AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Thinking of punishing a sub brought up the image of a tiny, dark-haired female with blue eyes too big for her thin face, her nose wrinkling as she chewed worriedly on her lip.
His body heated. He shook his head. Aspen wasn’t someone he could get involved with. He was kind of surprised by his reaction to her. He’d even invited her to the club. But, as a Dom, it was hard for him not to react to an unattended sub. He was pretty certain that, given some training, she would thrive under a Dominant’s care. Structure, boundaries, and rules were something she would benefit from.
As well as a few decent night’s sleep and several good meals. He frowned as he thought of her living conditions. That mother of hers was a piece of work. He was guessing her “work” consisted of drinking until she was legless then going home with whomever was desperate enough to find her attractive.
He shuddered as he remembered her hand creeping up his leg. He’d pulled the car over, and told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she touched him again without permission then he would put her out on her ass. She’d done a complete about-face, calling him all sorts of names and accusing him of sleeping with her daughter. Years of honing his control had stopped him from losing his temper and doing something he’d no doubt regret later, but by the time he’d gotten home he’d been sporting a nasty headache and the need for a blistering hot shower.
Yeah, that woman was a viper. He wondered why Aspen put up with her. She certainly hadn’t had a nice word to say about her daughter. He didn’t like that she lived with such poison or that it was around her sons.
He never intended to have children. Jesus, his own father had been a philandering asshole. His mom had done her best, but being a single parent to him and his sister hadn’t been easy.
No, his life wasn’t exactly conducive to children. Yet another reason for him to stay away from the little waitress. He didn’t want a family. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, let alone with an untrained sub.
Immoral. Perverted.
He pushed the voice from his head.
Maybe there was someone he could introduce her to. A Dom with time and patience and the means to help her. He smiled. Someone who wouldn’t mind a sub with a dirty mouth. Well, any Dom worth his salt who didn’t like her colorful language would soon sort that out. As well as deal with her hideous mother. And see that Aspen started taking better care of herself.
He’d called Matt early this morning and had the car towed to the garage for him to take a look at it. Saxon thought it should head straight to the junk heap, but he knew Aspen wouldn’t feel the same.
See, he wasn’t a complete dictator. Of course, if she were his, then she wouldn’t have any choice about what she drove. Or where she lived.
He’d been accused of being a control freak. He preferred to look at it as protecting what belonged to him.
He walked into the immaculate kitchen. Every surface gleamed. It was empty except for the tall, broad man standing in front of the stove, muttering to himself as he stirred a big pot. The scent of garlic and tomatoes made Saxon’s stomach rumble.
“Renard,” he said quietly, not wishing to startle the ex-marine.
Still, the other man spun around, his wooden spoon held up in a defensive position. Sauce dripped from it to the floor.
“What? Oh, it’s you. Don’t you know not to sneak up on an old man? Jesus.”
Saxon barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Renard was only five years older than him. Hardly an old man. His short, dark hair had the beginnings of gray at the temples, he hadn’t shaved in a few days so there was even more gray hair on his face. Lines crinkled around his eyes as he glared at Saxon. “What do you want?”
Saxon crossed his arms over his chest, giving the other man a serious look. “You do remember I own this place and I’m your boss, right?”
Renard grunted and turned back to his sauce. This time Saxon did roll his eyes.
“Remind me why I put up with you again?”
“Because I’m a fucking genius when it comes to food.”
“And you’re an absolute asshole when it comes to dealing with people.”
“You’re talking about that spineless pastry chef.” Renard turned back to glare at him. “He was lazy. And messy. And he wouldn’t stop talking.”
Saxon let out a deep breath. Patience.
“You cannot keep scaring off the people I hire just because you don’t like the way they do things.”
“This is my kitchen.”
“No,” he replied in a low voice. “It’s mine.”
“Fine. I’ll leave.”
“You won’t,” Saxon told him firmly.
