Chapter 13 #2
“You need a cock and ball girl, Sir? I volunteer as tribute.”
Mac laughs. “Gimme another drink of that beer then, girl, and let’s go play some pool.”
“Snooker,” Logan grumbles.
The Sub Crawl turns into Snooker with the Doms and if I feel a petty thrill at leaving Rachel, Briar and Tamsin sitting at the bar sour-faced, well, I’ll just have to find a way to live with myself.
Even Pence follows us. Master Harold and the three bikers meet us at the pool hall that’s a few blocks from the club.
We take over the three unoccupied tables, and then the whole place after Mac and Logan have a talk with the owner, who they evidently know.
The owner clears the other six tables for us, which turns out to be necessary when Dana, Javier, Maude, Bull and his two submissives, and Sean and Moon join us.
Knowing what an utter pool shark Mistress Maude is, I almost defect from Mac’s team, but I’m glad I stay because it turns out Mac’s the Great fucking White of snooker players.
After we win several hundred dollars and a weekend at Master Javier’s house in the Hamptons, Mac drags me to the bar for a drink. Once we have our bottles in hand, he tinks his against mine.
“Better way of spending your night than with those bitchy-looking gals?” he asks.
“So much better, Sir. So, so much better I can’t even tell you.”
“I thought it was just Emily they gave a hard time. Have they been picking on you?”
I shrug. “I’ve been dealing with Rachel and her Drow for years. I’m pretty good at tuning them out.”
Mac tips his head at me. “Drow. Like—?”
“Sorry, Sir. My geek is showing. It’s a dungeons and dragons thing.”
“I know what it is. Boys in my unit in Africa used to play. Do you still?”
“When I get together with the kids who were at Mother Kay’s, yeah.” I remember Ruby’s demand that I bring Mac to Thanksgiving, but I just don’t have the guts to ask. “I’ll actually be seeing them at Thanksgiving, so we’ll probably play a few games then.”
“Will you?” Mac lifts his eyebrows. “Am I invited? I play a mean berserker.”
I swallow hard, not sure if he’s saying what I think he’s saying. “Um, you want to spend Thanksgiving—”
“With you, girl. Wherever you’re going to be.”
I feel a rush of something so deep and warm I have to sip my beer to keep a tear from escaping.
“I’d love that, Sir.”
“That the best you got?”
No, it’s not. I put my beer down on the bar and move into his arms as he opens them. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him hard. “I wanted to ask. I just didn’t want to take you away from your daughter.”
“I appreciate that,” Mac says in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “But let me worry about Naomi. You worry about me and you.”
Ruby said the same thing. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I might have to start taking tops’ advice.
“In that case, please come to Thanksgiving with me?”
“I’d be honored, girl.” He pulls back enough to give me a deep kiss that curls my toes and makes me lift one leg without even being aware of it until I have to put it back down.
No, no, no, I’m not turning into that girl, who is so lost for her guy she doesn’t even know when she’s being sappy in public. That is not me.
When Mac releases me, I step back and clear my throat, intending to regain some of my shredded dignity.
But Mac’s not that kind of Dom. He leans in and whispers, “Go to the bathroom, take off my damn shirt and your bra and bring them to me. I want you just in that cami you’re wearing.
Those tits belong to me. I want to see them.
” His long fingers trace the shadow of lace that’s visible through the shirt I stole out of his bag this morning so I could wear his scent all day.
“Your jacket will keep you decent enough for this place. And the threat of me taking it off you will keep your sass under control for the rest of the night.”
I give him a shocked-innocent face that’s about as genuine as Briar’s whisper before I scamper off to the bathroom.
When I return in the camisole, Mac drags me back to the snooker tables and we square off against the older biker, Napa, and his wife, Tiana.
Mac cops a feel under my leather jacket before his first shot—and I swear it only makes him play better, his aim is unreal—and I see the devilish gleam in Tiana’s eyes. She lifts an eyebrow at me. I nod.
Game on.
It’s not so much pool, or snooker as Logan calls it, from then on as a game of Tease the Doms. Every shot has to be considered from every angle, while bent over and wiggling our asses at our Doms. I pretend my jacket’s too tight and wriggle it off my shoulders while wrapping it around my boobs so I’m not flashing my hard nipples at the whole room before I shoot.
Tiana fans herself like she’s hot before she strips off the sweater she’s wearing over a sheath dress.
She struts over to Wreck and borrows his belt to cinch in her dress to keep it “out of the way” while she shoots, shortening the dress a good five inches, and damn does she have a figure on her.
Mac watches our display with a wry grin and a growing bulge in his pants. When I next line up my shot, he walks behind me and smacks me right on one of the whip-stripes as I shoot. The cue ends up half-way across the table and I miss every ball.
“Sir!” I protest. “That’s not going to help us win!”
Napa roars with laughter. “Pretty sure neither of you girls is playing to win anything but whose Dom can pop more wood. Tee, you want your spanking now over the table or back at Harry’s?”
Tiana sashays over to her Dom and runs her finger down the front of T-shirt. “You wouldn’t spank me here in front of all these nice people, would you?”
He would. Mac would, too. They line us up against the snooker table.
We hold hands as our Doms bend us over. Mac only gives me three hard swats.
My leathers provide a little protection, but I swear he has X-ray vision because each swat lands right on a whip-wheal.
The renewed burn makes me yelp and swear.
Tiana doesn’t get off that lightly. Napa and Wreck take turns spanking her until her eyes are glazed with both tears and subspace.
I stay bent over the table, holding her hand, throughout the spanking.
Wreck finally leans over her, kisses her cheek, and whispers “good girl” before picking her up and carrying her to a booth.
Mac helps me stand and gives me a kiss. “You ready to head home? Got something I want to show you.”
Home? Is he calling my apartment home? I get that funny, warm bloom in my chest again. “Sure, Sir. Is it a surprise?”
“If I tell you, will it still be a surprise?”
Because I can, because my chest is burning up with all these stupid emotions, I lean into him and lick his lips, flicking his upper lip with my tongue stud. When I step back, Mac’s eyes flare.
“What was that, girl?”
“If you like it, you lick it. Everyone knows that, Sir.”
Mac laughs and slaps my ass.
“Say your goodbyes, girl. You’ve got five minutes before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”
I mean, I might not be a brat but who can ignore that sort of challenge?
Six minutes later, as I’m lingering saying goodbye to Emily, Mac grabs my arm, bends, and hauls me over his shoulder.
“Sir, your back!” I protest, but inside, I’m glowing. When Mac says he’s going to do something, he does it.
“You’ll be rubbing it for me later. And you’ll be doing it with a warm ass.”
He follows through on that, too. Not too warm because, as Mac says, we’ve both been drinking, so we’re not doing a scene, but I’m definitely feeling toasty—on top of my whip-wheals which are have settled into a not-so-mellow burn—by the time we settle in bed.
Mac has me bring my tablet and shows me how to navigate to a Cloud server he’s set up for us.
The first thing he shows me, a picture of me sprawled naked on a couch after the scene this afternoon, brings surprised, happy tears to my eyes.
It’s so perfect, how he’s captured me. Wrecked, despoiled, sated, and somehow beautiful.
I’ve never liked a picture of myself more.
But what he shows me next holds my attention for longer.
“S-sir, this, this is—”
“Rules, girl. I’ll let you negotiate them with me until Monday. Then you accept what we’ve hammered out and we do this full-time.”
Mac’s titled the short list, “Master Mac’s Rules,” just in case I was confused. It’s what comes after the title that’s stolen my ability to think.
Rule 1. Snuggleslut will follow all of Master Mac’s instructions quickly, obediently, and without whining.
I blink away the burning in my eyes. Snuggleslut? I mean he called me that the other night after he claimed my holes, but to write up a service contract with that dirty-sweet name—
My brain short-circuits again.
“Tuxedo,” I whimper.
Mac takes the tablet from me and sets it aside. He pulls me onto his lap and tucks my face into his throat, stroking the fall of my dreads down over my shoulders and back again and again.
“What’s got you overwhelmed, girl? Too many rules?”
I shake my head and try to choke down the tightness in my throat. “Snuggleslut.”
Mac rumbles deep in his chest. “You are my snuggleslut, Bren. I’ve never met someone more deserving of snuggles, and I’m going to give them all to you. Never doubt it.”
Like that helps me wrest back any control.
“Sir, I—”
“Shh, girl. Read the rules and tell me what you can’t live with.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
I wipe my face and uncoil from him enough to pick up the tablet and look over the list. He keeps me resting against his chest, my legs tucked to the side, his arm loosely around my shoulders.
The position is just so Mac. He never crowds me.
I never feel smothered by him, even though I was sure I would when he said he wanted my submission twenty-four-seven.
I read through his rules slowly. There’s nothing I can’t live with. Nothing I even feel the need to negotiate. Will he think I’m not taking this seriously if I just accept his rules as written?
“Sir, um, I have read them.”
“Mmm, and what do you think?”
“What will you think of me if I just agree to them all?”
Mac snorts. “I’d check you for a fever and if you didn’t have one, I’d pat myself on the back because I’ve finally gotten something right on the first try with you.”
I twist so I can look into his eyes. He’s smiling at me but there’s worry in those sky blues. “Oh, no. Mac, you get lots of things right with me on the first try.”
He kisses me on the forehead. “Good to hear, girl. I’m doing better, but I’m still kicking myself over the way I treated you after our first scene.
” He takes a deep breath and pulls the tablet from my hand, sliding it onto the nightstand.
“I’m also concerned you think I’m looking for some kind of do-over of my relationship with Amy. That’s not at all what this is.”
I was worried about that, I admit. Hearing him acknowledge it, air it as a worry, takes away all of its sting, though.
I’m not looking for a do-over, either, but I certainly don’t want to make the same mistakes I made with Edz and Ten and Rob with Mac.
I’m learning from my past, and I think that’s what Mac is doing, too.
“What is this, Sir?” I ask, and I hold my breath against him tossing out a flippant, “it is what it is,” the way Ten did when I asked him a similar question.
“It’s a future, Bren. One where we’re dedicated to making each other happy. In whatever form we want that to take.”
I let my breath out on a long sigh.
“I’m good with that, Sir.”
“Think you can live by those rules while we figure out the shape of our future together?”
“I can, Sir.”
“On Monday, we’ll make it formal. Sign the contract in front of Logan and Emily, if you’re okay with that.” He taps the hollow of my throat just below my collar with his forefinger. “I have something I’d like to add to your collar. You’ll tell me if it’s too much.”
I can’t imagine what Mac might give me that would be too much. He’s not a “too much” kind of guy. He keeps hitting it just right. Like the freaking Goldilocks of Doms.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You seemed good being with me at the club today. Any concerns about that?”
“You mean resigning? I have that meeting with Chess on Saturday.”
“I meant how you felt about being at the club but not being a house submissive. Any weirdness?”
I remember Theo’s discomfort at dinner. Then I shake my head firmly. Whatever weirdness there is will be from the Doms, not from me. “All good, Sir.”
“Logan’s asked me to join. Help him manage the house subs. I’d like to, but only if you’ll feel comfortable at the club as my submissive.”
He’s including me in his decision? That warmth blossoms in my chest again. “I’ll be fine, Sir. No issues from me. How will you feel about it, knowing I used to scene with the other Doms?”
“I’ll do my best to keep my head outta my ass.” He kisses my forehead again. “You willing to work through it with me? I don’t want to do this without you. I need my snuggleslut.”
He has me. “I’m all yours, Sir.”