Safeword Interrupted (The Cattail Club Book 1)

by Trace, Dakota

  Relief crossed his face. “One is doable – in say a few years from now. Maybe by then I’ll be able to figure out what kind of father I’ll be. Because I honestly don’t know even how to be a dad. You know my sperm donor didn’t stick around once he knocked my mom up with me and Steve.”

  “And what does that asshole have to do with anything?”

  He flushed. “Well more than one family member has said I’m just like him…”

  She cut him off. “You’re nothing like that dumb-fuck. You wouldn’t ever leave your child behind.” She pushed the sheet down and climbed into his lap. “I wouldn’t be in love with you if you were such a cruel bastard.”

  “You love me?” Deacon seemed to be stunned.

  “With all my heart.” She gave him a soft smile, then handed him the collar. “I’m yours, if you want me.”

  “Hell yes, I want you!” He slipped the thin leather collar around her neck.

  As it settled in her throat, she grinned up at him. “Just don’t think this is getting you out of serving me Momma’s cinnamon rolls every Sunday, Sir.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Of course not. Greedy little witch.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Well, look who’s finally returned.” Tim Langfield, one bartender extraordinaire, stood behind the bar, wiping down what looked like an already spotless bar in preparation for a busy Friday night. “Our wayward manager. We thought for sure that Deacon had locked you away in some hotel room and tortured you. Especially after he tore ass out of here when he realized you’d taken off for the warm sunny shores of Puerto Rico without him.”

  Bethany fought the flush trying to creep up her neck at how close to the mark Tim’s statement was. He’d definitely tortured her poor body…with both pleasure and pain. And opened a world that I only dreamed existed. But she wasn’t about to let Tim know that. So she cocked her hip and gave him a wicked grin. “Who says I didn’t torment him? That I didn’t make him do spreadsheets until he promised to never touch my books again?”

  He gave her a look of skepticism. “Really?” He tossed the wet rag into a bin under the bar. “Are we talking about the same man who came in here this afternoon with an extra bounce in his step and a smug, shit-eating grin on his face?”

  “I don’t know – are we?” She ignored the pleasant feeling in her stomach brought on by the idea that she might be the cause of Deacon’s good mood. But she had to admit since they’d left the island two days ago, Deacon had seemed more relaxed than she could ever remember him being. Maybe that’s what happens when a Dom has a willing sub at his beck and call. She resisted the urge to touch the thin silver choker Deacon had placed around her neck this morning before she’d left his bed. She still couldn’t believe she was wearing Deacon’s collar – her ultimate fantasy aside from one day carrying Deacon’s child. She’d have never guessed that her vacation would result in this. Her happiness from the moment he’d placed the necklace around her throat still lingered.

  Until you’re comfortable wearing the collar I gave you in Puerto Rico at the bar, this will be your day collar.

  Then he’d slipped the delicate silver chain with a small ebony lock on it around her neck. To all those not in the lifestyle, it looked much like a necklace that best friends shared – one with the key - the other with the lock. While not as heavy or tight as her regular collar, it still reminded her to whom her sexual submission belonged.

  Tim shook his head sadly. “Damn, there goes my fantasy of you being more subdued. So much for my hope that Deacon had fucked that ‘take no prisoners’ attitude out of you. ”

  Bethany stilled, her earlier euphoria disappeared under the brunt of her rising anger. Had Deacon been bragging to his bartender about his mastering of his manger? Dammit, he knows how important this job is to me. How can he expect me to run his damned bar, if the help thinks I’m a joke?

  She placed her hands on her hips, ready to disabuse the fool that she’d ever be subdued. “Excuse me. Did you just imply that because Deacon –”

  Tim’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “Whoa. Don’t go for the jugular, Bethany. I was just jokin’ around. It’d take more than Mr. Romeo’s ‘I’m the Dom, Hear Me Roar’ attitude to tame you. In fact, I’m glad he didn’t.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “And why’s that?”

  He leaned forward far enough to glance down the hall toward Deacon’s office, then met her gaze. “Because not only will you be able to keep him on his toes, but you’ll remind him that despite his reputation as a Dom, that he’s still just a guy - just like every other guy - who at any given time is clueless about what a woman needs.”

  And just like that, her anger deflated under the humor and truth of the barkeep’s response. It didn’t surprise her that the man knew of Deacon’s dominant side – Deacon had warned her that Tim had a standing membership at Cattail. However, the idea that he didn’t automatically side with his fellow Dom tickled her fancy. She chuckled, then shook her head. “So true – no matter how dominant the man may be, us women still have the ability to baffle them.” She decided to let the matter go for now, and turned her attention to the upcoming night. “We’ll be opening in less than an hour. Are we ready? Anything last minute issues I need to deal with before I go antagonize our boss with my incessant demands?”

  “Well….” Tim gave her a hopeful look.

  She growled and propped one hand on her hip. “I’m not going to ask him for that damned machine again, Timothy.”

  “Aw, but come on. Think of the drinks I could make.”

  She looked up toward the ceiling and counted mentally to ten before looking back at him. “This is a bar that serves alcohol and mixed drinks…not a damned espresso bar. Deacon will never agree to shell out six grand so you can experiment by adding coffee and lattes to the menu when we’re not even open for breakfast.”

  “Again with the espresso machine, Tim?” Deacon walked up behind Bethany, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her up tight against his front. The submissive inside her basked in his obvious affection, while the business manager in her shouted that this wasn’t right – that she wasn’t ready for their relationship to be public knowledge. I can’t do this.

  * * * *

  Even as Deacon gave Tim a hard time about the damned fancy coffee machine the bartender wanted, he was vastly aware of the tension building inside the woman in his arms. He kept his arms relaxed but not so loose she’d be able to escape. And he’d bet his bottom dollar his little sub was going to try to run.

  Like hell. She’s going to have to eventually accept the fact that I’m not gonna hide our relationship – that soon everyone in town will realize that she’s mine.

  Something deep inside of him shifted once he’d placed his collar around her throat. The part of him that had always shied away from anything permanent after Amanda had broken it off with him, had taken genuine satisfaction at the sight of his leather around Bethany’s throat. He felt complete in a way he’d never experienced before. Almost to the point he’d had a near meltdown when Bethany had requested to only wear it during their alone time.

  But aware of the fragile state of their new relationship, he decided to compromise on a pretty choker he’d seen online. Thanks to the awesomeness of online shopping along with next day shipping, it’d arrived late last night – just in time for him to place it around his submissive’s pretty little neck. She might not be comfortable with letting the world know that she was his, but he’d be damned if he let her forget it.

  It took all of his considerable control to keep from pulling her closer when she squirmed against him – a not so subtle demand to release her. Instead, he merely brushed his cheek over the crown of her head and kept her in his arms while he continued harassing Tim about his frou-frou coffee. He idly wondered how long it’d be before she tried to make a break for it.

  “Let me go.” The rising panic in her tone didn’t surprise him. His little Bethany hated being out o
f control - which is what made her submission so much sweeter.

  “You promised me you wouldn’t do this in the bar.” She began to struggle, even kicked back at him, in an attempt to free herself.

  Amused by her efforts, he finally allowed her to turn in his arms so she faced him. But he maintained his hold - refusing to let go, even when she wedged her hands against his chest and pushed hard. “Do what?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Hug my girl-friend?” He shook his head. “Sorry, don’t remember promising that. No sex in the bar – that I do remember, but you never said a damned thing about PDAs.”

  “Deacon!” She flushed as she glanced over her shoulder at the smirking Tim. “This really isn’t any way to act in front of your employees.”

  “Relax, little one. Tim knows all about my perversions – there’s probably nothing I could do that will honestly shock him.” He gave her a grin. “In fact, I sponsored him when he went through his training at Cattail.”

  She groaned and buried her head against his chest. “What the hell am I going to do with you? Nothing is sacred.”

  Deacon wisely kept his mouth shut – only a fool would answer a question like that. Submissive or not, Bethany was still a woman. As a man, Deacon knew he could only push so far, before she belted him – so he held his tongue – however that didn’t stop him from winking at Tim over her head.

  * * * *

  It was nearing midnight, when Bethany headed down the dark hall to Deacon’s office. As the manager of the bar, she rarely stayed until closing – leaving that dubious chore to Deacon or his younger-then-him-by five-minutes twin, Steven. She kept her expression blank as she edged the door open. She didn’t expect a repeat of the last time, but Deacon had been cooped up most the night with his brother, going over what had happened in the week they’d been gone.

  She gave a brisk knock on the wooden frame, drawing her Master’s attention. “Hey, I’m getting ready to head out. Tim’s got the bar under control, and Louie just came on to help deal with the closing crowd.”

  Deacon, who had been conversing with Steven, turned to look at her. Seeing the two of them so close together, she was once again struck by the difference in the twins. While Deacon was dark, Steven was light. Where Deacon was broad, his younger brother was slim. But despite all of their outer physical differences, there was a strong determined will that both brothers shared. Along with a special twins’ bond that being abandoned by their father had only made stronger.

  Deacon gathered up the receipts in front of him. “Just give me a minute, little one, and we’ll go.”

  Surprise, even shock, flowed through her. Deacon leave on Friday night before closing? That never happened before. He always stuck around to count the till and help Tim restock the bar. While the sub inside her melted at the idea of him wanting to make sure she got home, the independent businesswoman protested. Deacon was needed at Spurs and Chaps– not playing escort. “There’s no need. I can see myself home, Deacon. I’ve been doing it for years. Stay and do your usual. I’ll see you in the morning for our weekly management meeting.” She moved to leave.

  “Stop right there.”

  The cold bark of his voice clawed up her back to settle at the base of her neck. She would’ve shivered in apprehension – if her body didn’t recognize that tone, and the resulting painful pleasure that usually followed it. She froze with her hand on the doorknob, then glanced over her shoulder.

  “What?” She barely managed to force the world past the sudden lump in her throat.

  Next to Deacon, Steven shook his head. “Why do they always do that? That’s some magnetic pull you have there, brother.”

  “Leave.”

  If she hadn’t been looking at Deacon, she’d have thought he was talking to her, but when Steven stood with a resigned sigh, a small spark of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Nervously, she wet her lips when Steven brushed past her to exit the room. “Sir?”

  Deacon narrowed his gaze. “So now the little submissive comes out.” He drummed his fingers on the scarred desk. “I was wondering how long you were going to keep her buried under the guise of my manager.”

  She flushed – she’d thought she’d done a good job of resuming her role as Deacon’s manager – of hiding her new inner submissive. “I have a bar to run, Sir. It can’t be all games and play.”

  His jaw clenched. Then he stood, loosening the wide leather belt at his waist. It made a low raspy sound as it cleared his belt loops. “Come here.”

  Her heart leapt. “I…”

  He gave her the look – the same one he’d given her the last time she’d baulked at an order. “Do we need a repeat of what happened the last time?”

  His blatant reminder of her punishment over the kitchen table made her weak in the knees. She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “No, Sir. But you promised…”

  “This isn’t the bar, Bethany. It’s my office. If I want to spank your little ass for being high-handed, or fuck you blind across my desk, I will.” The gleam in his eye sent a spiraling wave of lust through her. It was the same heated look he’d given her before fucking her until she couldn’t walk. She glanced at the unlocked door.

  “Pleasure or pain.” Deacon’s words broke through her mental dilemma.

  “Excuse me?” She shifted her weight.

  “It’s your choice. Either come over here willingly, so I can remind you who you belong to, or don’t. But if I have to come after you, your ass will be hot and I’ll still fuck you.” His eyes glittered. “Your choice.”

  Even as her inner sub begged her to obey – to give him what he wanted, the independent woman in her rebelled. She wet her lips, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  The pure determination and anticipation in his gaze should’ve scared her, but instead it made her thighs wet with desire.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  She gave a small squeal and darted for the door – only to be caught up tight against him before her hand could touch its hard surface.

  “Gotcha.” His breath teased her ear. “Now, I think it’s time to show you how much I’m not playing…”

  She groaned, when his hands slid under her top to squeeze both her breasts, as he slowly backed them toward the desk. To where his belt waited. Her pussy gushed. Punishment or bondage – no matter how he wielded the leather, she was about to be conquered – and her inner sub couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two Months Later

  “That’s perfect, little one. Take it for me. I’ve dreamt of doing this for weeks.”

  The approval in Deacon’s tone only increased Bethany’s discomfort. She panted as she clung to the polished wood under her. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She should’ve never fallen for his ‘I need to stop by the bar for something’ act. True on a Sunday afternoon, the bar was closed, but she figured he’d forgotten his laptop again. But instead of sending her in to retrieve the missing computer, she found herself bent over her Sir’s desk as he worked the slender anal plug, ever so slowly an inch at a time into her ass.

  “Sir!” She gritted her teeth as the tapered tip breached her anal ring for the first time. Since they’d returned from Puerto Rico, Deacon had slowly been opening her eyes to things she didn’t think she’d have ever allowed a man to do – until him.

  “Quit tensing up. Let me in.” He stroked his hand down her back, but never letting up on the pressure against her anus.

  “I’m….trying….” She groaned as he eased more of the silicone into her tight rear end with the aid of a generous amount of slippery lubricant.

  It seemed to take forever, but he finally seated the toy. “Good girl.” His palm brushed over the curve of her bottom, before giving it a playful slap. Then he tugged her thong back into place and smoothed down her skirt. “Give me five minutes, then we’ll be on our way. I can’t wait to show you the club.”

  She gasped when the plug shifted as she straightened. Taking two steps away from the
desk, she stopped. Her earlier unease about going to the Cattail Club was obscured by the thick presence of the toy lodged in her ass. Standing, the plug felt huge…and it fricken’ moved each time she did. She thought the damned Ben Wa balls had been bad. She bit her lip as Deacon moved around behind her, putting away the lube he’d pulled from his desk drawer, and shutting off the lamp on the far side of the room. As he placed a hand on the small of her back, she knew she’d be lucky to make it to his SUV without coming. Even with the collar at her throat, she’d never felt so owned.

  After all it wasn’t every day that a girl lets her man shove a sex toy up her ass and then go out for an evening of sexual depravity.

  “One step at a time, sweetheart.” Deacon breathed his encouragement against her ear. “I know you can do it.” He pulled the door open. “Just walk that sexy ass out to the truck, so we can be on our way.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know if I can keep from coming, Sir.”

  He gave her ass a gentle tap while urging her down the hall. “You can. We’ve been working on your endurance. A short walk to the parking lot will be a breeze compared to the gauntlet you’ll be enduring once we get to the club.”

  Her pussy moistened at his reminder. Would he really strip her down to nothing but her thong and make her walk through the club with nothing more than a plug up her ass and his collar around her neck? Her stomach rolled a bit at the thought, even as the rest of her body – namely the traitorous flesh between her legs – screamed for the experience. Every part of her wanted to please him. Which is why I agreed to this. But heaven help him if his uncle or someone else we known makes light of my submission. I’ll kick his ass – Dom or not.

  “Hmmm, something tells me that the wheels are turning in that pretty head of yours.” Deacon brought her to a halt at the entry of the bar to cup her breasts with both hands. She didn’t even attempt to stop her soft sound of pleasure when he gave them a squeeze. Damn the man was good with his hands.