Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(66)

“We can’t touch them. They’ll sue the pants off this place.”

When one of the jerks holding a sign gets in my face, I clench my fists, ready to throw him across the street, but before I can move, a strong hand yanks me back by the shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” the security guard bellows before shoving me toward the door and away from the protester with a death wish.

As I enter Salacious, I’m still fuming. It pisses me off that my dad puts up with this shit. If he really cared about his club and its members, he wouldn’t make them have to go through shit like that.

“What’s wrong?”

I don’t even see Maggie approach, but as she takes my arm and steers us off to the right and away from the crowd—she can clearly tell something is up. We pause in front of the small shop, where it’s quieter and less crowded, so we can talk.

“There’s a fucking parade of protestors outside that everyone has to walk past to get in.”

I can just make out her eyes as she rolls them. “Assholes,” she mutters.

“Why can’t you guys do something about them? Have that beefy bouncer pound their asses into the cement.”

“Because then they’d sue. That’s all they really want anyway. To trigger us enough to act on our anger, so they can take us to court and get every dime this place is worth. We’re doing the best we can to avoid them for now.”

My teeth clench. It’s not enough. “Well, I don’t work for the club. There’s no reason I can’t give those fuckers exactly what they deserve.”

She snatches my collar and pulls me closer. “You promised, remember?”

My shoulders slide away from my ears, remembering that day, a few weeks ago, when I gave her my word that I wouldn’t engage with those jerks. “I remember. I won’t.”

“You better not, Beau. I’m serious.”

A smile lifts one side of my mouth. “You’re so cute when you’re bossy.”

Her hand drifts down from my collar to my junk, cupping my dick and balls in one firm grip. “Don’t test me, brat.”

I walk her backward until we’re pressed against the glass counter of the store. “I fucking love testing you.”

“I’m going to make this hurt so much,” she replies in a dark, sexy tone.

“Promises, promises.”

“Can I help you find anything?” An unfamiliar voice pulls us apart as I snap my attention to the woman behind the counter. She must be the shop attendant and she’s staring right at me. Even though I don’t know her, so she probably doesn’t know me, it still feels like too much exposure. Quickly, I look down at the items in the display case.

“No thanks. Just browsing.”

“Okay. Let me know if I can answer any questions for you.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as she walks away. When I glance over at Maggie, she’s staring straight down at the case too, and at the same time, we both break out in quiet laughter.

Then my eyes start to focus on the items on display.

“Hey, I recognize that,” I say softly, pointing to the black silicone plug.

Maggie laughs. “You should. I made you wear it for eight hours.”

“They have one in pink,” I reply, pointing to the next one.

“I was looking at this,” she says, and I follow her gaze to a mannequin display. But it’s what the mannequin is wearing that makes me pause. It’s a black leather harness around the hips with a small black ribbed dildo attached to the front.

“What the hell do we need that for?” I ask with a laugh. “I already have a cock.”

She’s biting her lip as she gazes up at me. “Yeah, well, I don’t.”

My smile fades as my eyes dance back and forth from the strap-on to her and back. Before I have a chance to respond, she breaks out in laughter.

“Your face. Beau, relax. I’m kidding.”

I don’t think she is, and I’m not sure how I even want to respond to this. It’s not something that ever really crossed my mind, and it’s way too much to digest at the moment. So I force a smile, pinching her around the waist as we move through the rest of the store, keeping our faces down and away from the clerk.

We browse through other toys, including some vibrators I’d love to use on her and lingerie I’d give my right arm to see her in.

When we reach the display of leather collars, my eyes linger. When she keeps moving, I grab her arm to hold her in place. I read a lot about collars on the sites she gave me. What they represent to a sub and how some people express the feeling they get when they wear one for their Dom.

I know exactly why she never bought me one, and it doesn’t feel good to remember that this thing between us has an expiration date, which is quickly approaching. Only a week after my dad’s wedding, this thing between us is over and Maggie will be gone.

“The room is ready,” she whispers while I stare down at the simple black collars. This time, when she tugs me away, I let her. I’m so distracted by the things we saw in the store, I don’t register much until we’re standing together in one of the rooms, and Maggie’s pulling off her mask.

“You seem tense. Are you okay?” She runs her hands over my chest and loops them around my neck, pulling my mouth down to hers.