All's Fair in Love and Mastery

by Sparrow Beckett

Damn it. He’d had a few drinks and didn’t trust himself to stop if he got bossy?

  “Just . . . walk. Go. That way,” he commanded, dragging his gaze from her mouth and pointing back the way they’d come.

  She sighed, but didn’t move right away, hoping he’d change his mind. When she finally had to admit he had no intentions of caving, she went up on tiptoe and licked his jaw, then sauntered away.

  “None of this should have happened,” he was grumbling under his breath as he caught up with her, zipping up his pants.

  “More should have happened.”

  “We’ve barely spoken a civil word in almost a year, and then this?”

  “You’re the one who keeps being a dick,” she pointed out. “You’re the one who’s suddenly too fancy to be best friends with benefits.”

  He whirled on her and grabbed her upper arms, leaning down to stare into her eyes, nose to nose. “You don’t get to use me and throw me away.”

  “You have sex with all sorts of women. You have ever since I’ve met you! Why am I the exception?”

  “Because you just are!”

  “Because I’m so fucking special to you?” she asked, her heart beating too fast. “Do you think I’m like—your soul mate or something?”

  Fuck. Why had she asked that? She wanted him to laugh and tell her she was an idiot, but a tiny part of her also wanted him to tell her it was true.

  “I’m done. Just shut the fuck up.” He let go of her and started walking again, so she dodged ahead and planted herself in front of him. When he tried to sidestep, she matched him, and he stopped.

  “What then? You’re blackmailing me—a collar or no sex? That’s what the problem is . . . really?” She barked a laugh and wiped rain out of her eyes. “Are you going to break into the ‘Single Ladies’ song now?”

  “It can’t be casual with you—it just can’t,” he said loudly, although his voice was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain pounding down on them. “If you can’t give me what I need, you can find someone else to have sex with.”

  She could, but that wasn’t the point. What had happened between them had been so earth-shattering, so intense, that she didn’t want it to be already over.

  The man was so fucking frustrating sometimes. Why was a collar such a big deal to him? He could dominate her without the need for symbols of commitment—hell, she might even consider being exclusive for a while, as long as there was no expectation of forever.

  Apparently it was his way or the highway.

  “Grant?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re such a fucking douche.”

  They trudged toward the club through the rainy streets, both of them too stubborn to break the silence.

  Chapter Four

  Grant couldn’t believe Will’s luck. The day had turned out to be one of those fairy-tale spring days where the weather cooperated and the air buzzed with new life. There was enough of a breeze to keep the sun from getting too hot, and yet it wasn’t so strong that it was blowing all of the women’s fancy hairdos out of place. Will couldn’t have paid for better weather.

  Hopefully the sunshine was a sign that Will and Juliet’s marriage would be a happy one.

  The area of the park they were using for the ceremony was artfully decorated, just enough to make the space feel special and festive without getting excessive.

  Bridezilla, Juliet was not.

  About a hundred guests waited, chatting happily, seated on folding chairs in the pleasant afternoon sunlight. Juliet kept referring to the number of guests as small and intimate—but then well over half of them were members of her close family. Will’s only family at the ceremony were Grant and Beau, if one didn’t count their close friends from the club.

  Children wandered everywhere, climbing on folding chairs to get a better look at things, or just for something to do. For someone so classy herself, Juliet had a big and boisterous family. Grant appreciated that, watching them and wishing his own family had been different. It had to hurt Will that their father and sister hadn’t even had the decency to decline their invitations. Unforgivable, especially since this was Will, not Grant. Once upon a time they’d loved Will. How could they pretend they never had?

  The violinists fell silent. There was a quiet ripple of laughter from the crowd as Juliet’s twin nephews more or less meandered down the aisle, holding hands, tugging each other almost off-balance in their eagerness to see everything. About fifteen feet from the end of the aisle, their progress stalled when a grasshopper caught their attention. They both crouched, studying the bug and babbling to each other in their own indecipherable language, until their parents came down the aisle after them, both dressed in the black and teal of Juliet’s attendants. The other attendants followed—all of them Juliet’s siblings. Everyone pretended her youngest brother wasn’t taking selfies as he walked down the aisle, and Sky, the youngest sister, only stopped texting when an aunt reached out from her aisle seat and affectionately swatted the teenager’s arm.

  A hush descended, broken only by the quiet strains of one of the uncles playing some ancient-looking stringed instrument Grant didn’t recognize.

  Juliet materialized at the head of the aisle, looking willowy and ethereal in her simple white gown, little Beau perched on her hip. A few of the baby’s pudgy fingers were stuffed in her bow mouth, and she was watching the crowd with wide eyes and hanging on to Juliet the way any child would cling to their mother.

  Amazing how a woman who’d never wanted children was now raising a child she should resent—and yet it was so evident in her every word and gesture that Beau meant everything to her.

  There was no hint of hesitation in her gaze as she made her way up the aisle to Will. The long, flowing gown made her look like a Greek goddess.

  “Oh, that little brat,” Will whispered under his breath, grinning ferociously.

  Grant took a closer look at Juliet, trying to figure out what Will was talking about. Behind Grant, Dex chuckled quietly.

  Ah.

  Juliet’s pale blond hair was up in an intricate series of interconnected braids, a work of art all its own. The way Juliet wore her hair was a running joke between Juliet and Will. His brother always insisted his slave wear her hair down, but apparently their wedding day was the perfect time to tease him by wearing it up. The woman was lucky his brother didn’t turn her over his knee and spank her right in front of the officiant and the crowd.

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” Dex singsonged under her breath, sounding thrilled. Since the two women had met, Dex had encouraged Juliet’s bratty streak, to Will’s chagrin and amusement.

  As Juliet neared, Grant could see tears of joy on her face. She kissed the top of Beau’s head and handed the toddler to Will, the look that passed between them so tender and intimate that, standing so close, Grant felt like an unwelcome voyeur.

  The ceremony began, and Will watched Juliet with avid, sidelong glances. Such a strange match—this elegant woman madly in love with his slob of a brother. Yet despite the mismatch, they always seemed blissfully happy together.

  He envied Will for the deep connection and happiness he’d found with Juliet. What were the chances that Grant would ever be so lucky? Slim to nil, considering he was completely infatuated with a woman who didn’t want him for more than his dominance and his dick.

  The officiant’s voice was low and pleasant, and unfortunately didn’t command his attention enough to keep his mind off Arabella, who stood shoulder to shoulder with him—well, more like elbow-ish to shoulder.

  The sight of her today, looking delicious and impish in her perfectly tailored tuxedo, was driving him to distraction.

  When they’d arrived at Will’s to dress, Tak had pulled him aside and given him a good-natured lecture about being an ass on Will’s big day. The other Dominant had assumed the charged energy between Grant and Arabella was
animosity, but all he could think about was the same thing he’d been thinking about for the last two days—her sexy lips almost on his cock, hovering there, making him ache to grab her short, wild hair and thrust into her smart-ass mouth.

  He stifled a groan and forced himself not to shift in discomfort in front of Will and Juliet’s guests.

  Vivid flashbacks of that night in the rain had plagued him ever since. Why hadn’t he used her mouth when he’d had the chance? Forget the vow he’d made to himself not to settle for being her booty call. Ugh, that fucking mouth . . .

  Now that the object of his lust was near, it was all he could do not to drag her off behind the bushes and have his nasty, sordid way with her. He could swear she was daring him to do it with every gaze she flicked his way. So close and yet so far, and it was frustrating the hell out of him.

  Things would be simpler if it was just lust between them.

  So much simpler.

  He couldn’t do the friends with benefits thing, though—not with her.

  Like he could handle having her and yet not having her? Well, she had said best friends with benefits—that should make all the difference, right? And yet, it still wasn’t good enough. He needed all or nothing.

  Shaking himself inwardly, he focused on the ceremony. Today was about Will, not about him, and not about what he felt for Arabella.

  Forcing his thoughts away from her, he watched his brother’s profile, not remembering any time in their lives where Will had been so happy. After everything they’d been through—getting rejected and thrown out by their family, homelessness, the stretch where they’d worked as escorts—Will had finally been able to cobble together a good life for himself. His brother’s happiness filled Grant with a quiet, satisfied warmth.

  The officiant droned on, then finally got to the good part. “If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  There was a moment of silence with the requisite giddiness as everyone half waited for a prank objection.

  In Will’s arms, Beau shrieked with joy, kicking her feet and reaching for Juliet’s parents, whom she’d just spotted. For a split second, Grant had thought someone actually interrupted the wedding and that he’d have to drag them away. The noise drew a burst of shocked laughter from the crowd, who’d apparently thought the same thing Grant had.

  “I hope she doesn’t have an actual objection,” Juliet said, grinning.

  “I think she has an objection to the fact that your parents aren’t spoiling her right this second.” Will grinned back at Juliet and stepped closer, claiming her mouth in a kiss that might have been a bit too deep for in front of a crowd. Juliet’s mother snuck in and stole Beau from Will while he was distracted and everyone chuckled.

  “Isn’t the kissing supposed to go at the end of the ceremony?” Arabella asked just loud enough for Grant to hear.

  “He’s too in love to wait that long,” Grant replied. “We’re lucky it was only a kiss.”

  As the ceremony continued, Beau stole the show. She wriggled down from her new grandmother’s arms and started to wander around the gathering, under the watchful eye of her parents, maternal adoptive grandparents, nanny, and more aunts and uncles than possibly any other child in history. Beau’s white dress was big and flouncy, and she wore a pair of diaphanous butterfly wings that trailed behind her adorably every time she toddled off at a precarious run.

  The kid made his ovaries hurt, and he didn’t even have the requisite equipment for that sort of thing. He’d never thought about kids much before Beau had ended up on Will’s doorstep, but now he thought he might want one or two of his own someday.

  As if on cue, Beau ran to Grant and patted a slobber-damp hand against his knee. Before he could pick her up, she went to Dex, then to her nanny, Tabitha, then down the aisle to visit Konstantin’s kids and his wife, Varushka. Older children in the audience tried to lure her to them, causing subdued pandemonium as parents struggled to hush their exuberant offspring. When it was time for the vows to be said, Will paused the wedding to reclaim his wayward kid so they could involve her in the ceremony.

  It was a perfect fucking circus—and a reflection of his brother’s family life.

  By the end of the ceremony, both Juliet and Will were laughing, their expressions joyful, Juliet’s eyes still brimming with tears from the part where she’d promised to be Beauxbaton’s mother forever.

  Then the ceremony was over.

  Will had everything he’d ever wanted.

  Now Grant just had to figure out what to do with his own life. Although he was only twenty-eight, he felt like he’d done several lifetimes worth of living.

  He should have had his shit together by now, but he’d floated along in Will’s wake, helping where he could and trying not to get underfoot.

  When it came down to it, what did he even want out of life?

  The wedding supper and cake cutting were all classy yet comfortable, with plenty of food and a lot of noise and laughter. Grant managed to get through his speech without stumbling too much, and when he was finished, he was glad he hadn’t embarrassed his brother in front of his new family.

  Although all of Grant’s friends were at the reception, he couldn’t help but feel a bit apart from everyone. Juliet’s sister Emma, who was twenty-one, kept sniffing around, but the idea of dating his new sister-in-law’s clone was too freakin’ weird.

  As for Arabella, Grant watched her hold court, man after dominant man trying their luck with her, including one of Juliet’s eighty-year-old uncles who’d fallen in instantaneous love with her after finding out the brewery she owned made Evil Pixie beer.

  Tarka, of course, was roaming around, being a roguish, incorrigible flirt, charming most of Juliet’s single female relatives, and some of the not-so-single ones. Sarah, who’d come to the wedding with Tak as friends, stopped next to Grant to laugh about her date having forgotten about her altogether. They joked about Tak’s ability to charm the entire female sex for a while, then danced together before grabbing a couple of Cokes.

  “You’re looking a little lost tonight, Master Grant,” Sarah murmured, turning to prop her back against the wall like he was doing. Grant knew her relatively well from the club, and had even played with her a few times himself. She was a friendly, quiet girl who often hung out with Echo—who was also around the reception somewhere. Sarah was looking very pretty tonight, in a little black dress rather than her usual short skirt and slave harness, her dark hair in a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. All of the kinksters had cleaned up nice for the vanillas. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that people had lives and jobs outside of the club. His whole life had been the club for so long, he forgot what outside life was like.

  He shrugged. “I’m not good at family stuff.”

  “You clean up nice.”

  “I was just thinking the same about you.”

  She laughed, gazing up at him shyly from under lowered lashes. Sarah was the type of submissive a lot of Dominants dreamed about—obedient, pleasant, pretty. Not the kind of woman who gave a Dominant a run for his money. She loved to serve, to be needed. Any man who could convince her to accept a collar would be lucky, but she was selective and had turned down several Dominants who were interested in dating her since Grant had met her.

  “I think this is the first wedding I’ve ever been to that wasn’t for one of my cousins,” she admitted. For a moment they simply watched Will and Juliet dancing together, their movements completely attuned. “It’s hard to believe Will married a woman who thought she was vanilla.”

  “Why is it odd?”

  “Well, being the wife of a club owner is about as far from vanilla as she could get, other than maybe owning a club herself.”

  Knowing Sarah, her casual observation was probably just that, with no offense meant, but he still found himself feeling as if he n
eeded to defend Juliet, and Will’s choice in marrying her.

  “She’s taken to things really well, considering.” And she had. She didn’t go to the club every night because she had work to do, but she had taken over a lot of the co-hosting duties, to the point where Grant often felt superfluous. They seemed to love having him there, but sometimes he felt like he was the second son in a royal family, not really necessary so much as decorative.

  “Yes, I wouldn’t have thought they’d be a good match, but they really are. Juliet is a sweetheart.”

  Grant relaxed. Of course Sarah approved of Juliet. His new sister-in-law wasn’t the kind of person people objected to, and Sarah wasn’t the kind of person who objected anyway.

  “Are you going to the club after this?” Sarah asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I might just go home depending on what time this wraps up.”

  “Well, if you’re looking for company, or even just to blow off some steam, let me know.”

  Really? He hadn’t realized she was interested in him as anything more than a casual play partner at the club. “Uh . . . okay,” he said stupidly, caught completely flat-footed. She plucked his cell phone out of his hand and programmed her number into it before handing it back.

  “Even if you’re just looking for someone to hang with, I have no plans after this.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder and walked away.

  Grant watched her go, wondering why he’d never pursued her. She was an easy person to be around. Then again, she’d shown up on the scene not long after he’d already been caught up in the situation with Arabella. He’d gone on a few dates and played with a few people since then, but nothing serious. Maybe he’d avoided thinking about Sarah because she was the kind of woman he would take seriously. She was fun and sweet, and her attentive, submissive nature would probably make her a satisfying partner.

  Sarah. He watched her from across the room, trying to examine his feelings about her. He didn’t really have any, but why?

  Because of Arabella, of course.