Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  “I’m not that intimidating.”

  Konstantin barked a laugh. “Anna was too terrified to speak in your presence for weeks.”

  “Bullshit. With the crazy shit you’re into, I doubt Anna is afraid of much.” Ambrose leaned back in his chair and watched the crowd, looking for Everly. Hot, bratty, smart, with curves that made his palms itch to touch her. She was even mouthier than Shae had been.

  What would she wear? If she showed up dressed like a schoolgirl he’d be a lost cause. Real schoolgirls did nothing for him, but a kinky girl dressed up as one . . . giving him the come-hither look . . . add some pigtails . . .

  Then, like magic, there she was. Purple lacy corset, the same shade as the streaks in her hair, a short black flared skirt. Funky leggings, and boots that would suit a dominatrix. Fuck. The girl was full of attitude, and it made him crazy.

  The girl was bad news.

  Konstantin had been speaking but paused. “Ambrose, stop!”

  His words pulled Ambrose up short, just as he was about to get to his feet and go to her.

  “What?”

  “I can tell you just spotted her. Get that look off your face or you’ll scare her.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “What look? I don’t have a look. I’m just going over to say hi.”

  Kon snorted. “You look like you’re going to throw her on the bar and fuck her. Try to be less obvious.”

  “Obvious usually works just fine for me.”

  Konstantin grimaced and waved Ambrose away. “Then, for your sake, I hope she doesn’t scare easily.”

  She hadn’t seen him yet. He rose and pushed his way amiably through the crowd while thinking about Kon’s advice. He tried looking friendly instead of intense, but when people started flinching away from him, he guessed it wasn’t working. It’d been too long since he’d fucked a woman on a bar. Or against a wall or on a bed, for that matter. Plenty of women had tried, but for the past few months he’d cut himself off. No wonder he couldn’t manage an expression other than horny. This was the first girl he’d been seriously attracted to in a long time.

  His track record had sucked for the past couple of years.

  Shae had left him first, and then Kate. Shae had been his, though, and so he’d given himself permission to be a moping ass about her leaving him. Admittedly, it was so long ago now that maybe it was just a habit.

  Kate, on the other hand, was his best friend’s slave and soon-to-be wife. Half falling in love with her when he was trying to get her and Banner back together had, in hindsight, been stupid and self-destructive. He’d known they were going to patch things up eventually, but sleeping with Banner’s exes had become so second nature that he’d fallen into the same old pattern. He seemed to have an involuntary attraction to dysfunctional relationships.

  Everly’s back was to him. She was watching a bound and suspended sub writhe and scream as she was tickled by a grinning Dom. Although he was close enough to touch Everly, he watched her watching the scene, enjoying her expressions and reactions. A perfume company could make a fortune selling her pheromones.

  Don’t think about fucking her on the bar.

  Damned Konstantin. Like he needed any more ideas about what he’d like to do to the poor girl.

  He moved up beside her instead of touching her shoulder to get her attention. There was no knowing if she had triggers, and he didn’t want to fuck this up.

  Almost immediately, she turned her gaze to him, but had to look up to see his face. He hadn’t realized how much taller he was.

  Her eyes rounded, and for a second he was worried she was going to run away screaming.

  “Oh . . . hi!” Her laugh sounded slightly nervous, but then she smiled and drew him away from the scene.

  “Hi. See something you like?”

  “Um . . .” Her cheeks turned pink enough to notice even in the low light.

  “I meant the scene you were watching.”

  She laughed loud, a rippling sound that made him want to laugh too. “For a minute, I thought you were fishing for a compliment.”

  He snorted. “Yes, well, I have major self-esteem issues because my friends are always reminding me that I’m ugly. I have to ask pretty girls to feed my poor, starving ego.”

  “Aww . . . poor little ego. I would pat it for you, but I’m not that kind of girl.” Her impish grin suggested that if he played his cards right, he might change her mind.

  “I was wondering if you were actually going to show up.”

  “I said I would. If I weren’t interested, I would have said no.”

  She shifted her stance, wincing a bit then looking down at her shoes. He knew enough about fashion to guess the heels were probably uncomfortable. Where were his manners? He wasn’t doing a good job impressing her. “Do you want to sit down? I’m at a table with Konstantin and his women.”

  “Sitting sounds good.” She smiled.

  They went back to the table, where Ambrose introduced the three of them. After a few pleasantries, Kon and his girls wandered off to play. As they left, Konstantin passed behind Everly and gave Ambrose the thumbs-up.

  Idiot. Some wingman. He was making things a little obvious, leaving them alone so soon.

  “So how was the rest of your day?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual. Cut a million people’s hair, got a few tips. Then I went home and took a bath, and now I’m here.”

  “No dinner?”

  She snorted. “You look so horrified.”

  He thought of the herb-butter-rubbed prime rib he’d had earlier. “You don’t understand how much I love food.”

  “Do I look like I miss a lot of meals?” Everly laughed. “Don’t respond to that. It’s a trap.”

  Honestly, she looked edible. It would probably be creepy to tell her that though.

  “So you’re a foodie?” she asked.

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Yeah, I’m not in a position to eat out a lot, but once in a while it’s nice.” She grimaced. “You know, if the people who can afford to eat fancy soufflés and lobster tails every night gave even a little bit of that money to antipoverty organizations, we could probably give every homeless person somewhere to live. I mean, don’t they care that there are people starving while they gorge themselves on caviar and fancy wine?”

  Whoa. He agreed in a noncommittal way. If they ever hooked up, her hating rich people could be a problem.

  Her words had given him a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t his fault he had money—well, actually, it was his fault. But he wasn’t ashamed of having done well. Making it big in the shipping industry was a mix of luck and hard work. He treated his people fairly and paid them a lot better than any of his competitors. They had benefits and he gave a shit about them—he even knew most of them by name, and he sucked at names.

  “Do you know that some big corporation is trying to shut down the free medical clinic on Bloor Street? They don’t want them as neighbors because apparently it’s bad for business.” She shook her head in disgust. “They can take their canapés and shove them up their asses.”

  That sounded . . . unpleasant, and definitely not his kink. “You’re involved with the clinic?”

  “Not that one in particular, but a few of the others. I just try to get involved when I hear stories like that.” Her eyes gleamed, and for a moment he saw Everly’s serious side. “I help circulate petitions and that sort of thing. It’s hard to get to protests because I usually work evenings.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I work whenever I’m needed, so my schedule is all over the place. I’ve never been to a protest before though.”

  “You should go to one sometime. Life is too short to sit on the sidelines and wait for other people to fix things.”

  Okay, maybe this girl was too good for him. He didn’t usually think much past his employees and his family and close friends.

  She smiled. “Sorry, I get intense sometimes. If I’m boring you, feel free to say so, or think about football
or something. So what do you do?”

  “I work in shipping.” For once he was glad his line of business was a conversation ender.

  “So you . . . ship things?”

  “Yup.”

  “You drive long distances?”

  “Sometimes. I mostly do the paperwork end of things now.” He tried not to laugh as her eyes glazed over. “I drive once in a while, if there’s no one else available.”

  Her mouth opened then closed again, and it looked like she was struggling to think of something polite to say about his boring job.

  “So how long have you been into the lifestyle?” Ambrose asked, feeling awkward. He didn’t generally agree to meet up with women he hadn’t met several times in passing first. This felt like a job interview.

  “Um, always? It’s hard to nail down. I convinced my first boyfriend in high school to try D/s without even knowing what it was. I bratted to get a rise out of him, but he was too nice. No one ever really satisfied me that way when I was younger. As an adult, I finally started to do some research and learned what BDSM was. That’s when I found my way into The Catacombs. It’s been an adventure trying to find someone I click with since then. You?” She swept her hair back from her shoulder, and the bare skin it revealed made him wish she weren’t sitting so far from him.

  “I’ve always had my fetishes, but I never did anything about them until I was in college.” How much to tell her on a first date? It had been complicated. “Freshman year, one of my profs seduced me. She was into some things that . . . weren’t my kink. But when we split, I talked the next girl I dated into being dominated.”

  She inched closer, until their knees were almost touching. When she sat, her skirt had ridden up slightly, and he tried his best not to gawk at her shapely legs. As for the cleavage that showed when she leaned forward . . . well, he was only human.

  “Do tell! What kinks did she have that you weren’t into?”

  Ambrose sighed. Most girls waited to ask until at least the third date, but this one was bold as brass. Even on a third date he usually got away with being vague. Something told him it wouldn’t work with Everly.

  “Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He winked, hoping to throw her off.

  “Oh, you own a strap-on?”

  Surprised, he barked a laugh and swatted her leg.

  “You missed my ass.” Her smile was a dare. “I told you, most Doms find me hard to handle.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he looked her over but this time didn’t try to hide it. “I doubt I’d have much trouble handling you, but that’s pure speculation at this point.”

  They stared at each other. Maybe it was creepy to make eye contact for so long, but he was incapable of looking away. Adrenaline started to buzz through him. God, he wanted to punish her, hear her beg, feel her underneath him. Was Everly feeling the same connection? Her slanted amber eyes reminded him of a cat, and they seemed to hold the same independence. This wasn’t a submissive who needed a Dom to define her. She wasn’t afraid to show her strength.

  She broke the silence first. “I guess we’d have to play together to figure that out.”

  “Now?” Crap. This girl had him off balance. He needed to get that under control.

  “Well”—she shrugged—“unless you need to find your balls first.”

  Fuck. His hand itched to grab her by the hair and teach her to be more respectful, but with brats there was a fine line. Sometimes when they wanted to get a rise out of a Dom, the Dom had to ignore their sass to keep the upper hand. Although nothing was more fun than teaching a bratty girl a lesson in manners.

  Calm the fuck down, idiot.

  “What’s your safeword?” Why did that sound like a creepy pickup line?

  “We’ll use ‘red’ for now.” She raised a brow. Was she surprised he’d kept his cool?

  “Fair enough.”

  The way her eyes narrowed suggested she was waiting for him to make a move. “Are we doing this now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are we going . . .” She gestured vaguely at some vacant equipment along the walls.

  “No. I prefer not to use the equipment here. For now we’ll sit and talk, and if you sass me, I’ll deal with it accordingly.”

  “Is this the part where you try to lure me back to your private dungeon?”

  “No. Dungeons are so limiting. I believe in free-range beatings.”

  She snorted. “Are you sure you’re not a brat?”

  “Doms are never brats,” he said with mock disdain.

  Everly settled beside him on the overstuffed couch and looked at him impatiently. “Now what?”

  Now straddle me and settle yourself on my dick. “Now we have a polite conversation, like well-behaved adults.”

  She leaned in, looking up at him. Mischief lurked in her gaze. “I’ve never been a well-behaved adult, and I doubt I could role-play one well enough to be convincing.”

  “Not into role-play?”

  “Well . . . I didn’t say that.”

  Such a naughty kitten. He fought the urge to coax her into his lap so he could pet her. Behind her, he caught a glimpse of Konstantin and his girls coming back, but his buddy spotted the tension and steered them away to another part of the club before they reached the table. Maybe he was going to be a decent wingman tonight after all.

  “What do you like to play?”

  She shrugged. “It depends. If my partner can’t hold up his end of things, I’d rather not role-play at all. If he’s good, he could talk me into playing almost anything. I’m not into animals, bodily waste, or anything that causes permanent damage though.”

  “What about pain?” Ambrose draped his arm over the back of the couch, and without hesitation she tucked in against him. A warm protectiveness stole over him, and he let his arm curve around her shoulders.

  “I like it in moderation. Having my ass beaten until it bleeds isn’t a turn-on for me though.” She smelled like a dessert he wanted to put in his mouth and savor. “I like fun and hot BDSM, not cranky BDSM. If a Dom doesn’t like laughing or my bratting, then he isn’t a good match for me.”

  There was a wistfulness in her tone that suggested it was an ongoing struggle for her to find partners that suited her. He identified with that feeling a little too well. Most of the girls who took a shine to him were well-behaved submissives who wanted strict Doms who would call them on any breaches in conduct. Ambrose liked to laugh too much for that kind of responsibility—it wasn’t in him to be a rule-monger, and he resented having women expect that of him. So fucking boring.

  He also resented women who expected a collar from him after a few good dates. Shae had made him gun-shy, and he didn’t like to feel rushed. Honestly, he doubted any other woman would suit him like Shae had.

  Maybe Kate would have, but he’d known from the beginning that wouldn’t go anywhere. Still, it didn’t make it sting less.

  “There’s a difference between disciplining a girl and breaking her,” he said. “Some men can’t handle a sub who has a personality of her own, but girls who are always well behaved bore me. Where’s the challenge in that?”

  “Do you like disciplining?” she asked sweetly, gazing up at him with a feigned innocence that made his cock twitch. “I get into a lot of trouble, but no one wants to teach me to mind my manners.” Her lips curved into a half smile, daring him.

  “And what kind of trouble does a sweet little thing like you get into?”

  She blinked up at him. Her plump bottom lip disappeared into her mouth for a moment and came out glistening. What was worse—that he already wanted to kiss her, or that she seemed to be wanting the same thing?

  “I sass a lot, I ignore rules if I don’t like them, and sometimes I squirm away or kick when I get a spanking.”

  He let his lips hover over hers for a moment, and watched in fascination as her sexy golden eyes drooped shut.

  “Do you, now?” he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the people laughing and talking around t
hem. “I think I know how to deal with a young lady like you.”

  “You do?” She opened her eyes again. “People don’t understand that I misbehave to be fun, or because I like being punished. Or they think I’m just playing at being submissive and not the real deal. The last Dom I had wrote out a list of rules. As a joke, I doodled on the page and made happy faces in some of the letters. He was so offended that he wouldn’t play with me anymore.”

  He made a sound of disapproval. “Some Doms just don’t get the dynamic. Not everyone is equipped to deal with a little vandal. You just wanted to play.”

  Everly nodded. “What would you have done?”

  He pulled her knees toward him and shifted her legs over his own. She settled there as though it had been her idea.

  “Well, it would depend on whether or not I was offended. It’s pretty hard to offend me, so you might have gotten what you wanted, or you might have gotten what I wanted.”

  She scrunched her nose in mock offense. “Hey! That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “It would be for me.” He grinned at her wolfishly, and she smacked his chest. “Do that again and you won’t like what happens.”

  She cocked a brow. “Maybe I would.”

  “You could try it and see.”

  The wheels in Everly’s head were turning so loudly he could almost hear them. Did she really want to test him this early on? What would she do?

  As for himself, Ambrose sorted through his options of how to deal with a brat he barely knew. He wasn’t going to treat her quite the same way he would if they were sleeping together. If he came on too strong, he might scare her off—and at this point he was too intrigued to chance that.

  When the penny dropped, he saw it happen. Mischief lurked in her gaze and she raised her hand, threatening to smack him again.

  “Are you sure?”

  She bit her lip, then swatted him.

  Of course.

  Taking a firm grip on both of her upper arms, he pulled her to her feet and walked her across the room, where he positioned her face-first in the corner. She tried to back away, but he held her there, moving one of his hands to take a firm grip in the back of her hair, close to the scalp.