TRUST - Meghan & Quint (Fettered Book 5) Read online

  I start to back away, but she catches his eyes and then mine. “You don’t need to go. I’m a total exhibitionist. We’re happy for you to listen. Come watch the scene later if you want to as well.” She flashes Tank a grin. “I hear he’s good with his fingers, so I’m hoping it will be sexy.”

  He growls. “That’s not your choice, gorgeous. I’ve heard you’re good at toying with your Doms. Tonight, you play straight with me or you don’t come.”

  She looks surprised—but as she takes another sip of her drink, she also looks really pleased. Like she likes bossy. Wants it, even.

  Quint sets down a tray of martini glasses, fresh out of the dishwasher and still dripping. “These need hand drying.” He pushes a stool under my butt and drops a soft cloth in my lap. “Get to work.”

  I’m pretty sure I have the same look on my face as Eva does. Gratitude for the bossy man who’s just given me something to do with my hands. A way to listen, which I suddenly want very much to do, without feeling like an awkward mess. I pick up a martini glass and start chasing water drops with the drying cloth.

  Tank upends the rest of his shot glass and sets it down with a thunk. “Hard limits?”

  Eva rattles off a list that includes blood and humiliation and several other things I don’t even understand.

  He nods. “Any additional limits for tonight?”

  “Because we haven’t played together before, nothing that will leave bruises, and no sex.” She pauses a moment. “But I’m getting a nice buzz sitting beside you, so I’m game for fingers and toys.”

  “In public?”

  I can hear the laughter in her voice. “Of course. That’s the best kind. I like it when people watch.”

  I manage not to drop the glass I’ve dried so well it could go hang out in the desert. I think she’s just agreed to him touching her pussy in front of an audience.

  Eva takes another sip of her drink. “Have you done any sexual play in public yet?”

  Her tone is completely casual, like she’s asking Tank if he’s tried the extra-spicy wings. I set down my glass and pick up another one, way too mortified to keep listening and somehow unable to stop.

  “Some.” Tank clears his throat. “Only with toys, though. I’d like to touch you. Maybe put my fingers in your ass or your pussy.”

  Eva waits silently. I turn my head to get a better look. Her eyes are down, her posture communicating something I don’t understand.

  “That’s a classic submissive posture,” says Quint quietly in my ear. “She’s trying to remind him that he’s a Dom. He’s being too tentative.”

  Tank clears his throat, almost as if he’s heard Quint’s words. “I’d like to green-light sexual touch, finger penetration, and anal play for tonight. Do you have a problem with any of those?”

  Eva’s smile as her head comes up is beautiful. “None at all, Sir.”

  Tank looks like he just won something big. “Good. Thank you.”

  The energy that moves between them is zingy, charged with something I want to touch.

  Tank clears his throat again, but this time he doesn’t sound tentative. “I’d also like light-to-medium impact play and nipple clamps on the menu, and I’d like to know any toy preferences for both of those.”

  I know he’s just asking her for information, but he sounds authoritative. I dip my head back down to my glass, feeling bad for Eva. I hate it when clients take that tone. They’re the ones who don’t know how to bend.

  Eva shakes her head. “No to nipple clamps during impact play, Sir. I’m really sensitive with those, and I’d like to build more experience between us before we try that.”

  The unease in my belly stutters. I look over at her, confused. She was totally polite—and told his authoritarian self where to take a hike.

  Tank glances at Eva’s still mostly full glass and pushes his shot tumbler my way. “A refill please, Meghan.” He looks back at Eva. “Got it. Nipple clamps are a hard limit for tonight. Fingers on your nipples?”

  Her lips twitch. “Pushy Dom.”

  His face hardens. “Yes, I am. One who will happily leave his sub begging for an orgasm she’s not going to get.”

  She drops instantly into what Quint called her submissive posture. “Sorry, Sir. Yes, fingers on my nipples are okay. Stretchy for me, but I’m giving you the green light.”

  He sets his huge hand gently on her shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

  I’m not really sure what just happened. Fingers on nipples sounds pretty minor compared to some of the other things they’re discussing, but whatever just passed between them isn’t minor. It’s built something almost visible.

  I duck my head again. I intrude on private moments every day in my work, but it doesn’t feel right to do it here.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quint

  Meghan needs to get past this not-looking shit. She’s missing the pride in Tank’s eyes right now—and the happiness in Eva’s. Rightly so. This is textbook scene negotiation, but something bigger is happening and they both know it.

  I shake my head and eye their radioactive-pink drinks. I’m sticking to water.

  I step toward my sub to remind her just how much these two like an audience, but her eyes sneak sideways before I get there. Someone’s discovering her inner voyeur tonight.

  Tank glances at me and I give him a nod. Eva’s good at this, but she’s also pushed on him some, and he’s given her exactly the boundaries she needs to feel his steadiness. She’s already given him more latitude that she would usually give a baby Dom, and I’m curious to see just how far she’ll go.

  Tank sets his hands back down on the bar, which is a minor mistake. Eva wants his touch now, but he’s still following the negotiation rules I gave the trainees. I make a mental note to let him off that particular leash. Later.

  Eva lets her hand slide a fraction of an inch toward his and then jerks it back. I grin. Never mind. One experienced sub about to deal with the leash herself.

  Tank reaches out and wraps his big mitts around her hands. He’s watching her carefully, and there’s no way he misses the way she melts into his touch. Message sent and received, loud and clear.

  He clears his throat again, and I see Meghan dip her head, eyes full of amusement. Interesting. She’s reading his tells very well. I wonder if she’s catching Eva’s.

  Tank lets go of one of Eva’s hands and slides his palm down the bare skin of her waist. “Would you like to sit in my lap while we finish negotiations?”

  She beams at him. “Yes, Sir.”

  Punk. That’s well beyond my rules for baby Doms and he hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction. However, it’s a ballsy, but totally correct, move with this sub in this moment, and it will make some very interesting eye candy for my sub, so I’m going to let him have it.

  Eva slides gracefully into Tank’s lap and curls up against his chest in a way that’s guaranteed to make him feel two feet taller.

  He’s smart enough to take a moment and just hold her. Not for her sake, but to inhale the heady oxygen of why he does this. He runs a hand up and down her back and kisses the top of her head. “We’re almost done. Is light-to-medium impact play acceptable for tonight?”

  Eva’s a little touch drunk, but she’s also smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you have toy preferences?”

  He’s asked it without sounding like a wimp this time, which is excellent. I keep a close eye on my sub. This is the part I want drilled into Meghan’s soul, because if she was the woman in Tank’s lap right now, I’m almost certain her preferences would be nonexistent.

  Eva lets out a soft murmur and sits up so she can see Tank’s face. “I like hands, Sir. Or toys that don’t make extra noise. I like paddles better than slappers or crops or tawses. But I prefer touch.”

  He tips his head, curious. “Why?”

  Good man. They have Meghan’s full attention now. She’s not even pretending to dry glasses. And she wrinkled her nose when Eva
expressed her dislike of crops.

  Eva takes a minute, thinking about her answer. “It feels like there’s less distance between me and my Dom.” She grins. “And I know that his hands are feeling some of what my ass does.”

  Tank chuckles and wraps his arms around her. “You don’t want me to get off easy, huh?”

  She looks at his hands and makes a wry face. “I’m pretty sure my ass is going to lose this one.”

  “Yup.” Tank grins and downs his second shot of neon-pink, non-alcoholic sugar water. He puts both hands on Eva’s hips and stands her up. “Any physical limitations I need to know about?”

  I can see the eagerness in her eyes—and how she’s carefully angling so that Meghan can see it too. “No, Sir.”

  He swats her ass, hard enough to make her jump. “Excellent. Let’s go find a bench.”

  I shake my head. The dumbass didn’t ask for her safewords, which I’m sure she’ll rectify by the time he straps her down. She uses the club ones anyhow, but he’s high enough on Dom fumes that he made a really beginner mistake. I turn to catch the eye of whoever’s on the door to the dungeon. Harlan gives me a nod and follows them in. Good. I don’t think anything’s going to go wrong, but Tank’s a big guy and one who will probably never touch a sub again if he screws up, and his sub’s ready to go deeper than he might be expecting. Harlan will keep eyes on them both. Judging by the shift in traffic in the lounge, a few other people will be watching, too. They can smell something special in the air.

  Freaking romantics.

  I look down at my charge for the evening, who’s back to industriously drying glasses. Good thing we don’t need them, because she got exactly two finished while Tank and Eva were chatting. “How did that feel?”

  She looks up at me, surprised. “They both look pretty happy.”

  If this was a wedding, that would matter. “I asked about you.”

  She makes a face—she knows she gave me the wrong answer. “I don’t know. It was awkward, listening in.”

  “That’s how you think you’re supposed to feel. Now tell me the truth.”

  “I don’t know, and that is the truth.” She’s back to scrubbing at an errant wet spot on a martini glass. “I was surprised, I guess. I thought the Doms mostly decided.” She looks up at me, and I can see challenge in her eyes. “You mostly decided what we did yesterday.”

  She’s pushing on the wrong place. “I did, and I’ll keep doing that, just like Tank will decide once he gets Eva strapped down. Maybe she gets an orgasm tonight, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe he uses his hand on her ass, maybe he uses a crop.”

  Meghan looks incensed. “She said she likes his hand better.”

  Time for her to take a good look at this road she thinks she wants to play on. “He asked for limits, and he won’t cross those. And he asked for preferences. He might give her those, or he might not. It’s his job to decide what she needs tonight, and that won’t necessarily be what keeps her comfortable or happy.”

  She’s looking at me like I just crawled out from under a toilet seat. “Why would he do that?”

  I could give her words, but I’m not going to. “That’s something you’ll understand best by experiencing it.” I reach out and tug on a length of her hair. “I’ll be happy to deny you the things you want so that you can try it out up close and personal.”

  She growls. It isn’t big enough to scare a mouse, but it’s absolutely not something she gets to do behind my bar.

  I tip up her chin. “If you have something to say, say it straight up and with respect. Otherwise, you’re a half-step away from finding out what my hand feels like on your bare ass.”

  She swallows down her temper, but she’s not happy about it. “I don’t understand why you’d ask what I want and then ignore it.”

  She’s in the business of making dreams come true. I’m in the business of rewriting them. “You didn’t want to sit on that stool and listen to people plan their entertainment for tonight. How do you feel now that you’ve done it?”

  “Confused.”

  A smartass, but a very polite one. “Did you learn anything?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  I reach for her chin again. “Tell me what you saw. And cut the crap, or you’ll discover that I taught Tank everything he knows about how to keep a sub in line.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Meghan

  I watched Tank boss Eva and I watched it settle her. Now Quint’s trying to do the same thing to me.

  I manage not to grind my teeth. “Tank treated Eva like she was a mouthy teenager and she liked it. It made her calmer. Happier.” I try to pull away from his fingers. “I don’t want to be treated that way.”

  His eyes aren’t leaving me anywhere to move. “Your body says otherwise.”

  I glare at him.

  He holds my chin tighter. “You’re a grown woman, and we both know that. This isn’t about respect. It’s about a role you’ve agreed to play for tonight. One that you learned a little about yesterday and you liked it. So stop worrying about how you’re supposed to feel and pay attention to what’s going on inside your own skin.”

  I already know, and I don’t like the answer. “I don’t want to be someone who likes being bossed around.”

  “Tough shit.” He lets go of my chin and puts his hands on my thighs. “You are that kind of person, and the faster you make peace with that, the happier you’re going to be.”

  I don’t even know where the tears come from. I only know they’re suddenly there, and I’m horrified.

  He wipes away the first one that leaks down my cheek, totally unconcerned. “Right now your head sees the control as an attempt to make you smaller. To constrict who you are.”

  I nod, because he’s totally nailed it—and it makes me feel queasy. “How can that be a good thing?”

  “It isn’t. It completely sucks.” He lifts me up and sits me on the bar counter so that my eyes are level with his. “The world in here is all about blowing anything that keeps you small all to hell, sweetheart. We take fears and expectations and lack of confidence and crappy history and anything else that makes people feel like less and we build containers strong enough to hold them while they break through all that. Sometimes that takes pain and sometimes it takes control and sometimes it takes a Dom who’s a total hard-ass.” The intensity rolls off him in waves. “But the goal isn’t to make you smaller. It’s to make you bigger.”

  He believes that right down to his toes. I have no idea what to say, but he’s looking at me like Emily does when she wants me to be my very best self—and believes I can get there.

  I close my eyes and think of my friends. Emily. Scorpio. Gabby. Even Sam. Shit. I open them back up again and give Quint the truth I can finally see. “That’s what Damon did for Emily. He found her inner core of steel and told her it was beautiful.”

  He nods. “Yeah. And he found her need to make the world pretty and gave her a whole new playground to do it in.” He makes a wry face. “I’m less excited about that part.”

  He’s not half the party curmudgeon he pretends to be. Even I know that, and I’m suddenly realizing just how little I truly understand him. “You’re a hard-ass to help people.”

  He gives me a stern look. “I’m a hard-ass because I like it.”

  Maybe that too, but I’m never going to see his bossiness quite the same way again.

  His lips turn up in a small smile. “So. What have you decided about your limits for tonight?”

  I shudder. “I don’t even know what some of the things on Eva’s list were.”

  “They’re not for beginners. Stick to the list I gave you yesterday. And start with the things you’re green-lighting.”

  I thought about this all day long, and it still feels tangled up inside me. “I liked what Eva said. About fingers being okay.”

  “For penetration, or only for touch?”

  I try to pretend this is like discussing flower arrangements. Details matter. “Penetration is ok
ay. But not where people can see. Please.”

  “Not where people can see because you’re uncomfortable, or because it’s a hard limit for tonight?”

  Something deep inside me still believes those should be the same. That he shouldn’t want to do things that make me uncomfortable, especially when I’ve had the guts to tell him. “It’s a hard limit for tonight.”

  “Okay.” He smiles, like I’ve pleased him. “Good.”

  I can feel my nose wrinkling. I expected him to push.

  He raises an eyebrow. “If public sex play is something you don’t think you should want but deep inside you want to try it, then the way to make that happen is to be honest with me. Not to set it as a limit and hope I’ll talk you out of it.”

  The only sound that comes out of me is an inarticulate whimper. He’s just stripped me absolutely bare in two sentences.

  His face is all stern eyes and hard lines. “Want to try again?”

  I’m a grown woman standing behind a bar in someone else’s sexy underwear. I don’t feel like me at all. And yet something inside me has an answer for him. “I don’t know how to explain the line I want to draw. It feels easier to make it all a hard limit.”

  His eyes instantly soften. “Good. We can work with that.” He slides a stool up to mine. “There’s something in that space you’re willing to try, and we’re going to figure out what it is.”

  I have no idea how. “The part where you have your fingers inside me, that sounds mostly good. A little embarrassing, but mostly good.”

  “Are you naked while I do it?”

  I shake my head and let my embarrassment topple off the end of the Richter scale. “No. Working your way around my lacy underwear.”

  “That’s a preference or a hard line?”

  “Preference.” I’m almost whispering.

  His hand is back under my chin. “Is nudity a hard limit in the dungeon tonight or not?”

  I feel like I’m trying to assemble a wedding bouquet while bungee jumping. So many details, not nearly enough time. “I don’t know.”