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“I was thinking of heading to The Catacombs tonight actually,” she ventured. Maybe she could still salvage this. “To see if I can find someone to play with. It’s been a long time.”
“Really?” His brow quirked.
“Yeah. I’m hoping there’ll be some new people. I’ve played with almost everyone and scared all the usuals away. Poor little things.”
“You haven’t played with me.” Their gazes met in her mirror, and the blatant dare in his made her bite her lip.
She paused. Then smirked. “I doubt you could handle me.”
Chuckling, he shifted in the chair. “Well, that’s a challenge if I ever heard one. Are you a switch?”
“I’m a brat.” It sounded like a warning. Maybe it was one. She was tired of too-serious Doms trying to crush her spirit and turn her into something she wasn’t. And she was tired of the newbies letting her walk all over them then storming away all butthurt when she wouldn’t cooperate.
“I enjoy brats.”
She snorted. “That’s what they all say. Next thing you know, they get all huffy when you tell them their pretty mouths shouldn’t be used for so much lecturing but rather getting busy with other things.”
He barked a laugh. “You’ve actually said that?”
She answered with a cocky smirk.
“You might be a sorry little girl if you got too much of what you asked for.”
Oh fuck. A rush of heat pooled in her pussy, making her knees almost buckle. She pictured it—spread out on a bed, legs wide, Ambrose between them, making her scream for mercy.
She realized she’d frozen with her clippers in midair, staring at their reflection. After setting the clippers down, she cleared her throat. “You don’t believe in playing nice?”
“I can when I want to. But there are times when I don’t want to be nice. Are you the kind of sub who likes to be made into a good girl by a mean Dom?”
“I’m the kind of girl who likes a Dom to have a sense of humor.”
He arched a brow.
Reluctantly, she added, “And to sometimes . . . convince me to be good. Once in a while. When the mood strikes me.” She gave him a sidelong glance.
“Cocky little thing,” he muttered, shifting in his seat again.
She wondered what he kept having to shift down there. But he wasn’t rolling his eyes or sighing at her teasing. Maybe he wasn’t like the others. She wished there was a tactful, smooth way to ask if he wanted to play.
“You’re going tonight?” he asked, rubbing his clean-shaven chin.
She nodded.
“Maybe I’ll go too. We could talk more. If you want.”
A small, giddy smile pushed through her mask of confidence. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” She realized she sounded like a parrot and gave her head a shake. Way to look like a smitten idiot. “I mean, I’m done. What do you think?”
“Sweet.” He turned his head this way and that, but he was looking at her, not his hair.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked while she unclipped the cape.
“Twenty-five.”
He fiddled with his wallet while she brushed off his neck. Frowning, he looked up at her. “Do you have change?”
“Not much. It’s early still.”
“Okay.” He handed her two twenties.
“Oh. Umm.”
“Just keep it.”
“No, I can’t. It’s too much.”
He waved his hand. “Buy me a drink tonight and we’ll call it even.”
That seemed fair. “Alright.”
“Good girl.” He winked.
Bastard. Fuck, he was hot. She placed a hand on her hip and glared, trying not to crack a smile. He rose from the chair, reminding her of his size. Hot in a thuggish, terrifying way.
“Ooooh,” he said, pretending to be scared. “Evil eye. You sure you’re not a switch?”
She shrugged. “I suppose I could be for the right person. You interested in trying?”
“No. I’m one hundred percent dominant.” As a second thought, he added, “But I’m only interested in playing. Not a serious relationship.”
Wasn’t that just her luck? All the good ones had commitment issues. The fiasco with Scott should’ve kept her on guard when it came to relationships but sometimes she still wore her emotions on her sleeve. “That’s fine. I’m not looking for long-term either.” Her uterus said otherwise.
“Great.”
“Great.”
“See you tonight?”
“Yup.”
He smiled wickedly. “See you tonight, Everly.”
Ooh. He remembered her name without being reminded, and the sound of it on his lips made her shiver.
She tossed him back a saucy grin. “I’ll be there around nine. You might want to take a nap first.”
His brow quirked, and for the first time in a long time she wondered if she was in over her head.
Two writers in two countries transform into the writing duo Sparrow Beckett each night after wrangling their housefuls of children and pets. They trade the cape and colorful tights for tattoos and cups of coffee, then set out to create a world where readers fall in love with heroes and the women who willingly go to their knees for them. Masters Unleashed is the product of two kinky minds—who don’t take themselves seriously—and the portrayal of realistic, romantic, and sometimes heartbreaking BDSM relationships. Sparrow also writes as Leia Shaw, and Beckett writes as Sorcha Black.
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