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He shifted her slightly, encouraging her to lean into him. It was too much effort to hold her head up, so she rested her cheek against his broad shoulder. The wrong shoulder, the wrong man. “There’s not much I can do to ease the pain, sweetheart. Wish to God there was, but it needs to run its course.” He rocked from side to side, his hand stroking her back in long, soothing strokes. “I’m going to tell you something. Promise to keep it a secret?”
She shrugged, unable to muster any interest. She just wanted to sleep, to fall away into oblivion. Maybe she’d wake up in the morning to discover this was all a sick joke, a bad dream, and her world would right itself as the sun rose.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to Jasper in a long time,” Atticus began in a low voice, soothing raw nerves. “I’m not the only one who thinks it. You’re exactly what he needs, and everything he believes he can’t have. Do you know why I agreed to take you on as my sub, Anarchy?”
“Because no one else wants me,” she mumbled.
“Bullshit. Jasper’s idiocy isn’t a representation of you, sweetheart. It’s a product of his history, his family. I took you on because, one, I don’t want to watch a beautiful, willing sub walk out of this club and out of our lives. Two, because I figure between the two of us, we can knock some sense into that Dom of yours.”
Anarchy went very, very still. Slowly, she tilted her face to stare up into amused green eyes. Atticus really did have an attractive face, even if a good portion of it was covered by a neatly trimmed full black beard. “Master Atticus?”
“What, you didn’t think I was going to let that dopey asshole fuck his life up even more by tossing you aside, did you?” The master chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as affectionately as a brother. “Jasper deserves happiness, Archie. So do you. What makes you both happiest is each other. The question is, how far are you willing to go to prove it to him?”
She couldn’t stop staring into those dark green eyes, trying to read them to get to the truth. Was he messing with her to get her hopes up? “You…you want to help me?”
“Sweetheart, a blind man can see you love the idiot, God knows why. Why don’t we go get a drink and I’ll tell you how the mighty is going to fall?”
***
Chapter Two
Why do I feel as though I’m betraying him?
In the social area, Anarchy sat in one of the booths lining the wall facing the walkway, miserably spinning her glass of water around and around on the tabletop, making the ice cubes clink gently on the sides. Although her attention should have been on the hulking bear sitting only a couple of feet away from her on the semicircular bench seat, she couldn’t focus on anyone but the tall, tattooed Dominant talking to a pretty redhead at the bar.
Jasper’s scheduled submissive.
Her arch nemesis for the Master’s attention.
Tiffany. Archie sneered the name in her head.
Everything inside her wilted and died as Jasper led the curvaceous woman away from the bar and toward the walkway. Automatically, Archie’s body was already standing of its own volition, so well trained over the past nine months that it was second nature to follow him.
“No, you don’t, sweetheart.” Atticus rose quickly, snagged the knot of her hair, and halted her in her tracks. Every follicle cried as he tugged her back down and forced her head back. “He’s no longer your Master, Anarchy. For the considerable future, until he regains his senses, you belong to me.”
She whimpered, fire building beneath her scalp.
But he didn’t release her, didn’t lessen his hold. “Lesson number one: we’re working toward an end goal, but keep in mind this is a dynamic and I am not a Dom who tolerates anything less than my submissive’s full attention on me when we’re in Avalon. Do you understand what I’m saying, sweetheart?”
Her breath fluttered over lips parted with pain. “Y-Yes, Sir.”
“If Jasper and I are in the same room with you, he doesn’t exist. For him to pine over you, to comprehend exactly what he’s lost, you need to be focused on me.” Slowly, his fingers loosened and the ache in her brain faded. The strong digits wrapped around her nape gently. “We need to discuss your hard limits, Anarchy.”
She really wanted to rub her head and see if it was as bruised as she feared. But although she’d gotten to know something about how Atticus played during her time here, he was still an unknown quantity.
The man was deadly.
He was also Jasper’s friend, and Jasper trusted him.
“No watersports or scat play.” Might as well get those out of the way. She’d dabbled in a few things, but otherwise her slate was mostly clean and ready to be written on. “I don’t like stuff on my face.”
“Stuff? Blindfolds, hoods, like that?”
“No, they’re fine. I think.” She wondered briefly how it would feel to stand naked before him, blind and reliant on her other senses to gauge how and where he moved around her. “I mean, I don’t like bodily fluids on me.”
His fingers squeezed once. “So, if I want a blowjob and decide to decorate this pretty face of yours with my cum…”
“Hard limit.” She wasn’t backing down on it.
