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From Sub to Love Series

Bound by the Bodyguard (Book 2)

A BDSM, Sub/Dom Standalone Novel

T. A. BEAU

Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU; All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Domination, pain, orgasms-those are the three best things life has to offer, in that order. And I get them all here. A dungeon is a glorious place. Anyone who doesn’t like them hasn’t been to one. The sexy lighting, the pulsing music that sweeps through my body, the moans from the semi-private rooms, the sound of a paddle, belt, or hand connecting with flesh, the lust and ecstasy hazing the air... it’s all pure sex.

And for people who don’t want the sex, there are drinks, private lounges to have conversations, and headphones where you get to choose the music. Granted, this is a more upscale place. Underground is an exclusive sex dungeon in Spain and it doesn’t play when it comes to luxury.

A drink is put in my hand thanks to a black-clad waiter wearing leather instead of a suit, and I wink at him.

Even though my black hair is back in a French braid, it’s long enough that it, annoyingly, falls over my shoulder. I sweep it back to expose some of my tattoos. I have one full sleeve on my right arm, a theme of monsters and angels swirling together in beautiful harmony, and then my full left leg is completed with occult, witchy tattoos, including tarot cards, skeletons, candles, scorpions, and plenty more. All of that, plus the koi fish entwined with a sketchy little scary dragon swirling on my shoulder blade, are on display.

All I have on is a black leather corset with black lace plating over my belly, keeping my little pooch in place and a tiny black skirt that nearly covers my ass. I did pull a fishnet thigh-high over my non-tattooed leg, attached with a visible garter and knee-high black platform heels.

I feel like sex on a stick and the air around me... oh, it makes me feel like I belong. My curves, tattoos, piercings, style, and kink are all welcome here and I bask in it.

I suck on the straw from my drink as I head to a voyeur room. By the time I settle in the seat to see the couple playing tonight, my hand is already stroking my studded collar and the attached silver O-ring.

A few seconds later, the curtain draws back to show a woman bound to an X-frame, her arms and legs spread wide, completely naked and ready for her punishment. The man walks in, a mask on his face, low slung jeans on his hips.

“I can’t wait to play with you, baby,” he groans. “You’ve been teasing me with your sass for a week and it’s time to break that bratty ass of yours.”

“If you can,” she goads. “Maybe you’re all bark and no bite.”

I lean forward, spreading my legs a little wider in anticipation. Most doms won’t let that slide. I know I wouldn’t. But he just chuckles as he continues looking at the assortment of toys and devices on the table beside her kneeling body, at all the different ways he could punish her. He has so many options and holds them up so she can see until she’s a panting, eager mess. He settles on a little electro stim tool, nipple clamps, a vibrator, and bondage tape. Not what I expected.

Why not gag her? Punish her ass since we all know it’s available.

He walks over to her, grips her hair to jerk it back, and her back arches as she moans.

Someone else watching moans too. Normally, you’re not allowed to get it on in a room like this, but no one really cares unless there’s a complaint and there are never complaints.

“What did you say about my bite, naughty girl?” he asks, his voice heavy with authority.

“It’s less than a mosquito bite,” she says, staring him down. “All. Bark.”

Just like that, he leans in and bites her breast until she yelps and struggles against the restraints. She whines and moans. He pulls away and traces the wet bruise spreading across her skin. “Is that so?”

She pants, her thighs trembling. “Not even close to a bee sting.”

Fuck, I love seeing brats like me being sassy. I watch the man punish her with his belt, choking her, swatting her, turning her ass purple under his ministrations. He shocks her nipples, the inside of her thigh, ordering her to behave and punishing her every time she doesn’t. Gradually, I feel a familiar desire creep into my body.

I’m wet just watching him. He’s patient, not giving into her whimpers, not giving her his dick, even to see. Hell, he’s not even using his fingers, just torturing her with the toy, edging her until she’s begging...

Why can’t I get a man to break me like that?

After nearly thirty minutes, she finally breaks, begging him to fuck her, to touch her, to break her. “Please, Master! Own my body. Use me how you need. I want it. I’ll do whatever you ask! I’ll be good!”

That’s the magic phrase.

I stand up, earning some looks, but I don’t need to see them fuck. Seeing a man breaking a strong-willed woman does it for me. My panties are already wet… I’m hot all over and every breath I take makes the ball ends of my nipple piercings rub against my corset, making me even hornier.

I need a man to give me exactly what that girl got, but that’s harder to find than I thought possible, and I’ve been plenty of places. There are few men who can break a strong-willed brat. They want us to beg after some spanking. They want to get to the ‘fun’ part-the sex. They don’t understand that the release comes from being ruined.

So, instead of watching another scene, I go to the dance floor. I lose myself in the slowed down metal music, touching myself, welcoming others to do the same. I pull in men and women to grind on me, grind with me, touch me, stroke me, everything, as long as it’s over my clothes.

Once there’s a light sheen of sweat on my body, I head back to the bar. I feel someone staring, but don’t bother to turn around. If they want me, they have to prove they are worth my time. So I rest my elbows against the bar as I order a drink, and happily show off my curves.

No one approaches and I roll my eyes as I take a long suck from my straw. Maybe I should call it a night and go home to work on tattoo designs. Then I run into someone. They’re as firm as a wall.

Slowly, I look him over, his muscular, surprisingly tight shirt, the lean muscle showing under his tan skin. His expression is hot, commanding, stoic. Those dark eyes are full of mysteries and unspoken orders. I study his face, his chiseled jaw, the little scar under his chin, his broad shoulders... but there’s something else about him. He looks too clean-cut, too disciplined.

Then again, disciplined means in control and suddenly, my whole body is hot. I look him over and put my drink in his hand. He looks at it and I arch an eyebrow.

“Drink it.”

“I don’t take orders,” he says, grabbing my hand in his calloused fingers and putting my glass back in it. But he doesn’t let go, he pushes it towards my face until the straw brushes my lips. “I give them. Prove it’s worth ordering.”

I watch him as I wrap my lips around the paper straw. I take a long drink, making sure my cheeks hollow as I watch him. His eyes darken and he steps forward.

“Look who can be a good girl.”

Popping off the straw, I arch an eyebrow. “Honey, the only thing good about me is my skill with a tattoo machine-well, and my body, obviously.”

He looks me over slowly. He might as well be licking my skin with how my body reacts. The vertical labret in my lip buzzes, my nose ring tingles. The piercings in my nipples, the one in my belly, even the seven piercings in my ears, all spark like he’s shocked me. My core clenches and I let out a ragged breath despite every effort to control myself.

“Sounds like you need to be more familiar with punishments,” he murmurs.

“Sounds like you’re not the man to do that if you’re guessing,” I sass, putting my drink in his hand again and trying to lose myself in the dance floor. It doesn’t work. He comes right back to me, pulls me tightly against his body and slides his thigh between mine. He lifts his knee as I grind against him, so I’m basically rubbing myself on his thigh. I smirk. “Oh, he has some backbone?”

“I have a whole lot more than that, brat,” he snarls, grabbing the nape of my neck and jerking me closer, until my breasts rub against the hard planes of his chest. “And you’re curious to find out.”

“Am I?” I demand.

Confidence is one thing, arrogance is another.

“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be riding my thigh like an eager little slut now would you?” He growls in my ear before biting it.

It’s presumptuous as hell, but he’s not wrong and I know the smell of potential. Tonight, it smells like tobacco and old books and it clings to this man just like his shirt does. My head falls back.

“It’s the only thing I’ll ride unless you can handle me.”

“I have so many ideas,” he growls. “The only question that matters is...”

I open my eyes and meet his intense gaze. His hand moves to the O-ring on my collar and he jerks me towards him.

“Are you a real brat who wants to be broken, or a dom who wants to flip me?”

“Are you too scared to find out? Pity. I figure you have a firm hand, but if you don’t know how to use it...” I trail off.

I climb off his thigh, or I try to. He lifts it, so his knee rubs right against my clit and I have to lift my leg to try and wiggle off him. In that second, he pulls me flush against his body and closes the few inches separating us. His lips move against mine as he twists my collar so it tightens on the side, choking me.

“I know exactly how and where I’m going to put my hands on you,” he snarls. “Prove you want this.”

I can’t get a word out when he twists the collar tighter, making his forearm flex in a way that makes me want to lick it. My eyes return to his as he gently sucks my top lip. “Get us a room.”

“You don’t want to fuck on the dance floor? What if that’s what I’m into?” I challenge when he releases me.

“Trust me... The location hardly matters because you’re only going to be focused on me,” he growls. “Do I need to pull out a leash and walk you over to the private rooms? Throw you over my shoulder and then spank you for every look you get while your ass is on display?”

If the music wasn’t so loud, I’m sure the people around us would have heard my throat gulp.

Fuck... no man has ever been this intense with me from the start. But he has to pass one more test before I give him the green light. “If I say no?”

“No isn’t your safe word,” he says darkly.

“You’re right,” I lean towards him. “It’s ‘Daddy’. So if I say ‘Daddy’?”

“Then I’ll walk away right now, but you’re not going to say it,” he challenges.

“I’m not?” I ask.

He grabs my braid, wraps it around his hand and drags me to him to feed me hungry, soul scorching kisses that make my toes curl. His tongue teases my bottom lip, flicks against the tip of mine, but I know he’s holding back. He pulls away and studies my face.

“You’re not, because you’re a good slut and you want to see if I live up to the hype. Find out,” he dares.

I’ve never been a girl that can turn down a challenge.

{1

Chapter 2

The second we get into the private room, the stranger is in control. He shoves me against the door when I close it and holds me there, kicking my feet apart. His breath caresses my throat before his deep, throaty growl fills my ear.

“You’re going to call me ‘master’.”

“Uh, huh. Whatever you say, handsome,” I bite back.

His hand comes down on my ass hard. I moan as the sting radiates through my body. I arch against him, rolling my hips against his crotch as I grin.

“Is that all you got? Do I look like a breakable woman?”

“You look like a challenge I’m going to handle,” he says, then grabs my braid. He jerks me back and fits his mouth to mine again.

The man kisses like most men fuck. It’s hot, passionate, consuming. I feel every roll of his tongue all the way in my pussy. A low moan leaves my throat as his warm tongue curls with mine. He bites my bottom lip, tugging me towards him until my lip slips free. He teases me with almost kisses while grinding against my ass.

“You want to be a good girl, brat. I see it in your eyes. Why are you denying yourself?” He croons.

“Because it’s fun. Because I can,” I growl back.

Again, he spanks me. Then he presses against my upper back, forcing me to stay in place. With one hand, he pulls his belt from the loops with an elegance and determination that’s nearly as hot as his body. Jesus, where has this man been hiding all this time?

“Are you ready to beg for more than kisses?” he asks.

“Are you ready to beg for permission to strip me?” I mock.

He folds the belt over, then it lashes across my ass. He groans. “Hands on the wall. I’m going to enjoy watching your ass jiggle for me.”

“Make me,” I snarl. He grabs one of my hands and holds it in place before giving me two harder spanks. The belt sails through the air and bites my skin. I gasp, pant, and moan. Fuck, he does have a firm hand.

He chuckles. “You need a special touch, don’t you?”

“You keep asking me questions and I’m going to think you don’t know what you’re doing,” I goad.

He bites the back of my shoulder, making me whine. He chose a spot with no tattoo coverage so I know I’m going to be wearing his mark for the next couple of days. I groan at that hint of ownership and feel my thighs squeeze together. The second his teeth leave my skin, the belt layers over a previous welt, making me yell.

“We both know I’m very good at what I do. You’re going to be begging for me to strip you, to touch you, to fuck your sassy mouth. I don’t know if you get to feel me in your pussy,” he says while stroking over my panties with his fingers. He presses his fingers into my pussy, as deep as my thong will allow, so I groan again. “No, you have to work very hard to get that. You have to convince me.”

The more I sass him, the more he uses the belt on my ass. My eyes water from the release. I’m shaking, soaking wet, my throat is hoarse, but the masochistic side of me doesn’t want it to stop.

It does though.

Master turns me around and grabs the top of my corset, his fingers slipping between my breasts as he jerks me forward to kiss me again. It’s deeper, hungrier, makes me swoon against him.

Holy fuck… this man knows how to use his tongue. I’m so fucking dizzy because I’d rather kiss him than breathe. I’d rather chase his too-coy, too-demanding tongue until I pass out.

He grabs my braid and jerks my head back, still sucking my bottom lip before nibbling.

“Your ass is so pretty covered in marks from my belt.”

“You’d like it more if it were your hand prints. Imagine that, something unique to you,” I sass.

He traces the mark on my throat. “I think that mark does a pretty good job. I’m happy to layer matching bites all over your body.”

He manages to get the top three eyelet clasps on my corset undone, but I grab his wrist, lift his hand to my mouth, then bite him. He groans, his face flushed.

“You naughty little-”

“You want me naked, you beg,” I growl.

He backs me against something that takes out my legs and I land on a bed under him. He wraps his hand around my throat, above the collar and squeezes the sides of my neck until I feel high. He swats my thigh with his hand.

“Spread your legs.”

I don’t obey right away, but he doesn’t seem to care since he manages to pry my thick thighs open without any difficulty. It’s astounding. He’s got muscle, attitude, and know-how. Fuck, I’m tempted to give in.

But I don’t want it to be a choice. I want him to break me the right way, to make it impossible to sass him. To be so lost, so needy, so eager, that all I can do is obey. He grabs my panties and I squirm.

“Can’t get me off through my panties? Can you figure out how to get under them?”

He chokes me harder, then rubs his nose along mine. “I can’t wait to watch you eat your words, brat.”

Then he kisses me as his fingers brush my slit, my clit, and all the way to my entrance. I moan and lift my hips against his hand. He rubs my clit in fast, quick circles, but always stops before I can really get into it. Then he pushes his fingers inside me, curls them against my G-spot, spreads them, teases me with every delicious move, then back to my clit.

The torture continues and I can’t get used to it, I can’t focus on any single thought. Not with his tongue on mine tasting each moan and his fingers working me like I’m an instrument he’s mastered.

Just as I’m riding the edge, he jerks his fingers away, along with his lips. Before I can sass him about his lack of follow through, he shoves his fingers into my mouth. My eyes widen as he slides them over my tongue, making me taste myself.

“Your pussy is this wet because of me. You want me so much, you’re dripping wet,” he says as I find myself sucking his fingers, even when he threatens to gag me on them. When I try to bite him, he spreads them, pressing his fingers against the inside of my cheeks, surprising me and making me pause. “Be a brat all you want. I can wait until you break. I will wait until you break to fuck you.”

He goes back to rubbing my tongue and I bite him. He groans and rips his fingers away before swatting my pussy.

The back and forth keeps going. Every order he gives me is met with sass. He edges me two more times, tries to undress me, and ends up punishing me when I tell him to beg. I know he wants me whining for him, willing to get on my knees to blow him, but I’m just not there. Yet.

I manage to slip free of his arms and start to ran towards the door, but he catches me and tosses me back down like I knew he would. He rolls his hips against my ass, so I feel exactly how big and hard he is.

“I’m this determined to fuck you and still willing to wait, brat. My patience will last longer than your sass,” he snarls.

“What? Going to make me watch while you fuck yourself?” I ask.

“No,” he says sharply, then he’s gone.

He’s no longer on top of me, no longer touching me at all. I roll over slowly, confused. I expect to see him stripping, ready to tease me, but he’s not. He’s collecting his belt and putting it back on. Wait...

“What are you doing?”

“It’s going to take more than one night to break you,” he says calmly. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself by the way.”

“I never agreed to more than one night,” I hiss, sitting up and trying to shake off the sting of him being able to disengage so easily. “What happened to all night? To outlasting me?”

He exhales very slowly and pins me under a look that has my whole body hot and weak at the same time. He approaches, every step making me feel smaller, less powerful. He grabs my chin roughly, making me look at him.

I tremble and he opens the front of my corset effortlessly. He has been holding back. I knew it. Without looking away from my eyes, he cups one of my large breasts, squeezing, massaging, nearly petting me. It’s so shockingly soft compared to what he’s given me so far that I can’t say anything. All I can do is stare at him.

The silence echoes, but I can’t make myself break it until he pinches my nipple hard. I half-moan, half-whine.

Master rewards me with a kiss so hungry, so determined, so domineering that I feel my knees give out. If he wasn’t holding me up, if I couldn’t brace myself on his hips, I’d be on the ground, on my knees in front of him, more than ready to let him shove his cock between my lips.

He draws back. “My time for fun is over. It’s midnight.”

“Are you Cinderella or something?” I breathe against his lips.

“If only you had been a good girl,” he hums. “Looked at me like that, spoken like that twenty minutes ago, you might have gotten to come all over my tongue.”

A pathetic mewling sound leaves my throat. “The club doesn’t close until three.”

“It’s midnight,” he repeats, “so now I’m on the clock.”

I blink at him, then push out of his hand. He lets me. He adjusts his shirt as I get redressed, then clears his throat. “Abigail Hamishway, I’m Tate Johnson. Your father hired me to bring you back home. We’re getting in a car, heading to the airport and-”

I almost hit him. He catches my wrist, but his expression is cool as can be. As if he hasn’t bruised my ass or bitten me or had his fingers inside me. I snarl at him. “I’m not leaving Spain.”

“A credible threat has been levied against your family. You’re the youngest, the only daughter. You’re the only one who hasn’t returned home. I’m fixing that,” he says darkly.

“Oh yeah, like you got your way and managed to fuck me,” I say sarcastically, ripping my arm away from him to finish putting on my corset. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Abigail-”

“It’s Abby. And all I have to do is tell my father what just happened between us, show up with a bruised ass and your teeth marks on me and you’ll be fired. How does that sound? I’ll be free and you’ll be ruined.”

He grits his teeth. “Take it up with your father. One way or another, I’m doing my job.”

“And I’m getting the fuck out of here. I’m not interested in your services and, in case you forgot what we were just doing, I’m an adult. If I don’t consent, you’re not doing a damn thing,” I argue.

“Miss Hami-”

“Abby!” I yell. “It’s just Abby. Go fuck yourself, daddy,” I order, using the safe word just to make it crystal clear that this isn’t happening.

I can’t believe I was about to submit to him!

{1

Chapter 3

I can admit when I’ve underestimated someone. I didn’t think Tate would chase me through the club, throw me over his shoulder as if I don’t weigh more than a pillow, and toss me into a very nice town car.

I didn’t expect the driver-a woman-to know him, be working with him and put on the child locks so I can’t escape. I definitely didn’t anticipate they’d take me to the gorgeous apartment I’ve rented, open the door with a copy of my key, and forcibly start packing my things.

While I underestimated Tate, he underestimated me, too. I walk onto the terrace, just to prove I can go where I want and call my father. He sighs. “My darling girl, how is-”

“You sent a fucking security team to get me!” I screech.

I can practically see him rubbing his forehead, but I don’t let him get a word in. “I’m not on anyone’s radar. I’m my own person. I don’t even use my real name with my clients! I’m an adult so if I don’t want to come home and you hire people to do it, you’re kidnapping me. That’s a crime and I guarantee the police will agree.”

“Cucciola, don’t do this. I care about you. I want you safe. You can tattoo from my home here, or even a local shop. You don’t need to be in another country so far away,” he says, using a tone that’s supposed to be gentle.

It doesn’t make me change my decision. “No. I’m saying no. I can hang up right now and call the police. My Spanish is very good and they’ll arrest these people, hold them until I can run off to another home or country, and change where I tattoo. Is that what you want? No contact? No idea where I am or who I’m with?”

He groans. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’ll be a short time, until we figure out where the threat is coming from and-”

“I said no,” I emphasize.

He keeps arguing and every single time, I say no. After a solid ten minutes, I cut him off. “If I was dating a man and he ignored my ‘no’s like you do, would you approve?”

Dad is silent.

“Exactly. You’re not going to convince me to come home. This isn’t the first threat. It won’t be the last with how you run things. I’m not uprooting my life again. You can either talk to the caveman you assigned to me and tell him he’s now a bodyguard instead of a taxi service, or I can go to the police,” I decide.

“Abby, my treasure, just-”

“And if you tell him to ignore me when I put him on the phone, and he pulls me out of the apartment, I will scream plenty of things that will get the police here before they have any hope of getting me to the airport,” I warn. “You taught me well. I already have their plates memorized.”

He sighs. “Put Tate on the phone.”

I walk inside, put the phone in Tate’s hand and ignore his blistering stare. He puts it to his ear and holds a hand up to the woman. He nods once, then his eyes darken.

Oh, I know, you wish you would have punished me more, don’t you? I think as his frustration shows more and more on his face. He says ‘yes’, waits longer, and then every emotion is wiped off his face.

It’s gone, just like that. It scares me a bit and turns me on more than I want to admit. I’m still wet and that realization bothers me more than it should. Tate pulls the phone from his ear and hands it back to me.

“Abby?” Dad asks.

“Yes?”

“Do not leave Tate’s sight. He has agreed to be your bodyguard. This deal is only good as long as you stay with him. Do you understand?” Dad asks.

I glower at Tate. “That won’t be a problem.”

“Behave, Abigail. I mean it. This is a privilege and it can be taken away. Follow the rules and don’t make this more difficult. It’s for your safety. If you don’t think it’s a threat, fine. But I’m not willing to take that risk with you,” my father says, his voice softer with every word.

That does eat at my heart. My dad has never understood why I like to travel and be a tattoo artist. He’s never understood the kind of music I like, how I dress, my decision to pierce and tattoo my body, but he always supported my dreams. When I was a teenager and said I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he listened, ignored my mother throwing a fit, and we researched how I could become the best tattoo artist in the world.

That’s how Dad is. He wants all of us kids to follow our passion and become the best at it. I take a slow breath. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dad.”

“I love you, cucciola.”

“Love you,” I answer before hanging up.

“So?” the woman asks.

“She can unpack her own things, Carina. We’re staying here,” Tate says.

With that, he leaves the room, purposely leaving the door open. I push my braid off my neck and Carina’s eyes narrow on the bite mark there. I watch her. Her tight blonde bun and her lack of makeup doesn’t make her any less pretty. Not to mention, she’s clearly capable and has some muscle on her.

She’s guarded and quiet like Tate, but that jealousy in her eyes can’t be silenced. Are they dating or something? She snorts and walks out of my room.

I leave the window open, soaking up the Barcelona breeze. After a few deep breaths, I start unpacking and confirm my appointments for tomorrow with my manager, Bo.

At least these clients don’t have to worry about me canceling on them. Who knows when it comes to the rest of them. I’m booked out for nearly four months-a rarity in the field and even more rare considering who I tattoo.

I rarely sit at a shop. I prefer to tattoo people in sterile places of my choice where we can meet up so they can keep their secrets and I can keep mine.

Now that I’ve won two battles against Tate-not begging and getting my way-I have a feeling he’s going to be fishing for revenge. Unfortunately, he’s not stupid and he knows how to get it. It’s going to be a very long few weeks.

***

“You don’t have to come,” I insist as I adjust my low-cut tank top and my black shorts. Today, I’m wearing fishnet leggings and my heavy black boots. My makeup is the same and my hair is in a pony thanks to Tate’s bite mark.

“I do,” he disagrees. “Forward me your schedule so I can make mine around it and can ensure that someone is always watching you.”

“Best I can do is start times of my scheduled appointments,” I answer.

He doesn’t answer. I look over at him and regret it. He’s not as casual as he was last night. He’s in a gray button up with the sleeves crisply rolled over his elbows and black slacks. He doesn’t look like a bodyguard, but his dark brown hair is in perfect order and there isn’t a single thing out of place about him. His shoes even shine.

“Ex-military,” I guess.

“The schedule.”

“I don’t make them! I don’t like being tied down by rules, schedules too full to have fun, or things like that. Sorry if that doesn’t work for you, considering your whole midnight bullshit,” I growl.

“If you would have given in, you wouldn’t be so frustrated right now,” he informs.

“If you wouldn’t have let midnight stop you, I might have started begging. I was close at the end,” I inform, still pissy.

Tate watches me, his eyes as intense as ever. I can still feel him, taste his kiss, hear his commanding tone in my ear and the belt slicing through the air. “Dick.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he dismisses. “I’m going where you go. If you’re tattooing someone, I’m there. Stopping for a snack, I’m there.”

“Yeah, you’re my fucking shadow. This isn’t my first time with a bodyguard. So be like a shadow. Silent and unproblematic,” I advise.

Instead, Tate closes the space between us. He grabs the studded choker around my throat and hauls me against him. He’s so close, I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me. I’ll bite him. It won’t be a playful one either. He either knows that or didn’t plan on kissing me at all.

He speaks and the words are even more damning. “The rule is still in place, brat. I’m staying close which means you’re not allowed to touch yourself.”

I grab his dick through his pants, making him jump. His hand shoots out, but he’s already hardening against me. I rub my thumb over his zipper. “Funny thing about restraint… It’s a double edge sword. You didn’t come last night and since you’re glued to me, looks like you won’t be coming any time soon, right?”

He tugs on my wrist, but I squeeze his dick tighter, dragging a moan from him. I arch an eyebrow. “Because you’re just so professional.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Didn’t you say your patience can outlast my sass? Let’s put it to the test. Who caves first?” I challenge.

I let him go, push his hand off me, and walk out of the house. Tate and Carina catch up easily. Tate insists on driving and I have a feeling that having Carina drive once last night was a one-off. He’s not a man who knows how to give up control unless he’s being paid to do it.

Does that mean he’d get on his knees and eat me out if I flashed some money in his face? Would I get away with calling him ‘good boy’ and teasing him constantly?