Page 32 of Master

“Nothing,” I huff.

“Did you seriously just deny that poor girl over the phone?” Conor asks, not taking my overt hint to drop the matter.

“You listened to the whole call,” I snark. “Do you really need to ask that?”

“I’m over here trying to see if it’s actually possible to cause one of these women to orgasm to death, and you’re not letting her come on purpose? Hasn’t she been through enough?” Conor snarkily jests.

“Because you’re so fucking nosy, what”—I air quote—“she’s been through, is why I am doing what I am.” I take a seat at the bar, and Conor eagerly takes the seat beside me, clearly expecting me to elaborate on my prior statement.Something I was not planning on doing.“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Conor responds, with an exaggerated shake of his head.

“And fuck,” Finn grabs a seat as well, “As a proud member of the How Many Times Can I Make Her Come Club, I’m also fucking intrigued.”

Why couldn’t my parents have given me sisters? Ones who would only be interested in whether she was emotionally okay…

“After what happened to her here, common fucking sense should make it pretty clear to all of you that I can’t play with her as I would with pretty much anyone else. I’m hesitant to so much as break out a crop with her until I know for certain she trusts me,” I explain.

“And edging her, of all things, is going to help her to trust you?” Conor scoffs.

“Yes,” I answer matter-of-factly. “I was very clear before the wand was even switched on that she would not be coming, andI upheld my word. She chose to obey me and is expecting to be rewarded for doing so, which she will be.”

Eventually.

“It’s small steps to prove to her that I’ll do what I promise. I want her to be comfortable with me, so she knows when she calls ‘red’ that I’ll stop for her. Seriously, have neither of you ever trained a sub before?” The two of them stare at me, and I suddenly feel like I’m teaching a beginner’s class in dominance. Turning my attention to Finn, I rhetorically ask, “Didn’t youjustmarry a girl with zero lifestyle experience?”

“I think we all know that Cat trained his arse,” Conor laughs as he nudges Finn.

“The whole time that the lot of you gave me shit for giving up sex, I was spending hours every night sitting on the sidewalk with Cat. Talking all night, getting to know her and earning her trust,” Finn shares. “So, I get what you’re saying.”

“Plus, Liam likes her,” Tristan teases from a nearby seat.

“For fuck’s sake,” I snip.

“What?” Tristan shrugs. “You killed Isaac for her the night you met. More correctly, I watched youenjoytorturing a man for hours for her.”

Feeling my face fill with anger just thinking about his name carved into her thigh, I snarl, “If any of you had seen what that piece of shit did to her, you would’ve fucking killed him, too.”

“I know any of us would’ve beat him to death, but what you did… That was personal,” Tristan presses.

Sometimes, I hate how well we all know each other.

I was going to beat the fucking piss out of him for what he did to Sasha. After spending a few short hours with her, thoughts of pummeling my fists into his face until one of us broke was no longer enough. He deserved to experience the death he nearly took her life with.Shedeserved to know that he left this world with the understanding that she was the reason I was denying him his final breath.

“Killing him wasn’t enough, though, was it? Because you pushed to move her into your place two days later. And I’m going to assume if you’re listening to her not come over the phone, it’s because you’ve had the pleasure of enjoying it firsthand. So, you’re clearly fucking her,” Tristan continues with his musings. “I knew Layla was mine before the end of our first date. Finn fucking gave up strippers the minute he bumped into Catlin. None of us will judge you for admitting you might actually like her.”

“It’s not like that.” I shake my head, continuing to deny—mostly to myself—what he’s saying.

“That’s the only rebuttal you have?” Tristan chuckles. “Very convincing.”

“Let him alone,” Declan gruffs, and I’m relieved to have one of my brothers on my side. My relief is short-lived when he continues, “It took me nearly two years to admit to myself that I still loved Quinn?—”

“I don’t love her,” I interrupt, quickly realizing how defensive my brash statement sounds.

It’s not a lie.

I don’t love her.

I just can’t stop fucking thinking about her… Wanting to take care of her… Worrying about her…

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