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“Atticus can protect her, Saul,” Connie assured him.
“I’m sorry, but as good as he is, the risks are still there. Look at what happened to you and Anarchy. If anything happened to her, I would…” He trailed off, words escaping him at the thought of her being kidnapped, injured, harmed. For a non-violent man, the consequences of Caera being hurt would be extraordinarily gruesome. “People would die.”
“Who’s dying?”
At the top of the steps, Caera stood immobile with the glasses in her hands. Her eyes darted from person to person, assessing the gravity of the conversation.
“No one, little rabbit. Everyone’s fine.”
Tonight, she’d been brave and chosen a pair of lacy boy shorts to wear. Not that anyone could see them when they were hidden beneath the hem of one of his T-shirts. It wasn’t technically club-approved clothing, but Saul could care less. The fact that she had picked it out herself and dared to wear it was reason enough to stand his ground against anyone who complained.
There were only a couple of real sticklers for the dress code, and he couldn’t see either member in the vicinity.
Treading carefully in her bare feet, she descended the steps with her tongue between her teeth in concentration. She made it to him, and he snagged the drinks before they ended up on the floor, putting them behind him on the ledge.
She was eager, but he could sense the nerves vibrating under her skin. She had no way of knowing exactly how he would thread the elements of their agreement into their scene tonight, and he had no intentions of telling her. She had to learn how to morph anxiety into anticipation, trusting him with every part of her.
Saul tugged her onto his lap. “Are you excited, Caera?”
Her thighs pressed together. “I’m a lot of things.”
Trailing his fingertips along her upper thigh, he felt her shiver. “Tell me.”
“I-I’m scared it’s going to hurt more than I can handle. I want to find out if I’m stronger than I think I am. Impatient,” she whispered, sliding her hand into his and squeezing his fingers. “Excited. Nervous.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Content.”
“That’s an impressive range of emotions.” His fingers stroked higher, toying with the edge of her boy shorts. “We’re going to sit here for a while, then we’ll head next door before Jasper and his whip get warmed up. Are you wet?”
Caera stiffened, her head angling so she could look at him with huge eyes. Voice low, she hissed, “I don’t think I can answer that with everyone listening, Sir.”
“You can, and you should. There’s no shame here, Caera.”
The tips of her ears turned red. Ducking her face into his neck, he felt her nod twice.
“A little louder, bunny.”
“Yes, Sir.” The warmth of her whisper caressed his skin.
“Good girl. Are you going to stay that way for me?” Gently, he fingered the crotch of her shorts, his lips twitching when he bumped her clit and her hips lurched into his hand.
“God. Do we have to wait?”
“We do. I want you to be a little frantic by the time we play.”
“Sadist,” she moaned.
Jasper lifted his head, breaking off his own discussion with Anarchy. “Someone called?”
“No, she’s just complimenting me.” Chuckling, Saul teased her clit, pleased with how her legs parted naturally. “I’m being mean.”
“So mean,” she agreed, choking slightly on a breath.
“Liam won’t be happy if she spontaneously combusts,” Thane mused, amusement clear in his tone. “Or if she leaves puddles on his seat.”
“The only place she’s leaving puddles is on my lap, and I don’t care.” Saul nuzzled the sweet spot beneath her ear. “As long as you’re wet and ready when I get around to fucking you, little rabbit.”
“We should go now,” she whimpered.
“Go where?”
