Page 59 of What About Love

“No, you won’t,” T barked, with no vestige of tolerance in tone. “I’m ending this, right now.”

“Who are you, her daddy?”

“What I am is your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t back off right now. You are done.”

All of this was going on behind her back until the grumbling, angry dom came into view. He stalked to his bag. Through a haze of discomfort, with the lash marks still burning hot, Angie watched him store two floggers, one an evil-looking whip with a handful of narrow tails and knotted ends, the other a heavy, ominous-looking one with a multitude of wide black thongs. Neither of them looked like a tool a dom would use on a beginner, as they’d agreed to beforehand.

He packed his gear and stomped to the rope gap, giving Angie an icy glare before leaving. “Damn, newbie. Why did I waste my time?”

As he stepped out of the scene area, two other DMs greeted him.

“Master Eric wants to have a little chat, Gregory,” one advised, as he took his arm.

“Is this the second or third time this week you’ve ignored a sub’s safeword?” the other DM asked. “In either case, I think your membership card is about to be suspended.”

“That’s not fair. It’s noisy, I couldn’t hear...”

Angie flinched. First, it was too late but now, he couldn’t hear her? The lying asshole needed to pick a story and stick to it.

The DMs seemed to agree.

“If you can’t hear a submissive call red, maybe you’re getting too old to play.”

“She called yellow, not red.”

“Oh, so you did hear her. That changes things. Did you hear that, Mac?” he said to the second DM. “I think Greg’s card is about to be revoked.”

She’d twisted as best as she could in her bindings to watch as they hauled him away, so she jumped when fingers brushed her wrists.

“Easy, darlin’,” T murmured from close behind her. “I’ll get you down and we’ll take care of those welts.”

“But, T, this is the perfect time. I’m sure I’ve got his attention. Find me another dom.”

“No, this was enough. You’re done for tonight.” Once freed, he carefully wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest.

Although inwardly glad for his support since her legs were shaky and limp like spaghetti, she still mounted her objections as she slumped against him, convinced this aborted scene wasn’t nearly sufficient. “You’ve got to let me do my job or we’ll never solve this case.”

“Whipping and marking you with a cat wasn’t part of the plan, little bit.”

“Excuse me, Master T.” A distinctive voice, polished and refined, with a hint of a European accent interrupted them. “Master Eric sent me. I’d be delighted to finish the scene with the submissive, if she is willing.”

They both turned to find a tall, slim man with shoulder-length dark-blond hair standing at the opening in the ropes. Classically handsome, Angie thought he could almost be called pretty if not for the ultra-cool pencil mustache and goatee he sported, which included a small soul patch below his lower lip.

Not a huge fan of facial hair, it worked for him in a rakish, sexy way. Not nearly as impressed, T barked his response.

“I’ve called an end to impact play for her tonight.”

“Impact isn’t what I had in mind. I’ve been training with Master Eric and he suggested a more illuminating conclusion to this badly botched scene. The bondage table behind us is available. If the girl is up to it, she can assist me with a demonstration.”

T stiffened against her. She didn’t know this man or what kind of demonstration he was referring to, but if impact was ruled out, she was up to it.

“I need to do this, T,” she whispered against his chest.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“No, is it worse than what Gregory did?”

“No fucking way,” he growled, giving her the impression her burning backside looked as bad as it felt.

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