REVEAL - Scorpio & Harlan (Fettered Book 2)

by Lilia Moon

  I grab a plate and get serious about adding some food to the wine I’m about to drink. The bacon melon hearts are stupidly cute—just the kind of thing Gabby would come up with, and probably tasty. It’s hard to mess up bacon.

  Behind me, someone starts clinking their fork on a glass. I turn, looking for the newlyweds, to catch the inevitable kiss.

  And discover that in Italy, they’re a lot more inclusive. Roberto’s father reaches over and drops a kiss on Brittany’s astonished mother—and then grape farmers all over the room start kissing their neighbors. I duck the questing arms of the ten year old beside me. Leo grins and plants one on the elderly woman standing beside him. Brittany’s grandmother, I think.

  The old woman eyes him appraisingly, and then looks at me. “He’s cute—do you want him, or can I keep him?”

  I’m way too used to our gay playboy videographer to bother replying.

  “You can keep me, sweetheart.” Leo grins at his new dinner companion. “And if you catch the bouquet, we’ll run away to Bali and get married.”

  “Deal. I’m Tillie.” She plunks a bacon melon heart on his plate, followed by a heaping scoop of potato salad, and something that looks like pulled pork. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you, dear?”

  Meghan shakes her head as Leo leans down and gives Tillie’s cheek a kiss. One playboy, bent on making an old lady’s evening unforgettable. He’s a guy who lives for the shiny moments, and he absolutely knows how to create them. It’s why we love him—and why he drives us all crazy.

  Tillie is about to have a heck of a night.

  Meghan and I, on the other hand, are either going to end up wallflowers or adopted by grape farmers who feel vaguely sorry for us. Either way I’m definitely going to end up feeling sorry for myself.

  I load up my plate and wonder if I can arrange to be Tillie when I grow up, because right now the best offer I have is from a big man with tats who wants me to be his sub for a few hours. No matter how much he makes me squirm, I’m pretty sure Tillie’s got the better deal.

  Chapter Four

  Harlan

  I walk into Damon’s office a happy man. Milo has surfaced and been put in charge of all wrenches, Quint fired me from helping with member intake forms, the bar supplies screw-up miraculously fixed itself with only a couple of growls on my part, and all I have left to do today is laze around and listen to Damon and Ari have good ideas.

  Life is good.

  Even if I have a pair of army boots walking in places inside me they shouldn’t. I sling myself into a chair and grin at Ari and the pile of paper she has in her lap. “What’s that?”

  She looks over at the boss. “Want me to talk about it now or later?”

  Damon grins. “You can talk about a lapful of porn any time you like, babe.”

  That kind of talk will get you in trouble in most offices—especially if you’re the boss—but not this one, at least not when Ari’s on the receiving end. She was born savvy and tough and knowing exactly who she is, and she gives at least as good as she gets around here.

  And if anyone ever messes with that, they’ll have Damon and me crawling up their asses so fast they’ll never know what hit them. I reach over and tug on her ear, and discover that she actually does have a lapful of porn. Classy stuff, by the looks of it.

  She flips over the top picture so I can’t see anything good and pushes me back into my chair. “Behave. This is for a new idea I have. Some of the members have been asking for a tool to help with scenes.”

  I know what she’s getting at, because I have my ear at least as close to the ground as she does. “Some of the old-timers are bored.”

  “Lacking inspiration, let’s say.”

  And that’s a problem for us, because sometimes the way they try to fix that, to bring the excitement back in, is to push boundaries. The ones that shouldn’t be pushed.

  Damon’s clearly following the same thought track I am. “You want to use my porn collection to inspire them?”

  Lots of people use it for that already—I’m pretty sure the man hardly sees most of his collection. Although I hear Emily’s a fan. The man is one lucky bastard.

  “Yours, mine, a few other peoples’.” Ari pats her pile proprietarily. “I’ve picked out stuff that’s juicy, suggestive, and as diverse as I can make it without getting stupid.”

  Anyone with ears knows Ari’s view on the general stupidity of most porn and the very limited worldview of the people who usually make it. I’m smart enough to agree with her. I don’t want any woman faking it with me, even if she’s just on paper.

  Ari starts laying out photographs on Damon’s desk. “I have this all set up electronically so we can print new sets anytime. I figured Doms or subs could use it to pull a few images for scene brainstorming. Or in the case of newbies, they can get some ideas, figure out what they like. It would give them something visual to play with.”

  Damon’s nodding, and I’m right there with him. One of the best ways to work out what arouses a sub is to let her see it, but not everyone has a dungeon full of live BDSM scenes to stroll through to gather that kind of data. Ari’s photos are classy, detailed, and stimulating enough that a Dom with even marginal radar should be able to get an initial read on some of his sub’s turn-ons. If he can’t, he needs to go back into training. Or take up accounting. “Quint could use this for intake, too.”

  Damon chuckles. “That would make member contracts more fun.”

  “That’s the whole point.” Ari’s got her serious voice on now, and we all know better than to fool around while she’s using it. “This lifestyle isn’t about floggers and restraints, it’s about learning who we are and what we want, right?”

  I personally like floggers and restraints quite a bit, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. Partly because she’s totally right, and partly because I have a sudden idea about what I’d like to do with the pictures sprawled across Damon’s desk.

  I lean back, hoping like hell that I sound casual. “Can I take this set? I’ll run it past a few subs, see what they think.”

  They both shoot me a look that says I’m not pulling off casual worth crap. Ari, however, surprises me. She calmly collects the photos, sets them in my lap, leans over and kisses my cheek, and leaves without another word.

  Damon raises an eyebrow, watching her disappearing act, and then looks back at me. “I hear Scorpio came by with cookies yesterday.”

  Someday I’m going to get smart and work with people who don’t see things. “She did. I ate them all. You want some, go find your own cookie dealer.”

  He just grins at me. “Emily makes fantastic cookies.”

  I’m pretty sure there’s very little Emily’s not good at. And no matter how happy it makes me for the two of them, it also scratches at something inside me. Emily’s a lot more than just Damon’s sub. Which wasn’t something I thought was on his radar. Or mine.

  I’m thinking way too hard. I like being a Dom. I pick up the photos Ari dumped in my lap. Scorpio brought me cookies. Time to go see if I can offer her some temptation in return.

  Chapter Five

  Harlan

  I think Gabby breaks things just for me to fix.

  Or so that I’ll graciously accept her cookies. Clearly she doesn’t know how easy I am—or how many other motivations I have to be here. I reach for the electrical tape she’s holding out to me and tap on the frayed wire in the junction box I’ve just freed. “You want to learn how to do this or just have me do it?”

  She smiles and hops back on her stool to drink her tea. “What makes you think I don’t know how to use electrical tape?”

  I snort and keep doing the job she could easily do herself. “If I were smart, I’d fall madly in love with you and run off to Fiji.” Sadly, I don’t think a bad boy with hard edges is what she needs.

  “Fiji’s too far away from my girls.”

  It’s very hard to imagine Gabby with granddaughters, but I’ve seen pictures. Lots of them. “Are they still demon pos
sessed?”

  She laughs. “So Jules says. They’re always darlings for me.”

  I snort and snap off the electrical tape. “You boss around a bunch of Doms without breaking a sweat. Pretty sure you can handle a couple of two year olds.”

  She grins at me over her teacup. “You’re always a darling for me too.”

  I point my pliers at her and growl. “You’re the only woman in the world I let get away with calling me that.”

  “Again?” says a voice from the doorway. “Since when have we become tool nitwits around here?”

  Gabby slides off her stool and has a pretty teacup in Scorpio’s hands before she finishes her protest. “Harlan picked up the electrical tape I needed on his way over, so I figured it was only fair to let him use it.”

  Scorpio and I blink at each other, trying to follow that convoluted bit of logic. I toss the electrical tape at her before she can think too much harder. “Here—I’ll hold the wire ends and you can wrap them.”

  “I can wrap something,” she mutters, but she slides in under my arms to peer at the wiring for the replacement thermostat. “Sure you got that set up right?”

  The thermostat is probably right. The sudden armful of woman definitely is. She smells like flowers—the dangerous ones that bloom in the night and occasionally eat unsuspecting bystanders. “Dunno. Feel free to check my work. I’ll just stand here and hold things.”

  I can feel the moment she realizes exactly where she’s standing. Even better, I can hear how her breath hitches. I bend my head down, resisting the urge to nuzzle the nape of her neck. “Take all the time you need. I like to be slow and very, very thorough.”

  I hear Gabby spluttering behind me, but I ignore her. If she wants Doms running tame in her office, she’s going to hear stuff. Especially from me. I don’t hide who I am.

  An elbow digs into my ribs. No damage—just intent. A threat.

  Damn feisty sub. I can feel myself grinning. I want this woman. And apparently I’m going to have to court her, which is not a game that gets played much in my world. “Put on the tape, woman.”

  She snorts. “Gabby, I have a recipe for cyanide cookies. I think this sexy man deserves a whole batch all to himself.”

  I look over my shoulder long enough to determine the woman in question has run for the hills. Or quietly snuck off because she engineered this whole thing. Never trust a grandmother who knows how to herd small demon people. “She’s gone. You’re on your own.”

  Scorpio traces a finger over some of the ink running down my left arm, which doesn’t help my patience worth shit. “She’ll skewer you with a screwdriver if you mess with me.”

  Gabby’s not my concern at the moment. “You get aroused when I get close to you.”

  “Don’t pressure me.”

  I can hear the scowl in her voice. “This isn’t pressure.” That comes later. I don’t push anyone into consent. “You seem like a woman who knows her own mind, and you haven’t made up yours yet. I’m curious what’s getting in your way.” She’s as comfortable as a newbie gets with kink. Something else is going on here.

  She shimmies out of my arms and turns around, frowning. “You see a lot.”

  I shrug. “It’s my job.” I watch out for everyone at Fettered, but the subs in particular. Quint trains people, and he does a good job, but when they get out onto the real world of the club floor to play, then they’re mine. Mine to watch over, mine to protect, mine to see the doubts and desires and fears they maybe don’t even know about yet and make sure those things get seen and respected and met.

  I want to see what’s going on inside Scorpio. “You hold your cards close.”

  Her lips quirk. “Yup. I can beat your ass at poker any day of the week.”

  That isn’t a good trait in a poker buddy or a sub. “Just so we’re clear, that’s not a safe thing in a scene.” I’m watching her closely. BDSM is all about getting psychologically naked, and that scares a lot of people more than anything else we do.

  It’s not scaring Scorpio. Much. Her nipples are still hard, and I’m learning fast—that’s her most reliable sign of interest. She’s not ducking my eyes, either. “You can coach me on good scene etiquette if I decide I’m playing. Until then, I’m not your sub, so get that look out of your eyes.”

  Poking at her is rapidly becoming one of my most interesting hobbies. “What look is that?”

  Another scowl. “The one that says you’re planning on taking care of me. Lose it.”

  To hell with that. “That’s who I am. I take care of what’s mine, and you’re my friend, if nothing else.”

  I see the mad hit her eyes—and then the pleased tenderness.

  The first arouses me. The second makes me uncomfortable. There’s something more complicated than some fun with a newbie swimming in the water here and I’m not sure I like it.

  This is why I find my subs at Fettered. Not in nice offices with cookie-baking receptionists and women who aren’t sure what they want.

  But I’m here, and it’s time to do what I came to do.

  I reach over to the table where I dropped my jacket when I came in. “I brought something for you.” I hand her the plain manila envelope. Ari’s threatening to get some red silk ones, but I like the well-disguised approach. “We’re testing a new tool at the club.”

  She takes the inch-thick package like it might be a bomb. “And I’m your tame guinea pig?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure nothing about you is tame.”

  Her lips quirk again. “Just so we understand that.”

  I want to see her face when she sees what’s in the package, but I’m a Dom on the hunt and she needs some time to deal with her own blockades, whatever they are. “Instructions are in the envelope.”

  She sets it down and studiously ignores both the envelope and my face. “Are we done taping?”

  I want very badly to slide my hand under her chin and turn her face to look at me, but I don’t have that right. Not yet. “For now.”

  She pulls the screwdriver out of my back pocket and slaps it into my hand. “Then stuff everything back in the junction box and leave it neat and tidy or we’ll have to find ourselves a new guy to fix stuff that isn’t actually broken.”

  I meet her eyes and put enough dare in them that she won’t look away. “I like playing with things that aren’t broken. And I never leave them neat and tidy.”

  Chapter Six

  Scorpio

  I plunk down on the office chair that sits in behind the old doors and plumbing pipe that serve as my desk and contemplate Harlan’s envelope. I can’t leave it lying around where some innocent bride might find it, because I’m pretty sure whatever’s in there is intended to rile me, and I don’t rile all that easily.

  It’s also intended to pull me across a line I’m not sure I want to cross. The one where I’d be walking the walk instead of just talking a good game.

  Trading words with Harlan is fun. Whatever he’s just given me, I’m pretty sure it isn’t words. I pick up the envelope and undo the neat little clips holding it closed. I’m a logistics person—I don’t leave things moldering on my to-do list. Which the sneaky man trying to drag me into his sandbox probably knows.

  I empty the contents of Harlan’s envelope on top of the piles on my desk—and then I register what my eyes are seeing and I’m very glad I didn’t do this in the middle of our conference room. I push a few of the top photographs around so I can see the ones underneath.

  Damn. Totally not safe for work.

  Then again, I can think of more than a few brides and grooms who should look at a little porn together before they get hitched. Or after. I snicker. Maybe I can talk Emily into a totally new kind of post-wedding thank-you basket.

  I pick up the small sheet of paper that fluttered out with the photos. Pick a few images that make your nipples hard and that wouldn’t be hard limits for you in real life. If you want to play with me, give me those pictures. If you don’t, give this all back to A
ri and tell her what you think of it as a brainstorming tool.

  Shit. Even the damn note is making my nipples hard.

  I don’t want to know that my nipples been having a freaking conversation with him. And I don’t want him sending me fucking porn at work.

  I touch a couple of pictures, cranky and aroused all at the same time. I give Harlan credit—the stuff in here is just the way I like it. Artsy, explicit, open-minded, and real. Not all that easy to find, even if you know the right places to look.

  Then I remember what he said. This is Ari’s baby, and it doesn’t surprise me at all that she does porn right. She might look like a sweet blonde cheerleader, but she’s seriously righteous underneath all that. A woman who knows what she wants and how to bend the big, bad Doms in her life over her knee and get it.

  I grin as I see a photo that’s pretty much exactly that, and wonder what Harlan will do if that’s one of the ones I give him.

  If I give him anything. Someone needs to learn to take no for an answer.

  I sigh. That isn’t fair and I know it. I haven’t actually said no, and until I do, I can’t expect him to read my mind.

  Although he seems awfully damn good at it.

  I feel my nipples tightening, just like they did when he watched them earlier. I’m not used to being studied like that. I wish it felt like a turn-off, but it totally doesn’t. Lots of people don’t make it past my outer layers of punk-rocker, and they definitely don’t make it far enough to ask insightful questions about why I’m hesitating.

  Questions I don’t want to answer.

  “Whoa.”

  I look up. Emily’s standing in the doorway and her eyes are practically bugging out. I curse the man who oiled my door hinges. I know it wasn’t Harlan who did the actual greasing, but I’m blaming him anyhow. I look at Emily and decide there’s no way out of this except straight through. “A little present from Harlan. I think he raided Damon’s porn collection.”