Safeword Interrupted (The Cattail Club Book 1)

by Trace, Dakota

A fury like none he’d ever felt before washed over him. He knew the other man was trying to get his goat, but that didn’t stop a low roar passing his lips as he dove at the other man. His frustration over Bethany’s refusal, the idea that he was gonna be a father, and how badly things had blown up in his face – everything combined and boiled over. He grabbed Chet around the waist and bore him to the ground. The resounding thud as they landed in the grass next to the pea gravel lot was muffled by the knee-high prairie grass. Chet grunted as Deacon landed a blow to his stomach, but quickly recovered and rolled Deacon under him. As they pitted their strength against one another, exchanging blows, Deacon fought like a man possessed. This fool thought he’d take Bethany from him. Bethany was his and he’d beat the man to within an inch of his life if that’s what it took to get through to him.

  “Deacon!” He barely heard his uncle’s shout. It wasn’t until several pairs of firm hands hauled him off Chet that he realized that their fight had attracted a crowd from the club. LeRoy helped Chet up. Part of Deacon was happy to see that the other man’s eye was swelling shut, but another part – the part that knew better than to let his anger rule him, was ashamed. He’d honestly gotten in a fistfight. Not only was he a Dom, he was also the owner of Spurs and Chaps – he was supposed to have more restraint and self-control than that. How could he ask his patrons to behave when he couldn’t?

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His uncle got right up in his face. “Are you trying to get your ass banned from the club?”

  “For decking the son of bitch who has designs on my sub? Not likely.”

  “She’d be better off without you.” Chet snarled wiping the blood away from his mouth with an ivory handkerchief, his once crisp ivory dress shirt torn open to expose one pierced nipple while his dark leathers were covered with grass stains. “Both her and the baby.”

  LeRoy swore long and hard as Deacon tried to lunge at Chet once more. If it hadn’t been for the hold that Steven and Tim had on his shoulders, he’d have gotten to the other man.

  “Enough!” LeRoy placed his hands on hips. “You two fools need to knock it off!” He glared at Chet. “You know better than to come between a Dom and his sub. Didn’t that fiasco at Olivia’s teach you anything! How did it feel when some Good Samaritan came between you and your mistress?”

  Chet went pale. “Not good, Sir.”

  “That’s right. Even though the other sub had the best of intentions, she fucked up your scene and with Mistress Elaine. Which in turn adversely affected your relationship with your mistress – do you want to do the same to Bethany, a woman you call friend?”

  Chet actually glanced down, then shook his head. “No, Master LeRoy. It’s just…it hurts to see her hurt.”

  Deacon winced. He didn’t doubt for a second that Bethany was hurting. They hadn’t parted on best of terms and the need to return to Bethany rode him hard. Even with his weak stomach, he should be the one holding her – soothing her fears of being a mother, reassuring her that they would figure it out – together. He shouldn’t be standing outside the Cattail Club and brawling with another man.

  “And you!”

  Deacon winced at the ire in his uncle’s voice. Even at thirty years old, the man could make him feel like a rebellious teenager with one look. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and resisted the urge to look at the gravel under his boots. Instead, he kept eye contact with his uncle. The disappointment in LeRoy’s gaze hurt.

  “Not only should you have known better, you struck a sub in anger. That alone could be grounds for expulsion from the club.”

  Deacon fought the need to mouth off. As one of the founding members, LeRoy could easily ban him from the club because of his stupidity. “This had nothing to do with the club or even the scene, Uncle.”

  LeRoy arched his brow, then gestured toward the barn. “Really? You’re parked less than a hundred yards from the club.”

  Deacon rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, with no disrespect, I didn’t realize the asshole was a sub. Nor were we in a scene. He pissed me off by putting his nose in my business.” He looked up at his uncle. “I should’ve controlled myself better and my only excuse is I’m not myself today.” A slow smile crossed his face. “I found out I’m going to be a father.”

  Shocked pleasure filled LeRoy’s features before his expression went blank. “Be that as it may, you are still subjected to the same sanctions and limitations that every other member of the club is entitled to. Chet would be within his rights to ask that you be banned from the club when he is present.” LeRoy turned toward Chet. “Do you wish to invoke the right of denial?”

  Deacon’s heart began to race. It was one thing to not come to the club because he was to become a father, quite another to be sanctioned because he’d lost his cool and attacked another member.

  Chet glared at him, before shaking his head. “No Master LeRoy. The fight was just as much my fault as his. I was pissed after finding Bethany upset. I said things that I knew would provoke him.”

  LeRoy gave a short nod. “Fine. Since Chet doesn’t wish to evoke, then I’ll call this matter closed.”

  Relief filled him, but was soon dashed as his uncle continued to speak.

  “Closed that is once both men pay a reparation of five thousand dollars each.” LeRoy placed his hands on his hips when Deacon opened his mouth to protest. “Let that be a lesson to both of you. Fighting will not be tolerated with in the club or on club grounds.” He held his hand out for the small electronic fobs that activated the release mechanism on the club doors. “Your fobs, gentlemen.”

  Chet gave a low curse but reached into his pocket for his keys, while Deacon headed to his SUV. His eyes stung as he removed the fob from his key ring. As he turned to hand the small silver fob to his uncle, he was surprised to find them all alone. Evidently, Steven and Tim had returned to the club and Chet wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “Here.”

  LeRoy accepted it. “You’ll get it back.”

  He nodded. The fine was negligible. It was the principle of the matter that stung. In the ten years he’d been coming to the club, he’d never once been sanctioned or asked to give up his fob – until his damned submissive had so addled his brain matter that he’d actually attacked another member.

  “But until you do, perhaps you should take some time to yourself. Spend the rest of the weekend at my cabin. It’s fully stocked for my upcoming fishing trip with the guys. Take the time to get your head screwed on straight – and do it before you see Bethany again.” LeRoy placed his hand on Deacon’s shoulder. “I know that the lifestyle has been part of your life for a long time. Perhaps it’s time to step back and re-evaluate if it’s still what you need.” He sighed. “Because as even as beautiful as Bethany is in her submission, you have more to think about now – a child to consider. Either be the man, I know you can be, or let them go before you do something that will scar them beyond repair.”

  Anguish built inside of him at the idea of losing Bethany. Even if he never set foot in the club again, how would he live without her? Could a man live without the other half of his soul? Did his son or daughter deserve to have him as a father, or would he or she be better off without him. He took a deep breath, then reached inside the cabin of the SUV to grab his spare set of keys to the bar. “Give these to Steve and ask him to cover for me this weekend.”

  “And Bethany?” LeRoy took the keys.

  A rueful grimace crossed his lips. “I don’t know. Just have Steve tell her...fuck-” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he struggled with a message for Steve to pass on to his hurting sub. “Just tell her to take the weekend off. I’ll be back on Monday.”

  His uncle nodded. “Will do. The spare key is in the usual place. Drive safe, and let me know when you get there.”

  Deacon nodded before getting into SUV. He had some decisions to make. Perhaps taking the weekend for himself would be for the best. As he pulled out of the lot, the last thing he
saw was his uncle on his cell phone. Probably calling Bethany or his mother. Damn how could his life get fucked up – so fast?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Where the hell is he?” Bethany pressed the end button to disconnect the call, after leaving a message for Deacon to call her on his voice mail. After spending the rest of the evening vegging in front of the boob tube, she’d crawled into her bed mentally and physically worn. Her head had hit the pillow and that was the last thing she remembered. Now ten hours later, with her stomach settled from Mama Willis’s tea, she’d finally felt stable enough to talk to her Dom about their future. First, she had to get a hold of him.

  Resting her hand over the slight swell of her belly, she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. It seemed crazy but now that she knew she really was pregnant, she swore she could feel the minute changes her body was already undergoing. She might not be showing, but her breasts were sensitive, and she seemed to be retaining a bit of water. But it didn’t matter – because in the end she would be holding a living, breathing proof of the love she shared with Deacon. A surprise she hadn’t expected to share with her Dom for at least a couple more years. “But they say God works in mysterious ways.”

  When her stomach rumbled, she tossed her phone on the couch, and made her way to the kitchen. It didn’t take her long to make a couple pieces of dry toast. After drizzling a bit of honey marmalade on it – get real…she wasn’t about to eat toast plain – she made her way back to the couch. Sinking into its lush embrace, she nibbled on her toast and stared blankly at the chipper morning show on TV, while debating with herself whether tracking Deacon down was a good option, or if she should give him another day to cool off. If he kept ignoring her, the chances of her doing the former were high.

  She wondered if he expected her to wait at home like a good little sub while he sorted he mess out in his own mind. “It would serve him right if I just washed my hands of the whole business. Quit my job and left town. I could do it. Chet has already offered me a job as the manager of his Iowa City office.”

  But even as she muttered the words, she knew she couldn’t do that to him or their kiddo. Every child deserved to know his or her dad. She wouldn’t put their child through the hell Deacon had gone through growing up. While LeRoy had tried his best to step in and fill the void of their absent father for both Deacon and his brother, it still wasn’t the same as having a man in the house 24/7. She shook her head. No - leaving wasn’t even a viable option. Somehow, she and Deacon would have to come to an agreement – even if it meant they wouldn’t necessarily be together.

  Sighing, she reached for the tea on the end table, when her phone began to vibrate against her thigh. She fumbled with it, then scowled at the waiting text.

  Take the weekend off – think about what it is you want from me. We’ll talk on Monday. ~D

  She began to tremble – with anger, with hurt, or even a bit of humiliation. She knew she’d asked for a bit of time, but to go the whole weekend without seeing him, without hearing his voice, or feeling his arms around her? She didn’t know if she could do it.

  “And to be told via text? That creep! What an asshole!” Righteousness filled her, and riding along was the need to kick her Dom’s very tight ass. It’d be a cold day in hell that she’d let him get away with such condescending behavior. She may be a sexual submissive, but her pregnancy had nothing to do with their bedroom antics – well, it did in an obscure way. “But not to the point that I’m going to let him dictate how we’re going to deal with this.”

  Pushing up off the couch, she glanced at the clock. By the time she dressed, and made the twenty minute drive to the bar, Deacon should be neck deep in vendors and supply orders as he made certain Spurs and Chaps was ready for the weekend rush that would start in a few hours.

  * * * *

  Standing behind the bar, Tim was the first person to catch sight of Bethany as she stomped through the door. He paused, then smiled at her. “Hey, Bethany. I wasn’t expecting to see you today. Deacon said you were going to be gone for the weekend – something about a new mommy needing her rest.”

  She glared at him. “Don’t even start with me, espresso man. I have a bone to pick with our boss.”

  He gaped at her, then tried to stop her as she headed toward Deacon’s office. “He’s not here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sure he’s not. I saw his truck in the parking lot.” Determined to get this done and over with she stalked down the hall toward his office, uncaring that Tim was still protesting. She jerked open the door, her anger riding her hard. “Listen here, Mr. High and Mighty Master, you may tell me what to do in the bedroom but-”

  Her words froze in her throat as what she was seeing registered. Sitting in Deacon’s desk chair was a foxy redhead, wearing a familiar uniform shirt from their local distributor with her tan khakis hanging off one leg, while a kneeling man buried his face in her pussy. She blinked twice as the woman’s legs climbed up to rest on his shoulders, and her breathing hitched. The familiar glazed look in them, assured Bethany that the woman was well on her way to coming all over the man’s tongue.

  Or would’ve been climaxing - if the man hadn’t jerked his head back at the sound of Bethany’s voice.

  He looked over his shoulder and swore. “Son of a bitch – Bethany – what the hell are you doing here?” Steven’s eyes seemed to bug out as he tried to untangle his body from under the redhead’s clinging embrace.

  “I didn’t tell you to stop, baby.” The redhead pouted, but as he continued to struggle to free himself, she glared at Bethany and tightened her thighs around his shoulders. “You promised you’d eat me until I begged for you to stop.”

  “But I gotta explain…” His gaze darted from Bethany to the vendor.

  “Fuck that. She can fucking wait her turn.” The woman buried her hand in his hair, then jerked on the blond strands. “Now get back to licking, or momma’s gonna take it out on your ass.”

  Bethany nearly choked on her sudden laughter. The last thing she’d expected was to catch Deacon’s brother in the act. Unlike the last time, where the sight of the woman moaning over her Sir’s desk had made her beyond hot, the sights and sounds of this bossy lady did nothing for her – other than give her a severe case of the giggles.

  “Dear Lord, Steven. Don’t leave the woman hanging. Just make sure you clean up after yourself – or your brother will kick your ass.” She gave the woman an apologetic look. “Sorry for the interruption…carry on.”

  Then she slipped back down the hall – and glared at the chuckling bartender. She planted her hands on her hips. “Think that’s funny, do you?”

  Tim nodded and wiped at his eyes. “As hell.”

  She gave a reluctant smile. “I’ve got to learn to knock. Let’s just hope Deacon doesn’t catch wind of what his brother is up to. He’ll be pissed if Steven fucks up his deal with that particular vendor – especially after all the haggling he had to do to get the rates he wanted.”

  “True.” Tim busied himself behind the bar. “So what had you so hot under the collar you want to tear a piece off Deacon?”

  She sighed and slipped onto the barstool. “Him…just being him.” She propped her chin on her hand, as Tim made her a Shirley Temple. “For some reason he thinks he can boss me around.”

  “Well, that’s what Doms do, sweetheart.” He gave her a wink as he added a plump maraschino cherry to the sparkling pink soda.

  She shook her head, but accepted the drink. “In the bedroom only. He knows better than to try and dictate to me about my job.” She took a sip – the flavor of ginger ale and grenadine bursting along her tongue. “You’d think he’d realize that.”

  Tim leaned up against the bar. “Right now you have that man running scared. He’s not thinking clearly about anything other than losing you.”

  She furrowed her brow. “He hasn’t lost me yet. But if he doesn’t straighten up his act, he may. Accusing me of crazy ass things, then telling me we’re gonna get mar
ried just because I’m pregnant.” She toyed with the straw. “Sometimes I wonder about him.”

  “Look, I know things are rough between you two right now. An unplanned pregnancy will do that.”

  “Especially when the man in question doesn’t want to have kids. I nearly had to beg him to think about it as a possibility in the future.” She chewed on her lower lip, fearful that Deacon might never warm up to the idea of being a Dad. That he’d marry her, but then become a stranger - not a real partner - only existing in their home. Self-doubt filled her. Was she doing the right thing? “Maybe he’s right.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Perhaps he isn’t cut out for this parenthood thing. Hell, I don’t think I’m ready either.”

  “Before you do something rash, Bets, talk to the man.” Chet appeared beside her. She gaped at him. With his left eye blackened, his nose purple and swollen, and an oozing cut on his upper lip, her friend looked like he’d been on the losing side of five rounds with George Foreman.

  She pivoted in her seat. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Your boy-friend is what happened.” Chet muttered, before stiffly turning to Tim. “You won’t have an ice pack or three behind there, would you?”

  “Sure thing, slugger.” He reached under the bar, pulled out a Ziploc and filled it with crushed ice, some cubes, and a bit of water. Handing it to Chet, he shook his head. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about challenging Deacon for her, hmmm?”

  Bethany groaned. “Damnit, Chet. You didn’t!”

  Holding the makeshift ice bag to his nose, Chet shrugged. “Maybe next time he’ll think twice about making you cry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to cry – I’m freakin’ preggers.” She slapped at his arm. “So what the hell did you say to set him off?”

  He tried to give her an innocent look. “Who said I said anything?”

  She gave him a pointed glance. “Dude, you told the president of the university that even if he gave you a full ride you weren’t going to date his horse-faced daughter.”