Chapter Five
He had that look in his eye that told her he was going to ask her to do something horrible.
“Winter, my dear?”
My dear? Oh, this was bad.
“What do you want, Cross?” She was always surly with him, as you could only be with a boss who was also a good buddy. When he’d hired her, he hadn’t known her at all, but it had turned out well for them both. Not many employees would crank the metal in the store when the boss’s wives were getting loud upstairs. BDSM noises weren’t exactly bad for business, considering what Cross sold, but the screaming sometimes scared the vanillas who wandered in, in the hopes of adding something a little edgy to their khakis and polo shirts.
Although the crying she heard from upstairs nowadays was completely different.
“I hate to ask you this, but could you watch the boys for a few minutes? I need to run to the store for more diapers, and Gemma and Izzy are at work. I could take them with me, but it’s a pain to get them buckled in for such a short trip. And there’s not really enough room in the cart for both car seats.” He was babbling, looking harried and tired. Poor guy.
And so it begins.
“Sure. Just don’t get halfway down the street and decide to leave the country.”
“And leave these fine gentlemen? Not on your life.” Cross’s voice had gone high pitched and silly, the tone parents and dog owners often fell into. She’d never anticipated seeing such a tough, dominant man get so sappy. As much as Winter disapproved of babies in general, the sappiness looked good on him. It made sense, though, considering he was the same way with his women a lot of the time – at least when they weren’t looking for some negative attention.
He leaned down and looked into the Moses basket with such a gooey, smitten expression that Winter was pretty sure he’d speed to the store and back to avoid being away long.
She sighed. The things she did for this man. “Well, if things get out of hand, Gemma is next door, right?”
“Yeah. She’s working on a big back piece, so I told her I’d try not to panic and call a bunch of times.”
“So you’ve called what? Twice?”
He looked ashamed. “Four times, so far, but that’s it for the day. I can’t call Izzy because she’s out interviewing someone for a story. I didn’t call for no reason, though. Levi’s last poop looked weird, then Emmanuel spat up on everything and I didn’t know where the clean onesies were.”
“And the other two times?”
Cross grabbed his keys off of the counter and handed her the all-black diaper bag that was on his shoulder. It would have been funny if there’d been something cutesy, like a Tigger on it.
“Is this the Spanish Inquisition? They both just ate and I changed their diapers. If they need to be changed again, there’s diapers and cream in there, and some binkies if they get cranky. I’ll be gone all of five minutes.”
She’d accepted the diaper bag from him, but it hung from her unenthusiastic fingers. “Cross, my friend, if your sons crap their pants they will be sitting in it when you get back. They’re cute, for little Godfrey spawn, but if I wanted to change shitty diapers I’d have spawn of my own.”
“You’re so maternal, Winter. It must give Mack the warm fuzzies.”
She chuckled darkly. “You don’t want to know what gives Mack the warm fuzzies.”
He waved his hands around like he was going to ward her off. “No, no! I don’t want to know. I have the feeling it might give me nightmares.” When he opened the door, the bell jingled. “I should be back in ten, fifteen minutes, tops.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” She turned her back on him as the door closed and she looked at the babies. Emmanuel, the younger one, was sound asleep. His brother Levi stared back at her, his bright red hair standing straight up off of his head like he was perpetually surprised. They both looked like Cross, poor little guys, and not much like their individual mothers. Not that Cross was ugly, per se, but his hulking frame and stern countenance didn’t work for her in a sexual way.
Mack, on the other hand, was so beautiful that he made most women look coarse by comparison. And the evil tendencies behind that pretty face made him all the more interesting. Cruel, wicked eyes, perfect features and a hard, wiry frame made him the ideal front man for their band, and the star in most of her darkest fantasies. Even the ones that made her hot but she refused to let him try. And the ones she didn’t tell him.
A squawk pulled her mind away from Mack and fornication, reminding her that there was an infant staring her down. He was winning.
“Hey, kid. Remember me?” She picked him up with practiced ease, tipping her head sideways to avoid his flailing arms. A moist hand smacked her cheek and she wiped at it with her sleeve. Babies were always so drooly. It was like having a tiny bald St. Bernard you couldn’t leave home alone. He didn’t smell bad yet, which was nice. If she never had to change a diaper again, it would be too soon.
Being the oldest of eight kids meant that babies weren’t really fun or a novelty for her. Although her next-youngest sister already had two monsters of her own, she absolutely refused to babysit. She, herself, was on the pill so that she wouldn’t have to change diapers and warm up bottles. It wasn’t fair for her family to expect her to step up to the plate. She’d helped her mother raise her siblings. She’d paid her dues.
Doing this for Cross, though, was completely different. She really liked Gemma and Izzy, which put her at risk of feeling helpful and magnanimous. Add in how happy Godfrey was with his women and their two babies – comparing him now to the old, self-loathing Cross that she remembered – she was just glad that he’d managed to turn his life around. There had been a time when she had wondered if he’d ever be content. The whole happy family situation wasn’t something she’d ever imagined for him. Now there was a brightness that shone out of him. He was the kind of man who would have been nice to have around to help her mom raise all the babies.
Instead, Winter had endured a string of ‘dads,’ all of them wanting to bond with her and be her buddy. But she knew her mom. Lira Sorenson wasn’t the settling down type. It wasn’t that she was a party girl or had a deficiency of morals, she just got impatient with men who didn’t pull their weight. No matter how good some of them looked at first, they all failed miserably in one department or another. Life was too short to stay in a bad relationship, her mother often told her, and most men weren’t worth the effort.
Levi had anchored himself to her by grabbing her hair as his tiny hand happened to wave by her head. He was cooing in response to the silly, one-sided conversation she had started with him and she started getting that sappy feeling that she usually tried to avoid at all cost.
No babies.
Cross burst through the door like law enforcement was in hot pursuit. He carried a big crate of diapers in each hand, and thumped them down on the counter. The relief on his face was amusing – as though he’d expected her to sell them off while he was gone.
“Everything went okay?”
She waited for him to inspect the children for dings, but he managed to refrain.
“I had a big discussion with Levi. Emmanuel just started fussing in his sleep, but that was it.”
The door banged open violently and Gemma skidded into the shop. “Cross, hand me Em before my tits explode. I told the guy I was working on that I needed to grab a coffee, but if I don’t empty these things, we’re going to have an international incident on our hands.”
He went to the basket and lifted the one-month-old with exaggerated care. The child looked like a toy in his father’s huge hands. As soon as Cross had cradled him to his chest, Em started to root around, looking for one of his mommies.
Gemma settled in a chair behind the cash register and did some complicated Shirt Fu that resulted in the baby nursing and her still being mostly covered. She groaned in relief and looked at Cross with pained eyes.
“Have I mentioned lately that I despise you? You get all the fun stuff and Izzy and I have to suffer.” Her eyes were half-lidded and Cross looked down at her with amusement. “Quit smirking, you bastard. I have to pee.”
He plucked their other son from her arms and made a few faces at him. “I’m home alone with them most of the day. Do I not have the stay-at-home dad thing under control? I get up at night to change diapers, but there’s not much I can do about breastfeeding. At least you and Izzy can switch off sometimes – most women don’t have that.”
She grumbled something about his crappy lasagna-making skills, which made him laugh, and he went into the back office then brought her back a bottle of juice. Levi started batting at his face with little flailing arms and Cross sank into the chair next to Gemma. With a sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder.
Feeling awkward and in the way, like she always did when her boss and his wives got all schmooky, Winter moved around the shop tidying things that were already tidy. As sweet as they were, she wasn’t a PDA kind of girl.
She checked her watch – twenty minutes left until the end of her shift. Time to ask if she could leave early.
*
At the end of the practice set, Winter felt like she had a full body buzz. This thing they had going on – it was fucking amazing. The adrenaline had her heart pounding. She was ready to go skydiving or do something completely insane. Car surf?
She turned to set down her bass and there was Saya, looking innocent and adorable in the red Lolita dress, knee socks and Mary Jane shoes Ramsay had made her wear. Eyes unfocused and lips parted, she looked dazed from the music. Her voice when she sang was vulnerable, alternating between singing sweetly and whispering. Chilling when it was weaving around Mack’s. On stage, when she and Mack had practiced alone together, she’d looked like a sacrificial lamb. Edible. Little Red Riding Hood in what would amount to a bar full of wolves. If they ever got popular, they’d have to get the girl a bodyguard.
Winter avoided watching her with great difficulty. When she forgot herself, though, she’d catch herself staring. Saya drew even the most unwilling eye. The expression of her face, the curve of her tiny waist, the tempting cleavage. Dancer’s legs. Grace in movement.
Losing the battle with herself again, she stalked across the stage, watching Saya as she slowly came back to her surroundings. They needed to keep an eye on her. She was the only one who didn’t have experience on stage and was the most likely to flounder when the place was packed next weekend. Well...she hoped it would be packed. It was generally full of people drinking anyway. The only reason they had it to themselves at that point was because it didn’t open to the public for another hour.
Sprawl was an old bar that had never been classy in its day and hadn’t been updated in years, other than its name. Davis Lawson and Luther Passgard, the present owners, booked metal and punk bands there every weekend because they loved the music. The cash didn’t hurt, either. If they didn’t personally like a band, they rarely booked them again. It was the kind of place where people started mosh pits if the band was decent, not somewhere ladies went to grab a glass of wine after work on a Friday. Usually there were a few old-timers who looked like they’d come with the original bar stools, but they were more than welcome to join the festivities.
As Winter got closer, Saya blinked a few times and her eyes grew round at whatever she saw in her expression.
“Was I okay?” The girl’s bow lips trembled slightly, her face framed by copious ringlets.
Saya made Winter feel like a dirty old man. Fuck, she was hot. Winter advanced on her and, at the last minute, Saya started to backpedal, until she bumped into the wall. The smaller girl’s chest rose and fell fast, and she had a panicked air.
“You were...charming.”
She looked up at Winter with a nervous smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’d tell me if I sucked, though, right? You wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself?”
Winter crowded her and placed her hands on the wall, on either side of the girl’s head. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Saya’s, excitement and arousal thrumming through her.
“Winter, we need to have a little chat.” Ramsay’s gravelly voice rumbled in her ear. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she had a crazy moment of wishing they were all naked.
Naked with Ramsay? Really? Was he even her type, or was it just that she was horny and ridiculously attracted to his sub?
She pulled her arms away from the wall and backed up a step. Ramsay hadn’t moved. With full force, she bumped into his hard-muscled frame, and he pressed against her back and ass. Apparently he was happy to see her – or her and Saya together, anyway. Saya slipped away from her, and retreated a few steps to where it was safer, but Winter felt like her feet had been glued to the floor. Menace rolled off of the man behind her, and she had a thrilling moment of wondering just how much he could hurt her, if properly inspired.
“Mack is right here, too, if you’re wondering.” The breath from his words stirred her hair.
She shuddered. By all accounts she should move away from Ramsay, maybe even shove him out of her personal space. Why wasn’t Mack stopping this? Was it making him angry or had they been talking?
“I’m getting the impression that you like my pretty slave. Is that true?” His words were quiet but commanding, as though he had every right to be interrogating her.
Moving the few steps to the wall to try to slip out of his way proved to be a bad idea, since he followed her and pinned her there with his body.
Fuck you, you bastard. You’re not the boss around here. Just because Saya lets you treat her like a starry-eyed sex doll doesn’t mean I’m into that shit.
All of the words crowded to get out of her mouth at once. Angry and horny was a bad combination. It came out only as a quiet, “Yes.”
Damn him. How did he do that?
“If you want to play with her, there will be rules.”
Curiosity and lust outweighed her indignance. “Rules?”
“You’re not vanilla, Winter.” The way he growled her name both annoyed and aroused her. “You know what my relationship is with Saya. I own her. If you want to touch her, you need to ask me first. Every time. My relationship with her isn’t a joke, even if you don’t understand it. She’s my property.” Ramsay traced a finger down the back of her neck under her hair, and she worked hard at not swatting him away.
Mack moved into view, grinning. What was his game?
“Do you think you can be a good girl and remember to ask permission?” Mack asked.
“Fuck you, Mack. You know I’m not into that ‘good girl’ shit.”
Ramsay’s chuckle wasn’t comforting. “You have a hard time being a good girl, don’t you, Winter. Maybe you just need someone to show you how.”
She snorted and turned. Mistake. Having him pressed to her front didn’t make him less intimidating. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, amused, but his hard-on wasn’t joking.
Forcing herself to stare him in the eye, she spat, “I’m not automatically submissive just because I’m a girl, Ramsay. Sorry to disappoint, but not every female responds to that bullshit.”
He stared down into her eyes, a looming, hulking mass above her. Looking for something. It was a struggle to maintain her glare, but she did it, suddenly hyper-aware of how her body ached for someone to touch her.
Why? She’d tried D/s before, on both sides, and it did absolutely nothing for her. Pain excited her, and being bound, but being bossed around? Not her fucking thing.
With her eyes, she told him to go fuck himself.
Instead of throwing his hands in the air and walking away, his brows rose and he looked intrigued.
Bad, bad, bad.
“Mack definitely doesn’t own me, but he sure as shit won’t be interested in sharing.”
“Who said anything about sharing? The only thing we’re talking about is you asking my permission before borrowing my slave. It’s only polite.”
She looked around and saw their significant others standing together nearby, riveted to their conversation. Rather than looking jealous and upset, Saya was rapt, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. Interested, avid, aroused. And Mack? His impressive erection made it apparent that he wasn’t against whatever Ramsay had in mind.
Why had she ever considered Mack’s open-mindedness a good quality?
Her frustration built. Really, walking away and telling him she’d never lay a hand on Saya again would be the easiest solution. She wouldn’t lose face and she would get to keep all of her control without having to give Ramsay the satisfaction. Without meaning to, her gaze slid back to Saya. The girl lowered her eyes shyly, her cheeks flushed.
She was addictive.
Ever since she’d first kissed Saya, Winter had been fantasizing about her. There was something about her that drew her in a way that other girls didn’t. Her timid submissiveness, her deference, her intelligence – but there was more. It wasn’t only that she sensed the girl was interested in her either.
She was like a drug, and Ramsay was the dealer. Asking permission was one thing, but she got the impression that Ramsay was after more. Before she agreed, she should make sure of his actual price. Get it in writing.
Instead, she nodded.
His smile widened.
If his price was exorbitant, she could always stop.
Right?