They’d beenperfectly trained and seemed as if they had been muscling their way through a scene. He’d been able to tell they’d felt that him giving them a good fucking was their reward for being obedient. Part of the pleasure he got from being a dominant was seeing and feeling the submissive’s honesty.
Maybe it’s because all of my previous submissives were human.
Scott had to consciously hold himself back when he spanked or whipped a partner. He wanted to be with someone he could completely be free with, and see their pleasure reflected in the punishment by his hands.
“Would things be different with a shifter?”
Scott wasn’t going to get an answer to his question anytime soon. He looked around his playroom again, and remembered what it felt like when it was the pride of his apartment. Scott had been lax in taking care of the room that had once brought him joy. It was in a slow progression of becoming a storage area with all his boxes of supplies he’d bought and never opened.
Scott had put away all the more intimidating items—like his cane and whip—leaving on display his floggers, paddles, silk scarves, blindfolds, and a few other things that wouldn’t have Quintus running scared out of the room. There was nothing he could do about the spanking bench or his Saint Andrew’s cross. They were too big to hide.
Checking his drawers once more, he made sure his sounds were all in the proper places. Scott made sure the case was locked but the sounding devices visible. He checked to make sure there weren’t any toys that weren’t brand new and sealed, even though he always threw out the used ones rather than wash and reuse them again.
Scott checked his stock of massage oils and made a mental note to talk with Grayson about making a special oil for submissives who bruise easily, knowing they would be able to sell it in the club once he and Chance sat down to talk things through.
He walked over to the bed and straightened the corners on the red silk sheets. He couldn’t stop the thoughts of Quintus lying in bed wearing his striped marks as he fucked him like there was no tomorrow. Scott’s cock jerked at the mental picture, and he had to think of other things to clear his mind from the sweet and tempting thoughts.
“All in good time,” he said out loud. Turning off the lights, he walked out of the room and went into his kitchen to check on dinner. He cooked something simple and hoped Quintus liked it.
“You look happy.”
“Can you not do that,” he said to his cousin Fenrir.
“How do you expect me to enter the house?”
“Use the fucking door like everyone else,” Scott snapped. “What if I had a guest here?”
“Then I wouldn’t have shown myself. I made sure you were alone. Besides, you should be used to it by now. I’ve been popping up in and out of your life since you were a kid.”
“Well, I’m not,” Scott told him.
“I need your help,” Fenrir said.
What the fuck? First his father, now him.
“No,” Scott said.
“But you don’t know what I’m going to ask you.”
“Will I need to kill someone or pretend to kill someone?”
“Nope, I just need some information.”
“On what?”
“On anyone new who showed up in town in the past few months.”
“And how the hell do you expect me to find that out?” Scott asked, looking at his cousin as if he’d lost his mind. “How the hell are you having a hard time finding a missing wolf?”
“I have no fucking idea,” Fenrir said, “Anyway...aren’t you best friends with the new mayor?”
Why the hell does he sound jealous when he said best friend?
“Yeah, but what does trying to find your wolf have to do with Chance?”
“Doesn’t he meet the new residents or something?”
“You’re kidding, right? Chance doesn’t roll out the welcome wagon for everyone. Why don’t you ask Rosemary?”
