Lesson In Honesty (Club Serenity #3)

Chapter Twelve

Sierra

M onday morning rolled around far too soon.

After spending what felt like an eternity sleeping in Levi’s bed, she’d been plied with water and a light meal before her Doms bundled her into warm clothing and left Levi to his work.

The cold had shocked her awake long enough to function like a human being for a couple hours and recognize the aches that came with a thorough, rigorous scene before her body insisted on more rest.

When she woke again, Mack was spooned behind her and Liam was just sliding out of bed, his naked ass the first thing she saw.

“Go back to sleep, minx,” he whispered when she mewled softly. “Early morning deliveries need my attention.” He turned, set his fists in the empty spot where he’d slept, and kissed her. “Mack will bring you to the restaurant for lunch, and Jonah takes over from me at five. Movie night?”

She nodded, her eyes drifting shut again. “M’kay.”

“Good girl. Stay at home today, okay? Get lots of rest and drink plenty of water. The other night took too much out of you.”

But it was so much fun…

When she opened her eyes a second time, Liam was no longer there, and the empty space beside her was cold. Their brief interlude seemed like a dream, hazy in the pre-dawn blackness.

Now there was sunlight playing peek-a-boo with the curtains, and a substantial example of morning wood snuggling in the crack of her ass.

Easing out from under the arm draped over her hip, she crept to the bathroom and began her normal morning ritual—washing, brushing her teeth, attacking the tangled red mop on her head.

Mack had rolled to his back when she returned, the duvet tenting over his crotch. He was adorable really, with his tussled hair and face set in such peaceful lines he resembled an angelic choirboy.

As quietly as she could, Sierra dressed and left him sleeping. She felt strangely refreshed, and if she lounged around in bed waiting for him to wake up, she’d fall back asleep, feel terrible for it, and waste a good portion of the day when she had stuffies to organize and repair.

In the hallway, she slipped into her winter jacket and boots, then made her way to the kitchen for two bananas and a protein bar. As an afterthought, she snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Fortified and ready for the day, she remembered to leave Mack a note before walking out of the cabin and standing on the porch, breathing deep of the cold air. Refreshed might not be the word she was looking for; lighter was more apt.

The patches of blue scattered amongst the clouds were hopeful instead of foreboding. The cold air energized her instead of draining her spirits.

It was weird, but she felt as though the world was on her side for once.

Following the path from the cabin, she headed for the Nursery. Gravel scrunched loudly under her feet, so she tried her best to bounce instead of step. After all, for most people here, Monday morning wasn’t actually Monday morning , but an extension of the weekend.

She was almost skipping when she reached the Nursery. Pushing through the doors into the warmth was delightful, and she tugged off her jacket as she hurried through the play areas to the Sanctuary.

The place was empty, the Dom or Domme assigned on monitor duty not yet arrived, so she took a moment just to stare at the beautiful gift she’d been given.

While she itched to get to work, pride reared its ugly head and told her to display the stuffies she’d already fixed where they could be seen and loved, and find someone to go home with at the end of the day.

Humming happily under her breath, she tried the door and found it open. She ran her hand down the wall to find the light switch, and that lovely soft illumination brought her dream to life.

There was a note on the counter, along with a set of keys and a folded square of material. An apron, she discovered as she shook it out, with a wide pocket across the front separated into different compartments; it even had Sierra’s Stuffie Sanctuary embroidered with a row of patchwork teddy bears over the front.

The note simply read: We hope you have many happy hours here, Sierra. Enjoy! Love Callie, Elias, and Evander. It was obviously Callie’s idea as the handwriting was too pretty to be masculine, and there were tiny hearts dotting the i ’s.

Never in a million years did she think she and Liam would find the same kind of family they had in Avalon, but apparently miracles happened. She wished they could all come together, Phoenix and Denver, and see how special they all were reflected in each other.

With a little squeal, she danced on the spot.

Pulling the apron string over her head, she smoothed the cotton down and tied the thin ribbons behind her. A flash of Saturday night struck her low in the belly, the feel of the ropes hugging her tight in so many places, knots rubbing gently against her skin.

Shaking off the dash of wetness in her panties, she set her hands on her hips and regarded her own slice of heaven. Stuffies first, setting up her machines second, and then creating magic for the rest of the day.

Although… she really had to do one thing before anything else.

Moving to stand in front of the old-fashioned till, she wrapped her fingers around the brass pull on the side and pushed it down. It glided easily, stopping with a chirpy ding as the drawer shot open. Twenty, ten, and five dollar bills fluttered in their slots and a variety of coins jingled.

Holy shit, they’d loaded her cash drawer as well?

No, no touching the money until she had a paying customer, otherwise she’d pull it all out and start playing pretend with it. Maybe have a tea party with some of her rescues and tip the imaginary waiter with a couple of twenties.

She shut the drawer and turned to find the boxes Liam packed personally and sent over from the cabin. There were four stacked in a row under the shelves and she attacked them excitedly, wrestling with the folded-in flaps of cardboard.

Her babies waited for her; Liam had taken care of them, laying each one in a line. He’d even put a piece of tissue paper between each layer.

Picking up what had once been a beloved Build-A-Bear before she’d been thrown in a dumpster with her eyes missing, Sierra cradled her close. She’d spent two hours picking out the perfect pair of new eyes, and two whole days washing the garbage juice and cat urine out of the plush blue fur.

Now the stuffie was brushed to perfection, her eyes were two big black buttons, and she smelled like blueberries and vanilla.

One of the simpler fixes Sierra tackled, but a satisfying one.

Blueberry was the first on the top shelf, almost glistening under the lights.

Each one had a story and she let them all run through her mind as she took them from the box, cuddled them, and arranged them precisely on the shelves.

She wasn’t aware of a presence lurking in the doorway until she caught a slash of movement in the corner of her eye. Surprise made her jump and swing her hand up to her throat, inadvertently whacking herself in the face with a rather long-legged giraffe wearing a muumuu and a flowery hat.

That might have been survivable if not for the box she’d left behind her and the step she took back. She landed in it, wedging her butt, back, and thighs into the cardboard prison with her legs dangling from the knees down over the edge.

“What a pickle.” Leaning against the jamb, Mistress Violet lifted her eyebrow. “Did you not hear me calling your name, sweetheart?”

The giraffe windmilled as Sierra swung her arms, trying to propel herself up and out of this fiasco. When that didn’t work, she rocked from side to side, hoping to tip her prison over, but she couldn’t get the necessary momentum. “Evidently not, seeing as my ass has been sucked into the box vacuum.”

Violet’s lips, painted a glossy, pale pink today, twitched before she straightened and walked over to offer a helping hand. “Are you supposed to be here alone, Sierra?”

“Mack’s sleeping.” Sierra lifted her hand and clasped Violet’s. The Domme was stronger than she looked, hefting Sierra onto her feet without too much difficulty, then wiggled the box off her butt. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

“I’m assigned here today. Mommy Domme on duty.”

Sierra gently brushed off the giraffe, then ruefully rubbed her face where those long legs smacked her. Positioning it on the bottom shelf, she stepped back and studied the morning’s efforts, pleased with the results. “You’re much nicer than Mistress Felicity. She’s scary and mean.”

The Mistress stifled a laugh. “Felicity and I have different styles, that’s all, Sierra. She’s lovely, really, just as I can be a hardass when needed. She still deserves your respect, sweetheart.”

Frowning, Sierra believed respect was earned through respect. After the debacle with Tabitha in the bathroom, Mistress Felicity had lost a great deal of Sierra’s veneration. “I’m reserving judgement.”

“That’s fair enough.” Violet patted her arm. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I need to go and stock up the snack cupboard. Apparently a swarm of Littles descended yesterday and decimated the supplies.”

Mmmn, speaking of supplies… where did she put her bananas?

“Give me a shout if you need me, sweetheart.”

“I will, thanks.” Siera spied her bananas, protein bar, and water on the counter by the door, couldn’t recall leaving them there. She watched Mistress Violet stride away in her kickass heels, wondering if she could emulate that same carnal confidence one day.

She ate her bananas, leaving her protein bar for an afternoon snack.

Refueled, she focused her attention on her work area. The guys had been clever with where they’d put everything—Liam’s doing, no doubt. The majority of her equipment was in the correct place, creating a natural flow from one station to the next, starting from behind the door and traveling around the walls.

Disassembly station, wash areas, a tumble dryer in lieu of her traditional washing line, her sewing area complete with all her bits and bobs, and an adorably quaint photography area.

The table in the center had her sewing machine for heavy duty stitches, and her bosses—wasn’t that just weird—had kindly given her an embroidery machine and a printing machine.

Still in their pristine boxes.

She eyed the new toys, then the huge bins of stuffies needing her help. Hmm, well she didn’t need the toys just quite yet, did she? No point getting them out and letting them gather dust…

Crossing over to the first huge container, she peered over the edge. Oh, so many broken and mangled bodies just waiting for her, if she could reach them. The bins were almost as tall as she was, but her determination was unrivaled.

Stepping onto the lower shelf of the unit beside the bin, she hoisted herself up onto the edge, leaning forward to pluck the stuffies that caught her attention first. There, just past the middle, was a bedraggled dragon plush in what might have been a jewel pink color, but it was so stained, it was more of a shit brown.

Oh, she had to see that one in closer detail.

Stretching further, holding onto the metal ledge tightly, she strained for the purple-tasseled tail. Her fingertips brushed it, tried to snatch at the fronds, and she lost her precarious balance, sliding headlong into the furry pit.

Ooops .

Laughing, she grabbed the dragon and rolled clumsily onto her back, holding it aloft. It was a big stuffie, sixteen inches high by twenty long. Not the biggest she’d ever had the pleasure of working with, but still impressive.

It was jewel pink; there were traces of the original color remaining, but ninety percent of it was patched with various fluids—belatedly, she realized she should be wearing her special gloves, but it was too late now. There was some kind of pattern in the fabric, love hearts or flowers, she wasn’t sure.

The elongated neck was horribly damaged, chewed by a dog maybe. The stitching was all loose and stuffing spilled out of holes. The felt spikes were mangled and missing.

The head was just… she shuddered. The only time she’d seen something similar to this kind of damage was when Atticus and Alicia’s puppies attacked Alicia’s beloved Mr. Bear and annihilated him.

“I can fix you,” she crooned softly. “You’re going to be my very first project in the Sanctuary, and then we’re going to find you the best home where you’ll be loved and cherished. We’ll get started just as soon as I manage to get out of here.”

“Serves you right for sneaking out, pixie.”

Uh-oh. Mack didn’t sound pleased with her. Frozen, she debated trying to sink into the mountain of stuffies beneath her or simply accepting her fate. Sinking probably wasn’t the best choice—she was already aching from exerting herself; muscles she’d never used before Saturday night were complaining loudly.

She lifted her head. “Hi, Daddy Mack.”

Pleasure flared in his eyes before he shook it off. “Don’t try buttering me up, pixie. Liam left specific orders for you to stay at home and rest today. Do you think we don’t communicate about what we do every day?” he asked when her eyes widened. “Getting your pretty ass stuck in boxes and metal bins wasn’t what he meant by rest.”

Ah shit, he must have run into Mistress Violet on his way in.

“If you’re going to make a habit of sneaking over here by yourself, we’ll cuff you to the damn bed. It’s too fucking cold for you to be wandering around on your own, and while the club has security and does background checks on the guests, that doesn’t mean one of them won’t take a fancy to you and whisk you off to their cabin.” Protective anger kissed his voice as his face tightened. “We wouldn’t know where you were, and we’d have to waste precious time going through all the security footage. God help us if you were taken off the premises, out into the forest somewhere.”

With a huff, she wrenched herself upright. “I hardly think a guest is going to want to kidnap me for nefarious purposes.”

“Why not? There were five men willing to do just that on Saturday night, pixie, and two of them already have you at their disposal. Yeah, let that sink in.” Smug satisfaction lit his eyes and curved his mouth as he approached the bin. “Levi thinks you’re fucking perfect, Sierra, and we agree with him. Fordham would’ve snapped you up in a heartbeat, sharing you with Liam if I hadn’t stepped in first. And Merrick…” He whistled long and low. “All he’s waiting for is another green light from Liam and me. That is one hungry Master when it comes to you.”

She shivered, clenching on emptiness. Liam was a tight fit; Mack was a painful one. Both brought pleasure soaring, sweeping through and lifting her high.

Master Merrick, on the other hand, was a once-in-a-lifetime cataclysmic E.L.E—extinction level event. He was far too much Dom for her to handle, and she both pitied and idolized the woman who took him for her own.

“Um… Master Merrick is a very nice man,” she said tactfully, “but his cock and my… you know… aren’t really physically adaptable.”

A series of muscles twitched over Mack’s face. A second later, he snorted and burst into laughter. Reaching for her, he hooked his hands under her arms and simply lifted her out, setting her on her feet. “You are so fucking cute when you’re flustered, pixie. You can just say he’s too big for you.”

“Yes, that.” Blushing, she clung to the dirty dragon in her arms. Talking about sex wasn’t easy for her when she wasn’t caught up in the heat and adrenaline of a scene. “Is it time for lunch already?”

“Oh no, sweet pixie, you’re not changing the subject when you blush so prettily. How deep can that pink go, hmm?” He skimmed a fingertip over the tip of her ear where the skin burned. “Should I tell you how hot it was, watching him push his big dick into that tight pussy? How hard I got seeing Liam’s cum helping another man stretch you open, listening to you whimper?”

She sucked in a breath, her body remembering the pressure, the pain, the ecstasy that followed. Her panties were suddenly wet, keeping her arousal from trickling down her thighs.

“Your eyes can’t hide anything, pixie. The pupils blew so wide when he fucked you.” Mack groaned, sliding his hand under her hair to cradle her head. “Do you have any idea what it does to a man when the woman he loves is getting railed by someone else? When the perfect pussy he worships is claimed by another?”

“M-Makes you j-jealous?” she stuttered.

“Fuck yes, we were jealous. Liam’s dick was still wet, mine was aching from tip to balls.” His lips brushed her ear. “Just like it is now. More than jealous, pixie, it made us goddamn proud.”

“Proud?” she scoffed, tilting her head so his mouth could continue torturing her ear.

“Mmm-hmm. Proud of you for being so brave, obeying us even when what we asked of you was difficult. Proud of you for being so beautiful, inside and out, that three of our friends find you irresistible—that number would’ve been more, Sierra, make no mistake. Fordham, Levi, and Merrick were the only single Doms Liam trusted to scene with you, without making you feel like a slut.”

Sierra swayed to the cadence of his voice, the words pattering like gentle rain on wounds a decade old. Her hands lifted, pressing the dragon to his chest. “Is it bad to admit I liked it?”

“Of course not.” His mouth detoured down the side of her neck. “Does admitting it make you feel bad?”

She shook her head. On the contrary, it kind of made her feel… empowered.

“We want you to be comfortable telling us what you want, pixie. If it’s something that gives you the sense of being strong, confident, desirable, then we are all for it.” He nipped the sweet spot on her neck, almost buckling her knees. “It’s about damn time you opened your eyes to the reality of who and what you are, Sierra.”

The dragon thumped softly to the floor, forgotten, as Sierra’s hands reached for his hair. Fingers threading through the softness, she rubbed herself against his groin, seeking the sweet relief only her Daddies could bring.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Chuckling, Mack eased her back. “No hanky of the panky kind for you, sneaky pixie. Little rulebreakers don’t get their snug cunts filled when they sneak out of the house after being told to stay at home. They get on their knees and ask how they can start making amends.”

She looked down at the bulge pointing in her direction. “Blowjob?”

“If you’re offering, pixie, I won’t say no.”

Slowly, she bent to retrieve the dragon, then straightened and turned to set it on the nearest flat surface, ensuring it faced away from the debauchery.

Taking him at his word, she knelt at Mack’s feet, assuming the position that settled her ass on her heels, her thighs parted, her hands palms-up and relaxed. Back straight, she peered up at him, judging his reaction. “How may I make amends, Master Maverick?”

“Holy shit.”

“Scat is a hard limit,” she responded easily, making him laugh.

“Yes, I know your hard limits, Sierra.” Obviously intrigued, he set a single fingertip on top of her head as he walked a slow circle around her. “I just didn’t expect this.”

When he came to a stop in front of her again, she gave him the same patient look. A submissive awaiting further commands from her Dom. She liked this mindset as much as being Little. Both appealed to her; both healed her in different ways.

Submission was a salve, cool and soothing, encouraging a sense of peace.

Being Little gave her freedom.

“All right, then. Do you prefer direction or just doing it your own way?”

“You’re the Dom, Sir. You tell me.”

He nodded as though remembering his role here. “Unzip me, pixie.”

She obeyed immediately, popping open the button and dragging down the zipper, spreading open the material. He wore hunter green boxer-briefs, the fabric hugging the shaft of his dick and his balls even as the crown sought escape from the waistband.

“Push it all down to my knees.”

She maneuvered his pants over his ass and hips, his thighs, until they gathered around his knees. The boxer-briefs followed, allowing his erection to stand straight and unhindered.

Blowjobs were not her favorite activity; something else Wyatt ruined in the early stages of her sexual awakening. She tried her best to enjoy it because Liam did—what guy didn’t?—but he was aware she considered it more of a punishment than any spanking he gave her.

The thick, long length jerked softly without any encouragement, a plump vein throbbing near the base. Precum slicked the wide head, leaking from the deep slit. If penises could be handsome, Mack’s fit the criteria.

“Lick, pixie.”

Because he didn’t say she could use her hands, she kept them on her thighs, leaning forward to lay her tongue on that pulsing vein. His sharp intake of breath speared straight between her legs; the possessive clamp of his fist in her hair amplified the dull need in her womb to screaming.

Slowly, she dragged her tongue up his straining length, inch by inch. She rose up to reach the crown, tracing the tip of her tongue around the underside, before swiping the precum away with a lazy swish.

“My God.”

She kept her distaste to herself as the flavor hit her tastebuds. Offending him wasn’t acceptable, and she was accustomed to hiding her true feelings when it came to sex. Of course, if Liam found out, her punishment would be worse than a blowjob or spankings.

He was exceptionally creative when he was pissed off.

“Somebody crafted you out of magic,” Mack muttered to himself. “Lick me again, just like that, then take me in.”

She did as he asked, even slower this time, her tongue fluttering as it caressed soft skin over hard steel. Precum spurted this time, a scattering of drops before she opened her mouth wide and, with her lips shielding him from her teeth, sank down over his crown.

His other hand joined the one already in her hair. A harsh groan vibrated on the air an instant before his hips lifted, shoving his cock over her tongue to the back of her throat.

There was so much of him. Even with her mouth full, she knew there was more, and she was already at the swallow him down or trigger her gag reflex point. Deepthroating was not a specialty she possessed, although she valiantly gave it an attempt if Liam asked.

With Mack, she wasn’t sure she was getting a choice.

The angle was all wrong, however, and he stopped before he damaged her.

Liam loved it when she bobbed her head, humming, massaging the sensitive underside of his shaft with her tongue. Sometimes, if she applied the right pressure with her teeth, he came quickly.

Faster still if she eased her finger into a tight place and stroked a certain button—although he’d only allowed her to do that once, because she’d caught him off-guard and literally wrenched the cum from his balls before he objected.

Hmm, would that work with Mack?

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, she thought. From everything he’d told them over the past couple weeks, it had been forever since he’d had a sub, a relationship, even a regular dynamic to blow off steam. There was no mention of any interest in the opposite sex, although the chemistry between him and Liam was a fan-the-face kind of tension.

She knew what it was like to have her asshole breached without warning or preparation, and it was an excruciating pain. Luckily for her, Wyatt hadn’t gotten what he wanted, and Liam was the one to take her anal virginity.

No, she wasn’t going to surprise Mack like that.

Maybe she’d ask Liam to do it instead.

She laughed suddenly, imagining Liam introducing Mack to butt stuff the same way he’d initiated her. Watching two men together, especially her two men, was a surefire method of revving her sexual engine to the max.

Watching Liam dominate Mack?

Pistons would blow, steam exploding from her ears.

Mack’s fingers dug into her scalp as he held on, the cock in her mouth swelling slightly. “Christ Jesus, pixie, don’t do that unless you want me to paint your mouth.”

A simple two-tone hum of agreement that sounded like okay rippled down his shaft. Oh, she’d found his weakness, and wasn’t that handy? Wielding all the power was certainly a heady experience.

“Bad pixie. Bad, bad pixie.”

“Hmmm-mmmn?” Problem?

The taste of him flooded her mouth. Liam wasn’t quite as sensitive to vibration, so this was fun. She’d have to play her Daddy like a harmonica for ten minutes before he succumbed, but poor Mack was holding on to his control with his nails in her scalp.

Not that she minded—she was torturing him, after all.

Feeling particularly playful—or wicked, whichever suited her mood better—Sierra began a rousing rendition of She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain , working her throat to fully utilize the scales.

It took ten seconds before he began to thrust, jabbing his cock to the back of her throat in short drives, misjudging one or two so his crown nudged the soft tissue. Her stomach threatened to revolt, but she managed to stave off disaster.

“Oh, you are so gonna get it when Liam gets home,” Mack hissed between clenched teeth. “I’m gonna set my mouth on your cunt and hum the fucking alphabet while he fucks your ass, and by God, you are not allowed to cu—”

She hit a low note and held it, letting the resonance permeate every cell in his dick. He choked off in mid-sentence, pushing as much of his shaft as she could take into her mouth, and she felt it kick once, twice, three times.

Ejaculate filled her mouth, trickling down her throat and escaping the tight seal of her lips around his girth. Her plan was successful, yet on the same hand, it backfired on her as all she could taste was the musky, salty taste of cum.

Harsh breathing interspersed with groans broke through the rush of blood in her ears. Slowly, the intense grip on her head eased until he massaged the sting away.

Unable to help herself, she gave his cock a last lick as the over-sensitized organ slipped from her lips. “Thank you, Daddy Mack. Did I make amends?”

With definite care, he tucked himself back into his boxer-briefs, wincing slightly. As he zipped his pants back up, he shook his head. “Pixie, you just opened a whole can of something else with that stunt. Forget amends, you’ll be paying penance tonight.”

“Did you not enjoy your blowjob?” she asked innocently.

He bent and hooked a hand under her arm, pulling her to her feet. Tenderly, he wiped the smears of his seed from her mouth and chin with a tissue he pulled from his pocket. Instead of answering the question, he just jerked his chin toward the counter window. “You have a visitor.”

She whirled with a frown, relieved to see Mistress Violet standing on the other side. God, what was she thinking, blowing Mack when anyone could’ve walked up and seen them?

Sex club, she reminded herself. Voyeurism and exhibitionism were nothing new here.

Reaching for her water, Sierra uncapped the bottle and drank, swishing water around her mouth in what she hoped was an unobvious move. She swallowed with a grimace, realizing the back of her throat and her jaws were tender. “Mistress Violet. How can I help you?”

The Domme smiled as though she’d seen nothing; they all knew that was a lie. “One of the maids took delivery of a package for you, sweetheart. She brought it here seeing as no one was in the cabin.” Lifting a rather large box onto the counter, she patted her hand on it. “I wasn’t sure if it was personal or Sanctuary business.”

A package? She hadn’t ordered anything, had she? No, she was sure she hadn’t indulged in any late night shopping sprees, and there was nothing she needed.

“Thank you.” Perplexed, Sierra ripped the envelope with her name on it off the side of the box, shuddering at the noise the tape made. “I’d ask if you’re sure it’s mine, but it must be.”

She flipped the envelope over in her fingers, assessing what was inside. Not a letter, it was too rectangular and thick. Slipping a finger under the flap, she opened it and found a small card with Alicia and her family on the front.

To our missing sister, Sierra,

Do not open this package in front of anyone.

After our last conversation, we figured we need to initiate Operation Prankster, and this is your time to shine as a brat in the making.

We love you. We miss you.

Alicia and Anarchy

Oh God, she missed them too. They were the best kind of trouble, always pranking their Doms—which was brave of Anarchy, seeing as Jasper was a serious kind of sadist. She missed him too, even if he did scare the bejesus out of her.

Pressing the card to her heart, she sniffled and made a mental note to call them, just to hear their voices. Maybe if she called the club later, Zeke could put them all on conference call.

Shaking off the homesickness, she leaned into Mack when he came up behind her, his arms wrapping her in a hug. She missed her friends, she reminded herself, but if Liam had turned down this opportunity, they wouldn’t be here making new friends, and they wouldn’t have Mack.

“Everything okay, pixie? For a minute there, you looked like you were grieving.” He kissed the top of her head.

She exhaled softly, grateful for him. “Everything is just how it’s supposed to be, Master Mack. Sometimes I forget that while we’re here, our old life is carrying on without us.”

“You miss your friends.”

“Yeah. But we’ve got new ones who are just as important.” Turning in his arms, she looked up at him. “Ones who are just as necessary.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I like being necessary to you. Want me to carry the box home, pixie?”

Warmth filled her. The only way this moment could be any better was if Liam was here to share it. She loved how they all clicked into a happily-functioning family unit without friction or underlying mistrust.

“No peeking?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well, you’re coming with me, so there’ll be no peeking.”

“I have work to do.” She really wanted to get started on that pretty dragon. Already, she had the repairs in her head along with a couple of upgrades.

“Gonna fight me on it, pixie?”

“Mack—”

“That’s a yes.” Tsking softly, he picked up the keys still on the counter and tossed them at Violet. “Can you lock up for me, please?”

“Sure. I’ll drop the keys by for you later.” A picture of elegance and grace, the Mistress passed the keys absently from hand to hand.

“Perfect, appreciate it.” Mack eyed up Sierra, then the box. With a decisive nod, he ducked and tucked his shoulder into her stomach, flipping her over so she dangled down his back, and secured her legs against his chest.

“You—you buffoon! Put me down!”

“Not really in the mood to fight,” he replied, spinning around and scooping up the oversized box with his other arm. It was an awkward fit; God only knew what the girls had sent.

“We’re supposed to have lunch at the restaurant,” she wheezed.

“Good girls get meals in fancy places. Troublemakers get whatever I don’t burn.”

“Oh God. Are you going to burn the kitchen down?”

“My cooking is questionable sometimes, but I’ve never been accused of cuisine arson.” Fully loaded, apparently unconcerned she was too heavy and the box too cumbersome, he squeezed through the doorway and strolled through the Nursery without a care in the world.

“This is ridiculous!” Adopting a pleasant tone, she beseeched, “This isn’t necessary, Mack. You’ll put your back out or drop me—”

He snorted derisively.

Thumping a fist weakly on his ass, she hissed, “Put me down, you big oaf!”

“Buffoon, oaf… anything else you want to add?”

Recognizing the tone and the amount of trouble she was in, Sierra zipped her lips shut and seethed all the way back to the cabin.

Liam

At five o’clock on the damn dot, he walked out of the bar as the early birds started coming in. Most of them veered toward the restaurant, but he held the door open for a group of five who wanted a liquid appetizer before their meal.

All day, he’d been dreaming of the couch, his woman, and the man who was an enigma and a familiar entity rolled into one. He felt as though he’d been pawning Sierra off on Mack while he got the bar and his extended role as manager under control.

The hours here were substantially different, longer, with more responsibilities. Avalon and its members would fit into Serenity ten times over with room to spare; tending to his duties took more time than he’d anticipated.

Because he’d thought ahead earlier, he slipped into the restaurant, waving at a couple of the waitresses as he made his way through elegantly presented tables with their polished wineglasses and cutlery, candles and origami napkins.

Looking fresh in his clean chef whites, Allan met him at the counter. “Making the most of your early finish, Liam?”

“God, yes. I feel like I’m neglecting my sub.”

“She knows she’s loved. Things will settle down in a few more weeks when all the problems are ironed out and everybody finally gets the hang of their routine. Jonah doing okay over there?”

“He just lacks confidence. He’s starting to relax and engage with clients now, rather than disengaging his mouth from his brain and losing himself in his social anxiety.” Liam tapped his fingers on the countertop. “He sticks with it, he’ll be coming after my job one day. He’s got the knowledge, the intelligence, the flare for showmanship when he forgets to be anxious. I’m pleased with him.”

“That’s good.” Nodding in approval, Allan glanced over his shoulder. “Yo, Petey! Liam’s here for his food.”

“Got it right here, Master Liam, sir.” A skinny boy, who couldn’t look more than eighteen if he tried, brought a stack of pizza boxes to the counter. Floppy brown hair dripped over his forehead to shield big, dark puppy eyes from view. “One cheese with extra cheese, one pepperoni, and one fully loaded, sir.”

In actuality, Petey was twenty-three. Originating from some bumfuck town in Nebraska, he’d been bullied his entire life by kids and adults alike. He was skinny because his parents kicked him out on his eighteenth birthday and left him to fend for himself.

All because he was autistic.

Liam hadn’t pried too deeply into the boy’s history. Elias divulged the basic details simply as a courtesy—Petey was technically under Allan’s leadership as the chef, but Liam was the boy’s manager.

How Petey dragged himself out of Nebraska and into Elias’ sights was a story for another day, one for him to tell himself if he wanted people to know.

“They smell fantastic, Petey. Did you make them yourself?”

“Yes, sir. I asked Allan if I could when I knew they were for you.” A small, hesitant smile trembled over his mouth.

Why the hell were people such assholes towards their kids? Sure, the boy had trouble with emotional cues sometimes, and he needed to be asked to do things in a very specific manner. Often, his temper flared when he was frustrated, but he rarely took his exasperation out on others; he just berated himself until it passed.

Compliments made him both uncomfortable and so freaking happy.

He struggled to offer himself as a person because he’d been rejected too many times to count.

“Thank you. You know I love your pizzas, right?” Liam winked at him, knowing damn well probably only half of each pie was going to be edible. “Are you settling in with the others in the cabin okay?”

Another tiny smile. “Yes, sir.”

“They’re not giving you any trouble?”

“No, sir. They’re not mean.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You know where you have to come if that changes, yes? No exceptions, no excuses.”

Petey nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I have to tell you or Allan if anyone is mean to me, sir.”

“Any time,” Liam added. Patting the stack, he glanced at Allan to make sure he was still on board with the incognito protection detail.

Petey had moved into the staff bunkhouse with a dozen other younger employees who weren’t interested in the club itself, but the money they earned. Allan had persuaded his own son to take a job on the maintenance crew and move into the bunkhouse to cover Petey’s ass.

Allan and Liam were paying him out of their own paychecks to provide a celebrity-level bodyguard service.

“Have a good shift, guys. I’m going to go spoil my princess.”

Allan laughed. “Behave yourself, Liam.”

“Do I ever?”

It took five minutes to walk back to the cabin. He found his steps were quickening the closer he got, he was so eager to get home and be with the people he loved after a long day.

When he opened the door, he heard Mack talking in the kitchen while a faint voice responded from the speakers. There was no sign of Sierra, however. He waved at Mack from the doorway, holding up the pizzas, and got a grin and a thumbs-up in reply.

The sound of water running told him their girl was taking a shower.

Stepping into the living room, he flipped on the lights and jolted at the sight of an oversized teddy bear propped lifelessly beside the hearth. Big, floppy limbs in caramel brown fur, dark glass eyes, a lighter round patch of fur on the collapsed belly.

Christ, had someone sent that to Sierra for fixing or had she unearthed it from one of those huge bins supplied by Eli and Van? Unless the sender requested they wanted it back, his guess was she’d work her magic on the poor thing and probably try and sneak it into bed with her.

It looked clean enough, he supposed, setting the pizzas down. The usual dumpster smell was thankfully absent—he swore his minx possessed the ability to shut off her sense of smell when dealing with some of the stuffie carcasses.

If anything, it just wanted some more stuffing to round it out and make it cuddly again.

Groaning, he sank down on the couch and belatedly unlaced his boots, toeing them off. Setting them under the coffee table, he maneuvered himself out of his jacket, tossing it over the back cushions, then let his tired body sink into the softness.

Every muscle ached from hefting crate after crate from the delivery truck into the basement at the ass crack of dawn. The task was made easier by Jonah’s surprise arrival and subsequent help, but by God, he ached like a bitch.

Before he could fall asleep and ruin the evening, he stretched his arm out to snag the TV remote and flipped through the channels to find something mentally invigorating.

Just as he settled on the current season of Hell’s Kitchen , Mack came in with two bottles of beer and a soda.

Barefoot, he settled himself beside Liam, handing him a beer before leaning forward to put Sierra’s soda on the table. “Did one of the casks get loose and run over you? Because I hate to tell you this, but you kinda look like you’ve been steamrollered.”

Stifling a yawn, Liam shook his head. “Feel like it, but no. Just a long day and a lot of physical exertion. Did you and Sierra have a good day? Did she get some rest?”

Mack snorted and wrenched the top off his beer. “She’s been cuffed to the bed all afternoon.”

Liam paused with his hand in mid-twist, the beer forgotten. “She what?”

“Not sleeping caught up with me. I slept harder and longer than I intended. When I woke, she was gone, although she did think to leave a note for me.” He took a slow swallow. “Seems she’d been a busy little bee in the Nursery, setting up her wares. Violet spooked her, knocked her ass first into a box, and had to rescue her.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “When I found Sierra a while later, she’d fallen into the giant vat of stuffies. She was just laying there, holding up the most godawful-smelling thing you’ve ever sniffed, talking to it.”

“Yeah, that’s her to a tee.”

“She apologized with a blowjob, then was building up to a tantrum when I said we were coming home. Oh, and someone sent her a package. She was still fuming when I hauled her back, so I cuffed her to the bed, told her to get some sleep, and after arguing with herself for twenty minutes, she finally dropped off.” He checked his watch. “I let her loose when she woke, an hour ago.”

“I heard the shower running when I came in. She’ll be down when she’s hungry.”

“Do Littles get hungry when they sulk or just hold a grudge while ignoring bodily needs?” Mack wondered idly.

“Both, I think. Maybe that’s why she always wants a snack when she calms down. Was she still sulking when you uncuffed her?”

“I’m assuming so. I got an irritated huff before she picked up her box and flounced off into the bathroom.” Mack scrubbed a hand over his face. “I got a call I’ve been expecting so I came down here.”

Liam tilted his head. That was a sore point, he thought. The call or whatever it was about had gotten under Mack’s skin. “Anything I can help with?”

“I think the lawyers have sorted one part of it. We need to sit down and talk, but not tonight. Not about that.” Waving it off, Mack shifted forward enough to snag the top pizza box. “I don’t know what was in the damn package she got, but as I came down the stairs, she was laughing like a hyena. No, not laughing. Cackling. ”

Tipping his beer toward the bear, Liam covered a yawn with his free hand. “I think someone sent her the biggest repair job in the history of stuffie rescue.”

“Holy shit, that’s… excessive. That’ll teach me to be preoccupied when I enter a room; I could’ve been bound and gagged if that thing had nefarious purposes.”

“Probably on Sierra’s orders.”

“She’s a real character.” Mack rubbed his finger along the edge of the box but didn’t open it. “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other day. After we, uh, kissed.”

Personally, Liam had been thinking a great deal about that kiss. “Uh-huh.”

“Circumstances are changing with my business. I’m not sure quite how yet, but it’s likely I’ll have a lot more freedom in the near future. The gist of it is, I either won’t have a company to worry about chaining me down or I’ll be able to move the company. Base it here, or in Phoenix if that’s where you and Sierra ultimately want to settle.”

“That’s a big step, Mack. Are you ready for that?”

“Yeah. I realized earlier today that I don’t want to continue directing the company the way it’s heading. Once I gave those thoughts a voice, I relaxed. All the pressure I’ve put on myself fell away. When I think about marrying you and the pixie, I get that same feeling in my gut—that it’s the right decision, the only one that’s going to give me that sense of sereneness—and I don’t want to wait.”

A soft noise got lost in the barrage of cursing erupting from the TV. Some half-trained chef was getting her ass roasted by the big boss, but Liam cared about nothing except the man in front of him. “I… wow.”

“I know you’ve got your own reasons for waiting, Liam, but honestly, Sierra isn’t going to think you’re substituting marriage in lieu of a baby. She wants to belong, and after five years of being with you, taking your name is the best way to achieve that.” Mack lifted a shoulder. “I want to belong, too.”

“People will think we’re crazy.”

“Fuck people. I love her. I love you.”

Maybe the reason he’d waited to propose wasn’t what he originally thought, Liam mused. A moment of clarification was all he needed to see that he wasn’t afraid of Sierra believing marriage was a trade for pregnancy, but that he’d been waiting for someone, their right someone, to share the moment and the love.

“I decided that if we’re sharing the rest of our lives together, then we share everything. No half-tipped scales; we go all in. Intimacy between us on an equal basis. I’m not after a Daddy Dom who spends our play time alternating fucking me and Sierra. I’m giving as much as I’m getting.”

Tiredness cast aside, Liam shoved his bottle onto the table and sat up, stretching the kinks from his shoulders. The pizzas were gonna be cold, but hell, the chance of them being edible anyway was so-so. They’d reheat when Sierra got her ass into gear and came down for dinner.

“That’s a big statement from a guy who likes giving it up the ass and has never taken it.” The air around them charged, superheating from one second to the next with chemistry. “Think you’ve got what it takes to be equal with me, Mack? To top me, dominate me, bend me to your will and keep me there?”

Mack’s hand lashed out to capture Liam’s nape. “We’re both aware we’re already equal, Liam. We’re a perfect match for each other, which makes us perfect for the pixie. The real question is, can you submit after so many years of being top dog?”

Would there always be this alpha versus alpha tension between them, Liam wondered, or would it settle into something more mellow? As much as he enjoyed the primal thrill of pitting himself against Mack, he also yearned for the sweeter, softer moments.

Curious, he mirrored Mack’s position, cupping the back of his neck without the subtle aggression, kneading the tense muscles. They were barely six inches apart now, eyes locked, challenge accepted.

“Submission isn’t the issue, Mack. I’ll happily get on my knees and give all I am to another Dom…” He leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “As long as it’s the right one. Are you the right one?”

He thought he heard movement, but dismissed it when Mack’s eyes darkened. No wonder Sierra was fascinated with them—it was like shaking a Magic 8 ball and watching the answer form.

“I’m the only one for you, and for her.”

Good answer. Damn good answer.

Because it was the right answer, Liam let him lead the kiss. Just as he hoped, his lack of aggression caused Mack to gentle his approach, bringing them together in an almost gentlemanly manner.

A smooth connection of lips. Fingers sliding through hair instead of yanking. A building throb of desire threading between them rather than smacking them around the head like a shovel.

It deepened for several long, beautiful seconds, then Mack broke away.

“I will never get over that,” he muttered, frowning.

“What, a kiss?”

He shook his head. “No. That kissing you gives me a similar rush to kissing Sierra. If someone told me a month ago I’d get hard from kissing a guy, I would’ve laughed at them. Never in my life have I been attracted to another man. Never. Two weeks here with you and the pixie… I’m not—what the fuck?” he blurted.

Puzzled, Liam followed the swift redirection of Mack’s gaze and felt his heart lurch. Apprehension, fear, horror? All three tackled him as he set eyes on the goddamn motherfucking bear that was three feet away from where it had been, slumped forward.

“Did someone send the pixie a possessed bear?” Mack hissed. “Who the hell did she piss off that badly?”

If it moved, he’d have to kill it, Liam decided. He’d seen far too many haunted object horror movies to take any chances. For far too long, he tried to come up with reasons how, why it had moved, and couldn’t come up with a single one.

“Are we sure it was by the fireplace?” he asked under his breath.

“No. Are you?”

“Yeah, kind of?” His brain was too busy running various scenarios to remember anything cohesively. “No. It can’t stay in the house.”

“Damn straight.” Mack gestured to it. “Grab it.”

“You grab it!”

Straight from the murder scene of one of those horror movies, the dark brown head lifted slowly, the light from the TV shining off its black eyes. A furry paw raised as it straightened, folding its legs beneath itself to stand.

Liam felt his muscles gather to leap and plow the fucking thing into the carpet. Irrational fear made it hard to think.

The teddy bear started to rise, its paws outstretched.

“I’ll take the left, you take the right,” Mack whispered, obviously in the same fried mental state.

Liam nodded once, braced to attack, then stared dumbfounded as the furry demon tripped over its own feet, faceplanted, and began giggling.

Fucking giggling .

He pounced, setting his knee ever so lightly on the bear’s neck. There were so many fragile pieces in a person’s neck, too many ways to damage one, and although he was very tempted to wring this particular one, he refrained.

Finding a zipper lodged in the fluffy back, he drew it down slowly all the way to a very familiar and naked ass. “It appears this monster bear has eaten our beloved Sierra, Mack.”

Drilling his forefingers into his temples, Mack exhaled quietly. “I’m never watching a horror movie again. The bear needs to be punished, Liam.”

Trailing down Sierra’s spine with his fingertips, Liam tortured her by tickling all her super sensitive spots. She flailed in the costume, squealing with laughter and kicking her paw-booted feet. “Yes, it does. How do you feel about crossing swords, Mack?”

“Well, now, I can’t think of any objections.” Mack sat up straight. “Now?”

Liam grinned as Sierra went perfectly still beneath him. “Oh yes. Right now.”