Page 5 of The Dom with a Safeword

“Pretty much.” She took Sabrina’s hand and squeezed it. “Come on, Lennon. Let’s not torture the poor guy any longer.”

Jude gestured to the front of the house. “I’ll let you out the front. There’s no need to slide through those broken rungs again.”

Q was polite enough to look ashamed. Sabrina didn’t often indulge in that feeling, especially not when Q was around to do it for the both of them. So she nodded and skipped ahead to where Jude pointed.

With a jiggle and a kick, he unlocked the front gate. Now why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Here,” he said, stooping to retrieve something on the ground. “You dropped your…”

Sabrina looked down at his outstretched hand as he fumbled for the right word. “EMF detector,” she answered for him.

He nodded as she took it from his hand. “Right.”

She had to admit, he was kinda cute. His lips were full and perfectly kissable. He smelled nice too – not cologne, just clean but still masculine. It had been a long time since she’d gotten any action. Except for that ass pinch. She glared at Q as they headed toward the street.

“Did you pinch my ass?” she whispered.

Q gave her a mysterious smirk. “You deserved it.”

Chapter 2

Q

Q could feel Sabrina’s gaze on her from across the living room. “What?” she growled.

Sabrina sidled up to her. With her hand on the back of Q’s chair, she looked at the computer screen. “What’s with the face?”

The casual pose Sabrina struck showed she had no idea of the clamor she’d created in Q’s head. She deliberately did not lick the sensitive skin on the inside of Sabrina’s elbow. Yet…it was right there.

“My ex, Nico. He just told me he can’t make it to the Slipknot concert tonight. He’s dropping his ticket off at lunch.”

With a grimace, Sabrina grabbed Q’s hands and tried to pull her toward the couch. She resisted. They had dubbed it The Couch of Sloth, because it sucked in victims and made them watch black-and-white movies until the wee hours of the morning. She had things to get done today.

“Why would you want to go to a concert with your ex, anyway? It’s weird. And he was a total jerk to you.”

Q grunted then pulled away and minimized the screen so Sabrina wouldn’t see his newest request for a date. She couldn’t decide if she could handle the roller coaster that was Nico, again. “He’s not that bad. It was better than going alone.”

“What?” Sabrina bounced up and down on her toes. “I’ll go! I love concerts.”

Could she be any more fucking adorable? Q could just eat her. She’d once thought Sabrina an airhead, but now she knew a lot of intelligence lurked behind her general enthusiasm for life. “You hate Slipknot, Sabrina. You’re going to sit around bored and insist we leave early. You’re also going to dress all cute. You can’t dress like that,” Q gestured to her current green sundress, “to go to one of my concerts. I saw what you were looking at on that fetish website the other day. A tutu? What are you, five?” she teased. It was a running joke between them. Granted, the tutu would have looked sweet on her – it just wasn’t acceptable for a Slipknot concert.

Sabrina glared at her indignantly. “It was a punk tutu!”

“There’s no such thing, girly. And there’s no way you’re coming unless I get to dress you. Why do you want to come anyway?”

“To check out the hot rocker guys with the long hair.”

“Rocker guys? Seriously? You can’t still use terms from the eighties. We were born in the eighties!” Q shut the lid to her laptop. “How did you manage to stay so innocent all these years, anyway? You’re almost twenty-seven for fucksakes.”

Sabrina grinned and started to dance, singing some song she didn’t recognize. She was always doing that – like her life was a Broadway musical. Though Q was honored to get to play a bit part in it, even if that’s all she ever was to Sabrina. The light that shone from Sabrina was dazzling, and sometimes she felt like an ugly moth that couldn’t bear to be away from it.

Q rolled her eyes. “I should go alone.”

Sabrina ended her solo number and frowned. “You can’t go to a concert alone. That’s creepy, even for you.”

“I’m nothing if not creepy. Or so you always tell me. I don’t want to take you to see Slipknot if you’re going to act and dress like a doofus.”

“I won’t sing if I don’t know the words and you can help me pick something to wear. But it has to be cute. I don’t want to look like you.”