Lesson In Honesty (Club Serenity #3)

Chapter Two

Liam

T he photography studio was a work of art.

Acres of sparkling glass offered views of the valley outside; in the daylight, Liam imagined it was beautiful, a wide open landscape full of nature at its finest. Even now, in the dark of a winter night, there was nothing but possibilities waiting on the other side.

The interior was classy, ultra professional, yet it exuded warmth and welcome—not just from the fire pit in the middle of the main room, currently surrounded by several Masters and Mistresses.

Levi had already given them the grand tour, showing off the prop room with immense pride. There was everything from BDSM equipment to a multitude of different themes for the bedroom he’d built specifically for his work.

Clients who visited Serenity could be anything, anywhere they wanted with a little prior notice—Levi’s green screen and variety of costumes made anything possible for those paying for the privilege.

Now, however, the studio wasn’t immersed in the sultry atmosphere of an erotic photography session. Clothes were still on, spirits were high, and although the alcohol flowed freely, there wasn’t any rowdiness or tension.

Impressive, he thought, given the volume of testosterone and dominance in the room. It throbbed like a heartbeat, quiet and steady, beneath the laughter and conversation. The strong thread of an alternative lifestyle.

Sipping from the bottle in his hand, Liam approved of the beer. Not a national brand but bought directly from a local brewery, he was giving serious thought about asking Evander to trial the label in Serenity’s bar.

On the floor by his feet, curled up on a sheepskin rug in front of the blazing fire, Sierra cushioned her cheek on her arm and watched the flames dance with sleepy fascination. She’d angled her face so she could flick her gaze to him every now and then, making sure he didn’t go anywhere.

Some of the tension she’d carried in her face, neck, and shoulders was gone, he noted with satisfaction. Just as a lot of what he’d been hauling around with him wasn’t quite as heavy.

They still had issues, there were still mountains to climb and chasms to crawl through, but reconnecting on a physical level was—to his mind—a positive step forward out of the shit sucking them down.

Fuck, never in all his years had he known a sub to come so quickly without foreplay. Not on the first stroke of his cock. Yet Sierra fell apart as though he’d spent hours rousing her to peak.

He shifted his hips, taking the pressure off his cock as it swelled behind the zipper. He’d been tempted to take her again, but her attempt to walk to the bathroom after he pulled out had been… well, she’d probably kill him if she knew he’d found it comical.

So he’d wait until they got home and maybe, if he scrounged up enough patience, he might be able to love her without bruising her this time.

“Someone looks a lot more relaxed than she did earlier,” Violet crooned as she slipped onto the curved seat beside Liam. Taking a sip of wine, she tilted her glass down at Sierra. “I trust you spent your afternoon settling in?”

“One might say that.” Liam slid his gaze her way, then checked on his sub—she was listening, her eyes more aware but pointedly averted now. “Minx, are you going to say hello to Mistress Violet?”

A blush, hot and embarrassed, arrowed into her cheeks. “Hello.”

Smiling sympathetically, Violet sipped again. “How do you get anything done when you have her around? She’s so adorably shy, it must take some willpower not to just sit and watch her all day.”

“I just take the time to appreciate what I’ve got. She’s my world,” he murmured, exhaling softly. “It would be a cold, solitary existence without her in it. I don’t need willpower not to watch her all the damn time; I need it to stop myself from claiming what’s mine whenever someone looks at her.”

“Now that is spoken like a man in love.” Her Louisiana drawl thickened with approval. “So, Master Liam, why are you and your delightful Sierra all the way here in Denver?”

“Just helping out friends.”

“Oh, come now, there has to be more to it than that. Your reputation in Phoenix is impeccable—a more than competent general manager, excellent bartender, compassionate and skillful Master, and an all-around good guy.” She shrugged when he skewered her with a suspicious glare. “My ex-husband was an abusive, controlling asshole who crossed several boundary lines.” When Liam’s eyebrows shot up, she smiled ruefully. “Not something you’d expect a Domme to admit to, right? I could give you the standard ‘he wasn’t like that when I married him’ spiel, and it wouldn’t be a complete lie. He wasn’t abusive then, but he was controlling. I enjoyed the challenge of it, going head to head with an equal dominant force. So did he, until he began to realize he lost more than he won. Like any sore loser, he didn’t acquiesce with dignity and up his game for the next round; he used his fists and feet instead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“In the end, we both lost. It did teach me, however, that while two strong people can live together, it really doesn’t work when one has a hidden violent streak.” Violet looked at him with big, doe-like eyes, the depths calm and unruffled. “When Evander requested my presence here, I did my homework. Single woman relocating to a BDSM resort, basically living with a pack of unknown males. I’d be stupid not to make sure they weren’t serial rapists or closet murderers. Not that I don’t trust Evander’s security measures, but I prefer doing my own research.”

Liam sighed. It was a smart move, he couldn’t deny that. Perhaps it chafed his pride knowing she was privy to more information than he liked, but in the grand scheme of things, he’d put a woman’s physical safety over his personal privacy any day of the week. “That’s fair enough, I guess. Does Evander know you’ve run checks on his employees?”

“No. I see no need for him to know—everyone passed, I discovered no issues that I felt obligated to report, and I’m confident I’m working and living in the kind of environment he and Elias want to build here.” Taking a long sip of wine, she hummed pleasantly. “What I’ve learned will go no further than me, Liam. I don’t horde information to use against coworkers or friends. Any secrets I might have unearthed will remain protected.”

“We have nothing to hide.” Liam twirled the base of his beer bottle on his thigh. “I think you missed an asshole during your search.”

Violet’s eyes lit with humor. “Ah, yes, the reprehensible Blake. I admit, there were a couple of question marks on his file that made me hesitate, but nothing suggested that level of dickheadedness.”

He snorted just as he took a mouthful of beer, almost spraying it out of his nose. “Is that even a word?”

“Of course.” Violet’s gaze ticked down to Sierra before returning to his. “Am I allowed to offer my condolences for your loss, or should I wait until you officially tell me?”

The fast switch threw him for a long moment, bringing a punch of guilt he wasn’t expecting. Shaking it off, he exhaled heavily. “Wyatt isn’t a dirty little secret we keep tucked away. His death damaged us; Sierra took it especially hard. It’s one of the reasons we’re here. Phoenix holds a lot of memories, and we decided we needed to get away from them for a while.”

“I’m sorry. Losing someone is hard at the best of times; to have them taken well before they should go… I can’t imagine,” she murmured. “Was Sierra a Little before the accident?”

Accident was the ultimate understatement, he thought, but he wasn’t going to correct her and start speculation circulating. “Sierra isn’t Little. She shows the occasional tendency—she loves rescuing and rehabilitating stuffies—but her best friend is a full-time Little, so Lisha rubs off on her quite a bit.”

“Really?” Voice laced liberally with laughter, Violet gestured to his sub. “Does she always fall asleep sucking on her thumb?”

Well, hell, that was new. Astonished, Liam immediately dropped his gaze down to discover, yes, his pretty submissive was fast asleep in front of the fire, her thumb hooked to the roof of her mouth as she sucked rhythmically. “Fuck.”

“Trauma affects people differently. What were tendencies might now be an actual kink for her, especially if it brings her comfort.” She smirked and tipped her glass at him. “How are your Daddy Dom skills, Liam?”

Nonexistent.

Somehow, he knew it shouldn’t be a huge surprise—the stuffies, some of her behavior, her instant connection with Alicia… He’d believed it was just Alicia’s influence—along with Caera’s to a degree—transferring onto Sierra, and her love of stuffies came from being different to everyone else, being rejected and thrown aside like an old toy.

Not once had she asked him to try age play, or any form of role play that leaned in that direction. She’d given him no indication at all that she needed the structure of a Daddy Dom-little girl relationship.

Which, he mused darkly, meant she either didn’t know herself, or she’d been a very naughty girl, hiding it from him and denying herself something important.

Oh, they were going to have an interesting chat in the morning.

Even as his mind spun the possibilities around, Violet steered the conversation to safer topics—the differences in weather, the job she’d left in advertising to come to Serenity as a full-time Domme, how they saw the future of the club unrolling.

Liam nursed his beer until he reached the dregs; Violet gratefully accepted another glass of wine from Ericka when the Mommy Domme swept past, more than slightly tipsy. She and Felicity were flirting outrageously with a couple of the new Masters who weren’t embroiled in a heated discussion with Levi, Fordham, and Merrick.

Grit and Tabitha were absent, he noted. A check of his watch told him it was unlikely they’d be coming now, and he wondered whether anyone had invited them. Tabitha gave off some… intense vibes for a sub at the best of times, and if she was forced to interact with people she didn’t like, her social skills often didn’t allow for niceties such as tact.

“So,” Violet intruded on his thoughts quietly, “what are your plans while you’re here? Are you going to play as a couple or opting to experiment with your fresh start?”

Liam shot her a stern look. “That’s between me and my sub.”

She snorted. “That’s hardly an intrusive question tossed in out of context. It’s a sex club, Liam. Merrick isn’t looking for anything serious; he enjoys variety, so single female members stand a good chance at having his full attention for the duration of their stay. Felicity and Ericka have an open relationship, but they like their walking, talking toys. God knows what Fordham wants—he keeps his cards close to the vest—and Levi would probably prefer to strap a grizzly bear into a pair of stocks and flog it than get involved with another woman again.”

Liam’s lips twitched first. The mental imagery of a seven-foot tall grizzly sow in fancy red lace lingerie bent over in stocks, her furry butt waggling enticingly from side to side as it waited for Levi’s flogger to fall, was just too damn much.

Rich, deep laughter burst free, startling several of the others into swinging their heads his way. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like this and meant it.

On the rug, Sierra jerked her head up, panic etched into her face as her eyes darted around to find him.

Setting his empty bottle aside, Liam leaned forward with his arms out, scooping her up as she rolled over and reached for him. She all but crawled into him, trembling lightly as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “I’m here, minx. I didn’t leave you.”

It was her biggest fear. The one consuming her day by day. She wouldn’t admit it—vocalizing that fear meant tempting fate—but he was aware of how it affected her. She’d been so easily used and thrown away in the past, she was stuck, waiting for the smallest, simplest thing to trigger a rejection.

He was willing to bet she thought her inability to get pregnant, for whatever reason, would be the catalyst to him kicking her loose.

Arms curling around her in a protective cradle, Liam wished she could see herself the way he did, and believe there was nothing short of death that would ever make him abandon her. “What do you need, minx?”

Small fingers gripped the front of his shirt. “I’m good.”

“You’re a bad liar,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Take a breath and wake up properly, Sierra. Get your bearings.”

Chances were she’d fall back to sleep, he thought, feeling her knead his stomach with tiny, catlike movements. Sometimes she woke screaming from a nightmare, only to catch a couple of sobbing breaths and drift off again; her brain didn’t stop protecting her even when it turned against her.

She snuffled against his throat, her muscles relaxing under the stroke of his hand. After a minute or two, her breathing slowed and she made soft sounds of contentment as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

Jesus, how blind did he have to be not to see what was right in front of his face? This wasn’t behavioral transference from Alicia and Caera; it was ingrained, an essential piece of her she needed, and they were neglecting it.

He was neglecting it.

Testing them both—his capabilities as a Daddy, and her responsiveness as a Little—Liam cleared his throat and murmured, “Would you like a drink, babygirl?”

Okay, that didn’t sound too bad coming from him, although he wasn’t sure it suited Sierra. Atticus called Alicia princess ; Saul’s Caera was his little rabbit .

Sierra’s reaction, however, was definitely a bullseye hit.

She stiffened as though he’d caught her with a hand in the cookie jar, a shiver running through her. Slowly, she leaned back, using his chest for leverage. Eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep, she searched his face questioningly, a trace of… was that hope in the depths?

Aware Violet was watching their interaction, Liam ignored her presence and tapped his finger on Sierra’s nose. Trying to channel Atticus, he offered her a rueful smile. “Has Daddy been blind to what you’ve been craving, little girl?”

Tears filled her eyes first, shimmering over the beautiful brown, reflecting the flicker of flames from the fire. A lip quiver followed, then a miserable headshake.

“Don’t lie to me, Sierra. I can’t give you what you need if you hide it.” Liam kissed her sweetly, stealing the small sob she couldn’t hold in. “Babygirl, you were so brave after Wyatt died. Braver, stronger , than I was. You gave me everything you had, propped me up, let me lean on you when it should’ve been the other way round. Do you not think I would turn the world upside down to make you happy?”

She dropped her gaze as a tear trickled down her cheek. “I didn’t know how to tell you, how to ask. Being a Daddy isn’t your kink and I thought… I thought maybe you’d be angry or… try and find someone to be…”

Fuck, he thought wearily. Just fuck.

“You thought I’d pawn you off on someone else,” he translated simply. “How long have you felt this way, Sierra?”

She jumped, startled when Merrick rose and jostled the glowing embers of the fire as the last flames died. Linking her fingers together nervously, she kept her attention on the logs he tossed into the pit while her bottom squirmed on Liam’s thigh.

“Answer the question, minx, before I flip you over and spank your ass seven shades of red in front of all these people,” he said in the lowest voice he could muster; she possessed the frustrating talent of prevaricating and had it fined down to an artform.

“A while.” Her swallow was audible.

“Mmm-hmm.” A while in her world equated to anything from the day before to a year ago. Because he wasn’t mad, not really, he rested his forehead against hers. “I should’ve known, shouldn’t I?”

“I thought it would go away.”

“Sierra,” he said with exasperation. “Things like this don’t just go away . It’s part of you, like it’s part of Alicia and Callie. It doesn’t change how I feel about you; I’m just going to have to… adapt to Daddy Dom etiquette.”

“Really?” Hope echoed in her whisper.

“Yeah, babygirl.” He kinda liked how it rolled off his tongue. “God help us both.” His heart flopped over in his chest, completely at her mercy, when she twisted and flung her arms around his neck, strangling him with a hug. “Don’t ever be scared to tell me something, Sierra, or ask me for what you need.”

Straddling him now, she rocked gently from side to side as though her excitement was too much to contain. “Thank you.”

“Dying to call me Daddy, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…”

Running his hand down her back, he settled it on her ass. The lack of curves she once had annoyed him; grief and stress ate the flesh off her bones in record time, and it was taking longer than he thought to build her up again. “Try it out, minx.”

When she sat up, the pressure of her pussy against his cock was delicious. It was eclipsed, however, by the love in her eyes as she set her hands on his cheeks, stared into him, and whispered in a broken voice, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Fuck, maybe Att, Van, and Elias were on to something with this. The emotion she evoked with those three little words was frighteningly strong. He’d die for her on any given day, but when she called him Daddy?

Hell, he’d take a page from Tabitha’s book and commit murder for her.

“I’ll do anything for you, Sierra; you should know that by now.” Kissing her gently, he reminded himself they were in public—fucking her on the sheepskin rug in front of everyone wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, but she needed to be able to function around them. “Why don’t you go get a drink, minx? You haven’t had anything all night.”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything that doesn’t render you comatose after one sip.”

Sierra giggled, bouncing on his dick twice before she scrambled off his lap. Hesitating, she asked, “Would you like anything?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Liam waited to see if her manners outweighed her social awkwardness.

Shuffling from foot to foot, eyes cast slightly down, she turned partially toward the stranger beside him. “Mistress Violet?”

“White wine would be lovely, thank you.”

Fleeing like a nervous mouse, although with the slightest skip in her step, Sierra skirted around the edge of the room to reach the bar, purposefully ducking out of conversation range of anyone near her.

“She’s really not a people person, is she?” Violet commented.

“She is when she finds people who accept her for who she is,” Liam countered easily. “It was one of the hardest things to weigh in when we chose to come here. Avalon is home—she knows she’s loved there, our friends see past the hirsutism and psoriasis to the woman beneath, and she feels comfortable enough to come out of her shell. Here, we’re having to start all over again, and kindness isn’t a universal trait.”

“How true. An unfortunate statement on the future of mankind.” Relaxed and in full control of her surroundings, Violet leaned against the back of the seat. “For many, BDSM forms the dregs of society, so terribly taboo what with all the flogging and toys and sex. Yet where else can you find the freedom of expression, the perfect environment to be yourself? This lifestyle isn’t just about sex and domination. It’s friendship and family, building connections between people who might not even look at each other out there in the big, bad world. If anyone knows anything about acceptance, Liam, it’s us.”

“Tell that to big mouth Blake,” he muttered, wishing he’d forced the asshole to swallow a few teeth before he slithered back into his hole. “I get what you’re saying, Violet, but it’s not that easy. Not for Sierra.”

They both swung their gazes toward the bar where Sierra, six feet away from the drinks, stood frozen. Her head was down, her fingers linked at the small of her back, and she was pointedly not willing to approach Fordham, who was pouring a pair of shots.

“It can be. She’s not the only one without friends here,” Violet said softly, wistfully. “I’m available for whatever she needs; you too. Friendship, babysitting duties, the occasional third in a scene.”

Liam slid his gaze her way. Not once had she touched him, flirted with him, given him any impression she had a sexual interest in him . “You like Sierra.”

Her lips twitched. “Cock is my favorite toy, Liam, especially when it’s attached to a submissive, masochistic man. I rarely do women, although… I wouldn’t say no if she wanted to experiment.”

He barely stifled a laugh. If she knew how long it had taken him in the beginning simply to get Sierra wet, to retrain her body and mind into relaxing during sex, she’d understand how farfetched that suggestion might be. “Well, if you get her consent, I’ll let you play.”

That husky laugh hummed over his skin. “Now why does that sound like a challenge I can’t refuse?”

“The deeper you dig into what makes her tick, the more challenges you’ll find.” He watched Sierra inch her way to her goal, sneaking up on Fordham’s blind side to reach for the bottle of wine on the sleek stretch of wood. “Sex is a serious business for her, and she requires a hell of a lot of trust in place before she steps out of her comfort zone. My special girl,” he murmured, more to himself than his companion.

“You love her very much,” she noted. “I’d say she’s a lucky girl.”

Not so lucky, he thought with a wince as Fordham turned and bumped lightly into Sierra. The wine bottle, in mid-pour, slipped from her hands, spilling pale liquid as the neck tilted downward.

With both shot glasses cupped in one palm, Fordham grabbed for the bottle, startling her into leaping back at the sudden move. Her feet went out from under her; Ford’s fast thinking switched his grab from the bottle to her arm.

Glass thudded harmlessly on the carpet; a couple glugs of wine spilled from the almost empty vessel.

Depositing his drinks on the bar, Ford gently grasped Sierra’s other arm and balanced her on wobbly legs. She took a hasty step back, nearly went down again, and Ford righted her a second time. When she didn’t recoil a third time, he smiled.

Picking up one glass, he turned and lifted it in question toward Liam, asking permission.

Poor little minx was sheet white and shaking, undoubtedly waiting for someone to come over and shout at her for being clumsy. Ordinarily, Liam would’ve been on his feet, rushing over to save her, but he was curious to see how she’d rebound—or crumble—from the mishap.

With a nod, he gave Ford the okay.

Sierra took the glass tentatively, shoulders hunching as she sought reassurance from Liam with haunted eyes. When he smiled and mimed tossing back the shot, she squeezed her eyes shut and obeyed.

Violet laughed quietly; the grimace as Sierra swallowed whatever was in the glass could’ve curdled milk.

Fordham retrieved the empty bottle from the carpet and tossed it in the recycling bin behind the bar. Calm, collected, he selected another bottle, opened it, and poured a glass before Sierra stopped spluttering.

Efficiency—always a good quality in a Dom.

Talking to Sierra all the while, Ford quickly cleaned up the spilled wine with a cloth from the bar. By the time he finished, no more than a minute or two, it wasn’t hard to see the alcohol was already taking effect on the little minx.

“Such a lightweight,” Liam commented, knowing he’d be carrying her home.

“I think she’s a bit starstruck,” Violet replied.

It shocked Liam how easy it was to sit and talk to the mistress after so short an acquaintance. He understood how Sierra felt Violet resembled Connie—there was the same motherly, distinctly compassionate vibe that Avalon’s mother hen exuded.

Easy, but nice to have a friend so soon.

Sierra flushed bright, beautiful red and giggled as Ford picked up the wine glass in one hand, offering her his arm as gallantly as any historical gentleman hero. Ducking her head shyly, she tentatively slipped her fingers through the crook of his elbow, following him like a doting puppy when he headed in Liam’s direction.

“I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble finding a third to play with her,” Violet pointed out, “if that’s what you decide to do. She’s a beguiling little thing, whether she intends to be or not.”

That was a resounding not , Liam mused. She was going to be mortified once her inhibitions returned, especially if he told her how she was gleefully swinging on Fordham’s arm as she skipped along beside him.

“Vodka?” Liam asked when Ford was in earshot.

“Only the best,” was the smooth reply. Ford offered Violet the glass, then gently pried Sierra’s fingers from his arm and transferred her to Liam. “I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself earlier—Fordham Dewitt.”

“Liam Carradine.” They exchanged handshakes. “This troublemaker is Sierra.”

“Hardly a troublemaker.” Ford grinned when she slithered onto Liam’s lap, plastering her body against his and planting a kiss on his mouth. “Alcohol is definitely not her friend. It might just be yours, though.”

Oh yeah, she was… affectionate under the influence. No holds barred, public be damned, hornier than a rhino affectionate. Depending on the amount she drank, the period of brazen intimacy might last anywhere from an hour to all night.

Her busy, busy hands snuck under his shirt, aiming for his belt. “Hey, Daddy.”

Cock punching into her seeking grasp, Liam clenched his teeth, snagging her wrists before she exposed him to two pairs of amused eyes. He hissed between his teeth when her nimble fingers latched onto him through the denim. “Sierra.”

She stroked the outline of his dick, leaning into him until her mouth was on his throat, just above his collarbone. Lips sealing to his skin, she sucked and hummed simultaneously, riding his thigh to her own internal rhythm.

“Which vodka?” he choked out.

Fordham rubbed his chin. “Blue Label.”

Ah shit. Fifty percent ABV, hundred proof, and more potent than anything she’d had before. Her tolerance for drink was a minus ten on any scale; no wonder a single shot of Stolichnaya was wreaking havoc on her.

“Come play with me, Daddy?” Her teeth nipped his throat, her tongue licking over the ache. Yeah, she’d learned that from him, goddamn it. “I’m all wet and empty, and I need… mmmn, I need to be filled up. All the way up.”

Christ, it was all he could do to stop his eyes crossing. “Behave yourself, minx. I don’t want to have to spank you in front of Master Fordham and Mistress Violet.”

She lifted her head, lip between her teeth, and turned her slightly glassy gaze to Violet, then Fordham. Her laugh was shy, a little slurred, and she gave him a finger wiggle. “Wanna play with me… um, sir?”

Ford cleared his throat, but she obviously took it as assent because she whipped her head back to meet Liam’s eyes, the tip of her nose pressed adorably to his as she gave him a drunken, pleading smile.

“Please, Daddy, can we play?” Her voice dropped to a loud whisper that wasn’t really a whisper at all. “One in my pussy, one in my ass? Like we used to.” She rubbed her nose against his in a sloppy Eskimo kiss. “I miss that, Daddy, so much.”

Fuck. If she wasn’t drunker than a skunk in a vat of rum, he would give her exactly what she wanted, right here and now. But no Dom worth his salt would agree when she was inebriated, and he understood her well enough to know embarrassment would lead to regrets.

“Not tonight, Sierra. We’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober and able to make informed decisions.” When her eyes shimmered with tears, he steeled his resolve. “We’ll talk, minx, and you can tell me why you’ve been hiding your needs for so long.”

Sierra opened her mouth, shut it, then pouted. Apparently, even drunk, she recognized when he was displeased. She toyed with the buttons on his shirt, sliding her fingertips between the gaps to tease his chest. “But I already asked if he wanted to play.”

She had, and some part of her would worry endlessly about being rude if she rescinded that invitation. It was the kind of thing that got under her skin and exacerbated her condition, stressing over other people’s perceptions of her.

Liam inhaled slowly, trying to spin the situation back into his control before she incited a fucking orgy in Levi’s home, but he was saved by Fordham stepping in.

“Sweetheart, as much as I appreciate it, I’m afraid I have someone waiting for me. I think your Daddy has the right idea—get some rest, sleep off the vodka, and broach the subject again tomorrow when you’re not addled.” Keeping an impressive straight face, he dropped to his haunches beside them. “Come find me if the offer is on the table again.”

“M’kay.” Losing the pout, she beamed at him, her smile slightly lopsided.

“Pleasure to meet you, Liam.” Rising, Ford gave him a nod and made his escape, returning to the bar for his drinks.

It took all of twenty seconds for Sierra’s libido to switch its attention from threesome to one-on-one. Despite her clumsy fingers, she got the first four buttons undone in quick succession, spreading the material open so she could lick the skin beneath.

“That looks like fun,” Violet commented, tongue in cheek. Mischievousness gleamed in her eyes when Liam shot her a baleful glare. “I prefer it when someone else is doing the licking… a lot lower down.”

“Not helping,” he ground out.

Sierra squirmed backwards, sliding off his lap with a startled squeak as she landed on her knees. It didn’t deter her; she wiggled between his legs, attacking his zipper with single-minded focus.

Fuck it.

Growling under his breath, Liam hooked his hands behind his head and stopped resisting. The pressure on his dick abated when the zipper lowered fully, then he was out in the open air the instant she popped the button free.

A line of wet heat sliced from his balls all the way up his shaft to the tip. Her tongue circled his crown lazily, teasing precum to the surface. With a happy hum, she pressed her lips over the head, sheathing her teeth, and swallowed him down halfway.

It seemed she was on a mission tonight, he thought as his blood pressure surged, pounding through the veins in his shaft like a demented monkey playing bass drums. All he wanted to do was take fistfuls of that silky red hair and use them to force her head down, making her choke on his cock even as she struggled to take him into her throat.

But she was still humming merrily away, her eyes closed as she bobbed up and down the length contained in her mouth while her hand caressed several inches of neglected flesh. Lost in her own little world, she worked him to the back of her throat, gagged, then shuffled backwards on her knees.

Changing the angle of his dick, he thought with pride, as well as the position of her head and neck. He felt her swallow awkwardly, his groin already wet with her saliva, then the crown popped past the restriction at the back of her throat and slid into heaven.

“Holy shit,” he growled, unable to move. If he so much as twitched, he was likely to cut this delightfully erotic moment short, and he wanted to wring every ounce of debauchery from it.

She’d never been able to deepthroat him.

Sierra hummed cheerfully in agreement, the vibrations shooting straight down his shaft to titillate his balls. Tingles stirred at the base of his spine, but when her nose touched his crotch, his entire length snugly enveloped in her throat, she stopped.

Ten seconds. Fifteen.

“Stuck?” he asked, watching her eyes pop open. The drunken glaze still glossed over the brown, but panic was seeping through. The noises she made reflected her distress as she realized she couldn’t breathe. “Easy, minx. Pull back until you can breathe through your nose.”

Of course, she tried to breathe first. Nails biting into his skin, just above his waistband, she damn near throttled his cock with the constriction of her muscles.

Liam cradled her head in one hand, and slid the other under her chin. A gentle but firm tug on her hair brought those stricken eyes to his. “Relax your throat, minx. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” Stroking his hand back from her chin, it was ridiculously fucking sexy to feel the slight bulge where his cock rested. Calm pressure urged her to ease away until her airway was clear. “Good girl. Suck in a breath now, through your nose. That’s right, nice and slow.”

Her tongue worked restlessly on the underside of his shaft. When she tried to spit his dick out, he fisted her hair and tsked softly in disapproval. “Ah-ah. You started this, Sierra, so you’re gonna finish it.”

Eyes widening, dilating, she gave the smallest nod.

“Caught your breath?”

Another, smaller nod.

“Down you go then.” He discovered his hold on her head was surplus to requirements; she picked up right where she’d left off, swallowing hard and sucking him back into the tight clasp of her throat. “Such a good little girl.”

Her answering moan was low and happy.

He fucked her slowly, carefully, building up a rhythm that gave her an opportunity to breathe every couple of thrusts. The hand in her hair guided her; the one on her throat tripped all his sadistic instincts.

Saliva dripped from around the seal of her lips around his cock, coating his shaft, pooling around the root and soaking into his jeans. A beautiful, chaotic mess, especially with tears in her eyes.

With her tongue fluttering and rubbing all the sensitive spots, he wasn’t going to last long. Add in the scrape of her teeth, the occasional unintentional nip, and his engine was revving to the point of overload.

“Harder, minx. Faster.” Lowering his voice an octave, he utilized his Dom voice to its maximum potential and felt her shiver in response. “Thirty seconds on the clock, little girl. Thirty seconds to get me off. Starting… now.”

Fucking hell, maybe he should remember how thoroughly she obeyed orders. Hands gripping his thighs, she threw herself into the task, choking as she fucked her throat on his cock until a savage kind of pleasure-pain shanked his spine.

His fingers tightened in her hair, against her esophagus, as the veins in his cock throbbed and his balls drew up. He made it to the count of twenty, pressing down on her head until her lips wrapped around the base of his dick, and let loose with a raw snarl of exquisite bliss.

He held her there as cum erupted into her belly, her throat rippling around his shaft and milking him dry. Losing himself in the moment, it wasn’t until she started to squirm in distress that he eased her off his cock with the utmost care.

“You okay, babygirl?”

Sierra spluttered, wheezing in a hard breath. But when she lifted her eyes to meet his, they mirrored her beatific smile. “Tired now, Daddy.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Liam’s long fingers massaged her scalp as she rested her cheek on his inner thigh and sighed sweetly. When a white cloth caught his eye, he blinked and accepted the handkerchief dangling from Violet’s dainty hand. “Thanks.”

“Did she know what kind of beast she was taking on when you got together?” The Mistress asked nonchalantly. He could feel her eyes on him as he tenderly cleaned his sub’s face, removing tears and saliva from her flushed skin. “Because—and I’m being perfectly honest here—I’ve never heard a man snarl when he comes.”

He laughed. “What?”

“You snarled,” she repeated, fanning herself with her hand.

Balling the dirty material in his hand, Liam frowned. As far as he knew, snarling wasn’t his usual—he jolted, hips bucking as the sensitive head of his cock slipped back into warm, wet nirvana.

Eyes heavy and sleepy now, Sierra sucked lightly, using his crown as a replacement for her thumb. Her left hand kneaded his thigh through his jeans; she drifted into her happy place, where she felt safe and loved.

As his eyes crossed from the sensations and blood began a southward journey to his groin, Liam gingerly extracted himself from her mouth before he embarrassed himself, tucking his dick back in and zipping it up before it caused more trouble.

Sierra mewled softly in disappointment, then contented herself by rubbing her cheek against his leg.

He doubted it was the most comfortable position, but he’d leave her where she was until it was time to leave. She’d let him know when she was ready to come back to reality, and his guess was she’d be a little hungover when she did.

“Uh-oh,” Violet murmured, a slight twang of glee in her tone. “Ericka’s locked her sights on the enigmatic Levi, it seems, and she’s had more wine than me. Which is saying something,” she added, tilting her empty glass as though calculating how much she’d had to drink. “Do we think fireworks or no?”

Liam glanced over, watching the Mommy Domme sashay her way over to the photographer with her most sultry smile plastered in place. “He’ll shut her down pretty quick, is my guess.”

Pretty quick was right; Levi maintained an insistent arm’s length between him and the intoxicated Domme as she flirted shamelessly with him. Avoiding every attempt she made to touch him—shoulder, arm, even a grope at his ass—he finally snapped.

Snagging her wrist, he spun her around so her back was against his chest and her arm was twisted up between them. Her expression flashed with surprise, not pain, so Liam tamped down the urge to intervene.

Levi leaned in close, his lips almost touching her ear, and delivered what had to be a dressing down of epic proportions—the color drained from her face, shame filling her eyes, and she nodded soberly before he released her without any hint of malice.

Now that, Liam thought with approval, was a Dom in serious control of his emotions. Not everyone would’ve restrained her so carefully after several failed gropes, and there were a few Doms Liam knew personally whose tempers wouldn’t have been as skillfully contained.

“Oh, he’s good.” Violet’s drawl backed up his thoughts. “Do you think—”

Liam tuned her out briefly. They might be a long way from home, the future unpredictable on all levels, but he felt a surge of hope that their time away from Avalon might be everything he’d imagined when he made the decision to relocate.

These people were strangers to each other, yet they were already forming bonds. Thin strings leading from one person to the next, good and bad, which would eventually weave into a net that was more familial than occupational.

The next few months might be better than he originally thought.

Sierra

The reindeer stuffie perched on the turntable, looking a lot healthier than Sierra felt. As she absently spun the wheel, perusing the wardrobe choices she’d laid out for her latest rehabilitation project, vague flashes of last night’s escapades kept flicking through her brain.

Liam shocking the stuffing out of her by acknowledging her secret yearning.

Liam stepping into Daddy shoes as though he’d been born in them.

Herself, downing a shot glass full of crystal-clear liquid.

Herself, deepthroating her Dom in a room full of other, unfamiliar Dominants.

Herself, floating through cold, crisp air to land in a soft, warm bed.

Closing her eyes against the vaguely pulsing headache playing the xylophone on the inside of her skull, she realized there was no wonder she’d woken up with a tacky mouth and sore throat. She just didn’t know whether to be mortally embarrassed or ridiculously proud of herself.

Maybe she’d decide when her hangover passed.

Picking up a pretty red, green, and black tartan kilt she’d made from the scraps of another project, she held it in front of the reindeer with a critical—if squinty—eye.

The colors worked well with the honey-brown fur, and the kilt’s length suited the long, floppy legs. An elasticated waistband would keep it in place quite snugly.

“Mph.” With a groan, she laid her head on the kitchen table and swallowed back nausea. She couldn’t believe that one small glass, barely the length of her thumb, was potent enough to knock her on her ass like this. “Reap what you sow, Sierra.”

“But you sowed it so well.” Silent as a ninja on bare feet, Liam snuck up behind her and dropped a kiss between the thin spaghetti straps of her sleep top, right beneath her nape where her nerve endings shivered. When she squeaked in surprise, he chuckled. “Been a while since you got blowjob drunk, minx. How’s your throat this morning?”

Was she blushing? No, she was too dead to blush. Her answer was a mumble, sort of coherent if she enunciated carefully. “Like an anaconda after it swallows a hippo.”

He laughed. “How much do you remember?”

Far too much for her to ever look at his colleagues again, she thought morosely. She must have made a horrible first impression on them—swinging from shy and non-communicative to drunk with one shot, performing fellatio like a seasoned whore, and being carried away from the party without any recollection of her departure.

She grunted softly, moving her cheek to a cooler section of the table. “I won’t be leaving the house anytime soon.”

“Quite a lot then,” he murmured, his tone ripe with amusement. He stroked her head gently, his palm sliding down to cover her nape for a light, reassuring squeeze before he stepped away. “Violet and Fordham are taken with you, minx. A few of the others seemed impressed with your vodka antics.”

Antics . Such a small, humble word representing her fall from social grace.

She groaned as the coffeemaker started; her stomach threatened to revolt in spectacular style at the scent of anything stronger than water. “Oh goodie. I’m popular as long as I’m horribly, stupidly intoxicated.”

“Babygirl, people love you for you, not how uninhibited you are under the influence.” The refrigerator door opened and closed in quick succession; she jerked her head up at the endearment. “What, did you think I’d forget my sub has been a naughty girl, lying to herself and to me?”

She swallowed back bile. “Lying is a harsh word.”

“Hmm.” Liam set a glass of juice on the wood with a sharp clunk . “When did you first realize being Little appealed to you?”

Oh crap, he wanted her to think now? She dropped her eyes to the reindeer, wishing the cute stuffie could talk for her. Sometimes, when confrontation reared its ugly head, selective mutism took over, rendering her speechless even though there were words on the tip of her tongue.

A trait she’d learned thanks to Wyatt.

Sliding a bowl of cereal in front of her, Liam took a seat, leaning back in a casual pose. “This isn’t something you’ve chosen on a whim, Sierra. I don’t think it’s even what you’ve picked up from Alicia and Caera. The way you responded to me calling you babygirl, the way your face lit up when you called me Daddy… you need it.”

“I…” He wasn’t wrong. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want a Little.”

“Look at me. At me , Sierra,” he commanded, steel in his tone.

When she hesitantly obeyed, afraid she’d see the beginning of the end on his face, she wasn’t surprised by the anger darkening his gray eyes to stormy pools.

“I don’t care if you want to be a Little or a puppy, or tied up in the dungeon to try being a pinata for the night. We might have an issue if you decide to give being a Domme a shot,” he mused, “but everyone has needs. The only thing I want is you, Sierra. Daddying is going to be a shock, but I figure I’ve got some of the best to learn from, if you’re willing to be patient with me.”

“I don’t want this to come between us,” she mumbled.

“Why would it?”

“What if I’m like Lisha?”

Liam frowned. “Lisha? You mean, all Little all the time?”

Sierra nodded, emotion strangling her as she thought of her best friend.

“Come here, minx.” He patted his knee, then held his arms wide for her. They wrapped around her when she slipped off her chair, stumbled, and damn near crawled onto his lap. “Wyatt damaged you, we both know that. His actions crammed so many insecurities into your head, it’s a fucking miracle you ever gave me a chance.” Rocking her gently, he told her, “I’m not going to leave you.”

“You didn’t want a Little.”

“It doesn’t matter. I want you . I love you .” Nuzzling the side of her face, he linked his fingers through hers. “The psoriasis, the beard, don’t bother me. They’re part of you, just like this is, so why would I suddenly stop loving you because something you’ve hidden needs to surface?”

“I’d die,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“If you stopped loving me, I’d die. There’s nothing important keeping me here, nothing but you, and if that changed…” She trailed off, surprised she’d let that much slip out.

“Fuck. No, you don’t ever think like that, Sierra. Do you trust me when I say what I feel is tantamount to breathing? The emotions I have for you—love, pride, the sheer joy of knowing you’re mine—they’re not just in my heart, minx; they’re ingrained in it, inked and branded. Should anything ever happen where I’m not with you, you don’t give up. Live, and keep on living like I’m right here with you.”

God, how had they taken such a morbid turn? From Daddies and Littles to death and dying. There’d been too much of the latter for her to think about more; worse, to contemplate any circumstances which might take Liam from her side.

“I don’t… I can’t talk about this,” she told him honestly. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither. So let’s agree that you and me are strong in this relationship; there’ll be no more talk of leaving or dying.” Liam took a long, slow breath and exhaled it in the same fashion. “I have to spend time in the bar today. Check inventory, make sure everything’s working before we open. Mundane stuff.”

Sierra nodded, knowing the routine well. “It’s okay. I’ve got some projects to keep me busy.” She reached out to stroke the reindeer with a fingertip. “There’s always another stuffie to fix.”

“Not today.” Liam reached out too, but not for the stuffie. He hooked the rim of the bowl and pulled it over, dunking the spoon and lifting it laden with milk and sugared hoops. “Violet volunteered to show you through the Nursery. Yes, I know you dislike doing anything with strangers,” he said patiently before she spluttered a protest, “but it’ll be good for you to spend time with new people and make another friend. It’ll give you a chance to be… yourself, without the pressure of me being there.”

When she turned her head to stare at him, mouth open in horror, he shoved a spoonful of cereal in it. It was either chew or choke, so she chose the first, holding her hand up to indicate she wanted to speak, but he just carried right on.

“Take some time, Sierra. Don’t worry about me or what I think. Go play like you’re five years old again, enjoy whatever playground Evander’s built for Littles like you and Callie, and explore yourself.” He licked a drop of milk from her lower lip, turning it into a lush kiss as she swallowed. “Find who you are, babygirl, and I’ll follow your lead.”

Her core clenched, more needy over the past twenty-four hours than it had been in months. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’d rather look around with you.”

When he held another spoonful to her mouth, she scowled but accepted it before he forced her to eat. The hoops were getting soggy, losing their crunch as she chewed methodically.

“I know. But I’m going to be busy, and I dislike the idea of you being here alone so soon. A few hours won’t harm anything. Violet will look after you, make sure you don’t get into trouble, until I finish up.” He kissed the tip of her nose and handed her the spoon when the coffeemaker signaled it was done. “Eat your breakfast and I’ll get you some pain meds for that headache.”

She grumbled as he lifted her off his lap, depositing her on his chair. Sulking just a bit, she mechanically ate the soggy cereal while Liam made his coffee. The sight of his naked back—broad shoulders, strong ribcage, beautiful waist—and all those muscles subtly shifting beneath his skin as he reached for a mug in the cabinet above the coffeemaker sure as hell distracted her from the hangover.

Her man ticked all the boxes, inside and out.

He filled the mug, no milk, no sugar, and sipped the black brew as he returned to the table. The scent was bitter enough to anger her sensitive stomach; she wasn’t a coffee person at the best of times. “The rules of today’s fun time are as follow, babygirl—one, Mistress Violet is in charge. Listen to her, do as she says. Two, you’ll eat properly; I’ve already asked her to schedule in a snack break and a lunch date. Three, you take this opportunity and run with it. I don’t want to see a report from Violet stating you spent hours tucked into a corner, refusing to come out.”

Sierra’s brows drew together. “She’s reporting back to you?”

He sipped his coffee again, lifting an eyebrow. “Would a Daddy not require some form of report from his babygirl’s caretaker? On her behavior, whether she’s been a very good girl who deserves a reward or a bad one who needs a damn spanking? I think he would.”

Okay, that was a point in his favor. Maybe if she refused his terms, the impromptu playdate with Mistress Violet wouldn’t go ahead, and Sierra’s day would return to her normal, stuffie-fixing routine.

Bliss .

She slid her eyes toward the reindeer, then over to Liam. “Mistress Violet isn’t the boss of me. I don’t want a snack or lunch, and if you make me go, I will spend all afternoon in the smallest, darkest corner I can find.”

“I see.” Nodding gravely, he tapped his fingertips on the table in an idle rhythm. “Well, I suppose you don’t have to spend any time having fun today.” He tilted his wrist, checking his watch, then shrugged. “I’ve got enough time before I need to go to work for a caning. Why don’t you go upstairs and fetch my play bag? A five-bar gate should teach you to appreciate a nice gesture when it’s offered instead of being a brat.”

The spoon plopped into the half-empty bowl, splashing milk and a couple of floppy loops onto the table top. Caning was her most hated punishment—she’d rather ride a fucking machine with its biggest dildo up her ass than endure two seconds with a thin switch of wood.

Five horizontal strikes with a diagonal one laid over them all was too much.

She began to wonder if having a Daddy with sadistic urges might be more than she could handle. She loved rough sex, butt sex, all the sex with him, but the cane was definitely on her borderline hard limit list.

“Uh…”

“Something you’d like to say?” He asked nonchalantly.

She averted her gaze, drawing submission around her like a cloak. If needed, she’d grovel to escape the bite and burn of that wicked implement; better to sacrifice her pride than her ass at this point. “Please don’t use the cane, Sir. I’m sorry for being a… brat.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Please?”

“I don’t know, it seems to me I’m not going to be the Daddy you need if I renege on a promised punishment whenever you act sad and repentant.” The mug thudded heavily on the table. “Are you going to be a good girl and do what Violet tells you?”

She nodded hastily. “Yes, Sir, Daddy, I will. I promise.”

“All right then, just this once, I’ll let the punishment skate. However,” he added ominously, “if Violet gives me any indication you’ve been a brat in my absence, you’ll be sleeping on your stomach tonight with welts on your ass and my cock buried in it.”

Oh, now that was torture. Pleasure and pain in equal measure—she’d discovered early on in their relationship how much she loved having him in her ass, even if she tried to hide that sinful little shame.

“I’ll be good, Daddy.”

“We won’t have an issue then, will we? Now, I need to get you over to the Nursery in thirty minutes, so finish your breakfast and then go get dressed.” He rose, taking the mug with him. He rinsed it out in the sink, stuck it in the dishwasher, then rummaged in the cupboard next to the refrigerator, bringing her two Advil. “Take these with your juice.”

She didn’t hesitate to obey.

Her Daddy was apparently much better at keeping Littles in line than they’d both expected.