Page 13 of The Sadist and the Brat

“I need someone who isn’t afraid to talk during the scene,” he was saying, and she forced herself to pay attention. “As much as the audience is watching what I’m doing, they’re also watching how the bottom reacts.”

“Nikki’s quiet,” Sadie pointed out.

“Nikki volunteered for the demo because she’s trying to get more involved in the scene, and she’s trying to build her confidence around playing in public.” He shrugged. “And I can usually get a reaction out of even a shy bottom.”

“I’ll bet,” she muttered, and he smiled again.

It wasn’t a gentle smile, or even a happy one. It was the kind of smile that nature documentaries captured on sharks and crocodiles right before they devoured their hapless prey. It made the breath catch in her throat and the hair on the back of her neck stand up and launched a thousand butterflies in her stomach.

Holy crap,she thought, and tried to hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” she managed.

“Am I canceling, or are you filling in?”

“You’re actually giving me a choice?”

“You’re an adult, Sadie. I can’t actually make you do something you don’t want to do.”

“I’m aware,” she snapped, the hint of mocking in his tone putting some starch back in her spine. “You don’t want me to do this, anyway.”

“I don’t?” He looked intrigued, and faintly amused. “Why not?”

“You think I’m a brat.”

His expression didn’t change. “You are a brat.”

“And I think you’re a stuffed shirt,” she shot back.

He smiled wider, making his eyes crinkle and a dimple pop in his cheek. The damn thing was so deep she could see it through the thick pelt of his beard. “And you don’t play with stuffed shirts.”

She ignored the dimple and the crinkles and crossed her arms over her chest, not caring anymore if she looked defensive. “This isn’t a scene, it’s a demo.”

“If it’s not a scene, then what are we arguing about?”

Well, I backed ass first into that one.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asked, looking serious for the first time, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie.

“No.” He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d annoy her, and he’d make her feel things she didn’t want to feel, but he wouldn’t hurt her. And she knew better than to say what she said next, she really did. But she was feeling off balance and cornered and the words just spilled out before she could stop them. “But I’m not interested in being bored.”

The gleam that came into his eyes had her stomach dropping to her knees. “Bored?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I just meant we’re incompatible. Kink wise. Play wise.”

“Incompatible,” he murmured, the light of challenge in his eyes not fading even a little bit.

“So really,” she went on, desperate for a way out, “it would be better if you found someone else. I’m sure Nikki would understand.”

“You don’t think I can make it fun for you.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was waiting for an answer. And since she couldn’t tell him the truth, she lied to his face. “No.”

“Hmmm.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. He just watched her, silent and stoic, the gleam in his eye threatening to stretch her nerves to the breaking point. She tried to stare him down, but meeting his gaze was making her even more jittery. With excuses circling in her head and a sinking sensation in her belly that felt alarmingly like disappointment, she started to stand.

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