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Those urges could strip years of strict control from his life, revert him back to the ruthless machine designed to kill and destroy. Back to the man who had ice in his veins and let violence dictate every choice.
He bristled, teeth clenched to the point of cracking. Truthfully, it wasn’t just Alistair he wanted to pound into a mess of bruised, bloodied meat. Atticus held prime position at the top of the list now that the bastard had his hands all over Anarchy while her quiet moans drove Jasper insane.
“Come on, Jasper. Speculation’s running rife tonight. Everyone’s wondered what’s been going on with you and your sub for the last, what, year? You never scene with her, yet she cuddles up to you every chance she gets. Then tonight, this happens,” Alistair said with a flick of his hand toward Atticus. “The guy’s fingering her ass, and you think the regulars aren’t going to notice you’re madder than a bear woken from hibernation a month early? All I said was—”
“I know what you fucking said,” Jasper snapped. The sound he made in his chest as Anarchy came for Atticus was deadly. “You also said it loudly enough for her to hear, Alistair. You distracted a submissive during a scene and caused her distress. That shows a lack of respect toward Atticus as well as to Anarchy.”
“I was out of line. I’ll apologize to them both.”
Gonna be fucking hard to apologize with your tongue flopping on the floor like a trout on the line, Jasper thought savagely, then shook himself out of that familiar groove. No, I’m not like that anymore. I’m not the judge, jury, and executioner.
“Look, I really am sorry, Jasper. It won’t happen again. But can I offer you some advice?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway because I’m not sure anyone will survive this mood you’re in if it continues.” Hazel eyes glared at him. “Man the fuck up. You’re miserable because your girl’s getting fucked by another guy. She’s not entirely comfortable with submitting to Atticus because she wants to be with you, but she stands a good chance of falling in love with Atticus, just so she can be loved. And Atticus…well, he’s not one to pull his punches. If he falls for her, you won’t stand a chance of getting her back.”
“Dominance and submission aren’t about love. What are you, a shrink?”
“I’m a Dom with eyes in his head who isn’t blinded by my own idiocy. Anarchy’s loved you for months, and you’ve spurned her at every fucking turn. Yet you’ve kept her tethered by your side. Why is that, Jasper? That’s a girl who needs to be loved, and she’s willing to play by your rules to get it from you.”
Did every asshole in the club get a say in his life now? Everyone had a goddamn opinion. “And you know Anarchy that well, do you, Alistair?”
The brown-haired Dom rolled his eyes at Jasper’s tone. “Nope, can’t say I do. But the subs talk amongst each other and Kayleigh’s spoken to her a few times. She dotes on you, sings your praises to the other women, but she’s frustrated because when it comes to what she needs, you ignore her and choose one of your pain sluts for entertainment.”
Jasper growled.
“I reckon you’ve got ten minutes before Atticus suits up and fucks her here in front of everyone. Ten minutes is all you’ve got before Atticus makes it impossible for you to get your girl back. Don’t lose your shit with everyone when that happens—you’ve brought it on yourself.” Alistair tapped a finger to his forehead, then walked away.
Jasper checked himself, stopping himself from lunging at the Dominant’s back and sending them both sliding across the floor on their faces. Alistair really would look better without his front teeth.
Steeling himself for the punch to the gut he knew was coming, Jasper faced the station properly. Opened his eyes and forced himself to see what his decision had done. He wasn’t prepared for the fist that collared his throat, squeezing tightly enough to haze his vision.
His cock surged to life at the sight of Atticus completing the insertion of an anal plug into Anarchy’s perfect ass. His friend was far gentler than Jasper would have been—and that was the issue, wasn’t it? His body was trained to respond positively to sounds of distress, to pained squeals and pleas of protest.
It made him fucking hard.
He cupped his cock, eyes keen as Atticus gave that tight rear a reassuring pat, then selected his flogger. A nifty short-tailed tool with only a half-dozen wide fronds. Deerskin, he guessed.
Atticus leaned over his sub’s back, murmuring to her, and her head bobbed slowly in response. Straightening, the massive Dom laid the flogger on the curve of Anarchy’s bottom and began to strip. Slowly, methodically, until his naked form demanded attention from every light in the room. Muscles rippled, scars gleamed silver.
If Jasper had had even the faintest spark of doubting his sexuality, this might have swayed the tide in homosexuality’s favor.
But he had no doubts, and the only way the tide was swaying was toward charging Atticus and tackling the big naked brute away from Anarchy. Jasper’s blood pulsed in his ears, and he was almost snarling. Watching the other Master rolling a condom over his significant erection, Jasper’s control frayed.
You let her go for a reason.
You chose Atticus for a reason.
Do the right thing.
Jasper shoved his way into the scene, trying to hold onto the humanity he’d scraped and saved over the years. He tasted blood, biting his tongue as Atticus lined his cock up to the beautifully flowered pussy glistening wetly between Anarchy’s thighs.
Jasper’s pussy.
Jasper’s Anarchy.
“No,” he growled. Damn, that hadn’t come out right. The eloquent words in his brain didn’t translate properly to his mouth. He tried again, with the same results. “No.”
