KNOW - Mattie & Milo (Fettered Book 4)

by Lilia Moon

  His nimble fingers follow my breathing. Loosening the laces, but not much, and that confuses me. If he wants a naked breast, he’s going to need more room to free it. I’d never say so, especially to this Dom, because there’s no way he doesn’t know how to work a corset, but he’s got me confused. Which is another thing I don’t like in scenes.

  I’m a sub who needs direct. Solid. Straightforward.

  “Mattie.” His voice has dropped several notches, into a sharp and demanding tone I had no idea he possessed. “Did I give you permission to let your mind wander?”

  Fuck. Total newbie mistake. “No, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not a baby Dom. I expect your attention on me at all times. Since your eyes are closed, you will focus on the movements of my fingers.” One brushes against the skin he’s unveiled on the upper curve of my breast. “Or on the paintbrush. You will do nothing but focus on those touches. Am I clear?”

  Crystal, and it’s giving me exactly what I need. “Yes, Sir.”

  The soft, wet, slightly ticklish feel of the paintbrush strokes across my skin. He’s not tentative, like many of the painters were—but not slapdash, either. His hand knows exactly what it’s doing, where he’s going next. I breathe into the slow, steady strokes, feeling them from the inside of my skin. Exactly what I do during impact play, and somehow he knows that.

  The paintbrush leaves, replaced by his finger. Meandering. Outlining his work. Holding me steady. “Beautiful. Just like that, Mattie.”

  The praise flusters me. The Doms I play with don’t tend to be talkers.

  He chuckles, and the paintbrush touches my skin again. I can feel it anchoring me. Demanding every inch of my attention. This time his stroke runs almost perpendicular to the last, and at the end, he applies more pressure to the brush, splaying it out.

  When he lifts the brush up, I feel lost. I hold my breath, waiting for the bristles to come back. Somewhere in the back of my head, I’m aware of just how deep he’s taken me with only a few brush strokes, but I’m not supposed to be in my head right now.

  I’m supposed to be feeling. Waiting for his next touch.

  He doesn’t make me wait long. Another line that rolls at the end, and then three quicker strokes. Accents. Decoration on whatever he’s already laid down.

  The brush leaves again, and then four fingertips touch my skin, just under whatever he’s painted. He waits, and I wait with him, my head utterly quiet. Trusting him, in this moment, to give me what I need.

  Chapter Four

  Milo

  She’s stunning—and I’ve made a big mistake. There’s more stirring here than a little Fettered amusement, and I just pulled an experienced sub into a scene without any kind of a conversation about why or how or what would happen next. Which isn’t a problem for the tiny bit of play we just engaged in, but it’s going to be a problem for both of us as soon as it’s over.

  I just took a small mess that started at Gabby and Daniel’s party and made it a whole lot bigger.

  None of which should be on my mind right now. I gave her hell for letting her thoughts distract her, and it’s mortifying that I’m committing the same newbie sin. I focus on my fingers. On the feel of her soft warmth under my fingertips, on the rise and fall of her curves as she breathes into my touch. I know what that means. She’s a sub who knows how to let go, how to surrender even when she’s standing on her own two feet—and in this small moment with a paintbrush, she’s given me that gift.

  I’m so not the man she needs to have accepting it.

  I bring my other hand to her hip, skimming over her belly to the laces of her corset. Giving her the warning she needs to be able to step out of the scene with me. “Open your eyes, Mattie.” I’ve never used pet names for subs. They’re people.

  Her eyes are green and a little unfocused. She looks at my face first, and then down at my fingertips, which are still underlining my art. She squints at the upper curve of her breast and looks at me, curious. “What is it?”

  A mistake. “It’s a Japanese character that’s a little hard to translate. It means something along the lines of ‘the hope of having your dreams fulfilled.’”

  The corners of her lips turn up slowly, even as her chin shakes a little. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  It’s the gift I always want to give a sub. The one where they’ve been seen, as deeply as they’ve allowed me to look. And nothing confuses me more in this moment than knowing I still want to give it.

  Her fingers reach up and touch the almost-dry pink strokes.

  I can’t let either of us fall too deep into this. I put the brush and the cup of Kool-Aid back into her hands. “I don’t think you’ve dug yourself all the way out of this particular hole yet. Don’t wait for Quint to take a Dom headcount.”

  My words pull her back into herself like I knew they would. She flashes me a wry grin. “Doms never need a reason to hand out more punishment.”

  Quint always does, and we both know it. But she’s headed away from me more settled than when she arrived, and that probably means Quint’s going to leave her alone. He’s giving her what she needs tonight too.

  I watch Mattie walk away, headed for Turcot, one of our younger Doms. He talks a good game, and he’s getting better, but he won’t be able to get her to lean on him. I try not to be sad for her. I’ve got my own shit to focus on, and worrying about other people’s emotions is a big part of how my pile of shit got so big in the first place.

  Sam settles on the floor at my knees. “That was well done, Sir.”

  I snort. “You can sit on the bench beside me.” I do high protocol about as often as I dance naked.

  He puts on a pouty face. “I could, but that would wreck all my hot fantasies.”

  Sam’s harmless—if you’re a very secure Dom, or a good friend. “Does your fantasy involve Leo kicking my ass halfway around the block?”

  Sam grins. “My man’s not violent. He’d just post kinky videos of you on YouTube or something.”

  That’s an even emptier threat than my face meeting Leo’s knuckles, but it’s filling the space until Sam gets to whatever he came over here to say.

  He leans into my leg. Sam’s as touchy-feely as any sub I’ve ever known, and Leo’s smart enough to let him give and take what he needs. “Mattie’s been around the lifestyle for a long time, but she’s looking for something different than a hot scene now. You know that, yeah?”

  He’s a good friend to be checking. “I do.”

  Sam dips his paintbrush into his cup and swirls it slowly around. “Sometimes, even when we’ve been at this kink thing a long time, our needs change.”

  Sneaky sub. “Are we talking about Mattie now, or about me?”

  His lips tilt up. “Whatever works, sugar.”

  Somehow I always end up friends with the subs who give everyone else fits. “I won’t fuck with her. I promise.”

  He snorts. “You already did. You haven’t lost your touch—she was ready to have sex with your paintbrush.” He tips his head up to look at me, and there’s nothing submissive in his eyes. “I’m more worried that you’re fucking with you.”

  Shit. Anyone who thinks Sam dances through life oblivious to anything but his own outrageousness is totally blind. “I’m working through some stuff. I don’t have any answers yet. And yes, I need to be smart enough to keep my hands off any more subs until I get things figured out.”

  He’s quiet for a minute. “Some things are easier to figure out with your hands on.”

  He’s right—and totally wrong. “That wouldn’t be fair to the sub I’m touching.”

  “Right. Because Doms always have their shit perfectly together, and it’s just us subs who get to learn about who we are while you’re paddling our asses.”

  I wince at his dry tone. “I didn’t say that.”

  He doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t need to. He’s got me stewing in my own juices just fine.

  Chapter Five

  Mattie

&nbs
p; I hitch my bag over my shoulder and laugh at the permanent dribbles of pink splattered on the back of my hand. I took a shower, but it had about as much effect on pink Kool-Aid as Tonio’s yelling has on his misbehaving tomato plants. Good thing all the pornographic stuff will hide under my work uniform.

  I touch a finger to the elegant symbol painted just above my heart.

  Some of it can take as long as it wants to wash off.

  I tug on the earthy, hand-knit mittens from Guatemala that were my Christmas present from Ari and zip up my jacket. It’s cold out there, and I’m feeling like a walk.

  “Headed home so early?”

  It’s Turcot leaning against the wall, looking me up and down with mild dismay. A sub in street clothes is a pretty sure sign she’s done playing for the night.

  I smile. “Yeah. I’ve got things to do in the morning. Maybe I’ll catch you next time.” He’s a good guy with a paddle. Not very inventive just yet, but I’m not a difficult sub to work with. I don’t need the mind games.

  The symbol over my heart warms, like some eerie pink lie detector. Those five minutes with Milo were all psychological kink.

  Turcot shrugs and pushes off the wall. “Sure thing. Do you need someone to walk you home?”

  Not at ten o’clock at night. “No, but thanks for checking.” I meet his eyes so he knows how serious I am. This place is the closest thing I have to family, and knowing he’ll ask the next lone sub he sees the same question makes me feel really good. “It’s not late, and I don’t live far away. I’ll text the checkin app when I get home, though.” Ari’s latest invention—or rather, Ari’s idea and Quint’s execution.

  Turcot nods and grins. “I hear vinegar helps with stubborn stains.”

  I roll my eyes. My whole night has been full of people with ideas on how I can clean myself up. “Is that your expert opinion or just something you read on the Internet?”

  He laughs. “Expert opinion, actually. My mom runs a commercial cleaning company and I worked for her all through college. You wouldn’t believe what shit ends up in the carpets in fancy offices.” He wraps my shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Give me a call if you want some help scrubbing in the shower.”

  I snort and lean into the hug. “Good night. Go find yourself someone curvy and naked to play with.”

  He tips up my chin. “It was a serious offer.”

  “I know.” And the kind I’ve taken people up on plenty before, but Turcot’s about a million years away from wanting to have babies, and I’m not in the mood to scratch short-term itches tonight. “I’ve got a date with my pillow. Go play—see if you can find Laney. Brunette, short and curvy, wearing a pink babydoll.” And totally amused that she matched the night’s early entertainment.

  He wrinkles his nose. “Isn’t she one of Quint’s new trainees?”

  I gently adjust his mindset. “You’re ready to help with the newbies, and she’s looking for someone willing to take her need to play hard seriously.” I make it my business to watch out for those subs. Turcot will take good care of her.

  I watch him head down the hall. There was a time, not that long ago, when I wanted exactly what Laney wants, and the interest of a Dom like Turcot would have been all I needed for a happy, satisfied night.

  I sigh. My needs have gotten a lot more complicated.

  “You leaving?” This time, the person hailing me is more complicated too.

  I look at Milo, toolbox in one hand, mug of coffee in the other, and shrug my bag further up my shoulder. His eyes are studying me behind the sexy glasses that always make him look more hot geek than carpenter. I resist the urge to muss up his hair. Or his life. “I am. Doxy said to tell you there’s a cuff in room three with a sharp edge. And Roxanne thinks the bench in the northeast corner of the dungeon has a loose attachment point down the left side.” Both of which any Fettered Dom could take care of, and would in a heartbeat, but Milo will make sure it’s done better than anyone else.

  “Thanks.” His nod is easy, and his eyes have stopped examining me. “I already fixed the loose bolt. I’ll check out the cuff in room three as soon as Quint’s done with restraints practice.”

  I breathe out. This is standard Milo-and-Mattie conversation, making sure the club stays one of the best places in the universe to be a sub. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  He tips his head and doesn’t move out of my way. “Why are you leaving so early?”

  I nearly snap out something about being a big girl, which would astonish us both. He’s just being the seasoned and caring Dom he is, one who notices behaviors that are out of character. Me walking out before midnight definitely counts as that. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow morning.” I swallow and repeat what I said to Turcot. “Thanks for checking.”

  “Always.” He smiles slightly. “Whatever you’re doing in the morning, it’s got you happy. That’s nice to see. Enjoy it.”

  Darn man who sees everything. I breathe in, and decide I’m just being stupid. “I scored babysitting duty. Ari and I are taking Evie and Tash to the park so Jules can go get her hair cut in peace.”

  “Ha. I’ll make sure Ari leaves early too, or you’ll lose one of them for sure.”

  I laugh. “No doubts about which one.” Tash probably wouldn’t wander off even if we took a nap. Evie’s a miniature Houdini.

  Milo grins at me—but it’s the soft yearning in his eyes I have no defenses against. My fingers reach for the symbol painted over my heart, and I yank them back down. “Would you like to join us? We’re hanging out at the Green Lake playground. You can help make sure Evie doesn’t fall in the water.”

  I see it—the moment of hesitation. The one that echoes mine. And the yearning that rises up and overrides it. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  I’m not freaking overthinking this. “Ten o’clock at the swings. Last one there gets to wade in if Evie goes swimming.” I slide past him and head for the door. Swing playdates aren’t going to make this any less complicated.

  I should have just taken Turcot up on his offer.

  Chapter Six

  Milo

  This is probably a bad idea.

  Scratch that—it’s definitely a bad idea. But as I walk across to the playground where two happy girls are swinging, Green Lake gleaming brightly in the background, it’s hard to remember why. It’s February in Seattle, the sun is out, and there are five people waving at me in delight.

  I don’t want to live in a world where that’s a bad idea.

  I speed up, getting two hands on Evie’s swing before the laws of gravity catch up with her. “You have to hold on, cutie, or you’ll get a big bump on your noggin.”

  She shimmies up the swing chain and plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “Evie, you’re a monkey.” Her mom, Jules, shakes her head from where she’s standing with Mattie, and then hands off a small backpack. “Emergency first aid kit, towels, and several changes of clothes.”

  Ari snickers from behind Tash’s swing. “We promise to try harder to keep them out of the lake this time. Now go away. Scoot. We can’t spoil them rotten while you’re still here.”

  Jules laughs and blows kisses at her two girls. “You guys listen to Mattie and Ari and Milo, okay?”

  Tash nods dutifully. Evie keeps trying to climb from the swing chain onto my shoulders, oblivious to every word her mom just said.

  Jules rolls her eyes at the back of her monkey daughter’s head and winks at me. “Have fun being a human jungle gym. And thank you.”

  She totally doesn’t need to be thanking us, and she knows it. She has eager babysitters lined up three rows deep these days.

  Evie turns, one leg hooked over my shoulder, and looks at Jules. “Go, Mama. ’coot.”

  Ari turns pink. “Oops.”

  Jules just laughs and turns away. I watch her go, the bounce of freedom in her walk and clear trust that the three she’s leaving in charge of her babies will manage not to screw up for a couple of hours.

  I keep a firm hold
on the monkey trying to clamber up my head. Her, I can probably manage to do right by. She just needs strong arms to catch her without denting her whirlwind heart. The rest of the people I’ll be spending the next two hours with are a little trickier.

  Tash beams at me from her nice, sedate swing ride. Rumor has it she’s talking up a storm to Daniel, but the rest of us haven’t heard any words. I smile back and let her see the truth in my eyes—I like her flavor of little girl a whole lot too.

  Evie bounces on my shoulders hard enough that it takes all my attention to catch her and my glasses before either head for the ground. I reach up with both hands and swing her around to where I can see her face. “Hey, monkey girl. You want a swing ride to work off some of that energy?”

  She tips her head at me, thinking hard, and finally nods.

  Mattie steps forward to say something—and then stops, clearly torn.

  I’m not an idiot and Evie isn’t my first monkey, but I can see the concern riding in Mattie’s eyes, and it’s as much for me as it is for the child-shaped tornado in my arms. She doesn’t want either of us getting hurt on this glorious, sunny day. I look at Evie’s fingers, sheathed in tiny, stretchy, bright-green gloves. Not Jules’s first day at the park either. I sit the small girl down on the swing and wrap her fingers around the chains, making sure she’s watching me the whole time. Words are water off a duck’s back for this one. She needs body language to know what matters.

  I close my fingers around hers and wait for her to meet my eyes.

  She nods at me, and her face is solemn. Message received.

  I shift behind Evie and point my body language at the second person who needs to hear from me. I nod my head at the front of the swing. Mattie’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but she moves into position and gives a gentle push to Evie’s knees.

  I push back gently, putting one small girl into motion. A pendulum with a guardian at both ends. I don’t miss the happy squeal from the toddler on the swing—or the small smile from the woman pushing on her knees.