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They'd made progress in the few weeks they'd been together. Submission came easier to her in private, he was beyond sunk in love, and he was sure she felt the same way about him. They'd exchanged thewords, which to his mind cemented the fucking deal. Now he just needed to figure out whether he'd knocked her feet out from under her and set her back twenty steps when it came to revealing her proclivities to the club.
Too late now. The impromptu scene on the bar would be the talk of Avalon by now. More than a few of the spectator's faces had been alive with awareness, tendrils of knowledge brightening their eyes. Dominants and submissives alike had recognized the shift in balance happening in front of them, and he'd seen both incredulity and acceptance in them.
The others, the ones who didn't understand…well, they could go sit and swivel on the most uncomfortable phallic object they could find if they chose to judge what they couldn't grasp in their tiny minds.
So, did he push and steal the gift from her fingers, or back off and let her use the Domme as a shield to hide behind?
Yeah, that was a no-brainer. If she got the Domme back in a strong position in her mind, he'd never get her back. She'd use tonight as a prime example as to why she should never have let her guard down, and batter the submissive back into her cage, weld the door shut, and drop it into the biggest, deepest well in her clever little brain.
She'd run.
That galled. It really did. Thane rubbed a hand over his heart, remembering how it had kicked with trepidation and shock as she fled. There'd been barely a flicker of her intentions in her devastated gray eyes before she'd just…gone. His head had been too caught up in the rush of dominance, the heavy slap of wet towel meeting flesh and the marks it left behind for his body to react fast enough.
If Atticus hadn't had his eye on the Connie-shaped ball, Thane would've been chasing her across the parking lot.
Before he could rethink his plan, Thane reached out and tapped the intercom button on the desk, watching the small red light blink to flashing green. When Liam's voice floated from a hidden speaker, the light turned solid. Keeping his voice low, hoping the microphone could pick it up wherever it was, Thane said, “Liam, I need a favor.”
“Go for it.”
“I need wrist and ankle cuffs, a blindfold, and a collar. With a leash,” he added on impulse.
Silence. A long, tense silence with only the murmur of the club humming through the com link and the drone of the book narrator as background noise.
Liam cleared his throat. “Okay, I'll get them to you. Can it wait a few minutes? The bar's jammed; everyone wants a drink before Braun makes the announcement.”
“Braun's here?”
“Yeah, with Bodie in tow. He's making the announcement and then dragging her home. Something about she shouldn't be out of bed after her escapades last night, but as the club owner, making important announcements falls under his purview. Give me ten, and I'll get what you need.”
“No rush, Liam. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” The intercom light flashed green, died to red.
Thane ran his hand over his face. Connie would wake with reminders of her submission already in place. Grounding her to that obedient side of herself before she could imprison it was the only way he could think of to keep her with him.
He closed his eyes and let himself follow the book, his lips twitching as the narrator threw himself into a sex scene that raised even his eyebrows. For a while, he half-dozed, one ear on the book, the other on Connie. It felt like he was in tune with her every breath. He just wished he could tap into her thoughts with the same ease.
Something banged on the desk, snapping his eyes open. Two sets of cuffs and a collar with leash sat in the light of the lamp, along with two clenched fists pressed against the wood. He followed the burly arms up from those lethal weapons, all the way to the furious face scowling down at him. “Hey, Att.”
“Don't Hey, Attme.” Livid green eyes pinned him, violence radiating from the beast. “The fuck you want a blindfold for?”
“Why do you think?”
The Master snarled, thick and obscene. There was a moment where Thane feared he'd be lifted clean out of the chair and dragged unceremoniously over the desk to meet Atticus's wrath. The submissive part of him was desperate to surrender, his gaze threatening to lower in deference to the fucking Alpha male, but he knew the instant he did that, he'd lose any ounce of respect Atticus had for him.
“It's her hard limit,” Atticus snapped savagely, the outrage in his tone filling the room despite the low volume.
Head-to-head, then. Dominant versus Dominant. Thane pushed to his feet and mimicked his adversary's stance, fisting his hands on the desk and leaning forward until they were almost nose to nose. Gray eyes to green. Power against power. “I fucking know.”
Breathing hard, the tension between them was razor-sharp and liable to snap at any moment. Thane braced himself for a blow that would rattle his teeth when he saw muscles flex beneath the black shirt with its gold and silver AA logo, and he just knew it would feel like a sledgehammer smashing into his jaw.
““You’re going to take it; every inch of my cock is going to plow into your ass and you’re going to accept it.””
Their eyes held for a second before Atticus blinked, his eyebrows lifting in a what the fuck was that?arch. The tension did indeed snap, but not how Thane expected—the Master's mouth twitched, then spread in a mocking grin as he snorted.
“Fuck, I know you're in dire straits when you're listening to shit like that.” The snort evolved into a deep, rumbling laugh that was synonymous with the man. He shook his head and shifted the weight off his arms, tilting his head to listen to what came next.
“Harder and faster, he plows his cock into my ass and—”
