by Jenna Jacob
With a growl of frustration, I shoved at his pecs. Of course, I didn’t move him even a fraction of an inch. Grasping my design, he took an obligatory step back.
“First of all, I’d have to feel something toward you to feel the least bit jealous.” I lifted my hand and poked him in the chest.
“So you do feel something toward me. That’s a plus.”
“Shut up,” I spat. “Secondly, why on earth would I feel the least bit threatened? Honey’s a sub. I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.”
“Out!” I yelled. “Get the fuck out of my room!”
“Sam, it’s not a bad thing. You’re losing your shit over a title…a role. You don’t have to choose one side or—”
“You know why I can’t go back to being a… Oh, just get out. Leave. I don’t want or need you trying to convince me I’m something I’m not.”
Shaking with rage, I backed away from him and pointed toward the door as it flew open. Mika, Ink, and Bent-Lee stormed into my room. The trio looked intimidating and fierce, but not half as fierce as the fury blazing in Max’s eyes.
“I believe the lady asked you to leave,” Mika reminded in a calm, even tone.
“I’m not here to hurt Sam. I simply want to talk to her.”
“She’s made it clear that she’s done talking.”
CHAPTER SIX
The man was worse than an overprotective father. Charging into my room in such a way told me he thought me weak and helpless. Instead of extending my thanks—which I knew he wanted to hear—I extended an open palm.
“Stop. I can handle myself, Mika.” Slapping my fists on my hips, I turned toward Max. “It’s best if you go join your friends in the dungeon. Besides, I need to get back to work, anyway.”
“Sammie,” Mika began.
I shook my head. “Mika Emile LaBrache,” I growled in warning. “I don’t want to talk about this or anything else the rest of the night.”
“Fine,” Mika bit out. “But we will discuss this later, Samantha Abigail Radcliffe.”
The corner of Max’s lips twitched. I narrowed my eyes at him, then shot the other three testosterone-laced Neanderthals in my room a scathing glare.
“So will we,” Max assured, undaunted by my visible fury.
“I’d rather talk to a wall, thank you very much.” I mocked both Mika and Max.
After storming out of my room, I charged down the hall. Snapping my boss’s head off wasn’t the smartest decision I’d ever made. But I hoped Mika would take my internal conflict and my caustic attitude with a grain of salt. If not, I could always move in with Mom down in New Orleans. At least I wouldn’t have to see Max again.
How the fuck did my life get so damn complicated?
Behind the bar once more, I watched as Ink and Bent-Lee returned to the dungeon. Mika and Max, however, were nowhere to be found. They were probably upstairs in Mika’s office, sharing a glass of McClelland he kept stashed in his desk drawer and plotting ways to bring me to my knees…literally. Either that or they were in the back parking lot, slugging out who was the better protector of poor lil’ Sammie.
Sammie. Sammie. Sammie. Sometimes it’s not always about you, sugar, the self–righteous voice in my head mocked.
“Oh, shut up!” I snarled.
“I’m sorry, Mistress, but I-I didn’t say a word.” Joe blinked in confusion.
“No. Not you, boy.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand before grabbing a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, I tilted it back and closed my eyes. As I gulped the liquid down, I prayed this clusterfuck of a night would end soon.
I didn’t catch sight of Max or Mika again. By three a.m., the club was nearly empty. Ink and Bent-Lee had enlisted the help of several Doms to escort members to their cars. Per protocol, the extra security was put in place anytime someone’s membership was revoked. None of us put it past Kerr to stir up trouble outside the club now.
After cleaning up, I mopped the floor behind the bar. Joe wiped down the tables and stacked chairs. The DMs pulled the heavy velvet curtains to cover the equipment, in preparation of the arrival of the early-morning cleaning crew.
“Can I walk out with you, Mistress?” Joe asked, looking as exhausted as I felt.
“Sure. I’ll protect you,” I teased with a wink.
“I-I meant I’d…” Joe stammered, then grinned. “Thank you, Mistress.”
As my submissive bodyguard and I reached the metal back door, I darted a glance at the camera fixed above my head. I raised my hand in my nightly wave to Mika, and probably Max, as well, then pushed through the portal and headed to my car.
After a long, hot shower with my favorite honey-almond bath gel, I dried off and crawled into bed. The green iridescent light from the clock radio on my nightstand showed four forty-five. I closed my eyes and fell sound asleep.
Max lightly dragged a finger from between my breasts, up my throat, and past my chin. His warm flesh stilled on my lips and I opened my eyes. He stood before me, wearing nothing but a placid smile and a thick, weeping erection poised near my mouth. Licking my lips, I tore my gaze from his cock and sent him a beseeching stare.
“What is it you want, my beautiful slut?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
“To please you, Master,” I whispered shyly.
I realized I was naked and on my knees. Thighs spread wide with my palms splayed open atop my thighs. I drew a hand to my throat. It was naked, as well, and a pang of sorrow swelled within.
“Soon, pretty slave. You’ll wear my collar soon.”
My heart nearly burst with joy at his promise.
“Open your lips for me, Samantha. I need to feel your sinful mouth,” Max whispered as he sank his wide fingers into my hair and tilted my head back. “You’re so fucking gorgeous…so perfect and pleasing, my precious pet.”
Gazing up at him without remorse or guilt, I parted my lips and offered my tongue as a pillow for his shaft. I studied the hard lines of uncompromising muscles along his abs and chest, the masculine outline of his jaw, and the sensual bow of his mouth.
Sliding his thick, throbbing cock between my lips, Max hissed as he slowly fed me each spine-tingling inch. His wide crest prodded the back of my throat as he cupped my chin.
“Worship your Master’s cock, beautiful,” he whispered beguilingly.
The heat of serenity enveloped me as I made love to his length with my mouth. I met his thrusts with the swirl of my tongue as Max grunted and moaned in delight. His sounds of pleasure fed the starving submissive within. I gorged on him while I drowned my One in all the love and devotion blazing in my soul.
All too soon, he issued a feral growl. Gripping my hair, he jerked his cock from between my lips. Gripping his wet, swollen shaft, Max pumped himself in quick uneven strokes. He cried out my name, and his thick, pungent streams jettisoned onto my chin, over my breasts, and dripped onto my thighs. The slippery heat scalded my flesh and reinforced his claim of me while tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks.
His chest heaved with each labored breath, and as his smoky green eyes slowly began to focus, Max sent me a smile so bright it dimmed the sun. Swiping his fingers across my chin, he gathered his seed. I smiled, proud of the joy I had brought him. Dutifully, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue as I cleaned his offering from his fingers.
“Such a good girl,” he praised in a low sigh filled with love.
Suddenly, the door burst open. All the submissives of the club stood peering into my bedroom wearing looks that ranged from shock and sadness to disgust. Tears spilled down Eli’s cheeks while Destiny threw her head back and cackled in an evil, sickening tone.
“How could you betray me like this, Mistress?” Eli wailed. “I trusted you! I put my life in your hands!”
“Quiet, boy!” Max roared. “I’m Samantha’s One now. You will show her the respect she deserves.”
“I did once,” Eli screamed defiantly.
A dark shadow pushed through the throng of subs. When the man
stepped into the light of the room and raised his head, I screamed.
“Why do you kneel for another, Samantha? I’m your forever One.” Desmond’s voice was teemed in anguish and heartbreak.
“No!” The scream tore from my throat as I bolted upright in bed.
Sweating.
Shaking.
Tears streamed down my face.
I lunged out of bed, raced to the bathroom, and flipped on the light. As I stumbled to the sink, I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the brightness. Peering into the mirror, I shook my head. The reflection staring back at me was of a woman I didn’t recognize. Her eyes were rife with guilt and fear, haunted in a way I hadn’t seen since 2001. The dream—“dream nothing,” I scoffed, “that thing was a fucking nightmare.”—had annihilated me.
Max wanted…no, needed a sub, but I’d never be able to fill that role. The peace and serenity that had enveloped me in my nocturnal fantasy couldn’t erase the grizzly consequences if I… No. I couldn’t. The risk of being shunned by the submissives or condemned by a few pious Doms was only partly the reason I kept my compliance chained and gagged. I was terrified that kneeling at Max’s feet would disgrace and tarnish Desmond’s memory. That would lead to a total emotional meltdown, and I knew it. Yet I couldn’t erase the familiar serenity that filled me as I knelt at Max’s feet in my dream. I was more terrified than ever.
There’s no going back, Samantha, the little voice in my head reminded once more.
That sliver of insight didn’t stop me from yearning. I ached to feel my submissive splendor again.
You can’t always have what you want.
“No shit!” I scoffed at my nagging conscious. I had to find contentment with the things I had…once more.
“Damn you, Max! Damn you for stirring this hopelessness up inside me.” The words tore from my mouth as I balled up my hand and slammed it against the sink. Pain shot up my arm. I remembered punching Max. His stomach gave as much as the porcelain…not at all! Remembering his shocked expression made me choke on a watery laugh.
Turning on the faucet, I bent and splashed cool water over my face before returning to the bedroom. The sheets lay in a rumpled heap just as they’d been after Max and I’d made love.
“You didn’t make love. You fucked. Big difference,” I chided.
No matter how big, bad, and bold I wanted to be, the fallout from my dream left me bruised and tender. Instead of crawling between the sheets to torture myself with Max’s scent, I padded to the kitchen.
From the pantry, I plucked out a bottle of tequila. Bypassing the lime and salt, I drew down a glass and poured a healthy swallow. I tossed back the first shot and savored the bitter burn as it smoothed its way down and warmed my belly. The second swig sent a shudder through me. The tequila burned hot. The residual heat of my dream was hotter and more beautiful than the sweeping brush of orange and blue sunrise that painted the morning sky. I twisted the cap back on the liquor, walked back to my room, and crawled into bed. Max’s scent was everywhere. Pulling the sheet to my face, I savored his lingering presence meshed within the thread count as it caressed my flesh.
I wrapped the memory of Max around me and fell asleep. Thankfully, I didn’t dream, but when I awoke, I felt empty…almost hollow. Determined to keep the blues at bay, I downed my coffee, tucked my phone into the surround-sound speakers, and got to work. I sorted and started the laundry, cleaned the bathrooms, dusted, and vacuumed.
Throughout the day, I wondered if Max would even show up for our date after the hateful way I’d behaved last night. Fear brought out the worst in me. But then I was confident he already knew that. Max was too observant, bold, brazen, and in command to be swayed by my unruly temper. At seven on the dot, he’d be outside ringing my bell. Of course, that wasn’t the bell I wanted him to ding.
“God help me, I’m in way over my head.”
When the house was spotless, I darted to my bathroom and relaxed beneath a piping-hot shower. After drying my hair, I added a touch of makeup before sliding on a pair of soft, faded blue jeans and a tank top. Glancing at the clock, I was shocked to discover I’d spent more time primping than I’d thought. It was five till seven. I left my heels in the closet and quickly slipped on a pair of sandals—Sunday was my guilty pleasure day of comfort.
Just as I’d expected, at seven o’clock on the nose, the doorbell rang. I answered to find Max in faded jeans, a white cotton tee, and a pair of flip-flops as well. Evidently, he enjoyed comfort, too.
“I’m glad you didn’t get dressed up all fancy and shit.” He grinned.
“I wasn’t sure where we were going, so I went with really relaxed casual. Looks like I made the right choice, huh?” I flashed him a sassy smile. “Come on in.”
As he stepped past me, Max dragged his knuckles down my cheek, then bent and brushed a kiss to my lips. He cocked his head and looked down at my feet. “Did you shrink?”
“You’re funny,” I said with a sarcastic edge.
“I know, but you’re not laughing. When they put you together—and they did a fine job, I might add—I think they forgot to put in your funny bone.”
I bit my lips together trying not to grin. “They must have given you mine.”
“I’ll give it back. It’s not a funny bone, but it’s a bone, all right.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You’ve been using that line since third grade, haven’t you?”
“Fifth, actually. I didn’t know what my junk was for prior to that.”
“Fifth grade?” I blinked. “You’ve been boning girls since fifth grade?”
“No. Seventh.”
“I don’t want to know. Are you going to feed me, or are we going to spend all night discussing your sexual prowess?”
“Only if we can talk about yours, too?”
“No. Your sexcapades are undoubtedly more extensive.”
“I’m not sure I want to compare notes, anyway. I’m liable to get jealous.”
A low laugh of disbelief rumbled from the back of my throat. “You don’t seem like the jealous kind.”
“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.”
I slung the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “I know everything I need to about you, Maximus Gunn.”
“Perceptions can be far different from reality.”
The double entendre wrapping his words did not go unnoticed. “Trying to push my buttons already? We haven’t even left the house.”
He flashed me that devilish smile that made my pussy weep. “I can’t help it. You’re too much fun.”
I pressed the tip of my glittery fuchsia-polished fingernail beneath his chin and sent him a cocky smile. “So are you, when your mouth’s on my pussy and you can’t talk.”
The twinkle in his fern-green eyes told me he enjoyed the banter. “Peel off those jeans and I’ll shut the fuck up real fast. You’ll be the only one making noise. I just love all the sexy sounds you make when you’re building up to explode.”
“Take me to dinner. We’ll discuss dessert later.”
Max drew back his hand and slapped me on the ass. My eyes grew wide as I bit back a yelp. The slow burn made my pussy even wetter. It took everything I had not to close my eyes and savor the sting. Instead, I sent him an evil glare. “Don’t ever spank my ass again.”
“Then don’t tell me what to do. I stopped taking orders when I retired from the Marines six months ago.” He arched his brows as if daring me to challenge him.
Touché.
“Point taken,” I conceded. “Just remember, you’re the one who started poking first.”
“I like hearing you moan and whimper when I poke you.” A crooked smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. He pulled me against him and rolled his hips, pressing his erection between my legs.
“Good lord,” I purred. “Is that M-16 you’re packing always ready for action?”
“Only when I’m around you, Sam.”
Visions of surrendering to him crowded my mind. It would
be so easy to kneel at his feet, but the fallout would be brutal. Tensing, I could feel him combing through my psyche, searching for my unease.
When our stomachs growled in tandem, he chuckled. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” I was ready for anything, except his discerning stare. “I’ll drive.”
Max smirked. “No. I will.”
I rolled my eyes as we walked toward the door. “That wasn’t a ploy for control, Conan.”
“Oh, really?” he scoffed.
“Really. In know you’re new to the city, I was simply trying to be helpful.”
“Dylan’s car has GPS. I typed in the address to the restaurant already.”
After opening the door of Dylan’s Lexus, Max extended his hand to me. Though his gesture was purely chivalrous, I was capable of plopping my ass onto the seat. I bit my tongue and accepted his assistance before sliding onto the buttery-soft leather. Fastening my seat belt, I watched Max jog around the car and climb in behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?”
“To a steak place Nick recommended. It’s called Sully’s.” Max darted a glance at me. “You okay with steak?”
“More than okay. I love red meat and I’m starving.”
We continued bantering, landing little digs here and there, but as soon as Max brought up Honey’s name, the playful humor inside me vanished.
“We negotiated and I gave her what she needed, Sam. That’s it.”
“I know.” Well, my brain did, but my heart wasn’t listening. “I was surprised that she asked for sexual release from you because—”
“Because she barely knew me?” he finished. I nodded. “It surprised me, as well, until I learned during our negotiation that she has a stranger fetish.”
I was stunned. “She does?”
“Yes. Evidently she’s been mentally pretending that she doesn’t know any of the Doms when they scene with her. Honey’s a smart girl; she knows exactly what flips her trigger, but she’s not careless enough to pick up guys at bars to live out her fantasy.” Max shrugged. “She’s been improvising in a safe way.”
“That’s good to know. And yes, she is a sweet sub. I’ve worked her a few times myself. Next time, I’ll dig a little deeper and see if she’ll open up so I can help feed her fantasy a bit.”