Hard to Serve: A Hard Ink Novella

by Laura Kaye

  Threatening tears stung the backs of her eyes. She was just vulnerable after that scene, damnit. That’s all this was. Because Mia totally hadn’t gone and fallen for the freaking gorgeous orgasm machine of a Dom who’d told her not to do that. Nope. She hadn’t been that dumb at all.

  Except. Yes. Yep. She totally had.

  Head down and rushing in the direction of the locker room, she somehow didn’t see the big wall of man she ran into until her nose was smashed against his chest.

  “Whoa there, little subbie,” he said, amusement in his voice.

  “Oh,” she said, grateful that he’d steadied her before she’d fallen. “I’m so sorry, Master Quinton.” Panic flared, because she really needed to be alone. But interacting with someone else did exactly what she feared and broke down the last of her defenses. Tears filled her eyes.

  His expression dropped. “Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it, Mia. No harm done,” he said, brushing at the corners of her eyes with his hands.

  Shaking her head, she clasped a hand over her mouth.

  The big Dom folded her into his arms and shepherded her into a more private area. “Tell me what has you so upset.”

  She shook her head again, embarrassed and still trying to hold herself together, even as she was falling apart. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing doesn’t make someone cry, Mia,” he said. His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His gaze dropped to the blanket she clutched tight around her shoulders, the pile of clothes in her hands. “Did someone hurt you?” His expression darkened.

  “No, I promise. It’s nothing like that. I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do. But, please, Master Quinton. Please just let me go.” She shuddered out a breath.

  He looked at her a long minute, and then he kissed her forehead. “Okay, but only if you’ll promise to call me if you need anything.” He slipped a card into her hand.

  She’d talked—and only talked—to Master Quinton every night she’d visited Blasphemy. Their conversations were playful and fun and always set her at ease. And he was giving her his contact information and extending his friendship. And yet, Master Kyler…

  No. Don’t.

  “Thank you,” she said, grasping the card tightly. And then he let her go. Mia made quick work of changing and getting a cab. The sooner she got away from Blasphemy, the better. No sense wanting something she couldn’t have. No sense crying about it, either. Which suddenly made her feel a lot better about not being able to afford the membership. Not being able to see Master Kyler would make it easier not to be able to have him.

  At least, that’s what Mia hoped.

  * * * *

  Kyler wasn’t going to see Mia again.

  She was gone. Not coming back. And he’d let her walk out the door.

  He paced the little lounge, the flood of conflicting emotions chaotic in his head. Relief. Guilt. Panic. Gut-deep disappointment. Relief again.

  Maybe even a little fear.

  Fear that he’d let go of the best chance he might ever have for something more than work and solitude and more work.

  He should’ve stopped her. He should’ve been honest.

  And then, what, genius? Build something good with her only to watch the job tear it all apart year by fucking painful year?

  Kyler hated that he’d hurt her, but he’d hate it even worse if it happened after years spent together. It was better this way.

  Coward. Yeah, probably. Fuck.

  He heaved a deep breath and raked his hands through his hair. If it was better this way, why didn’t he feel any better about it?

  He stalked out of the lounge, buttoning his shirt as he went. He was on the schedule for the second shift of manning the registration desk in thirty minutes, so at least he’d have something to distract his mind from the clusterfuck of his conversation with Mia.

  Back out on the floor, the vibe was vibrant and a little frenetic, busier than usual for a Tuesday night. A seductive bass beat provided a backdrop against which cries of ecstasy and stern commands and free laughter rang out. Normally he loved it. Tonight, he just wanted to escape from it.

  At the bar, he braced his arms on the marble top and waited for Griffin to see him. Damn, Kyler was tired. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

  Griffin gave him a smile when he noticed Kyler at the far end of the circular space. Tall, with close-trimmed black hair and the scruff of an early beard, both sprinkled with a little gray, Griffin was a custom furniture builder who’d done a lot of their carpentry around Blasphemy, including making a few custom pieces of dungeon furniture for the club. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Whiskey neat,” Kyler said.

  “You got it,” Griffin said, smacking a napkin on the bar top. “How’s your night going?” He peered at Kyler as he reached for a glass and the bottle.

  Shaking his head, Kyler sighed. “I don’t even know, my friend. I don’t even know.”

  “Well I might have an idea,” came a deep voice. Quinton leaned into the bar right beside him, his big beefy arm braced against the marble.

  “Meaning?” Kyler said, the other man’s tone raising his hackles.

  Quinton tilted his head and gave him a hard look. “Saw Mia on her way out a few minutes ago.”

  Griffin put the amber-filled tumbler down in front of Kyler. “Mia’s a sweetheart,” the bartender said. “Sure hope she joins full time.”

  “You knew she was a temp?” Kyler asked. How had Griffin known that but he hadn’t? Kyler couldn’t decide if he was pissed to have let that catch him off guard, or if it was a blessing in disguise. Because now he wouldn’t have to keep fighting himself to stay away from her—and losing.

  “You didn’t?” Griffin’s expression was skeptical, then incredulous. “I guess you two weren’t doing a whole lotta talking.”

  Kyler tossed back a swig of the liquor, the heat tearing down his throat a needed distraction from the shit storm in his head.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about her joining,” Quinton said, his light brown gaze not letting up one bit. “She didn’t seem too happy when she left.”

  What had Quinton seen or heard to make him come to that determination? Guilt slashed through Kyler, and worry, too. Goddamnit.

  “Why? What the hell happened?” Griffin demanded, looking between the two men, anger rolling off of him. The guy had a raw spot when it came to a submissive being hurt or injured, one that he’d come by honestly.

  “Dunno. Was hoping Master Kyler might shed some insight on that.” Quinton raised an eyebrow.

  “Kyler?” Griffin asked, nailing him with a dark stare. “What am I missing here? Why was she unhappy?”

  Barely restraining a groan, Kyler took another drink. “She can’t afford the membership.”

  Griffin froze, a confused expression on his face. “Can’t afford…? But aren’t you…” Kyler didn’t need him to finish the thought. When a Dom claimed or collared a sub, he would pick up the membership costs for her. Clearly, the fact that Kyler had dominated Mia’s time here had been noticed. And conclusions about what that meant had been drawn.

  “Yeah, I kinda thought so, too,” Quinton said, that damn eyebrow still arched.

  “I don’t do relationships. You know this,” Kyler said, a big rock parked in his gut. The last thing he wanted to be doing was publicly hashing out the mess he’d made with Mia. He knew perfectly well what he’d done. And his chest felt fucking hollow for having done it. “So you thought wrong.”

  “That’s some bullshit right there, Kyler. But tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, I guess.” Quinton turned toward Griffin. “Gimme a bottle of water, Griffin?”

  “You know what, Quinton? When I need a life coach, I’ll fucking hire one.” Kyler emptied his glass and slammed it down on the bar.

  “Yeah? By the time you do, one of the best things you ever had will be long gone. But suit yourself.” Quinton grabbed the water and saluted Griffin with the bottle. “Thanks,
G.” He walked away.

  “Damnit,” Kyler said, feeling like an asshole. He was batting zero tonight, wasn’t he? He looked up to find Griffin staring at him. “What?”

  Griffin scratched at his jaw. “Saw that scene you did with her. The one where you took her while watching my demo. And I’ve seen you play with other submissives, too. Mia? You and her are like two sides of a coin. Perfectly fucking matched. She’s the one you keep, Kyler. She’s the one you collar. Take it from someone who let the right one get away.” He stayed for just another moment, his whole expression darkening, and then he moved down the bar to take someone else’s order.

  Christ, if he wanted to be hassled, he could take an extra shift riding his desk waiting for Breslin or that IA prick to rain some shit down on him. But that was the problem with having a bunch of Doms for your best friends—none of them could resist telling you what to do. For fuck’s sake.

  Worse? His heart said they were right, while his gut said his heart was being selfish.

  But, damnit, he’d let her go, and she’d been upset.

  That cut through him like a jagged knife. He’d failed Mia tonight, as both a man and a Dom.

  And maybe that was the best reason of all just to let her go.

  Chapter 9

  The bar had Mia’s favorite mojito, made with real crushed strawberries and sweet, crumbly sugar all around the edge of the glass. She was on her third and feeling fine. Well, as fine as she could feel four days after she realized she’d fallen for a man, a Dom, who didn’t want her back.

  “Finish that and let’s dance,” Dani yelled, the volume necessary despite the fact that they were sitting right next to each other. Located down by the Inner Harbor, the bar was one of those awesome joints that went from a cool, relaxed vibe at happy hour to a hip, happening after-hours party at night. Music thumped out a beat that made you want to move, and the lyrics begged to be sung at the top of her lungs. Mia’s bestie had come up from Washington for the weekend on a lift-Mia’s-spirits campaign after hearing what’d happened with Kyler. Or, rather, not happened. Friday night, Dani had allowed them to stay in and devour large quantities of ice cream while watching chick flicks. But tonight, she’d insisted they get dressed up to the nines and go out on the town.

  The campaign was working.

  Mia was having fun and not thinking about Kyler. Mostly.

  Oh, who was she kidding? But she was having fun.

  Mia took a big swallow, emptying her glass. “Okay, chica. Let’s do it.”

  “Woohoo!” Dani shouted, slipping off the chair and grabbing Mia’s hand. They wound their way through the crowd, Dani already dancing as she guided them, until they found a spot in the center of the floor.

  Mia let the music wrap around her and move her body, colored lights flashing over her in the darkness, a strobe making the room feel like it was spinning. Her skirt was short but full, and it swished around her thighs, another layer of dizzying sensation. It was awesome. Just what she needed. Freeing and exhilarating.

  A man came up behind Dani and leaned his face toward her ear. He was good-looking, with light brown skin and dark, wavy hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it. Tall, too. Dani nodded to him and gave Mia an Oh, my God look. Mia laughed and nodded.

  One song morphed into another, the beat grinding, sensual, sex set to music. Dani and her new Latin friend were getting into it, enough that Mia was thinking about using the bathroom as an excuse to give them some alone time. And then someone pressed up close behind her.

  Mia glanced over her shoulder into the smiling, interested eyes of a man just a little taller than her. He was attractive enough, though she didn’t find him hot, but he had a great smile and could seriously dance. Throwing caution to the wind, she turned toward him and followed his lead. Soon, she found herself grinning and really having fun as his antics, moves, and purposely funny expressions made her throw her head back and laugh.

  She knocked into someone as she moved, and then hands settled on her waist. Her gaze whipped to the side, anger at the stranger’s presumptuousness on the tip of her tongue.

  “You want him, Mia?”

  She recognized the voice in her ear before she laid eyes on the speaker.

  Master Kyler.

  “Do you?” he asked, dark eyes absolutely blazing, his hands gripping her more firmly, his body moving behind hers.

  She couldn’t pull away despite the chaos erupting in her brain—over the fact that he was here, over the feelings of relief, rightness, and heat rushing through her blood, over the fact that she didn’t want to feel anything at all, not if he didn’t want her back. “What if I do?” she called over the music.

  “You don’t,” he gritted out, tugging her against him to find his cock hard against her lower back. His hands slid upward, inch by slow inch, until they were right beneath her breasts and she ached for him to grab her there. Their bodies moved together, falling into a shared rhythm.

  The music changed, the song erupting into an arousing, driving beat that conjured up images of sweaty bodies and twisted sheets. The dance floor went wild. The man with the nice smile and nicer moves offered her a little bow, his gaze flashing to Kyler behind her, before fading away into the press of bodies.

  She whirled in Master Kyler’s embrace. “You don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t want, Kyler.” Her belly flipped to say his name that way. But he wasn’t her Master, was he?

  His arms banded around her and his hands moved over her back, holding her close, staking a claim. At least, that’s how it felt. But she didn’t trust it.

  “Maybe I don’t,” he said, hauling her into him, his thigh pushing between hers, forcing her flowy skirt up to bare more of her legs. The way he moved—the way he moved her—had her brain thinking about all the other times he’d been between her legs, thrusting, grinding, penetrating. Her core clenched at the frustratingly light friction, wanting more, needing more. Of him. “But what if I’d like to have a say?”

  What the hell did that mean? She pushed at his chest. His closeness made it too hard to think. But he wouldn’t let her go. “Mast—” She shook her head, exasperated and overwhelmed. “Kyler, what are you even doing here?”

  Blue eyes blazing, his expression was full of that intensity she loved. He leaned his mouth to her ear. “Bachelor party. Was on the way out when I saw you. The others just left. I told them I’d catch up.”

  She frowned. “Why…why did you do that?”

  He got right in her face, their hips grinding together as he guided them, his erection obvious against her. “Because the woman I can’t stop thinking about is here.”

  Mia’s heartbeat kicked up inside her chest. Don’t get sucked in. “Really.”

  His hand on her back pressed her closer, so close that her breasts crushed against his chest. “Really. She’s here and she looks fucking gorgeous and she dances like a goddess intent on bringing me to my knees.”

  A shiver ran over her skin. At the grit in his voice. At the mental image of him kneeling before her. But Mia didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t want to read anything into the coincidence of them running into one another. That’s all it was. “I’m with a friend.”

  His face fell into a scowl. “That guy?”

  “My girlfriend,” she said, nodding over his shoulder.

  Kyler followed her gaze to where Dani was still obviously into the same man who’d started dancing with her several songs before. “It looks like she’ll be entertained for a little while,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” she said, trying to remain detached despite the fact that he’d made her wet. Damn him.

  His hand slid into her long, loose hair, and lightly fisted at the nap of her neck. “Fuck them. I want to be with you.”

  Oh, God, she was on the verge of climbing him, she really was. And that made her mad. Why did he have to have such power over her body? “Well, what if I don’t want to be with you? You were
kind of an asshole, you know.”

  He gave a rueful grin, and that was sexy, too. “Not kind of, Mia. Total. I was a total asshole. And every day since, I’ve regretted our last conversation. I fucked it up.”

  Her belly flipped in surprise. Suddenly, a popular dance song came on that had everyone singing and calling out the words. More bodies pressed into the tight space. It was deafening and a little suffocating.

  “Would you go upstairs with me? Little easier to talk,” Kyler said, pressing his face to hers.

  Mia debated. But who was she kidding? He was here, he was interested, and he’d apologized. She should at least hear him out. So she nodded. And tried to ignore the thrill that shot through her body from the way that Kyler held her hand. Finding Dani in the crowd, Mia gestured toward upstairs. Dani winked and grinned obnoxiously. Mia rolled her eyes and mentally prepared for the grilling sure to happen later.

  Keeping her body close to his, Kyler guided Mia to the steps leading upstairs. In the front of the bar, a balcony of seating ran all the way around the dance floor, overlooking it. Further back, black curtains hung from the ceiling creating seating areas, some with bigger groups of chairs and couches and some with more intimate spaces comprised of only a love seat and a table. Waiters moved between the groupings.

  Kyler took them to the back, where they found an empty love seat. The music wasn’t as intrusive here, and the small couch’s position created a bit of privacy. He drew her into the space, and Mia had the chance to really drink him in for the first time. He wore a fine black dress shirt that conformed to his muscles, his strong arms, his broad shoulders, his taut chest. She’d never seen him in slacks before, but he looked fucking hot, polished and refined. A look he wore well.

  “Sit,” he said. “Please.” Mia sank into the soft leather, and Kyler sat close beside her, his body turned toward her.

  Nervous anticipation jangled through her. “So…about you being an asshole…”