All's Fair in Love and Mastery

by Sparrow Beckett

  The woman was addictive.

  For fuck’s sake what was he doing?

  The wrong thing.

  The right thing?

  Maybe there was no such thing as right or wrong in this situation—only actions and consequences.

  The only problem was if he kept sleeping with her, no strings attached, she’d never commit. It would be too easy for her to get what she wanted and walk away.

  He let go of her throat, staring down into her warm brown eyes, wishing he didn’t have to stop. His body and mind were in complete disagreement, but it would hardly be the first time he got blue balls from Arabella.

  He left her standing there, looking dazed, and focused his attention on washing his hair. He was smeared with enough bug guts to make him feel like a human windshield, so he took his time washing, concentrating on getting clean rather than drooling over the sight of Arabella running soap over herself with skimming hands. If she had been trying to tease him it probably wouldn’t have affected him the same way. She looked off-kilter, maybe even a little lost, as though she was feeling as confused as he was.

  “So, that’s it?” she asked.

  They had both rinsed and now stood under the spray together, quiet, the bare skin of his leg touching her thigh, but just barely. There was no hiding the fact that his dick was still painfully hard, but that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it—at least not with her around.

  “I’m done if you’re done.”

  She made a sound that was either a sigh or a quiet, bitter laugh, and turned to shut off the water.

  He reached for two towels and handed one to her even though he really would have preferred to dry her himself. She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out, her ass swaying, luring him like the Pied Piper’s flute.

  How was he going to take the edge off if they were sharing a room all night? She had to know what she was doing to him. Admittedly, the shower had been his idea, but once in a while he lost control over his better judgment where this woman was concerned.

  Maybe he was fooling himself thinking he had a chance for more with her. Even though she was a tomboy, she was the sexiest girl at the club. She was a smart, successful, independent little badass.

  She didn’t actually need him or any other Dominant, and she could take her pick of almost any single Dominant at Catacombs, so why on earth choose him? It was more than possible the reason she wouldn’t commit to him was because she’d found him lacking and not at all because of whatever had gone down with her ex. Sure, women enjoyed looking at him—enjoyed using him—but he was the party guy who women wanted to screw but none of them took seriously.

  For fuck’s sake he lived in the storage shed behind the club. Why would she take him seriously?

  It had been years since he and Will had left his father’s house. It had been years since they had seen their stepmother. And yet . . . sometimes he still felt like she’d been right all along. Maybe he was just as annoying and entitled and ungrateful as he’d been as a child. Maybe that was why his last “serious relationship” had been with a woman twice his age who’d paid to keep him as a pet.

  “You confuse the hell out of me some days.”

  At the sound of her voice, he startled, having forgotten she was there.

  “Why?”

  “I just never know which you is going to show up. I’m used to the cocky asshole Grant, not quiet and introspective Grant.”

  “You do realize I’m the same person, right?”

  “I do, but this is the version of you that you don’t let many other people see, and I find myself wanting to hug you instead of smack you. It’s really inconvenient.”

  “What, no jokes about hugging me with your vagina?” he asked, the words having little, if any bite. He just didn’t have it in him to fight with her tonight.

  “I considered it, but I’m frustrated enough without making it into a joke. Is that your plan? You’re going to be a tease until I finally agree to a relationship? I will not cave to sexual coercion.” She had toweled her hair dry and it stuck up adorably in a million different directions.

  If that was true, he didn’t know if he had any chance with her at all. Maybe he should just let her use him—take what he could get until he couldn’t hold her attention anymore. It was hard to know if they could ever come back from that though. She might not care, but he did, obviously too deeply, considering she didn’t feel the same way.

  “If sex is all you want from me, I used to charge eight hundred a night by the time I retired. I’m significantly more experienced now and have a specialized skill set, but since we’re friends I’ll give you my old rate.”

  She froze, her cheeks blooming bright red. “That’s not how it is, Grant. If I could commit to anyone it would be you. I just . . . can’t.”

  It sounded like a line a fuck boy would use, but her dark eyes were sincere.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”

  He finished toweling off, then walked into the bedroom, throwing his towel on the back of the chair. He dug through his duffel bag for a pair of boxers and put them on, then sprawled out on the bed.

  “It’s not you, it’s me? You have to admit that’s the oldest brush-off in the book.”

  “Well, it’s not a brush-off, it’s the truth. It’s the same truth I give every guy who wants more with me.”

  “That doesn’t mean I believe you. Maybe you’re like Tak and just want to sow your wild oats. Or maybe you’re like me.” He pulled his hair out from under his shoulders, annoyed by the wet knot it had made in the middle of his back. He should blow it dry, but he wasn’t willing to walk away from this conversation just yet.

  “You really want to know why I don’t want a serious D/s relationship?”

  “Yes!” He sat up, wondering if she was actually going to tell him this time.

  She had bent over to slide on a pair of underwear, and for a moment his mind blanked of everything other than the sight of her tits and rounded ass, and the hint of pussy between her shapely legs. If he’d thought he finally had control over his dick, he’d been sadly mistaken. As though she had every right, she went straight to his bag and pulled out one of his T-shirts. He watched in aroused amusement as she pulled the shirt over her head. It was difficult to object when his clothes always looked better on her anyway.

  She grabbed a brush and got into bed with him.

  “You can’t just let it dry without brushing it first,” she admonished. She positioned herself behind him and started working at the tangles, the feel of her running the brush and her fingers through his hair just as orgasmic as it had always been. Before they had started arguing, months ago, she’d done this all the time. At first he’d thought of it as annoying and sisterly, but after he’d refused to let her do it anymore, it wasn’t long before he’d realized how much he missed it. True affection was hard to come by. Affection from Will usually took the form of noogies or twisted nipples, not anything gentle or nice.

  “If I tell you, I don’t want your pity, okay? And I don’t want you telling anyone else.”

  “Does that mean I’m not allowed to hunt him down and destroy him?”

  “I don’t know why you say that every time this comes up. It’s not as bad as what you’re probably thinking. It’s not like he abused me or anything. What Bethany did to your brother was far worse.”

  He relaxed a fraction, glad that whatever had been done to her hadn’t been abusive, at least. “And it’s honestly the reason why you refuse to get involved with anyone?”

  “Scout’s honor.” She sighed, and the brush stalled for a moment before it moved again and she continued. “I met Nigel when I was in university. First year. The typical story. Mom busted her butt to send me to the same school as Mia.”

  “And Mia is . . . ?”

  She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice
sounded odd. “My best friend. She was like a sister.”

  Grant’s brows rose. Arabella had never even mentioned the girl.

  “You had a friend you were that close to?”

  “Yeah. We . . . don’t speak to each other anymore—haven’t in years.”

  Weird. Considering what he and Arabella had been through in their relationship, the girl would have had to be a real jerk for Arabella to write her off—she was more tolerant than anyone he knew. Before he could ask, she went on.

  “Nigel and I bumbled around trying to figure our D/s relationship out for the first while. He wasn’t vanilla, but he didn’t know how to be a Dominant. I’d done some reading, so I knew how things usually worked. We dated for a year, and then when sophomore year started we moved out of the dorms and into an apartment together. We stayed in our place through the summer and worked, then did third year.”

  She paused, and made a small braid at either of his temples. He didn’t usually keep those in, but she liked them so this time he let her and didn’t take them out. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see him.

  “Sounds good so far,” Grant forced himself to say. It was stupid to be jealous of her ex, but Grant wished he could have known her then. “He was a good Dominant though?”

  She sighed and he had to grit his teeth against the urge to turn and kiss her and claim her as his—which she definitely wasn’t.

  “I’ve always felt there was a special connection between a Dominant and his first submissive. His style of dominance was a perfect match to what I craved—probably because he grew into his role with me as his partner.”

  At that point he wasn’t sure he’d survive the story. He’d asked if he’d been a good Dominant, but he’d wanted to hear something about the guy being an asshat or a bad fit for her, not for her to sing his praises. He grunted something noncommittal, hoping she’d take the hint and skip to the end, but that seemed to be enough encouragement, because she continued.

  “When my mom got sick, he was there for me. I had such a hard time that he was afraid to leave me alone, and that’s when Mia moved out of her place and in with us.” She stopped for a moment, swallowing hard enough for him to hear. “We’d been best friends since second grade. If anyone could help Nigel get me through losing my mom, it was Mia.”

  Arabella never talked about her family, but on Mother’s Day one year he’d overheard her tell Andromeda that her mother was dead and her father had skipped out on them when she was small. But the best friend? She’d never breathed a word about her.

  The penny dropped.

  Ohhh.

  Shit, no. That fucking bastard.

  “Apparently one night when I was at work, Nigel and Mia got drunk together,” she said, her words tumbling out fast. “I came home and found them in bed. Nigel swore up and down that he’d crawled into the wrong bed after going for a piss, and had mistaken Mia for me. They were sprawled out naked, all tangled together so it was pretty obvious they’d had sex. Hard to believe he couldn’t tell the difference between us.”

  Grant tried to think back to some of the worst benders he’d been on as a teenager and wasn’t sure he would have been able to tell one girl from another when he was drunk and stoned out of his mind. He wasn’t about to tell her that though. It had to be different, too, when it was someone you loved and had a relationship with.

  “Maybe they were just that wasted?” he offered, not sure why he was defending the man. Probably because he could tell this still hurt her. Believing it was a mistake would hurt less.

  “Well, he would have had to be pretty drunk not to notice Mia was blond and almost a foot taller than me, but sure,” she said sourly.

  Oh.

  “The lie would have been more believable if they hadn’t also gotten married a few months after I left.”

  He cleared his throat, still trying to figure out how her ex could have chosen anyone over Dex.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” she said stiffly. “I crawled for that man. I groveled. I did everything he ever asked me to do—I would have died for him, and that was the loyalty I got? He fucked my best friend—the woman I called my sister—and took her as a submissive. Then he married her. He never, never offered to marry me.” She made a small choking noise. “I lost the three most important people in my life in less than two months.”

  “That was so fucking shitty of them,” he said, turning finally. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she didn’t look like she wanted to be touched right then. “What did you do?”

  “I stayed with a friend for a few nights, then moved my stuff out. The day I left, Mia was at work, and Nigel explained he was in love with us both. Like I could agree to be poly and share him with a woman who was practically my sister?” She shuddered in revulsion. “Although he did mention he didn’t need both of us in bed with him at the same time, it was his preference.”

  “Did you hit him?”

  “I threw my boot at him. Steel-toe. I’m sure it left a spectacular bruise.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she hadn’t shed a tear. “It was juvenile, but I can’t say I was thinking straight.”

  “No shit.”

  “So that’s when I moved east and met Andromeda. She put me back together, but we weren’t a good match, since she wasn’t big on bratting, and I refused the collar she offered me. I finished my fourth year of university online and you guys opened Catacombs just as I got the small business loan for Evil Pixie, and here we are.” She gestured at the room.

  “In northern Canada?”

  “Precisely.” She laughed, as though it was as ridiculous and unexpected to her as it was to him. “I could be a pseudo sister wife right now, but instead I’m cowering from a horde of evil zombie mosquitoes with the hottest guy I’ve ever met.” She reached over and gave his shoulder an affectionate shove, but before she could pull away he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing.

  “Hugging you.”

  “I don’t need a hug,” she said, settling against him as though she had no intention of getting off his lap ever again.

  “Well, I need a hug.” He tucked her head under his chin and inhaled her familiar scent, feeling even more fiercely protective of her. How was it possible for the two people she loved most to have betrayed her so horribly? It wasn’t fair. “I never would have done that to you.”

  “I don’t think Nigel ever anticipated doing that to me either. It wasn’t like he was a douchy guy—like, ever—other than for that. There was just something about Mia he couldn’t resist. Now, I feel like if that could happen between them, it could happen between anyone. Why accept another Dominant when I’d constantly wonder when they’d suddenly find their one true submissive, or whatever? Why do that to myself?”

  Oh. Fuck.

  “But that could happen with any relationship, Arabella. Most people who get divorced move on eventually. It sucks, but so does giving up on relationships if you’re not wired to prefer being alone.”

  She rocked her head against his chest in what might have been a no. “Losing him would have been easier if I hadn’t been collared to him too. I could barely remember how to function without directions from Nigel. As much as I was a brat, he was big on protocol and micromanaging me. When I left, I couldn’t remember how to choose what to eat, when to go to bed, what to wear—almost every part of my life had been controlled by him for two of the three years we were together. I was completely reliant on him, which was how we’d wanted things. I’ll never, never do that again.”

  “Not every D/s relationship is about micromanagement,” he said, realizing he was mansplaining something she knew as well as he did, if not better. He grunted at his own stupidity, but wasn’t sure what he could say to change her mind. Maybe he’d never be able to. How did a submissive ever come back from that level of betrayal?r />
  For a long while she went quiet, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

  “Enough about ancient history,” she said firmly. “Enough about my ex and my dumbass former BFF. You and I need to talk about our expectations for this week.”

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a rumbling sound against Dex’s ear that might have been a complaint. Grant’s arms were warm and strong, and she’d been so relaxed after letting out her whole crappy story that she’d almost fallen asleep.

  Any other red-blooded male would be pressing his advantage, at least trying to cop a feel, but not Grant. As much as he was a slut, he was a respectful one who was big into informed consent. He chose women who knew what he offered and wouldn’t get emotionally attached.

  Or at least, that had been the old Grant. This Grant wanted more, at least from her.

  She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore.

  “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

  “Well, we’re here alone for a week. Both of us know the platonic thing isn’t going to last, so I figured we should lay out the ground rules.”

  “Uh—”

  “Come on! You didn’t honestly assume we’d behave. Hell, earlier you were adamant we were just going to be friends, and that lasted what? A whole ten minutes?”

  “I assumed the temptation would be there, like it always is, except worse.”

  “And?”

  “So I planned for it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t bring any equipment, and I didn’t bring any condoms.”

  She scowled down at the crisp white bedsheet. No condoms? She hadn’t brought any either, assuming he would bring at least some.

  “Knowing us, why on earth would you do that?”

  He cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed. “If I hadn’t brought condoms to the wedding it wouldn’t have been so impossible to keep it in my pants. I couldn’t handle the temptation of knowing I could have you.”