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Strong hands grasped her hips, lifted her up and onto the bar. She stifled a startled cry when cold wood pressed against her breasts and stomach, and she automatically reached out to grip the ledge of the shelf on Liam's side of the space. It was mortifying to be hitched on the top like a goddamn ornament, her private areas on display.
“What the hell's going on here?” A hard male voice demanded, unfamiliar and unimpressed.
More rumbles of discontent became clear, some she recognized, some she didn't. Voices demanding to know why she was acting like a submissive, why she was letting a submissive top her. The questions, fired from all sides, were like needles being shoved under her skin, jabbing into her nerves. She was the center of attention in a bad way, and she hated it.
A finger lifted her chin, and she stared miserably into a pair of gray eyes full of sympathy.
“Help me, Liam,” she whispered. “I fucked up.”
“Yeah, I saw.” Crouching down, Liam ran his thumb over one of the tears beginning to trickle down her cheek. He glanced over her head as the voices rose, then he smiled and dropped his gaze back to hers. “Had a bit of a tantrum, didn't you? I saw your face, sweetie. You got mad and back-sassed.”
She groaned. “And now he's letting the cat out of the bag about me being a Switch.”
“Just trust him, Con.” Liam ruffled her hair, then rose and walked away, leaving her literally hanging.
“Back off,” Thane growled, loudly enough to cut through the raised voices. His voice, so strict and uncompromising, raised all the tiny hairs on her skin to standing. “What's happening here has nothing to do with any of you. Not a damn thing,” he snapped as someone challenged him. “Your concern is noted and appreciated, but unnecessary. Stay and watch, or get your drinks and go. Do not interfere.”
“I thought hewas supposed to be the submissive,” someone said loudly.
“Heis a Switch,” Thane responded easily, “and heis not inclined to discuss it right at this moment in time.”
Connie winced as more liquid lust trailed down her inner thighs. She'd pissed him off royally, she knew that, but she didn't think she'd be as aroused by his temper as she was. Not after Evan's anger had left her scarred and mangled, inside and out. She fidgeted as the edge of the bar dug into her hips, bruising the bones, then became unnaturally still when a hot hand clapped down on her ass in what she assumed was a warning.
“You heard Master Thane,” Atticus called out. “You all know the penalty for interrupting someone's scene—for those of you who don't remember, I'll be happy to knock the rules back into your head. Permanently. Let the man get on with his scene, and go enjoy your evening.”
The tension behind her began to disperse, the energy of numerous bodies in a small area dispersing as people drifted away at Atticus's directive. The members might not understand what was going on here, but no one was stupid enough to risk their membership by ignoring the bearded giant's orders. After tonight, they'd have to treat Thane with the same respect as the other Masters.
The hand on her ass slipped down between her legs and fingers probed her vagina. “Where were we, sugar? Oh, yes, I remember. Your attitude reared its head at an unfortunate moment, and now we have to deal with it.” His fingers curled up against her G-spot, tapped it hard enough to spike her blood with pleasure, then slid out. As she moaned, he pushed a single digit into her ass. “Who needs lube when this pussy is dripping all over Liam's clean floor?”
“Thane, please, I'm sorry.”
“You aresorry, or you think you shouldbe sorry?” It was a twist on the fucking question that had started this whole mess.
“I am sorry, Sir. I-I didn't mean to snap at you.” She squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop some of the tears running into her hairline. Her anus ached with the burn of his finger stretching her open, but she bit back the whimpers. “I was only trying to be supportive, to offer you my submission.”
Another big hand ran up her spine. “Scared you, didn't it? Holding it out on a platter for me in front of everyone. Did you lose your temper because you were afraid I'd accept it, or because you were shocked you were brave enough to throw the idea out there?”
“Just full of questions today,” she grumbled, then gasped as his finger thrust into the sensitive tissues of her rear. “Both! Either. I don't know.”
“Think on it,” he suggested, removing his touch completely.
She registered movement beside her, keeping her eyes shut against whatever punishment Thane had in mind. She heard him talking to Liam, the low rumbles of their voices without making sense of the words.
Had she been scared? Was that why she'd reacted so keenly? She'd extended the gift, then snatched it back. Yes, she'd been frightened by the probability he'd take what she held out to him, her submission in public, and then taken the opportunity to deny him because he'd been kind enough to make sure it was the right choice for her in that moment.
Fuck. She'd be pissed too, if one of her subs pulled that stunt on her.
As the realization hit, Connie went limp. Running the conversation through her head, she saw a couple of places where she could have steered it away from this consequence. A softer tone, a different choice of words. An alternative mindset where he wasn't the enemy simply because she liked how he made her feel beneath his hand.
God, she'd screwed up. Instead of being poised and happy to see Thane welcomed into the Masters, she'd likely be standing in the crowd with tear tracks on her cheeks and a bright red ass. Hell of a way to show her support for the man she loved.
“Figured it out yet?” he asked, leaning over the bar beside her. His shoulder bumped hers, but she couldn't look at him. There was too much guilt and misery in her to open her eyes and let it all loose.
She sighed listlessly. “Maybe I was slightly disturbed by the significance of what I said.”
“The significance. Huh. Did you mean it?”
“Yes.”
