Page 15 of The Sadist and the Brat

“It’s not a problem if you do,” he told her with a wink that made her want to punch him. “But it’s not my goal.”

“What is your goal?”

“To demonstrate how to take an ordinary household object and turn it into a BDSM toy,” he said simply. “And have some fun.”

She stared at him, trying to figure his angle. She didn’t for a minute think he was sincere about wanting to do a scene with her, which meant this was some kind of power play. She couldn’t see the end game, though, and that was unusual. People were transparent, their motives and agendas never as hidden as they thought they were, and most of the time she could see the end game before the first move.

But she couldn’t see his.

Clearly unbothered by her narrow-eyed stare, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Clock’s ticking, pet.”

“I’m not your pet,” she said, keeping the snap out of her tone through sheer effort.

He inclined his head. “Clock’s ticking, Sadie. If you’re in, we need to get set up for the demo. If you’re not, I need to make the announcement that it’s canceled.”

He held out a hand, palm up. “What’s it going to be?”

This is a terrible idea, she told herself, staring at his hand.Absolutely the worst.If she had any sense, she’d tell him to eat bees and go sit at the bar to watch Olivia make virgin cocktails until it was time to leave.

And that was exactly what she planned to do, right up until she opened her mouth. “I assume you have rules.”

“I have one rule.”

“Just one?” If that was true, she’d eat her couch. “What is it?”

“Obey me.”

She snorted before she could help it. “That’s it?”

“I like to keep it simple.” He cocked an eyebrow, hand still extended. “Well?”

She didn’t know if he actually meant to sound challenging or if she just took it that way, but either way, the result was the same. She slipped her hand into his, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

She saw a brief flare of triumph in his dark eyes, but he only nodded. “Demo starts in fifteen,” he said, cool as a cucumber, “so we better get going.”

Trapped by her own ego and by his firm, warm grip on her hand, she fell into step beside him and wondered what the hell she was getting herself into.

Chapter Two

Jack strode across the warehouse, Sadie at his side. He didn’t need to hold on to her—though she was all but vibrating with energy, he knew she wouldn’t run. She’d given her word, not just to him, but to Nikki, and one thing he knew about Sadie Bloom was that she was loyal to a fault, and she kept her promises. She’d made the bet, and she’d follow through no matter how much she was mentally kicking herself for letting her ego override her common sense.

Thank God for competitive subs.

But he liked touching her, so he kept his hand on hers as they wove through the crowd, the light tap of her footsteps echoing his on the concrete. She walked lightly, which he appreciated—most people stomped like elephants without even realizing it—and her steps had an easy rhythm to them. He could picture the movement of her hips in the slight pause between steps, the slow, almost lazy swing of them.

He was most familiar with the rear view. The woman spent an inordinate amount of time walking away from him.

But she was walking with him now and, thanks to a broken ankle, a strong sense of loyalty, and an inability to back down from a challenge, would in very short order be bound and under his hands.

At last.

He’d been wanting to get his hands on her since the first time he’d seen her, looking like a perverted dream come true in her Catholic schoolgirl uniform. She’d worn a crisp white blouse with her tits bursting out, and a skirt so short there was no missing the fact that she hadn’t considered panties to be an essential part of the uniform. Her bright hair had been in pigtails, the ends curled to bounce on her shoulders, her lips painted a deep cherry red. But he’d been late to the party, and she’d already found someone to play angry professor to her sassy student. So someone else had left handprints on her ass and left with her cherry-red lip print on his cock.

Thanks to a work schedule that had gone unexpectedly haywire, it had been months before he saw her next. By the time he’d got things under control and started coming to parties again, she’d become an integral part of their kinky little community. An enthusiastic submissive with a fondness for role-play and costumes, she had no shortage of play partners, and seemed happy to go from Dom to Dom and scene to scene. But over the last month or so, he’d suspected she was getting bored. She’d been spending her time at parties socializing instead of playing, and when she did play, she looked more like she was performing than enjoying herself.

He'd debated asking his friends if they knew what was going on but had decided against it. He’d made the mistake a few months back of telling them he felt ready to find a partner and settle down, and the teasing had started up immediately. Which didn’t bother him—it was par for the course in a small, insular community like theirs—but the offers to set him up had struck fear into his heart.

The last thing he needed was his friends—or their partners—playing matchmaker. If they knew he was interested in Sadie, speculation would run wild, and he wasn’t quite ready to tip his hand yet. To anyone, but especially to Sadie.

---