Playing Hard to Master (2 page)

Ambrose usually avoided The Catacombs. As BDSM clubs went, it was tolerable, but the owner went for an edgy, dark warehouse look that reminded Ambrose too much of work. Some of the warehouses they delivered to had a similar vibe, minus the bondage equipment.

Konstantin didn’t like it there much, either, but it was the only place in town to play if they didn’t feel like hosting a party. He’d offered to come along as his wingman. Kon’s current girlfriends, Anna and Sindee, had just fucked off to the washroom together, which meant he might get a word in edgewise. It was hard to have a conversation with Kon when he was covered in women, but then, that was his natural state.

“Are you sure she’s going to show?” Kon asked in his thick Russian accent. He may have moved to America when he was eight, but the accent had never faded. As a kid, he’d hated it and tried hard to get rid of it, but as an adult he’d decided he no longer gave a shit.

“No, she may not.” Ambrose chuckled. “She gave me a haircut and the next thing I knew we were in the middle of this bratty verbal sparring match. After I left, maybe she realized I’m not what she wants.”

“What woman wouldn’t want a goon as a play partner?” Konstantin mocked. “You have the intimidation factor going for you, even though you’re hideous.”

“I’m not that intimidating.”

Konstantin barked a laugh. “Anna was too terrified to speak in your presence for weeks.”

“Bullshit. With the crazy shit you’re into, I doubt Anna is afraid of much.” Ambrose leaned back in his chair and watched the crowd, looking for Everly. Hot, bratty, smart, with curves that made his palms itch to touch her. She was even mouthier than Shae had been.

What would she wear? If she showed up dressed like a schoolgirl he’d be a lost cause. Real schoolgirls did nothing for him, but a kinky girl dressed up as one . . . giving him the come-hither look . . . add some pigtails . . .

Then, like magic, there she was. Purple lacy corset, the same shade as the streaks in her hair, a short black flared skirt. Funky leggings, and boots that would suit a dominatrix. Fuck. The girl was full of attitude, and it made him crazy.

The girl was bad news.

Konstantin had been speaking but paused. “Ambrose, stop!”

His words pulled Ambrose up short, just as he was about to get to his feet and go to her.

“What?”

“I can tell you just spotted her. Get that look off your face or you’ll scare her.”

What the hell was he talking about? “What look? I don’t have a look. I’m just going over to say hi.”

Kon snorted. “You look like you’re going to throw her on the bar and fuck her. Try to be less obvious.”

“Obvious usually works just fine for me.”

Konstantin grimaced and waved Ambrose away. “Then, for your sake, I hope she doesn’t scare easily.”

She hadn’t seen him yet. He rose and pushed his way amiably through the crowd while thinking about Kon’s advice. He tried looking friendly instead of intense, but when people started flinching away from him, he guessed it wasn’t working. It’d been too long since he’d fucked a woman on a bar. Or against a wall or on a bed, for that matter. Plenty of women had tried, but for the past few months he’d cut himself off. No wonder he couldn’t manage an expression other than horny. This was the first girl he’d been seriously attracted to in a long time.

His track record had sucked for the past couple of years.

Shae had left him first, and then Kate. Shae had been his, though, and so he’d given himself permission to be a moping ass about her leaving him. Admittedly, it was so long ago now that maybe it was just a habit.

Kate, on the other hand, was his best friend’s slave and soon-to-be wife. Half falling in love with her when he was trying to get her and Banner back together had, in hindsight, been stupid and self-destructive. He’d known they were going to patch things up eventually, but sleeping with Banner’s exes had become so second nature that he’d fallen into the same old pattern. He seemed to have an involuntary attraction to dysfunctional relationships.

Everly’s back was to him. She was watching a bound and suspended sub writhe and scream as she was tickled by a grinning Dom. Although he was close enough to touch Everly, he watched her watching the scene, enjoying her expressions and reactions. A perfume company could make a fortune selling her pheromones.

Don’t think about fucking her on the bar.

Damned Konstantin. Like he needed any more ideas about what he’d like to do to the poor girl.

He moved up beside her instead of touching her shoulder to get her attention. There was no knowing if she had triggers, and he didn’t want to fuck this up.

Almost immediately, she turned her gaze to him, but had to look up to see his face. He hadn’t realized how much taller he was.

Her eyes rounded, and for a second he was worried she was going to run away screaming.

“Oh . . . hi!” Her laugh sounded slightly nervous, but then she smiled and drew him away from the scene.

“Hi. See something you like?”

“Um . . .” Her cheeks turned pink enough to notice even in the low light.

“I meant the scene you were watching.”

She laughed loud, a rippling sound that made him want to laugh too. “For a minute, I thought you were fishing for a compliment.”

He snorted. “Yes, well, I have major self-esteem issues because my friends are always reminding me that I’m ugly. I have to ask pretty girls to feed my poor, starving ego.”

“Aww . . . poor little ego. I would pat it for you, but I’m not that kind of girl.” Her impish grin suggested that if he played his cards right, he might change her mind.

“I was wondering if you were actually going to show up.”

“I said I would. If I weren’t interested, I would have said no.”

She shifted her stance, wincing a bit then looking down at her shoes. He knew enough about fashion to guess the heels were probably uncomfortable. Where were his manners? He wasn’t doing a good job impressing her. “Do you want to sit down? I’m at a table with Konstantin and his women.”

“Sitting sounds good.” She smiled.

They went back to the table, where Ambrose introduced the three of them. After a few pleasantries, Kon and his girls wandered off to play. As they left, Konstantin passed behind Everly and gave Ambrose the thumbs-up.

Idiot. Some wingman. He was making things a little obvious, leaving them alone so soon.

“So how was the rest of your day?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Cut a million people’s hair, got a few tips. Then I went home and took a bath, and now I’m here.”

“No dinner?”

She snorted. “You look so horrified.”

He thought of the herb-butter-rubbed prime rib he’d had earlier. “You don’t understand how much I love food.”

“Do I look like I miss a lot of meals?” Everly laughed. “Don’t respond to that. It’s a trap.”

Honestly, she looked edible. It would probably be creepy to tell her that though.

“So you’re a foodie?” she asked.

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Yeah, I’m not in a position to eat out a lot, but once in a while it’s nice.” She grimaced. “You know, if the people who can afford to eat fancy soufflés and lobster tails every night gave even a little bit of that money to antipoverty organizations, we could probably give every homeless person somewhere to live. I mean, don’t they care that there are people starving while they gorge themselves on caviar and fancy wine?”

Whoa
. He agreed in a noncommittal way. If they ever hooked up, her hating rich people could be a problem.

Her words had given him a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t his fault he had money—well, actually, it was his fault. But he wasn’t ashamed of having done well. Making it big in the shipping industry was a mix of luck and hard work. He treated his people fairly and paid them a lot better than any of his competitors. They had benefits and he gave a shit about them—he even knew most of them by name, and he sucked at names.

“Do you know that some big corporation is trying to shut down the free medical clinic on Bloor Street? They don’t want them as neighbors because apparently it’s bad for business.” She shook her head in disgust. “They can take their canapés and shove them up their asses.”

That sounded . . . unpleasant, and definitely not his kink. “You’re involved with the clinic?”

“Not that one in particular, but a few of the others. I just try to get involved when I hear stories like that.” Her eyes gleamed, and for a moment he saw Everly’s serious side. “I help circulate petitions and that sort of thing. It’s hard to get to protests because I usually work evenings.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I work whenever I’m needed, so my schedule is all over the place. I’ve never been to a protest before though.”

“You should go to one sometime. Life is too short to sit on the sidelines and wait for other people to fix things.”

Okay, maybe this girl was too good for him. He didn’t usually think much past his employees and his family and close friends.

She smiled. “Sorry, I get intense sometimes. If I’m boring you, feel free to say so, or think about football or something. So what do you do?”

“I work in shipping.” For once he was glad his line of business was a conversation ender.

“So you . . . ship things?”

“Yup.”

“You drive long distances?”

“Sometimes. I mostly do the paperwork end of things now.” He tried not to laugh as her eyes glazed over. “I drive once in a while, if there’s no one else available.”

Her mouth opened then closed again, and it looked like she was struggling to think of something polite to say about his boring job.

“So how long have you been into the lifestyle?” Ambrose asked, feeling awkward. He didn’t generally agree to meet up with women he hadn’t met several times in passing first. This felt like a job interview.

“Um, always? It’s hard to nail down. I convinced my first boyfriend in high school to try D/s without even knowing what it was. I bratted to get a rise out of him, but he was too nice. No one ever really satisfied me that way when I was younger. As an adult, I finally started to do some research and learned what BDSM was. That’s when I found my way into The Catacombs. It’s been an adventure trying to find someone I click with since then. You?” She swept her hair back from her shoulder, and the bare skin it revealed made him wish she weren’t sitting so far from him.

“I’ve always had my fetishes, but I never did anything about them until I was in college.” How much to tell her on a first date? It had been complicated. “Freshman year, one of my profs seduced me. She was into some things that . . . weren’t my kink. But when we split, I talked the next girl I dated into being dominated.”

She inched closer, until their knees were almost touching. When she sat, her skirt had ridden up slightly, and he tried his best not to gawk at her shapely legs. As for the cleavage that showed when she leaned forward . . . well, he was only human.

“Do tell! What kinks did she have that you weren’t into?”

Ambrose sighed. Most girls waited to ask until at least the third date, but this one was bold as brass. Even on a third date he usually got away with being vague. Something told him it wouldn’t work with Everly.

“Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He winked, hoping to throw her off.

“Oh, you own a strap-on?”

Surprised, he barked a laugh and swatted her leg.

“You missed my ass.” Her smile was a dare. “I told you, most Doms find me hard to handle.”

Leaning back in his chair, he looked her over but this time didn’t try to hide it. “I doubt I’d have much trouble handling you, but that’s pure speculation at this point.”

They stared at each other. Maybe it was creepy to make eye contact for so long, but he was incapable of looking away. Adrenaline started to buzz through him. God, he wanted to punish her, hear her beg, feel her underneath him. Was Everly feeling the same connection? Her slanted amber eyes reminded him of a cat, and they seemed to hold the same independence. This wasn’t a submissive who needed a Dom to define her. She wasn’t afraid to show her strength.

She broke the silence first. “I guess we’d have to play together to figure that out.”

“Now?” Crap. This girl had him off balance. He needed to get that under control.

“Well”—she shrugged—“unless you need to find your balls first.”

Fuck. His hand itched to grab her by the hair and teach her to be more respectful, but with brats there was a fine line. Sometimes when they wanted to get a rise out of a Dom, the Dom had to ignore their sass to keep the upper hand. Although nothing was more fun than teaching a bratty girl a lesson in manners.

Calm the fuck down, idiot.

“What’s your safeword?” Why did that sound like a creepy pickup line?

“We’ll use ‘red’ for now.” She raised a brow. Was she surprised he’d kept his cool?

“Fair enough.”

The way her eyes narrowed suggested she was waiting for him to make a move. “Are we doing this now?”

“Yes.”

“Are we going . . .” She gestured vaguely at some vacant equipment along the walls.

“No. I prefer not to use the equipment here. For now we’ll sit and talk, and if you sass me, I’ll deal with it accordingly.”

“Is this the part where you try to lure me back to your private dungeon?”

“No. Dungeons are so limiting. I believe in free-range beatings.”

She snorted. “Are you sure you’re not a brat?”

“Doms are never brats,” he said with mock disdain.

Everly settled beside him on the overstuffed couch and looked at him impatiently. “Now what?”

Now straddle me and settle yourself on my dick
. “Now we have a polite conversation, like well-behaved adults.”

She leaned in, looking up at him. Mischief lurked in her gaze. “I’ve never been a well-behaved adult, and I doubt I could role-play one well enough to be convincing.”

“Not into role-play?”

“Well . . . I didn’t say
that
.”

Such a naughty kitten. He fought the urge to coax her into his lap so he could pet her. Behind her, he caught a glimpse of Konstantin and his girls coming back, but his buddy spotted the tension and steered them away to another part of the club before they reached the table. Maybe he was going to be a decent wingman tonight after all.