’re wasting it on someone who doesn’t deserve you.” He dropped to one knee in front of her, nudging her chin up so their eyes met for the briefest second before she looked away.
Rejecting him before he could reject her.
“The last few months, you’ve been my shadow within the shadows and, quite frankly, you don’t belong in the dark. What you have inside you, the beauty and the perfection, should be under a spotlight for all to see. Everyone should see you shine, watch you come apart between a Dominant’s hands, and you deserve nothing less than being revered by a worthy man.” His voice hardened slightly. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Anarchy.”
She was always Anarchy to him. She didn’t think she’d heard him call her Archie once in their acquaintance. It was a constant formality, a barrier of distance to keep him unattached. That same distance was in his eyes when she gathered the courage to obey him.
“I am not that man. Sadism is my kink, kitten. Pain. Making subs scream, pushing their pain tolerance to the absolute limit is what gets me hard. Welts and whimpers are like a drug to me.” There was no apology in his voice; he was simply stating facts. “You are not a masochist. What I do to subs isn’t for the faint-hearted or the sensitive-skinned. We’re not compatible in our needs.”
Archie tried her hardest to find a positive, to cling onto some shred of hope. To be the fucking optimist she professed to be. That she prided herself on being. But even the slenderest sliver of affirmation slipped from her grasp. “How do you know what my needs are when you’ve never asked?”
Jasper grunted. “More than fifteen years in this lifestyle tells me what you need, Anarchy, and it isn’t me. Hell, you’d hate me after one scene, and I’m not prepared to ask you to test that theory. I’ve seen the look on your face during some of my scenes, when all you’ve done is observe. You have the most expressive face,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t hate you.” It was the truth. Even now, as her heart crumbled to dust beneath his boot, she still felt nothing but love. “That’s not me.”
“Sadism changes people. Pain, in the quantities I dole it out in, changes people. It wouldn’t just leave marks on your skin, Anarchy. It delves deep, gouges your head and heart and soul. Innocence shouldn’t be desecrated that way.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I’m not innocent. I’ve had sex before. I’ve scened before. Been flogged and fingered and…”
“And what, kitten? Flogging and fingering don’t make you a dirty girl. Whatever your history, it hasn’t tarnished your innocence. Fuck, I think every Dom out in the club wants a sample of you, just so they know what true innocence tastes like.” Jasper shook his head, the blue stud in his ear glinting in the light. “It comes down to this, Anarchy, and I don’t want to hurt you by saying it, but I don’t want you to follow me around anymore. I can’t take responsibility for turning you into something you’re not.”
The blood rushed from her face as though he’d pulled a plug. Ice filled her belly, streaked down her spine, radiated out to the tips of her fingers and toes until all she was, was numb. “Are you kicking me out of Avalon?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. Just because you don’t belong with me, doesn’t mean you don’t belong or aren’t welcome here. Submission is your gift, and you’ll find someone who can accept it unconditionally.” Jasper cupped her cheek.
