Page 68 of For the Sub

Many sent signals, subtle as well as overt, that they were available for a hook-up. Truthfully, while those women were beautiful and performed well for his cameras, none of them appealed to him in the way Brandy did.

There was a realness about her. No pretenses. He’d never met anyone like her.

No doubt Damien and Gregorio had warned her not to get involved with him.

If they hadn’t, they’d sure as fuck should have.

Sweet, sweet Brandy might not be safe from him or his black heart.

Another screech grated down his spinal cord. “Go.”

“You sure you still want to spend the night with me?”

“Try getting rid of me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She touched the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him. “You’re amazing, Sir.”

When he opened the door, the cat blazed through the opening. It wound around her ankles in a large, silver ribbon.

Then, seeming to realize she had company, the cat sat and stared at him.

If he believed in personification, he’d say the feline glared.

It tipped its head and looked at him with unblinking yellow eyes. “He’s strange looking.” One ear flopped over. The one that stood was missing a jagged chunk. “Let me guess, he found you, and not the other way around.”

“About a year ago he followed MW through the doggy door, and he hasn’t left since.”

“So your strays are now adopting strays, is that how it works?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Maybe I should feed him,” he said. “Make friends with him.”

“Are you serious, Sir?”

“One hundred percent. He scares the shit out of me, and being on his good side seems prudent.”

“I can’t argue with you.” She laughed.

“Where’s the food?”

“There’s a clear plastic container under the sink. Right-hand side, about halfway back. You’ll find a set of three food bowls near the refrigerator. His is the smallest. I only put in half a scoop since MW will eat whatever Whisper leaves. He’s good at defending what he wants, but after he flicks his tail and walks away, his food becomes fair game. And MW is already chunky enough, as you might have noticed.”

“This is getting complicated, Brandy.”

She looked at him. Her eyes were wide, luminous, intriguing. She worried her lower lip. “Yes, Sir. It is.”

Because of her hesitation in answering, he knew that she understood the subtext. He was talking about so much more than her pets. “Do you have restraints?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Get them out and put them on the nightstand.”

She nodded.

He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. “Will you braid your hair for me?”

“Oh, yes, Sir.”

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