“Do you want a drink or something?” Winter hoped the girl would at least answer a direct question.
Saya’s brows shot up and she glanced furtively at Ramsay, but he was busy talking to Mack about a local band that was doing well lately. She looked back to Winter and shook her head slightly.
Maybe Ramsay was an abusive asshole. Just because a Dom/sub dynamic was automatically where her mind went, didn’t mean it was the case.
Winter felt the men’s eyes turn to them. “Saya, you may speak to Winter.”
The girl flushed. “Thank you, Master.”
“She’s a slave?” Mack asked.
“Submissive, but she calls me Master and won’t budge on it. It’s been years, so I’m used to it now.” He shrugged then chuckled. “You seem to have your hands full with yours.”
“Oh, Winter’s definitely not submissive.”
“Really?” Ramsay walked over to them and looked down at Winter. She glared up at him, eyes narrow. Whatever he was looking for, he wasn’t going to find in her eyes. His intense blue gaze lacked subterfuge and might have been a bit embarrassing, but she knew how to deal with Doms. There were a zillion of them at work, between Cross, Malachi and the guys who hung out at Ink Haven.
“You already have a bitch, and Mack only needs me on my knees for blowjobs.”
His lip twitched in suppressed amusement. “Just because Mack doesn’t want a subdoesn’t mean you aren’t one.”
Winter regarded him with feigned disinterest. “Just because one girl calls you Master doesn’t mean every female is submissive.”
There was a heat in his eyes and Winter met the challenge there without caving and looking away. Unfortunately, her brain found the dangerous interaction interesting. He was a wall of muscle and potential violence – so different than Mack’s sinister seduction. Inside, she barked at her libido to back off.
Ovulating. Definitely ovulating.
“Interesting.” He turned his back on her and walked back to the drum kit. Mack watched her as though the exchange had been hilarious. They’d have to talk about this guy, and Mack was going to have to lay down the law if he was going to stay around. She’d do it herself, but she had a feeling Ramsay wasn’t going to listen to her.
“Booze? Soda?” Winter asked Saya.
“I wouldn’t mind some water,” the girl said meekly.
Briefly, Winter entertained the idea of asking her if she was allowed a glass, or if she needed a bowl on the floor. She kept that thought to herself. There was no reason to be mean. It wasn’t her fault her Dom was an ass.
As for herself, she wanted a real drink.
And, as soon as these fuckers left, a shower.
Chapter Two
She moved to her cushion at his elbow and knelt with grace that only came with years of dance training. The coffee she’d brought was offered up, with her head bowed exactly as he’d taught her so many years ago. He felt the tension in her body even though she would never complain. Saya knew better than to interrupt his breakfast with begging.
Ramsay ate in silence, watching the news, occasionally grimacing at the bullshit the networks expected people to swallow. He watched her sometimes, out of the corner of his eye. Curves and ringlets, and a sweet bow mouth – Saya would have been a daddy-Dom’s wet dream. She was like a little doll, but that wasn’t his kink. To him, she was simply lush and gorgeous and hard to keep his hands off. And so very His. He forced himself to pay attention to the information they were being fed on an uprising somewhere – he’d missed the beginning of the piece.
After a few minutes, when her arms started to tremble a bit from the strain of holding them out so awkwardly, he took partial pity on her and accepted the still-hot beverage from her hands. Automatically, her arms went behind her back and her tits strained forward with the position, distracting him from the program designed to brainwash people.
Was she silently begging? He raised a brow and looked at her. She was the picture of humility and obedience, but her lusty nature sometimes made her naughty.
“Saya, are you trying to get my attention?”
Her soft brown gaze met his and her brow creased. “No, Master. I’m just waiting to see if I can doanythingelse for you before you leave for work.” She was careful to make her voice soft and neutral, but he knew what she really wanted. Being a bastard and teasing her for a long while before kicking her out of bed to make his breakfast meant he was pretty sure he knew what was on her mind.
There was no way Saya could understand how much self control it took to ignore her when she knelt, nude, at his elbow – her rock-hard nipples and quiet, uneven breathing demanding his attention more eloquently than any slut who’d tried to pick him up at a bar after a show.
For him, it had always been her, ever since she’d caught his eye in high school – the shy girl no one spoke to. The one who tried to disappear. She’d bewitched himaccidentally, and he’d pursued her until she gave in, completely confused about why he’d want her, of all people. Even now, girls always surrounded him, trying to get close, touch his hair, or sit on his knee. Saya laughed about it, saying he treated them like flies, brushing them off without thinking. She told him they wanted him even more because he was so aloof, but why would he settle for them when she was his life?
When Ramsay finished his meal, Saya rose and took his dishes to the kitchen. Silently, he followed her and watched her work. As she washed the few remaining dishes, her hips shimmied subtly, her belly rolled, muscles twitched and flexed under her smooth skin. Accidental dancing happened to her a lot, when she was doing other things. It was like an itch she couldn’t ignore. It just happened, like some people bit their nails – she didn’t even know she was doing it most of the time.