Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  She gasped and tried to struggle away, but he didn’t allow it.

  “Did I warn you not to hit me?”

  There was a sound of disgust, but no safeword. When she tried to pry his hand out of her hair, he smacked the back of her thigh hard enough to make her squeak.

  “Be good or I’ll make you like this less.”

  “As if you could!”

  “If I tucked up your skirt and pulled down your leggings, it might be more embarrassing.”

  “I’m not afraid of you. I’ve got underwear on, so do your worst.”

  Ambrose chuckled. This girl was perfect. His dick was so hard, he wished he could fuck her up against the damn wall.

  “I could pull those down too. Then everyone in the room could see what a bad girl you are and get to see your bare ass.”

  Everly swallowed hard enough for him to see the movement of her throat. “I don’t even care.” The words were almost a whisper.

  “Maybe I’d spank you while I held you here, and everyone could admire your sweet red cheeks.”

  She groaned and shifted where she stood. “Go away. I’ll stand here and take my punishment, but you should shut up now.”

  His hand tightened in her hair and he pulled her up onto her toes.

  “Ow, ow, ow!”

  “Should you be telling me to shut up?”

  She didn’t answer. Ambrose growled in her ear and gave her a little shake.

  “Answer me,” he barked.

  “No,” she said, her tone sullen.

  “No, what?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He lowered his hand so she could stand flat-footed again. “I’m going to let go of you now, and you’re going to stay here like a good girl, aren’t you? Because if you don’t, I’ll do exactly what I said.”

  “You wouldn’t!” she gasped.

  “Try me.”

  God love her, she pouted at him. So many nasty, horrid things he wanted to do to this girl. Slowly, he let go of her, ready to grab her if she bolted.

  She stood stock-still.

  “See? You can be a good girl when you have the right incentive.” He smoothed her hair back into place, and he could feel her seething.

  If she was hating this, though, she wasn’t safewording or telling him off. Instead, he was getting the impression that she liked it and didn’t want to.

  “You’re evil,” she said to the wall.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “No, I mean full-on, mustache-twirling, tie-the-girl-to-the-train-tracks evil.” Her vehemence was adorable.

  “Pout at me again. It turned me on.”

  “Fuck you, Sir.”

  “I thought you just said you didn’t like me, and now you want to fuck me?”

  Something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh escaped her. “I never said I didn’t like you. I said you’re evil. There’s a difference.”

  This one. This one he wanted to take home and play with. A thinking sub with a sassy mouth and a sense of humor—someone who wanted to be forced to be respectful. His home office rose to mind, along with the big wooden desk. He’d lean her over it, spank her, lecture her. And she would be completely impossible.

  Ambrose moved up beside her and grabbed her hair again. She whined and looked up at him with round, nervous eyes. There was a spark there, showing it was an act. She wouldn’t be so easily cowed.

  Against his own good advice, he kissed her. When she kissed him back, she whimpered into his mouth. It didn’t feel like she was acting.

  He pulled back and looked down at her momentarily dazzled expression, wishing like hell he weren’t leaving town for a few days. Being social at the wedding was going to be hard with this little brat wreaking havoc in his head. “Are you ready to be a good girl for me now, Everly?”

  There was a moment where he could actually see her throw off the submissive responses he’d won from her. Instead of pissing him off, it excited him. Just how much dominance would it take to keep her subby? If he ever got her into subspace, how long until she fought it off again?

  Mischief sparked in her gaze.

  “I don’t know.” She smiled up at him sweetly. “If I’m a good girl, do I get a treat?”

  * * *

  The ocean breeze stirred the white sheers covering the bedroom window. The scent of cool, salty ocean had Ambrose wishing they had time to go for a swim. But no such luck.

  “Does my tie look straight?” Banner stared at himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of the hotel room.

  “Yup, but your best man doesn’t.” Rook snickered. Konstantin laughed and high-fived Banner’s younger brother.

  “Lads, this isn’t the time for tomfoolery. We’re in the middle of a necktie crisis.” Ambrose pointed at Banner. “Look at that man! We can’t send him to his fate looking like that. Kate would leave him at the altar and I’d be forced to marry her, myself.”

  Banner arched a brow at him. “Fuck off. You had your chance.”

  Ambrose shook his head. “It was always you she wanted, the silly girl. There’s no accounting for taste. Personally, I find you repulsive. And you can’t even cook.”

  “I may not be able to cook, but I keep her mouth busy.”

  “Hoooo, heyyyyy. TMI. No roughing the listener.” Rook pretended to clap his hands over his ears, but the teenager rarely missed anything. “I still think you should have gone with a bowtie.” He shook his head in disapproval.

  “A bowtie is too formal for a beach wedding.”

  “It’s your wedding. If you want a bowtie, I’ll go out there right now and mug a concierge.” Konstantin cracked his knuckles. His accent made him sound dangerous, even though he was joking. Maybe.

  “Stand down. Ixnay on the bowtie idea. Kate likes a regular tie.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard all about how much she likes you in a suit.” Konstantin laughed. “Your dry cleaning bill must be enormous.”

  “Like his dick,” Ambrose shot back.

  Rook snorted then went to Banner and straightened the offending tie. “You know, if you guys are into each other, you should probably call off the wedding. We’re keeping Kate though.”

  “Which one of us do you think would be the top?” Without warning, Banner tackled Ambrose to the bed.

  Ambrose worked at wrestling Banner to his back, but didn’t want to muss him too badly. “There’s no way I’m bottoming to you. I’ll leave the screaming orgasms to Kate.”

  “Sixteen-year-old standing here.” Rook grimaced and waved his arms. “Shut up before I need more therapy.”

  “If you two destroy your suits, Kate is going to kick your asses.” Konstantin pulled them apart.

  Banner smiled and got to his feet, then straightened out his clothes. “Since when did you start caring about what women think?”

  Konstantin checked his own reflection then turned back to Banner. “There’s a difference between the ones you play with and the one you marry. Toys are disposable. If you piss them off, there are others to take their place. Your wife is your wife. You don’t piss her off if you can avoid it. Forever is a long time.”

  To Ambrose, forever with Kate didn’t sound like much of a chore. She was funny, smart, kinky, and hot, which was why Banner was probably the first guy in history who wasn’t nervous on his wedding day. Excited, yes. But not nervous.

  Personally, Ambrose couldn’t imagine trusting forever.

  Things with Shae had been so good, so solid. Then, without any warning, she was gone. Not even a note, just the engagement ring he’d given her on his nightstand, along with her public collar. Two days later she’d texted to say it wasn’t going to work long-term, but didn’t answer him when he tried to open a dialogue. They’d run into each other a few times since then, but he’d kept it pleasant even though it was painfully awkward, even years later.

  All of the wedding-planning talk with Banner and Kate had been a special kind of torture, taking Ambrose back to the talks he and Shae had about their own. Guest list, menu, flowe
rs—he could remember every detail they’d decided on. Two hundred guests, filet mignon, dahlias.

  The ring he’d given to a homeless man downtown. The dress he’d returned to the store to reuse or dispose of. Sitting in the closet, the dress had mocked him, tempting him to unwrap it and wallow in the past. He’d asked Shae if she wanted them, but she’d never texted back.

  Did she ever think of him with regret?

  There was a knock at the door. Banner’s sister, Meadow, poked her head in to say Kate was ready.

  As they filed out of the room, Ambrose did his best to straighten out his head along with his suit. Today wasn’t about him and his shit.

  The afternoon was sunny and warm, with a slight breeze to keep them all from frying in their suit jackets. His hair ruffled, the sensation odd after having shaved it off for so long. Maybe when he went home, he’d have Everly buzz it for him. He could do it himself, but she’d do a better job. Plus, it was an excuse to see her again.

  Ugh. He would not think about her sassy mouth and the way she gasped when he grabbed her by the hair. The last thing he needed was a boner as he stood in his best friend’s wedding.

  Even though it was a destination wedding, there were still about a hundred guests. They’d wanted to keep it intimate, but between family and friends, the numbers had added up fast.

  As he and the rest of the guys lined up at the front to wait for the bridesmaids to make their entrance, Ambrose scanned the crowd. Several attractive, single women were in attendance, but Everly outshined them all. A hot girl who could make him laugh was even hotter than regular hot.

  He raised a hand to acknowledge their buddy Chris, who was baby-wrangling while his wife, Janine, stood as Kate’s matron of honor. Banner’s business partner, Belle, was there, too, with her wife, Shannon. Banner and Rook’s mother looked like a million bucks, and was sitting in the front row beaming at everyone.

  Eventually, the violinist started to play, and the bridesmaids—Janine, Meadow, and Kate’s friend Bethany from work—processed down the sandy aisle, between the rows of chairs. How they walked so gracefully in the sand was a mystery. He knew for a fact he’d be finding somewhere to sit and empty his shoes at the end of the ceremony.

  Kate appeared in a simple white shift dress. She wore her public collar, and her feet were bare. She was luminous.

  Ambrose glanced at Banner, whose wide grin proved he wasn’t regretting a thing. After all the crap these two had put him through when they were being idiots, they’d damn well better make it work. And the reception dinner had better be fucking fantastic.

  As the couple exchanged vows, rings, and kisses, Ambrose looked on, feeling guilty about his cynical thoughts. If anyone could stay married and happy, it was these two.

  The day was a blur of standing, posing, and polite smiles. They behaved for the sake of the other guests, but at one point during the outdoor reception, Ambrose and Banner were forced to throw Konstantin in the ocean, after which he pelted Ambrose with wet sand. A melee ensued, which involved Banner jumping in and dragging Rook with him.

  Later, the photographer said it was the most interesting photoshoot she’d ever done.

  Dinner was delayed while they showered and changed. Luckily, Kate knew them well enough that she’d ordered them to come prepared with a second suit.

  Ambrose and Konstantin were well on their way to being drunk when the first dance started. Kon ditched his girlfriends to meander over and sling an arm around Ambrose’s shoulders.

  For a moment they watched in silence as Banner and Kate danced.

  “He’s a lucky bastard.” Konstantin smiled and shook his head. “Remember how he used to think he’d never find anyone that suited him? And now look at him. Fucking married.” He put his beer bottle to his lips and tipped it back.

  “I’m glad he pulled his head out of his ass and claimed her. They belong together.”

  Konstantin gave him a long look, which involved substantial beer breath considering how close they were. “You, my friend, are an honorable man. How did you manage to keep your hands off her after he gave her to you? I might have lasted a day—but only if I was sick or something.”

  Ambrose didn’t believe that for a minute. They all had a weakness for women—especially submissive ones—but there was no way Kon would have done things any differently if he’d been in Ambrose’s place. If he’d seen the way Banner and Kate had pined for each other, Kon wouldn’t have slept with Kate either. The three of them had been best friends since they were kids. They’d never betray one another.

  Having Kate so close for so long, and the fact that they were compatible and she was on the rebound, had meant that Ambrose had spent a lot of quality time in cold showers. If Emmy Awards could be given for lying in a relationship, there would be one on his mantel. Ambrose had wanted her, but not like Banner did. Not like she was air and he was suffocating. You didn’t fuck with something like that—especially if one of the people involved was your best friend.

  “This was meant to happen.” He sighed. “She wasn’t mine, and I knew that even if she didn’t.”

  Konstantin hugged him, and Ambrose was glad he wasn’t in a wrestling mood tonight. Drunk and affectionate Konstantin was less exhausting than drunk and affectionately aggressive Konstantin.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu, Ambrose.” Konstantin kissed his cheek. “I love you. Someday they’ll build a monument to you, and men will go there to ask for the strength not to fuck their best friends’ girlfriends.”

  “Hopefully they’ll leave me interesting sacrifices.” Ambrose sipped at his own beer. Time to slow down a bit. He didn’t want to be the obnoxious drunk at this wedding and faceplant in the cake or do something else they’d never let him live down.

  “You want to borrow one of my girls tonight? Or join us?”

  “No thanks.” Ambrose chuckled, but knowing Kon, he wasn’t joking. They’d shared girls before.

  “If I ever get married, I would share her with you and Banner. No one else though. Fuck those other guys.” He belched and Ambrose turned his head away before he got a blast of beery air.

  “You’re a good friend.” He patted Konstantin’s shoulder. “Your babushka wants you to marry a nice Russian girl though. What if she’s vanilla?”

  “Can you see me marrying a vanilla girl? My balls would turn blue and blow up.” He made an exploding noise, complete with hand gesture. “Speaking of which, what happened with your hot little hairdresser? I saw you put her in the corner, and I gave it about five minutes before you started humping her leg.”

  “Everly is . . .” What was she? He’d been trying to block some of that night out, but scenes from it kept replaying in his head like a sexy flashback slideshow. So much had happened since, with the flight to Saint Thomas and the wedding prep, that it was hard to believe it was only two nights ago.

  He’d never had so much trouble maintaining control with a woman. As much as Konstantin had mocked him for looking like he wanted to throw her on the bar and fuck her, they’d been all over each other for the rest of the night. He’d seriously considered fucking her in a back room, or in his car, but it felt too sleazy, and she deserved better. Taking her home wasn’t an option, unless he could think of an excuse for having a big, fancy house. “It’s complicated.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  “No. Sadly, no.” Ambrose drained his beer and set the bottle down on the table next to them. “She hates rich men, so I can’t bring her home.”

  “Rent an apartment, or use one of your warehouses. You need to get laid.” Konstantin’s focus shifted to his women, who were making their way over to them. “Have you even dated anyone since Kate? It’s been almost a year.”

  “You know the answer to that.” He rubbed his eyes, already tired. It had been a long day, and knowing he had to stay until the end of the festivities was making him wish he could go to bed early. He’d danced with Kate’s friend Bethany a few times, and she’d shown obvious signs of interest, but it wasn’t
her who he wanted.

  What he really wanted was to take a curvy little brat with purple hair streaks and show her that he could handle her. If they’d met sooner, he would have asked her to come to the wedding, but a trip to the Caribbean was a bit much for a second date.

  The more he thought about Everly and their intense attraction, though, the more leery he got. If life had taught him anything, it was that when things seemed too good to be true, they generally were.

  Maybe his body needed relief, but his emotions needed to stay the hell out of the equation.

  Chapter Three

  “The city council plans to shut down the central no-freeze homeless shelter, leaving dozens of homeless people on the streets this winter,” Everly shouted to the crowd of Saturday shoppers downtown. “Please sign our petition to keep it open and consider coming to the protest November tenth.” She held out flyers as people walked by. Mostly, they ignored her, but a few had taken them. Some had even stopped to sign the petition and ask how they could help.

  Chloe spoke to a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a trench coat. She nodded along as Chloe explained the steps to get the city to keep it open—the big protest next month, finding sponsors to donate, and gathering a few more volunteers. In today’s social and economic climate, it was harder than it sounded.

  “Please help us protest the closing of the no-freeze shelter!” Everly refocused on her task, trying not to get discouraged by how many people walked by without even making eye contact.

  Ugh. So frustrating. If more people cared—even ordinary people—they’d make a bigger impact. But the rich would keep on getting richer if the middle and lower classes never spoke up about it. Why did it feel like everyone was so oblivious except for her and a few others? Consumerism and capitalism were all around them, sucking the compassion from the world, and they just walked by, sipping their lattes and texting on their phones. No wonder everyone was so depressed. This was what happened when humanity got greedy.

  God, she would never, ever be rich. Even if she somehow won the lottery without entering, she’d give it all away before she could touch a single penny of it. Money corrupted just as much as power did. She’d seen it more than once. She’d felt the stab in the back too. And by her own family. Even at a young age, their sneers burned.