Maybe he’ll—
“You a good girl who wants to kneel for Daddy?” He rifles through the list I put face down on the table.
“Not today.” I slap a hand on my list and tug it away from him.
He tugs back. “Come on. Let’s see it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Awwww, look at you, all rosy-cheeked. You a shy, sweet girl who wants her big Daddy to—”
“You’re done,” says a deep voice. I look up in time to see Broody Bar Guy grab Nasty Dentist Daddy by the spiked collar of his leather jacket. “Out.”
Right away, bodies converge. Massive Tank, a sexy couple from one of the dark corners, Daff from the front desk. Then Harlow, the bouncer from upstairs, swoops in and drags him off single-handedly, which is a level of badassery I absolutely aspire to.
Well, then. That removal—quick and painless—certainly speaks of a well-run establishment.
Broody Bar Guy returns, sets my checklist face down on the table, and smooths it out. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” I reply.
“That man shouldn’t have been here.” He watches me carefully.
“It’s okay.”
“No. A good Dom doesn’t impose his will like that. The club should have vetted him better.”
I blink up at him, noting the hint of hair just visible at the open V of his collar and the sharp angle of his jawline, shadowed by dark stubble. Above it, his face is deadly serious.
“What, um…?” My voice is embarrassingly squeaky. “What is the hallmark of a real Dom?”
“First off, Doms set up ground rules. Make sure they’re on the same page as the sub. A good Dom asks questions and pays attention. Listens to the sub. They’d let you call the shots.” The sharply etched lines between his brows deepen as he leans in. “You, for example, don’t want to be hurt.”
My mouth drops open. How could he possibly know that?
“You saw my checklist?” I lift the now-crumpled pages.
“I wouldn’t read that without your consent.”
“What would you do? With my consent.”
“Maybe a little role play. A little dirty talk.” Somehow, he’s a step closer, his face lower. “Got the feeling you want to be told what to do.” A quick twist of his lips. “And I heard what you told the last guy.”
“Which part?”
His mouth loosens into something close to a grin. “Well, not the part about color copies in your workplace.”
I huff out a laugh. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“I tried not to listen, believe me. Couldn’t help but hear the part where you want someone to take care of you.”
Oh. Did I really say that? I guess I must have. “I didn’t mean, you know, financially. Like that Sugar Daddy from earlier was into.”
“Oh, I know.” His voice is a warm whisper. “You meant take care of your pleasure.”
He’s squatting beside me now, our faces close. He smells like beer with maybe cedar and cloves and hints of something metallic. I want to bottle that scent, spray it all over my sheets, and roll in it.
“Areyoua Dom?” I whisper.
