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What just happened? Stunned, Connie stayed exactly where she was for the next sixty seconds before her inner Domme grew impatient and took over. Rolling her shoulders back, it felt as though she could breathe again. Opening her eyes, she blinked as she looked around the room. It was no bigger than Braun's office, but it was certainly large enough and well stocked enough to keep a lot of members happy.
She was standing a few feet away from a four-poster bed. Carved wood, lots of tie rings and suspension opportunities, she noted. There were several cupboards against the wall, a rocking chair in the corner, and a spanking bench by the door. Everything smelled clean, new. Braun had spared no expense in furbishing the expansion.
Tempted to go sit in the rocker, Connie decided against it. She'd only fall asleep, and her system had taken too hard a knock tonight to stay in the club. She'd made a mistake in agreeing to submit to Atticus, she could see that now she had control back in her hands. Submission and orgasms weren't going to fix the shit in her life, so she'd just have to deal with it on her own.
Bending to slip on her boot, a cold voice from behind her turned her blood to ice. “That would not be advisable, Constance. Not advisable at all.”
Atticus was not a man, she decided. He was a fucking ninja who just slid through solid doors without a sound. “I'm not playing along with this stupid game, Atticus.” She tugged her boot on. “I appreciate you taking the time to help me, but I'm fine now.” Her foot slipped into the second boot, and she straightened with her Mistress face switched on. “I'm sure there's a submissive who'll satisfy your urges tonight…” She trailed off, finally looking at his face.
The beast is off its chain. That was her first thought, followed swiftly by, I'm not going to make it out of here alive.
Master Atticus was livid. She bared her teeth as she automatically used the honorific in her head. His eyes were green steel in a face colder than stone, and she felt herself shrink from the directness of his gaze. It took her several seconds longer than it should have to ram an iron rod through her quivering spine. The submissive in her was already on her knees, head bowed, muttering for forgiveness.
He snapped his fingers, then jabbed his forefinger at the bed. “Boots off. Clothes off. This isn't a fucking game, little sub. This is us trying to sort your life out before you crash and fucking burn. You are notfine, Connie. You're standing on the edge of a very long, very hard fall.”
Locked in a stare-out with him, she ordered herself to stick to her guns and not back down.
A smile curved one corner of his mouth, but he said nothing as they continued to glare at one another. Two Dominants, both as strong in personality as each other, and neither willing to back down. The longer they stared, the more determined she became to win.
Atticus jerked his chin at her. “Pants next, little sub.”
She snorted derisively. “In your dreams, Att.”
God, she hated it when he grinned that way. It completely summed up the arrogance of a Dom, along with the cocky flick of his fingers toward her. “Your shirt's hanging on by a thread, sweetheart, and that very pretty lacy bra isn't far behind. Might as well get it over with and finish doing as I ordered.”
Very slowly, she let her eyes drop to her chest, barely stifling a gasp. While she'd been busy stomping her metaphorical foot and holding a staring match, her hands had obeyed his commands and deftly undone all the buttons on her damn shirt, not to mention the front clasp of her bra. With a curse, she yanked the edges of her plum-colored shirt back together, then crossed her arms over it.
“You're fighting yourself more than you're hating me, Connie. This would be far easier if you'd just relax and accept that the Domme can't give you everything you need. She's served a purpose, but she's changing. The more exhausted you are, the deeper you fall into depression, and the more you're relying on her to keep you afloat. But she's part of the problem, not the solution.” Atticus walked over to her and pushed her arms down to her sides. “Don't move them. You're already getting a spanking before we move on to the main event.”
“I don't rely on anyone,” she hissed, shoving at him.
“Again, part of the problem.” He ran his rough hands over the swell of her breasts, up and over her shoulders, and pushed her shirt away. It slid down her back, material skimming down her arms, until it fluttered to the carpet. “Tonight, you're relying on me whether you like it or not, little sub.” He hooked a single finger under each bra strap and peeled them down her arms. “See, you can do as you're told.”
Oh, this was bad. Despite the warmth of the room, her nipples were already hardening into rigid peaks, the full flesh of her breasts tightening. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together against the ache between them. It had been too long since she'd been half-naked in front of a man, and she hadn't expected Atticus to be the one who broke her dry streak. “I didn't know I was doing that.”
Big hands cupped her, thumbs rasping over the reddening buds. Her breath caught as he bent his head and the roughness of his beard set her skin on fire. Wet heat surrounded her left nipple, pulling it into a vacuum as he sucked. In a matter of seconds, her panties felt damp, and her pussy squeezed on emptiness. On her right breast, his thumbnail flicked rhythmicallyover the tender nubbin in time with the flutter of his tongue over the left.
“Atticus, please.”She jerked as he admonished her with a sharp nip of teeth.
He lifted his head for the briefest second. “You were stripping because I told you to. You kept your hands where they were because I told you to.” He ran his tongue over her. “Now you'll take those boots off a second time, and remove the rest of your clothes because…”
Submission grabbed her by the ankles and hauled her under the waves. Unable to fight any more, she whispered, “Because you've told me to, Sir.”
“You're catching on, little sub.” Atticus returned his attention to her breasts.
Her legs were weak when she fumbled her boots off again and kicked them aside. Her fingers dispensed with the button and zipper of her slacks, hesitating before she pushed the material down. It clung to her hips for a split second, then pooled around her feet, leaving her exposed.
Atticus kissed the tips of both breasts before he straightened and held her face in his hands. “That's what I expect from my good girl, Connie.” He smiled at her, then stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Hot green eyes scoured over her from top to toe, bringing a blush to her cheeks. “Christ, you're a sweet little thing when you leave yourself defenseless.”
Her hands slid toward her most vulnerable spots, only to freeze when he lifted an eyebrow at her. She'd forgotten the difference between the adoring gaze of a star strucksubmissive male and the hungry stare of a dominant alpha male.
“You can't keep rescuing all the women in Avalon, Atticus,” she murmured, immediately dropping her gaze when she noticed he'd heard her. But it was true, wasn't it? Maybe not so much with Bodie, but he'd definitely played white knight with Anarchy, stepping in as her Dom when Jasper pulled a disappearing act. He'd taken care of her like she'd been his own, and had come close to losing his heart to her.
A laugh rumbled from him. Risking a peek, Connie felt her mouth go dry as the Sahara when he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to one side. Muscles rippled, and she saw what looked like a fresh scar on his lower abdomen gleam under the lights. He flicked open the button on his jeans one-handedly, then stepped forward and leaned down to touch his mouth to her ear.
“Who says I'm rescuing them, Connie?”
***
