Chapter 7 #2
“Good to meet you,” Xavier said. He stood a good couple of inches over Atticus’s six-two. With black eyes and hair braided almost to his ass, he probably had Native American ancestry. His bearing said he knew his way around a fight.
“Heard a bit about you. I hope to get a chance to visit your club someday.” Atticus held a hand out.
“You’d be welcome.” Xavier shook his hand. “I appreciate the assistance you gave deVries and Lindsey last winter.”
“Part of the job. It’s good when things come out right.” And kidnappings so rarely did. Atticus glanced at the well-populated barn, seeing Doms and subs he didn’t know. “I see you brought a number of your members.”
Xavier smiled. “We all enjoy getting out of the city.”
“Some of our submissives hoped for a introduction to you, by the way,” Simon said.
Atticus grinned. “You on babysitting duty tonight?”
“Always. As is my Rona.” Simon studied him. “So, are you free this evening?”
Atticus hesitated. Although he’d noticed several pretty submissives, he didn’t have any interest in taking them under command. He’d rather talk a southern magnolia into—
The barn door opened, and Logan escorted in five women, all flushed with laughter. Their bright spirits lit the area. Kallie and Becca came in first, then Simon’s wife and a blonde submissive he didn’t know, then…Gin.
The women pulled off their coats revealing corsets and bustiers, fishnet stockings and high heels, skimpy skirts.
Atticus waited impatiently for Gin to unveil.
Now that was worth the wait. She’d gone with leather, and not the brightly dyed kind, but in natural shades.
A dark brown bustier with matching short skirt.
Leather wrist cuffs. High-lacing sandals with his favorite kind of heels.
When a man bent a woman over something—like a hay bale—the extra height tilted her ass just right for entry.
His dick stood up and shouted for attention.
Simon nodded to the group. “I see Becca has picked up another nervous stray.” After a second, he added, “My Rona likes her.”
Atticus studied them and agreed. From the way the women clustered around Gin, teasing her, fixing her hair, giving gentle pats, they all liked her. Of course, Kallie’s wilderness tour clients had liked the little Southerner as well. She did have an appealing sweetness.
That sweetness would be his tonight.
But when he straightened, the motion caught her attention. Her eyes widened. She retreated an involuntary step, nodded at him briefly…and turned her back.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Did you upset a little submissive?” Xavier asked in amusement.
Hell. With a grunt of frustration, Atticus manned up. “Seems so. I did a scene with her. She’s new, but the chemistry was fantastic. Then I discovered she’s a counselor—and I judged her by old shit and kicked her to the curb. Made a mistake.”
“Most counselors are good people,” Simon said mildly.
“You took her trust, got her vulnerable, then dumped her.” Xavier summed up the story brutally and succinctly.
“And then blindsided her at her work. I screwed up.” He needed to apologize. But a frontal approach would get him blasted down, especially since she was braced to rebuff him.
“Let her ease down.” Xavier confirmed his thoughts. “Give her time…maybe enough time to play with another Dom.”
When Atticus scowled, Simon nodded agreement with his friend. “It’s a risk, Atticus. But if there’s chemistry between you, she’ll feel the lack with someone else, and that might give you a chance. If not, then maybe she’s not the one you need.”
Let someone else touch her? His gut tightened.
And yet, the advice was excellent, no matter how unpalatable.
Bent over a hay bale, Gin rested her forehead on her hands. She’d asked for a breather from being spanked. This sure wasn’t any fun.
Everything here seemed unreal, as if she’d wandered into one of her kinky books.
The location added another dimension of unreality.
This was a barn complete. Straw was scattered on the ground, adding its fragrance to the scent of leather.
Rather than the sounds of horses, the building was filled with gasps and moans and an occasional scream and the smack of implements on bare flesh.
“Ready for more?” Garret’s voice drew her attention back.
When Logan had started introducing her, she’d shot down his first two choices. Then, when he was called away, she’d found this Dom named Garrett who had appeared less intimidating—if anyone could say that about a man who’d spank a woman.
Garrett flattened his palm between her shoulder blades again and pressed her chest onto the straw bale.
His hand hit her bottom and she flinched. Lordy, her butt was getting tender. He continued—and she heard her own bare flesh being struck and it still didn’t seem real.
She gritted her teeth as the Dom spanked her faster. The stinging grew to a red-tinged pain, and tears filled her eyes.
When he eased off to rub her bottom, she pushed upright and wiped her eyes.
“You can cry, girl,” he said, his voice gruff. “That’s the point for a lot of submissives.”
No. She firmed her chin and shook her head. She didn’t cry in front of strangers. In front of anyone.
This spanking stuff wasn’t what she wanted. None of it. She’d been wrong. Inside she ached, as if her spirit were being compressed into a tiny fishbowl of sadness and frustration.
Anger whirled up from nowhere, as if her body was finally reacting to being hurt. To being trapped.
She took a step away from the hay bale, relieved she hadn’t let him tie her down. “I’m done now.”
“Done?” When Garrett touched her arm, she pulled away. “Gin.”
“I’m fine.” She controlled her voice. “Thanks for the time.”
“Let’s go over to the corner and talk then. Girl, you—”
“No.” She took two more steps back and bumped into a man.
Turning, she recognized Rona’s devastatingly handsome husband. The Dom was in his forties, with silver flecking his neatly trimmed black hair. A submissive stood on his left.
Master Simon curled his right hand around Gin’s upper arm, preventing her from further retreat. “Garrett, Jacqueline watched you play with Gin and hoped you’d give her some time.” He smoothly guided the submissive toward Garrett while moving Gin away. “I have somewhere else Gin needs to be.”
“You’ll make sure she has aftercare?” Garret asked.
“I will.”
Moving on, Garrett looked down at the thirty-something submissive. “What did you have in mind for a scene?”
As she was led away, Gin felt her anger fade, leaving her empty inside. Time to go home.
“Did you enjoy your spanking?” Master Simon asked.
Compared to his confident baritone, her voice came out thin and shaky. “It was fine.”
He shook his head, stopped her right in the center of the room, and tilted her face up to him with a finger under her chin. “Has no one ever told you not to lie to Doms?”
“First lesson for tonight: be honest.” Atticus’s voice spiraled down the well-worn path in her memory and brought tears to her eyes. She’d wanted Atticus to be the one to spank her and how stupid was she?
“I’m sorry.” Her voice shook slightly. “I guess I’m not cut out for this BDSM stuff. I-I thought it was worth a try.”
“You’re cut out for it, pet,” Simon said gently. “You merely picked the wrong Dom for you.” He looked over her shoulder at someone behind her. “Atticus, I’d say she needs a good cry. You have my permission to spank her until she does.”
Gin whirled around—and right into Atticus’s solid body. His arms closed around her, trapping her. It really was him—Atticus. For a moment, she sagged into him, staring.
Oh, her memory hadn’t been nearly adequate, had never blown this stunned feeling into her chest. His eyes were still a mesmerizing dark blue; his black sleeveless T-shirt showed off a body ripped with muscles. Colorful tats covered each deltoid.
When his gaze released her, she managed to inhale…and realize why he held her. She glared over her shoulder at Simon. “You-you don’t have the right t-to give me to someone. Your permission isn’t…” Her brain misfired, messing up her words.
“Thanks, Simon. I’ll take care of her.” And then, as he had before, Atticus scooped her up like a baby.
Oh, the sensation of being wrapped in his rock-hard arms was like coming home. Thrilling at his strength, her body softened into his.
No, she mustn’t feel this way. “Put me down.”
“In a minute.” He walked over and sat on one of the hay bales lined against a wall. Her bottom rested on his thighs, his jeans abrasive against her tender skin.
She struggled to stand.
Holding her with one arm, he cupped her face in his rugged hand. “Before we begin, I want to apologize.”
The surprise halted her fight.
His intense blue eyes bored into hers. “I was a dick to you. And, even worse, made your job harder.”
She pulled in a shuddering breath and gathered her composure.
She was a professional. A social worker.
Act like one. “You were,” she agreed. “You thought I wasn’t helping Sawyer.
But…why do you have it in for the whole counseling profession?
Was there a psychologist who hurt you or someone you care for? ”
His eyes narrowed. “Got your shrink hat on, I see.”
“I don’t like that word, okay?”
He heaved a sigh. “Sorry again. All right, it’s like this. Some of my boys in the Marines came home fucked up and didn’t get shit for help from the pros.”
“Well, I know the V.A. system is over-burdened and understaffed, but still—I’m sorry. It’s not right.” Where was a better place to put money than in treating the soldiers who’d served their country?
“Then the last prison shr—uh, therapist did more than not help my brother. She messed up his head.”
“His last counselor was male,” Gin muttered, making him blink.
“Either way. Sawyer wasn’t bad off when he got here, before getting ‘help.’ But he got worse with every so-called session. I complained to the prison administration and was blown off.”
Gin closed her eyes as sympathy and a kind of guilt assailed her.