TRUST - Meghan & Quint (Fettered Book 5)

by Lilia Moon

  Ari chuckles, but it still sounds sad. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  I want to tell her she’s wrong—but with the unerring instincts of an experienced switch and a really good friend, she’s stuck her finger right in the part of me that’s feeling oddly blurry.

  And I have no fucking idea what to do about that.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Meghan

  I walk into the office, rubbing my eyes. I know Emily won’t be in yet, since she was up talking with me until the middle of the dark hours. Gabby and Mattie are off checking out a new caterer, and Scorpio and Leo don’t speak to other human beings until at least noon, so I should have the place to myself.

  Which is good, because despite what Emily promised me, sleep has not made everything better. My head’s still confused, my ass is tender, and I don’t know what to do about the guy who is responsible for both.

  A chuckle from the middle of our main room has me pulling my hands away from my eyes in a hurry.

  Leo’s self-proclaimed better half holds out a coffee cup. “Here, sugar. It looks like you need this a lot more than I do.”

  I eye Sam with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

  He sets the mug in my hands and herds me over to the table where most of the work in this place gets done. “I walked over with my man this morning so that I could give him some extra smooches. And so I could check up on you.” He waggles his eyebrows at me as he takes a seat. “I hear rumors that you had a hot and heavy night.”

  Given the number of texts I had when I turned my phone back on this morning, half of Seattle knows about my night. But that’s not what I want to talk about first. Or maybe ever. I’ve always liked Sam, ever since he threw Leo for a total loop. He’s everything outrageous that I’m not. And there’s a reason Leo needs extra smooches right now. “Everything’s approved now, yeah?” Two of my favorite people, doing everything in their power to have a baby to love.

  He nods, his eyes all soft and dreamy. “Every single thing. It will happen for us really soon, I know it.”

  I’m not fooled by the soft. He’s Leo’s rock, even if too many people don’t know that. “I hope so, sweetie. You guys are going to make some lucky baby the best family ever.”

  He leans in and rests his head on my shoulder. “Thanks.”

  I’m not much of a hugger, but Sam always has been. I wrap my arms around him, holding up the man who props everyone else up with his over-the-top, never-take-no-for-an-answer self.

  He holds on for a long moment and lets go, dropping a smooshy kiss on my cheek on the way out. “Thanks, sugar. Now let’s pretend I came by this morning to talk about you.”

  Despite his total lack of filters, this isn’t something Sam and I have ever talked about. It was easier on the phone with Emily in the dark. “What did you hear?”

  He smiles and steals a sip of my coffee. “That you let Quint beat on your ass and you liked it.”

  I wince, because I’m still struggling with that one in the light of day.

  Sam waggles his eyebrows again. “Did he leave marks? Did you want him to?”

  I gape.

  He chuckles and gives me back my mug. “No, Leo and I don’t do anything like that. It’s not his thing. Used to be mine for a while, though. There’s no shame in it. No shame in liking things that might be different than what other people in this office do to get their happy on.”

  “I know that.” I shrug, because it’s hard to be anything but honest with Sam. “My head knows it, anyhow. The rest of me is struggling with the idea that the first time I went fishing in the kinky pond, that’s what grabbed on to my hook.”

  He leans into my shoulder again. “I dress up like a harem boy and make Leo boss me around. Kink is a big, wide playground. So long as you and the person you’re with both want to be there, it’s all good.”

  He’s soothing things inside me I didn’t know were scratchy. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.” He winks at me. “Preferably with lots and lots of details.”

  He’s never let me take myself too seriously, but the problem last night was that I didn’t take myself seriously enough. “Quint had to safeword us out last night. Because I didn’t.”

  Sam just keeps leaning in, offering his rock of support in the most tangible way possible. “Yeah, I heard. Heard he read you the riot act and you totally got it, too.”

  I wait, in case he feels inclined to read it to me again. “He wants me to keep playing with him. To do public scenes and let him push me, even if I’m scared or really uncomfortable.”

  Sam snorts. “Of course he does, sweetie. He’s a Dom. A really good, really pushy one.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “One who sees something you want and would like to help you get it.”

  I scrunch up my face. “I don’t know if I want it.”

  He runs his finger down my wrinkled nose. “Ari would tell you that you need to look past what you think grown women are supposed to want and ask yourself what you really want.”

  I take a sip of my coffee and hand him the mug. “What would you tell me?”

  His grin takes up half his face. “That getting off with people watching is one of the best things there is. You have a Dom who loves going there with a sub, and you should totally wave your naked booty at him and let him have his way with you.”

  I’m glad I’m not still holding the mug or there might be coffee squirting out my nose. “This isn’t a romance novel.” Which, up until a couple of days ago, were the guiltiest pleasure I had.

  He laughs and kisses my cheek. “You going to the club tonight?”

  I have no idea. “I should probably get some sleep.”

  He’s already shaking his head. “No way. Sleep is for old people. Come—the band’s playing. We can be groupies together. Wear something obscenely sexy and torture your man while he plays guitar and can’t do anything about it.”

  That sounds dumber than waving a red cape in front of a bull. “I know I’m a beginner, but tormenting a Dom sounds like a really bad idea.”

  “Oh, it is.” Sam looks like his hand is halfway into the biggest cookie jar in the world. “I’ll give you lessons. You’ll thank me later, I promise.” He smacks another kiss on my cheek. “Remember. Obscenely sexy. We’ll meet you at the front door by Ari’s desk at ten.”

  I shake my head as he walks out the door. I’ve just been handled. By a man in neon-orange pants with baby lust in his eyes who wants to make me over as a rock-star groupie. And I’m actually considering it.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Quint

  I used to think there was nothing I liked better in my hand than the weight of a good paddle or crop. As I sling my guitar strap around my neck, I’m aware of just how much that’s changed.

  I nod to Milo, who’s helping us get set up tonight. Most of the amps and toys are Eli’s. He even has a hook-up for his cello, which I didn’t know was actually a thing until he plugged it in one night and started playing something low and sexy underneath Scorpio’s guitar licks.

  She’s warming up her fingers and eye-fucking her Dom, which aren’t all that easy to do at the same time. I wonder if Harlan recognizes the chord progression she’s playing. Somebody’s feeling her wild side tonight.

  Jackson glances over from his drum rig, amusement in his eyes. He clearly knows the song the chords belong to. I grin at him and keep playing. As the guy who just booted him out of my training classes, I should probably be making sure he gets out on the floor tonight and says actual words to a sub or two, but I’m not his trainer right now. I’m just second guitar and back-up vocals in a band that’s gotten surprisingly badass in the past few months.

  Eli’s playing something on his keyboard that fucks with Scorpio’s chord progressions and sounds like a freaking fairy dance. Judging from Jackson’s distinctly audible snickers, I’m not far from wrong. Probably some of that classical shit they both like. Eli plays it for his day job, but they don’t let him plug his cello in, so
he spends nights slumming with us and occasionally finding himself a playmate afterward.

  I see a couple of subs angling his way. He’s been here for long enough that word is getting around. He’s got the businessman-Dom thing going on right down to the shiny shoes, and apparently he plays women with as much skill as he handles his cello. He gives the two subs the kind of look that makes them melt and back up all at the same time.

  Scorpio just rolls her eyes. She’s got more experience with groupies than the rest of us combined. She gives me a nod and sails into one of the new songs we’ve been working on. Rehearsals are kind of sparse with Eli’s orchestra travel schedule, but this one’s gotten to the point where Scorpio’s prepared to let us embarrass ourselves with it in public.

  The crowd in the lounge turns our way, recognizing that the set-up part of the evening is over and we’re actually going to play shit they recognize. Harlan takes his usual spot on the wall—the one where he can ogle his sub all night long and she doesn’t get quite mad enough to kill him. Damon and Emily are in the back. I can’t see my boss, but I can see the yellow sundress that means he’s getting lucky tonight.

  I grin as Scorpio heads into the lyrics, and pick a new harmony line to sing. The one we practiced sucks, and I don’t feel like following the rules tonight. Eli snorts and plays something on the keyboard that shouldn’t work at all and somehow does. Jackson just keeps the beat like he’s supposed to, but if drums can laugh, his are totally doing it.

  This is why we don’t practice much. None of us take orders very well, and Scorpio’s the queen of rolling with whatever shit we give her to work with. She’s already built my harmonies into her chord progression, and if Eli’s not there in ten more seconds she’ll probably invite a sub or two to sit in his lap. Because we’re Doms on the Bottom, and that means she gets away with crap on this stage that no other sub in the club ever does, and she works every second of it.

  The surprising part is how much I like it. She doesn’t mess with me much—Jackson and Eli are way easier targets. But she lets me be the guy who does whatever he wants while she cleans up the pieces, and it took me way too long to thank her for it.

  She blasts me with a happy grin as she rounds the corner into the chorus at the top of her lungs. She turns out to work the crowd and nearly stutters, doing the Scorpio vocal equivalent of tripping over her own two feet. I look at Harlan first, but there’s no sign he’s causing trouble. Not even a hand in his pocket, and there’s no way Scorpio let him put a vibe in her ass on a gig night again. I shift over a couple of steps, trying to see what’s got her attention.

  And then it’s my turn to stutter.

  Holy hell. Meghan’s standing about twenty feet away, arms in the air, happily dancing to the beat—in an outfit that wouldn’t be legal or moral anywhere but here. She’s in some kind of shimmery tank top that’s glued to every single one of her curves and doesn’t come anywhere close to meeting up with the tiny excuse for a skirt that’s covering her ass and very little else. I watch her hips shimmy as she dances, feeling like she just walloped my cock and my head at the same time.

  I’ve never seen her like this, ever—and I’m a guy who notices things. It’s not just the clothes. She’s relaxed, grinning, letting the music move her from the inside, and not paying a whit of attention to any of the people who are looking her way. Including me.

  Sam’s beside her, so I know how this happened. I’m just not sure why.

  Scorpio heads around into the chorus again, which yanks my fingers out of whatever autopilot they were on. Meghan shakes herself to the beat, eyes closed, hair swinging wildly, hips and breasts jiggling in the best possible ways. She shimmies in a circle, clearly in absolutely love with the moment she’s having. And then she faces front again, opens her eyes, and looks straight at me.

  She knew I was watching.

  That’s the only thought my brain can hold on to. The rest of them are evacuating, along with all the blood that’s headed to my cock.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Meghan

  I won’t freeze this time. I won’t. I have an audience and I wanted one and I can be totally fine with that, even if Sam made me wear a skirt that he must have stolen from a very small child.

  I meet Quint’s eyes because I promised myself I would. And because he’s watching me like I’m some kind of mermaid that just landed in his own personal ocean and he can’t believe he got this lucky. I laugh, because there’s some kind of crazy power in being the person who put that look on his face. Sam wasn’t wrong. Sometimes outrageous is totally the right answer.

  Scorpio does something onstage that makes everyone in the band laugh except for Quint. He’s too busy trying to play guitar without taking his eyes off my chest. Actually, that’s not fair. My hips are getting plenty of attention too. So is my face. I’m totally being ogled, but not in any way that makes me feel like a collection of body parts.

  Maybe being a groupie isn’t a bad gig. I try to mimic one of Sam’s flirtatious looks, which probably fails horribly. Then I shimmy around in a circle again. As a wedding planner, I try to avoid shimmying anything, but back in college I used to hang out in tiny bars all over town, listening to live music and staying sober enough to dance on the tables because that was the easiest way not to get trampled.

  I can see the smiles getting tossed my way, and the answering hip shakes, and not all of them are from Sam. I make my way around in a slow, sexy circle, staying inside my skin. Letting the music dance me. Refusing to let the people watching choose who I get to be.

  Practicing what it might be like to own that bright shiny line of consent.

  They can look at me. I want them to. I’m in this.

  The band has swung into something new. Something I’m pretty sure Scorpio made them do without any warning because there’s a lot of scrambling happening up on stage. The hot guy in the suit is laughing and picking up his cello, and Scorpio swats Quint’s ass so that he steps up to the mike and does whatever she wants him to do. The drummer guy keeps laying down a beat, which is good, because my hips aren’t nearly done yet.

  Quint starts singing, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard just him. Scorpio’s loud and awesome, and he’s usually the low notes somewhere under hers. This is still low—some kind of sexy, gravelly ballad that I don’t know, but already like.

  My body slows to a sway that fits this new beat. Sultry. Full of promises, and all of them are ones I’m making to me.

  The cello is playing underneath Quint’s gravel, pushing him up. Demanding something. Scorpio comes in on her guitar, amping up the pressure. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I keep my eyes on the guy who’s singing. Drinking in the pleasure on his face. He’s going wherever they’re trying to send him, but he’s getting there in his own sweet time.

  He pauses a moment, looks straight at me, and then tilts back his head and rips into the anthem part of this song, whatever it is. The lines that you just know are the ones everyone will be able to sing by the time he’s done. The crowd goes as nuts as I’ve ever seen them go, with a bunch of moves that I haven’t ever seen on any dance floor but this one. Sam hip bumps me from the side and I give in to the body crush, letting it hold me up and surf me around.

  I don’t need to see Quint. I can hear him, feel him resonating somewhere deep inside my belly. I put my hands in the air, shake my hips to the sound of his sexy gravel, and let myself live in a moment I totally agreed to.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Quint

  I pick up a towel and swipe it at my face, knowing it’s a losing battle. Rockers sweat—it’s written somewhere in the rule book. Right after the part about getting to bang the hot groupies in between sets.

  I look around for the one who’s been shaking her hips at me for the last hour.

  Harlan grins and nods in the direction of the bar.

  I blink. I left Mattie and Milo bartending, but they’re nowhere in sight. No sub should be back there alone. Not one so n
ew most people don’t even know who she is yet.

  I hold on to my pissed-off and stupid for about three more steps, and then my eyes find her. Behind my bar in her scraps of clothing, totally holding court. She’s got fifteen people hanging around chatting, and she’s meeting eyes and pouring drinks and winking at flirty Doms like she’s been doing this for years.

  I’m fine with everything up to the flirty Doms.

  I grab Ari’s arm on my way by. “Can you tend bar for a few minutes?”

  She scowls at me. “Hands off, grabby guy. Meghan’s fine. I hung with her for a bit, but she totally doesn’t need me. She’s a rocking barmaid.”

  I take my eyes off my sub long enough to give Ari a dirty look.

  Her eyes widen, and she snickers. “On it. Sorry. Missed the memo.”

  She never misses them twice. I give her five seconds to get ahead of me and follow her in. Meghan spies me as I round the end of the bar. She turns to me, holding up something fruity and way too sweet for what I want right now. “You’re off duty. I have people covering shifts for the rest of the night. Harlan approved it. Go play.”

  I growl and take the drink out of her hands so I don’t end up wearing it. “I don’t want to play. I want to fuck.” I pull her hard against my chest as I lean down to her ear. “I have ten minutes and you’re the hottest groupie I’ve ever seen.”

  She grins and nuzzles into my neck. “I hear you have really talented hands.”

  I put them on her ass and pull her closer. I’m aware this is a dumb idea. It’s not Dom sex I’m asking for. It’s the wild, nobody’s in control, bang-against-the-wall kind.

  She grinds her hips against my erection and I can hear her breath catching in her throat. I see the glance she throws at the people waiting at the bar, but this isn’t me pushing for a public scene. It’s Quint, the guy who plays second guitar. With needs. I back her up slowly, heading for the door to the storage room. Staff only, and no way Harlan’s going to come watch me fuck over boxes of drink mix. I lean in and catch her mouth. Not gently—I don’t have gentle in me. Not with the way the music and her dancing riled me up.