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“I understand.” Evan considered. “Do you think it would head off any potential misunderstandings if Alanna was present to assist me? She can also watch for any stressors related to his lack of hearing.”
Skye nodded, pleased at the consideration. “Anything else?” Evan asked.
“No,” she typed. “I look forward to what you’ll create with him. He’s already a work of art.”
Evan met her gaze. “He’s here because he’s yours. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. Though I suspect you won’t be that far away.”
He could bet on it. Skye took a breath as he moved off, likely headed to his assigned platform in the garden to check that his supplies and lighting were laid out according to the specs each artist had provided before the event.
She glanced at the time, and strode toward the house. Though she was reassured by the conversation, they had a few minutes before she had to do other things. She wanted to take Tiger to Evan personally, make sure he was in a good headspace, before she left them to it.
Tiger had emerged from the changing tent. She’d called female subs adorable. Looking at him, the wordadorabledidn’t even cross her mind. He’d enhance the audience’s anticipation and set Evan’s artistic imaginings free like a flock of starlings.
He’d chosen the dark, clingy shorts he often wore for club scenes. Easy to remove, formfitting so she got a nice eyeful of his package and his ass, but keeping all of it contained until she wanted it not to be.
She’d told Evan he was a work of art, and he was. The motorcycle boots to protect his feet and get him where he needed to go added a gritty Tom Finland touch to the look.
Her gaze covered his wide shoulders, formidable biceps and flat stomach. He didn’t have the sculpted six pack, just the muscle and fit shape of a man who worked hard in excessive heat. He wasn’t a heavy eater. At catered club events he opted for a modest amount of food followed by an after-meal cigarette outside.
He'd shaved his face fully tonight, leaving it smooth. The tattoo that covered his upper arm with the jungle scene was ablur of shifting color in the torchlight, but she noted the jagged scar across the top of the elephant’s head. It cut through the adjacent lion and a crimson tropical bloom camouflaging the big cat. Probably where debris had hit him during the explosion.
She put that disturbing thought away. Alanna was with him, and typing things on a tablet for him to read. Whatever it said, it was making him smile, putting him more at ease, as were her vivid expressions and hand gestures.
Evan must have sent her a text heads up to get her involved right away, just as he’d discussed with Skye. Skye should appreciate his consideration, instead of having an urge to chop off the dainty fingers Tiger was currently clasping to keep the tablet still as he read.
Like he’d done with Skye and her phone.
Don’t be an idiot.
She saw no flirtation in Alanna’s manner, only friendly reassurance. Skye suspected she was giving Tiger specific information about Evan, tidbits that would set Tiger further at ease, help him relax the erratic vigilance that was an obvious weight on his shoulders.
She was doing such a good job of it, Skye objectively considered backing off before she was seen. Let the girl take him to Evan, get him started without her involvement. It would reinforce her confidence—Tiger’s confidence—that he had this under control.
Then he glanced up and saw her. The genuine pleasure, the sweep of his gaze over her, reinforced by his attentive body language, pleased her. Though there was a lava flow of tension beneath the surface, nothing suggested the excessive relief that came from dependence on her presence, a reaction she would have had to resist enabling.
He was handling himself. He wanted to be near herforher.
Alanna offered Skye a warm smile and respectful nod, a core deep submissive acknowledging a Dominant. “I’ll see if my lord needs anything, and meet you both there.”
Even in a club, courtly ways and the use of ‘my lord,’ could sometimes seem jarring. But it sounded as natural on Alanna’s lips asMaster,and obviously meant the same to her.
Tiger said “Thank you,” for both of them, so Skye didn’t have to type it. Her sub, reading her needs as well as Alanna likely did Evan’s, if she was this on the ball with total strangers.
As Alanna moved away, Skye appreciated that Tiger didn’t take his gaze away from Skye. Any man with a pulse would have stolen a quick glance at the perfect heart-shaped backside, trim waist and flowing, flame-colored hair. Alanna moved with the sensual grace of an exotic courtesan, trained in the arts of pleasure since puberty.
Flattening her palm on Tiger’s chest to feel the thud of his heart, Skye brushed her knuckles over his smooth jaw and raised a questioning brow.
“The info you sent said they might want to do some face painting,” he explained. “So I figured a smooth shave would be helpful. The chest and other places, he’ll just have to work with as is. Being as hairless as a ten-year-old isn’t my thing.”
He did keep the hair around his cock groomed, but she liked his body hair and expressed it now by threading her fingers through what was on his chest, a petting that lingered.
He stood still, head dipped down to watch her hand. While many men were eager for the more blatant sexual overtures in a woman’s touch, pressuring her toward areas further south, a submissive could be different. By letting her please herself, he was introduced to the erotic potential of other zones. Especially if her pleasure increased his own.
With Tiger, it exponentially increased it. She didn’t want to devote energy to “talking” right now, except with her hands andexpression. She stroked him some more, then she leaned in, the pressure of her fingers telling him to remain still. She put her mouth on his throat, set her teeth and lips there, and bit him, even as she also sucked hard on his flesh, tasting him with tongue and lips.
He shuddered, hands closing at his sides as he obeyed her directive not to make contact. She had no such restraint, reaching around to grip his ass through the clingy fabric, enjoying the muscular buttocks that flexed under her touch, almost dislodging her hold. The man was in fine, powerful shape.
Beyond the demands of his job, he used homegrown methods to keep himself that way. Tires he dragged with chains, lifting and lowering an old engine block. Chin-ups on a bar mounted in the barn on his property. Elevated sit-ups, on a plank raised by cinder blocks on one side.
