Chapter 1 #2
Master Logan isn’t my biggest fan. Before he met Emily, he never did scenes with me except for training.
I always figured my dreads and ink put him off, since all his subs before Emily were clean-cut, classic lookers.
He broke that mold with Emily, who is totally adorable, but doesn’t rate much higher than really pretty on the zero to supermodel scale.
Not that I put any stock in appearances, but Logan seemed to.
He also seemed to attract the biggest psycho-bitches on the planet; a type he’s finally broken away from with Emily, who is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.
Given how sweet she is, and how little he seemed to think of me, I’m surprised he’s let Emily be friends with me.
But Logan puts his subbie’s needs first. Emily needs friends who understand her littleness. It makes some of the other house subs uncomfortable, but I’ve always liked how uninhibited she is. I encouraged her to be little around me from the start. That seemed to win Logan over.
Which pretty much makes him Dom of the Year in my book.
Realization hits me like an uppercut to the jaw.
Ten doesn’t give a shit about my needs. I didn’t need the extra flogging last night. He could tell I wasn’t in the right place, but instead of ending the scene, he kept going to prove he could continue to control me. Because that’s what he needed after my attention wandered.
He doesn’t give a shit about what I need because he doesn’t give a shit about me.
I put my hand over my eyes, to hide the fact they’ve suddenly filled. I hear the scrape of a chair and then Emily’s arm slips around my shoulders.
“Come home with us. Spend the weekend. Whatever’s going on with you, you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone when I’m working,” I say thickly.
“Please? I’ll ask Daddy to tie you up and kidnap you if you don’t. You know he will if I ask.”
Logan probably would if Emily asked.
“I really don’t like you,” I tell her.
“I know.” She pushes my dreads back over my shoulder so she can kiss my cheek. “You can dislike me all you want while we make green tea cupcakes and watch the Avengers.”
“I hate your green tea cupcakes,” I sniffle.
I don’t, of course. They’re excellent. Sweet and creamy and tangy. With the green tea in them, I can even pretend they’re healthy.
“I know.” Emily kisses my cheek again.
I head in to my shop late in the afternoon after getting a text from my main tattooist, Nicky, saying two repeat clients have called for appointments.
I’m trailed by my chirpy shadow. My employees, and everyone else who walks into my shop over the next three hours, are entranced by her, even before she breaks out the two dozen cupcakes she’s brought. I swear, she has some weird Little power.
While I work, she entertains herself. If my head wasn’t fucked sideways, what a perfect guest she is would annoy the hell out of me. Instead, I just feel pathetically grateful when I finish up my second client and find her curled up on the reception-area couch with my sample design book in her lap.
I stage a token resistance anyway, because that’s just the way I roll.
“I’m going home,” I tell her. “You should head out.”
“We haven’t watched Infinity War yet,” Emily responds without looking up, her fingertips tracing the outline of a black unicorn design she’s found. She’s been teasing Logan for a while about getting a tattoo, something he’s not in favor of. “Or Guardians of the Galaxy. You promised.”
“I don’t remember promising.”
“You did. And you said you’d make pancakes for breakfast.”
I might have said that when I was all sugared up from licking the cupcake batter bowl.
“I don’t have any fresh clothes. I need to go home.”
“Daddy only let us wear clothes this morning because the house was cold after we’d been at the club all night. It’ll be warm by the time we get back. You won’t need clothes.”
I feel myself cave. “I hate you.”
“I know. Do you want Chinese or sushi for dinner? Daddy wants to put in an order now.” She taps the phone sitting on the couch next to her thigh.
A craving for hot and sour soup hits me so hard I have to wipe drool out of the corners of my mouth. “Chinese.”
“Good call.” She picks up her phone and taps away at it. “Sushi’s really a warm-weather food. I keep telling Daddy, but he says sushi’s not seasonal.”
“He’s right. And I’m paying.”
“You can argue it out with Daddy.” She grins without taking her eyes off the phone. “Good luck with that.”
“The two of you are horrible.”
“I know. Master Theo, Max, and Cynnie are coming over, too,” she tells me, tapping. What the fuck is she typing, the great American novel? “We’re allowed to build a blanket fort and watch movies until midnight and sleep in the fort.”
“I don’t want to do any of those things.”
Except I really, really do.
“Yes, you do,” she says, finally looking up at me.
Her eyes are open and innocent and utterly without guile.
I hate how she sees right through me with those eyes.
“But if you don’t want to sleep in the fort you can sleep in our bed with us.
Daddy says it’s okay for tonight because you’re sad and need lots of cuddles.
Unless you’d rather sleep with Master Theo. ”
“I’d rather dig out my eyes with a dull spoon. And I don’t need cuddles.”
“Uh-huh.” She goes back to typing. “Can I take one of the pictures out of your book? I’ll bring it back.
I just want to show it to Daddy’s friend.
He has some really bad tattoos from the Navy and he’s been talking about getting the mermaid one fixed and you’ve got the most beautiful mermaid in here and I tried to take a picture on my phone but it didn’t come out. So, can I?”
“If it shuts you up, anything.”
Emily grins and keeps typing.
I sleep on the floor, in the fort, piled with Emily’s ridiculously soft bedding and couch pillows and bodies, with my belly full of hot and sour soup, Szechuan beef, and caramel popcorn, and nothing heavier on my mind than the way Chris Evans fills out his Captain America suit.
Logan’s friend Max and his Little, Cynnie, crawl out of the fort sometime before dawn.
I hear giggling as they head up the stairs, and then the wet sounds of kissing.
I figure they’ve gone off to fuck since there was no hanky-panky at all last night, despite there being three Doms and three subs in the house.
I turn onto my side, even though it’s my bad hip, and curl against Logan’s back.
He’s warm and smells good and even if he isn’t my Dom and probably doesn’t even like me, it’s still a comfortable place to be.
Emily’s cat, who is sleeping across my feet, makes a rumbly, mrowing protest.
The noise wakes Theo, who is sleeping on my far side.
I’ve done dozens of scenes with Theo; he’s fucked me pretty much every time.
But I’ve never slept with him before. I feel awkward about sleeping with him now, which is why I’ve cuddled up to Logan.
I don’t want Theo thinking I’m looking for more from him than I am.
He reaches out, pulls me over, and puts his arm around me so I’m tucked to his side with my head on his shoulder.
“Go back to sleep,” he mutters. “Or I’ll beat your ass.”
I punch his chest without any force. “Your snoring woke me in the first place.”
“I don’t snore.”
I actually don’t know if he snores or not, since I fell asleep while we were watching the second Guardians of the Galaxy movie.
“You’re too warm to sleep with like this,” I complain. “Geroff.”
“Shut up and cuddle. Em says you need cuddles. Accept your cuddles. Or I’ll tie you up and cuddle you that way.”
“Promises, promises,” I grumble.
He turns onto his side and kisses me on the forehead. “Next time you need cuddles, you call me. I shouldn’t have to hear about it third-hand.”
“I don’t need cuddles,” I grump. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Theo scoffs softly. “You aren’t this subdued after a full-on gang-bang, Bren. You’re not fooling anyone.”
I’m not?
“I hate all of you.”
“Yeah, we know. Shut up and go back to sleep or I really will paddle you.”
My ass is still sore from the scene with Ten, but it’s tempting. “Good night.”
“Good night, babe.”
It’s definitely despite his cuddles, and not because of them, that I fall straight back to sleep.
Max and Cynnie stay for pancakes but leave early.
They haven’t even been gone long enough for Logan to clear their breakfast dishes when the doorbell goes.
This place is a revolving door. I don’t know how Logan and Emily stand the constant parade of people.
Even though it kind of feels like a big family.
But I’d hate it. I need my own space. That’s why I have my apartment, which is too small for even a three-person scene.
Which is why no one ever visits me. Obviously.
Logan shuffles off to answer the door. I don’t think sleeping on the floor was the best thing for him; he’s been limping all morning.
He was badly injured over the summer and, for a while, it looked like he’d always walk with a cane.
With a lot of physical therapy and a huge amount of care from Emily, he recovered fully.
But sleeping on the floor has left him stiff.
The man who follows Logan back to the table also has a hitch in his gait. It’s not obvious, but I still have that old radar for any sign of weakness. If I had to face off against this man, I’d go for his knee or ankle. One of them’s bothering him.
Logan pulls out a chair for him when they reach the big dining table we’re all gathered around, drinking tea and coffee. The man sinks into it gratefully and rubs his knee. Definitely something wrong there.
Emily hands him an ice pack and a cup of coffee before she leans over to give him a hug. “Good morning, Master Chief Mac.”
He chucks her under the chin. “It’s just Mac, Emily.”
“Yes, Master Mac. Do you want a pancake? There’s still some batter.”
“Sure,” he says.
That’s my cue. “I’ll make it. One or two?”