Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(29)

“It’s the reason Stella gave me. I figure there’s more to the story.”

“There must be.”

As they watched the scene, Holt’s frown returned.

Marcus shook his head. “She’s getting a taste of impact play, but I see no submission going on.”

Holt leaned his forearms on the bar. No, she wasn’t in a submissive frame of mind. She was simply satisfying her curiosity. Tugging on the restraints. Feeling the flogger. Testing the cross. The excitement she’d shown before had disappeared. She was having fun—a degree of fun—but it sure wasn’t what he’d call a successful scene.

Damn. She wasn’t his, and Peter wasn’t doing anything that required intervention but… “It’s sad to see a submissive not receive what she hoped for,” he murmured.


She’d hoped for more, Josie thought, as the flogger fell across her back, although the physical sensations were interesting. The flogger thudded over her bare shoulders like tapping fingertips.

The sensation changed when the strands hit her pants instead of bare skin. She hadn’t stripped down like most of the “bottoms”. At Peter’s urging, she’d removed her shirt and vest. Her bra and everything else stayed on.

He’d restrained her arms upward to the X-shaped equipment in a high V. Earlier, she’d seen a naked submissive whose ankles were cuffed to the lower part of the X, and the Dom had taken advantage of his submissive’s widespread legs to play with her pussy. Watching the Dom work the woman had been hot.

A non-self-induced orgasm might’ve been amazing, but Josie wasn’t interested in going there with Peter. She did appreciate how nice he was being.

He was talking with her, telling her about the flogger, and asking her every few strokes how she felt. His attentiveness was reassuring…also awfully distracting. She had to keep assessing herself, then turning her head to answer. The constant interruptions took her out of…well, whatever she should be feeling.

The stuff she’d read about BDSM made it sound as if she should be floating around in her head or something.

Not.

How long had they been doing this, anyway? Surely, it was time to be done. Funny how she’d started all revved up, and now a dull sense of disenchantment weighed her down—like she’d expected a smooth Glenmorangie 18 scotch and gotten moonshine instead.

“We still have a few minutes left. Did you know there are private rooms upstairs?” Leaning against her from behind, Peter pressed his chest against her back and his erection against her ass.

Oh, ew, that wasn’t good. She hadn’t wanted to get him interested in sex; she should have known better. Guys were awfully predictable that way. But sheesh, even if she was interested, she needed to be back to work within five minutes. Seriously, Peter?

Gently, Josie. Sure, she was disappointed in the scene, but she mustn’t be rude. “I’m really sorry, but I need to get back to work. I don’t want to make my boss unhappy.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for letting me see what it’s all about.”

“Ha, I knew you’d like it. Subbie.”

Subbie? What she felt wasn’t submission; it was impatience and a craving to be safely ensconced behind her bar again. Seeing the arousal in his reddened face, she closed her eyes.

Finally, her arms were free. Stepping away, she pulled on her shirt and vest.

When Peter sprayed down the cross, she grabbed a paper towel and helped clean.

“I could hold you for a couple minutes, do some aftercare,” he offered.

She’d noticed that post-scene, many submissives were sweaty and shaking. Some were even crying. Almost all of the Doms provided blankets, water, and cuddles. Carefully tended the bruises or cuts. A few lucky submissives even got chocolate.

Josie hadn’t even broken a sweat. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. I should get back. Thank you again.” She kissed his cheek lightly and headed for the bar.

Well…at least she’d tried something new. She gave herself two points for being adventurous. Could she give herself a few points for—what would it be called—self-discovery? She’d discovered watching BDSM stuff didn’t necessarily mean she’d like it herself. She now knew she didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.

As she neared the bar, the two Masters were watching her.

When Holt’s slow perusal sent heat shooting through her, she stiffened. “What? Did I forget to button my shirt?”

He raised an eyebrow at her defensive tone, then answered mildly, “Unfortunately not.”

An embarrassed flush warmed her cheeks.

Chuckling, Marcus told Holt, “She’s got a sassy mouth on her. Reminds me of my Gabi.”

The corners of Holt’s mouth tilted up. “God help us. If she starts sounding like Gabi, I’ll find a gag. Bartenders don’t need to talk, right?”

Laughing, she joined them behind the bar. “You should stop now while you can still get a drink that lacks arsenic, Master Holt.”

His expression darkened. His step forward put him right in front of her. “Did you just threaten me, pet?”

His proximity made her realize how tall and muscular he was. Her pulse quickened.

Her quick retreat halted with her spine against the bar. He simply followed.

She stared up into penetrating slate-blue eyes, seeing the dark gray ring around the iris. His body radiated warmth—and sparked an answering surge from her own.