In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
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ATTICUS IS RECOUNTING TO me an incident involving a trainee Dominant and a club kitten, but if you put a gun to my head, I wouldn't be able to recite not even a single word he's saying. All of my attention is on my own kitten, watching as she glides across the room with a tray of drinks in her hand. She's dressed in a red pleated schoolgirl skirt that barely covers her ass, and a fitted white button-up. Her hair styled in two pigtails.
I'm the one who picked out her outfit. I combed her hair in those fucking pigtails and gave her the job of serving drinks around the main room, but I'm on edge now. Gritting my teeth at every Dom or Master whose eyes linger long after she serves them their drinks. I wanted her to feel confident and sexy in her skin. I know she thinks she's too skinny to be desirable and me telling her she's my every fucking desire only goes so far. So I dressed her up like someone's dirty fantasy and set her free in a room full of Dominants. Fuck.
“Paris!” Atticus calls, and I have to drag my eyes away from where Reagan is bending down to serve drinks to a table of Dominants. Her skirt rides up her hips and for a second, her entire perky ass is on display. Atticus chuckles at whatever expression I have on my face, glancing over to where my attention has been drawn. I fight the urge to go over to where she stands, bend her over the table, and take her in front of everyone. So if the gold band on her wrist doesn't let them know she's taken, they'll definitely know now. I reach over to swallow my drink in one go.
“Finish your drink,” I say to Atticus, barely sparing him a glance as I watch Reagan laughing with another submissive.
“You're done for, man,” Atticus says, taking his glass from the table between us and finishing it. I don't reply to his comment because, honestly? He has no idea just how right he is. I motion to Maggie for another round of drinks, making a pointed look in Reagan's direction. Maggie shakes her head with a mischievous grin on her face as she gets Reagan for me, pointing her in our direction.
When Reagan reaches our table, her face is stained a light shade of red, no doubt from all the attention she's getting.
“Master, Paris. Master, Atticus. What can I get for you?” She says with a pleasant smile on her face, gasping in surprise when I tug her onto my lap. “I'm on the clock,” she says with a laugh, pushing away from my chest. I ignore her feeble protest and tip her chin up, taking her mouth and kissing her until she's moaning in my mouth and squirming on my lap.
“Have you been a good girl, Amore mio?”
“Yes, sir,"
“That's excellent, baby,” I say, flipping her over so her back is against my front, and the flush on her face intensifies when she sees Atticus staring at her.
“Isn't my Subbie the cutest thing you've ever seen, Atticus?”
“Mhm, straight out of my dirtiest fantasies,” Atticus agrees and Reagan's shocked in hail is audible.
