"Earl!"
The old man shook his head and shoved a handful of money at Landon. "Take it!"
"Oh!" The woman opened her mouth wide and screamed. "Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!"
"He said no!"
Silver didn't know how she'd gotten past the ropes, or why her hand was wrapped around Landon's wrist. All she knew was when she looked up, she really wished she'd stayed put.
Landon switched off the wand. "Kneel."
She dropped to her knees before her mind could respond. Head bowed, she listened to Landon as he put his tools away.
As he spoke to the couple. "I'm sorry the scene was interrupted, but I was about to end it anyway. My terms are not negotiable. You should find what you're looking for elsewhere."
The woman cried and the old man grumbled, but they both got out of their pretty fast. Now Silver could hear the muttering from the crowd. They didn't like how Landon had been disrespected either. Several soft voices seemed to commend her interference, but harsher, stronger ones spoke over them. According to them, she'd had no right to get involved.
Not that she didn't know that already.
"Stand up."
At Landon's command, she scrambled awkwardly to her feet, teetering on her heels. He would scold her that was for sure. But she didn't expect what came next.
"You never interrupt a scene in this club. Never." He curved his hand under her chin and her eyes went wide at what she saw there. This wasn't her sweet friend Landon. His stare was unforgiving and cold. "I don't appreciate you forcing me to punish you. But I will."
Punish me? No! Not you! Her eyes teared and she shook her head. "Landon, please. Let someone else do it!"
"You interrupted my scene. You apparently didn't think I could manage it on my own." He pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I think I've earned your respect."
"You have!" Fuckfuckfuck. How had she made such a mess of everything tonight? "But—if you—we can't—"
"Punishment doesn't equal sex, pet." Landon's eyes opened, stormy and distant. "I won't fuck you."
Her legs almost folded as he repeated Dean's words. And that endearment. She didn't—she'd never—wanted Landon to fuck her. She wanted to keep what they'd had. It was precious and this would ruin it.
"You can't stay here if you won't accept your punishment." Landon stepped back, leaving her to hold herself up. "Decide now."
Can't stay and what else? Would they ever get back to that place, where they could talk and laugh and just hang out, if she refused? This was part of him. A part she had to accept. And the punishment couldn't possibly be as bad as the sheer disappointment in his eyes.
"I'll take it." She held her breath, but he didn't say anything, simply stood there, looking down at her, making her feel so small and helpless. Her words came out in a rush. "Do it. Do it before Dean finds out."
Are you fucking brain dead? She wanted to take it back, but it was too late.
Landon reared up to his full height and laughed. "Why? Do you think he could punish you worse than I will?" His hands snaked out and he latched onto a handful of her hair, dragging her against him as his lips curved into a viscous smile. "When I'm done, you're going to wish it was him dealing with you. Bend over as hold onto your ankles. Ten is standard."
When he released her, she bent automatically into the position he demanded. Humiliating, but a spanking and it would be over. Later they could talk, after he held her, all wrapped up in a blanket, and became her friend again.
He must have sensed something, in her posture, or in her shallow submission, because he growled. "And I won't be using my hand."
Her legs quivered as he folded the bottom of her dress up over her ass. He didn't touch her g-sting. From behind the shield of her hair she watched his boots move away. Return. Part to shoulder width.
"Count."
At the first slice, she almost choked on her tongue. Fire cut a straight line across her upper thighs. Long and thin, whatever he'd used rested against her. Disappeared.
Trembling, she whispered. "One."
Snap! Snap!
Raw searing pain. Her lips parted. The words lodged in her throat.
Snap!
"Two, three, and four. Say it, pet."
"Please, please—" Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "I can't—it hurts!"
"Say it."
"Twothreefour!"
Snap!
Agony ignited and all the lashes seemed to come together and split open. She sobbed and dropped to her knees. "Landon—"
"Take a minute to compose yourself." Landon came around to stand in front of her. "Then you may lean on the table to make it easier."
Begging, crying, none of it reached him, so she just sat there until the burning eased into a dull throb. His gaze didn't shift from her face as she swiped away her tears and dragged herself up on the table. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to tell him it wasn't fair—and yet another part steeled within, determined to show him she could do this.
To show him she could take whatever he dished out.
Come on, buddy. Show me what you've got.
Her nails scratched groves into the table padding. She threw her head back and inhaled deep.
"Five. Which means there's five left." She smirked when his stony expression faltered. "What are you waiting for, Sir?"
His lips drew into a thin line. "Careful, Silver."
"Ah, yes. Manners." She rolled her eyes. "Pretty please, Sir. Get it over with."
He shook his head. "This means nothing to you, does it? You have no idea why what you did was wrong, and you couldn't care less."
"That's not true. I know I pissed you off."
"Pissed me off? No. What you did was dangerous. Yes, I'm disappointed that you disrespected me, but your utter disregard for the rules is so much worse." He laid a long, thin black cane with a silver handle on the table in front of her. "The pain you're in is nothing compared to what could have happened to that woman if I'd made the wrong move when you barged in. She could be in the hospital with serious burns and I could be in jail, facing charges. But all you can think about is that I might be mad at you."
Selfish. You're spoiled and selfish. Not spoken out loud, but she imagined him saying it, like everyone else did. And that hurt much worse than her abused ass.
"Maybe you're right." He turned away from her. "Maybe someone else should do this."
She grabbed his wrist, then released it. Doing that again wouldn't help matters. Her wet lashes clung together as she blinked.
He waited, silently, for her to speak.
At a loss, she picked up the cane and held it out to him. "I'm sorry. Don't give up on me. Please?"
"I should add another five for the attitude."
For some reason, she got the impression he wanted this over with as much, if not more than she did. Not that it showed. He was a Dom and she deserved to be punished.
And she finally agreed.
Fuck, doing the right thing is going to hurt.
"Another five, Sir. Please. Should I start at one?"
"Yes."
Snap!
This time, she absorbed the pain and let it blank out everything else. At least she could do this with some dignity. "One."
After three more, dignity took a hike.
* * * *
Dean's nostrils flared as he escorted the couple out of his bar. His fists clenched and unclenched as her pitiful screams rose above the music and the equally loud cries of ecstasy coming from every other station.
Chicklet patted his shoulder and tugged him towards the bar. "I think you need a drink."
He shook his head, but didn't resist. "I don't need a drink. I need to know what the fuck happened."
"I've already told you. And so has everyone else."
A wretched sob almost undid him. He groaned and slumped onto a stool. "She shouldn't be here."
"No, she shouldn't be here alone. Not when she already has a Dom willing to teach her." Chicklet smacked the bar to ge
t the bartender's attention. "You are willing to teach her, aren't you?"
"Of course I am. But she didn't want me to."
"Ah, I see. So most subs get what they need, but Miss Silver Delgado gets what she wants. Got it."
"What if I'm wrong?" He didn't want a beer, but he accepted the one the bartender brought just to have something to do with his hands. "What if she's not a sub?"
Chicklet shrugged and jerked her chin towards the back of the room. "She handed him the cane. You tell me."
His eyes widened and he spun around on his chair. Even from here he could see the bright red welts on Silver's delicate flesh. His first instinct was to cross the room and beat the shit out of Bower for hurting her, even though he had every right to. He rose and let his Dom side take over as he approached them, keeping in mind what Chicklet had said. He observed her stance, the way she cringed every time the cane came down, but never shifted or tried to escape it.
Bower could have restrained her for the punishment, but he'd left her to accept it or not on her own.
And she was accepting it.
After the last strike, Silver bowed over the table and sobbed. Bower lifted a hand over her, almost touching her . . .
Then stepped back. His head snapped up and he looked right at Dean.
Shit. No goddamn warning, the man just expected him to take over. As if Silver was Dean's sub. Dean's responsibility.
No fucking problem. I've got her.
Long strides brought him to Silver's side. He scooped her into his arms seconds before her legs gave out. Glaring at Bower, he covered Silver's ear with one hand and spoke low. "If you weren't willing to finish this, you shouldn't have touched her."
"It wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't let her wonder around on her own." Bower hefted a large bag on the table and began packing his equipment. "You might want to invest in a collar and leash."
If Dean's arms hadn't been full with Silver's trembling body, he would have crushed the younger man's face in with his fist. "I read you wrong, boy. I thought you were her friend."
Bower went still. "If I wasn't her friend, I'd have her bent over the table with my dick in her cunt. She wouldn't fight me now, would she?"
No. Right now, Silver wouldn't fight anyone. The pain had gone beyond what her body could easily process. Not that it made Bower handing her off okay, but Dean felt sick just thinking about what could have happened to her if she'd crossed the wrong Dom.
He gave Bower a curt nod and turned away. "Next time, bring her to me."
"Next time?" Bower laughed. "If there's ever a next time, you don't deserve her."
Dean didn't reply. Hell, he wanted to kill the man, but he agreed with him. Carrying Silver to a loveseat angled off the bar, he spoke softly as she stirred, glancing up just once to thank Chicklet for the blanket she laid over them both.
The second Chicklet moved out of hearing, Silver let out a broken sob. "I really fucked up."
"Silver, look at me." He locked one arm at the small of her back and curved his hand around the back of her head. "You were punished. It's over. Clean slate."
A little hiccup escaped her and the hope in her glistening eyes broke his heart. "Clean slate? Really?"
"Yes, baby." He kissed her forehead. "But you're going to be sore for awhile. Let me take care of you. I know a way to make it bearable."
Burrowing her wet face into his shoulder, she nodded.
"Up with you." He stood and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Have you had enough of the club for tonight? I'd like to take you upstairs."
"Upstairs is good." She wiggled a little and hissed in pain. "Soft bed. No more pain."
"No more pain." He gave her a little squeeze and lowered his face to her mussed up hair. "I'm proud of you though."
"Proud of me? But . . . I was bad."
His lips found her ear. He whispered. "You weren't bad. You made a mistake."
"I'm always bad. I don't want to be. Didn't want to be. Not this time."
"I know." He looked around, found his brother. Tim nodded, letting him know he'd watch the club. Leaving Dean with no worries besides the contrite little bundle in his arms. "That's why I'm proud. You didn't run away. You faced what you did and accepted the consequences."
"He's still mad at me." Her tears soaked through his shirt and dampened his flesh. "I didn't make things better."
Carrying her up the stairs, he whispered all the right platitudes, telling her she'd done well, that she was a good girl, strong and brave, repeating again and again that he was proud of her.
But she hadn't taken the cane to please him. She'd taken it for Bower and he wasn't here to say what she needed to hear.
Which meant he had to find a way to show her Bower's opinion didn't matter.
Laying her down on his bed, he tucked her under the blankets and stretched out beside her. With her nestled against his side, he spoke quietly, feeling her body relax as she absorbed his words. "What he thinks, how he feels, doesn't matter anymore. You've proved yourself to me and to anyone else watching. They all saw how strong you were."
"I don't care what they think." She chewed at her bottom lip and gazed up at him. "I'm . . . I'm surprised you're not mad at me too. I broke your rules."
"You paid for it. You more than paid for it. I deserve twice the beating you got for letting you come to the club all alone. I should never have left you alone. It won't happen again."
"Promise?"
Tomorrow, she wouldn't be asking him that. Tomorrow she'd likely curse him and Bower and every Dom in existence while wishing them a slow, bloody death in a pit full of broken glass. She'd be cold with Bower and likely stiff and professional with Dean.
If he let her.
Which he wouldn't.
"I promise." She was already asleep when he answered, but it didn't matter. Granted, tomorrow things would change. But not this.
Because tomorrow, he would still be the man who could keep that promise. And she would still be the woman who needed it.
* * * *
Everything changed as closing approached. Landon hunched over the bar, tipped back a vodka shot, then chased it with a few gulps of beer. Around him cracking whips and piercing screams became flesh slapping flesh and low moans. The lights dimmed, a subtle hint to wrap things up.
He should leave. There was no reason to stay. And he wanted this fucked up night to end. But he had nowhere else he needed to be.
'Don't give up on me. Please.'
He rolled his head from side to side, cracked his neck, and gestured for the bartender to refill his glass. The man didn't hit on him this time. Smart guy.
'If you weren't willing to finish this, you shouldn't have touched her.'
He used his fingertips to massage his temples.
I shouldn't have touched her.
She hadn't given him a choice.
Before the willowy, submissive bartender—who'd likely leave the bottle if Landon asked—could pour, a tall woman slipped up behind him and said a few sharp words under her breath. The man bowed to her and scrambled out from behind the bar with a rag and a spray bottle.
"Hey, I'm Chicklet." She leaned across the bar and gave him a toothy smile. "And I know you're new here, so I won't make an issue of it, but there's a rule about getting shitfaced and driving home. Do it once and don't bother coming back. Want to throw me your keys?"
"I walked."
"Good man." She laughed and took out another shot glass, filling them both. "Guess you're smarter than you look."
One brow raised, Landon stared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well . . . ." Chicklet let out an appreciative sigh as she tossed back her shot. "You've been over here for awhile, trying to erase the night with some 80 proof. And I've been over there trying to figure out why. Figured I might as well ask, but let me tell you, if you're beating yourself up over punishing that little girl, I'm going to knock you off that stool and make you look like you tried to stop a puck wi
th your face."
Woman looks like she could do it too. He almost smiled as he shook his head. "No. It needed to be done."
"So what's the problem?"
He clenched his jaw and held up his shot glass in a mock salute. "Tell you as soon as I figure it out."
Liquid fire and a split second of numbness. Not nearly enough. Eyes closed, he let the buzzing in his head drown out the sound of Silver's sobs. The sight of her sweet submission as she handed him the cane . . .
Sacrament! It had taken every shred of discipline he had to keep going. To carry out the punishment. To step back when her defenses were down and she might have let him in. If Richter hadn't shown up when he did, she'd be in Landon's arms now, and this time he couldn't have pretended he didn't want more.
Chicklet snorted. "It's like that, is it?"
Definitely a Domme. And a bartender. Kill me now. "Like what?"
"Well, you're either friends with her or you're friends with him. And you've got it bad." Chicklet sloshed more vodka into both their glasses. "Noble and just a little stupid. I think I'm going to like you."
Landon's lips quirked. "Thanks, I guess. But you're wrong."
"I'm never wrong." She took his empty glass and washed it in the sink behind the bar. "Not about stuff like this. That girl flipped things on my baby Dom, but I can't see her pulling that with you. She didn't make you do anything you didn't want to."
"Like hell she didn't!" He stood, rage searing from his scalp to his fingertips. "She forced me to punish her! He should have been watching her!"
"Yeah. He should have." Chicklet cocked her head. "But you're her 'friend' right. Why weren't you watching her?"
"It's not my place."
"So what's your place?"
He snatched up his bag and turned his back on the bar and the nosy Domme. "We're just friends."
"Uh huh. Well, just one problem with that."
He stopped and his spine went stiff. "Which is?"
"I can't remember the last time I beat a friend's ass."
Chapter Nineteen
Stinging pain woke Silver. Sharp, shocking and abrupt like her first Brazilian wax, only this didn't fade. Light pressure, slickly coating her bottom with some kind of cream, lessened it. So nice.
Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) Page 22
