Chapter Thirteen
Cassia arrived to Blasphemy on Saturday night absolutely giddy. Giddy to see Master Quinton, giddy to tell him about her silly-but-significant triumph, giddy to just be his, and have everyone know it.
The place was packed as it always was on the weekend, and the club was a feast for the senses. A driving, chanting music hummed over the crowd, cries of pleasure rang out, and people in every state of dress—and undress—danced and kissed and more. The soaring columns and towering ceiling made the space feel ethereal despite the press of bodies.
Cass made her way through the madness to the bar, and sure enough, Master Quinton had reserved a seat for her. A placard with her name sat in front of a stool. It wasn’t a black velvet rope, but it made her feel a little gooey inside all the same.
She slipped onto the stool, her gaze immediately finding Master Quinton at the far side. He wore black jeans that hugged his fine ass and a black tank that showed off those delicious shoulders, and she reveled in every moment that she got to study him.
Damn, that man was hers.
As if he’d heard her, he turned, and the smile that lit up his face when his gaze landed on her made her feel like she might float up to the top of the vaulted ceiling. He finished with one more customer, wiped his hands on a rag, and stalked her way.
She couldn’t stop grinning. “Hello, Master.”
“Damn good to see you, little one.” He winked. “Get up here and give me a proper greeting.”
She looked at him and eyed the flat marble in front of her. “You want me to…”
He smirked. “Uh huh.”
A thrill fluttered through her belly, but she didn’t hesitate. Carefully, she shifted so that she was kneeling on the stool, and then, one knee at a time, she crawled up on the bar. Just like he’d commanded, she hadn’t worn panties under her little red dress, so no doubt she was giving people a show. But she didn’t care, not when he was smiling like that. Finally, she knelt on the bar top. Knees spread and waiting. Before Master Quinton.
A low hum rose up as people took notice of them, but Cassia didn’t pay it any mind, because her Master suddenly looked like he might bend her over the bar and fuck her right there in front of everyone. And she would’ve loved every second of it.
He came right up to her and grasped her face in both of his big hands, and then he kissed her like she was the water he drank and the food he ate until she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—and was half convinced she didn’t need air as long as she had him.
Applause. People were applauding.
She couldn’t help the grin or the heat that flooded her cheeks when he finally pulled away.
“Now that was a proper greeting,” he said, his smile pure smug sexiness.
“I’ll remember that, Master.” And she would. If he thought she wasn’t doing this every time she came from here on out, he had another think coming.
“How you feeling, baby?” He braced his hands on either side of her knees against the bar top.
“A lot better. Still a little tired, but good.” She smiled. “And guess what?”
“What?”
“I slept in the dark last night. And I was totally fine.” The grin was so big it almost hurt her cheeks.
He cupped her face in his hand. “You are so much more than fine I can barely stand it. Proud of you.”
She nearly beamed. “I still missed you, though.”
“Mmm.” He let his gaze drag down over her cleavage, her spread thighs, and then he lifted it again. “Missed you, too. In fact, I want you to stay right there for a bit so I can look my fill.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
He backed away, eyes on her, until he finally had to turn his attention to a customer. She loved watching him work, and it also helped to center her against all the attention still pouring her way. Maybe it wasn’t usual to see a sub sitting on the bar? What did she know? But she kinda loved it, too.
Because Master Quinton kept paying her attention however he could. Throwing her a playful wink. Giving her a kiss as he passed her by. Placing his hand on her thigh when he served someone right near her.
It was fun and sweet and making her freaking crazy.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been kneeling there when he finally let her down onto a stool again, and she was excited to see Master Griffin and Kenna just by the bar in the crowd. How funny that Cass had worried about leaving the other submissive with the wrong impression the last time they’d chatted—only for that impression to now be true. Cassia waited for Master Quinton to be able to talk and then asked, “Master, may I have your permission to speak to Kenna?”
“If Master Griffin agrees,” he said. “Unless I request otherwise, consider yourself free to speak and socialize while I’m working.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, slipping from the stool. She approached her new friends and waited for the other Dom’s attention.
His dark eyes finally swung her way, and he gave her a smile. “Ah, Cassia. Hello.”
“Good evening, Master Griffin.”
“Are you feeling better?”
The question caught her off guard for a moment, because how did he…realization flooded through her. Master Quinton must’ve told him, which meant that he’d talked about her. “Much better, Sir, thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced to the bar with a humored, approving expression. “You’ve been keeping your Master company, I saw.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, unable to hold back a smile even as heat warmed her cheeks.
He turned to Kenna. “Would you two like to visit for a while? I need to get things ready.”
“I’d love that, Sir,” Kenna said, her smile immediate. Cass was so glad to see that. Two years of having largely dropped out of life meant that she didn’t have that many close friends. And Kenna seemed like someone she could really like. Her Dom gave her a lingering kiss, and then disappeared into the crowd. “That man,” she said, her gaze full of heat and love.
Cassia chuckled. “Yeah.”
“He’s totally wound up over a new suspension we’re using tonight,” she said, her hand rubbing over her prosthetic. “It’s a little more demanding, but I can totally handle it.”
“Master Griffin specializes in rope bondage, is that right?” Cass asked.
“He’s a freaking genius at it,” Kenna said, her expression going soft with affection and pride. “He’s never once hurt my arm, but whenever we try something new or we do a demonstration, he always worries.”
“He sounds like a good Dom, then,” Cass said.
Kenna nodded. “Are you staying for our demo? We go on at ten.”
“Wow, I’d love to see that. I’ll ask Master Quinton, but I bet he won’t mind.”
They talked for a long while, the bar area getting more and more crowded around them. Kenna pointed out some of the others she’d gotten to know at the club and told hilarious stories about her nephew. They traded stories from their travels, and shared tips on where to find fun club clothes.
Every so often while they spoke, Cassia would peer back toward the bar and catch a glimpse of Master Quinton, wanting to remain aware of him in case he wanted her back on her stool again. But he was absolutely slammed every time she looked.
Finally, Master Griffin retrieved Kenna, who gave Cass a hug before she left. It made Cassia smile because she really felt like she’d found a friend, and who didn’t need that? Especially because it was always good to have someone who understood this lifestyle with whom you could talk.
Threading her way back to the bar, Cass searched for Master Quinton, but he wasn’t behind the bar. Instead, Master Wolf was there, scrambling to keep up with the orders that were coming in.
She slipped onto her stool, surprised it was still free, and wondered where her Master had gone.
After about ten minutes, Master Wolf caught sight of her sitting there and made his way down. “Master Quinton said he’ll be back in a little while.”
“Oh, is everything okay?” Cassia asked, unsure if it was appropriate for her to question.
“I think so. He has a demonstration tonight. They usually take thirty to sixty minutes, depending,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Demonstration? The word hit her like a punch to the gut. “Isn’t it Master Griffin who has the demonstration tonight?”
The Dom shrugged. “They’re both on the schedule.” Someone down the bar called his name. “Sorry, duty calls,” he said to her with a wink. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Need anything? Like maybe a heart transplant?
The room suddenly sucked in on her in a confusing, deafening swirl. Master Quinton…was still doing the demonstration? After…after…everything?
Cassia couldn’t even make it make any sense.
And as she tried, her body started freaking out. Racing heart. Shallowing breaths. Spinning room. She’d lived with panic attacks for two years, so she didn’t have to wonder what was happening.
Head down, she forced herself to breathe through it. Deep inhale. There had to be a mistake. Long exhale. There had to be some misunderstanding. Deep inhale. But wouldn’t Master Wolf know? Long exhale.
Quinton couldn’t be doing this. She shuddered, unable to get another deep inhale. He just couldn’t. Not after everything they’d said and done and shared.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she was trying to hold out, to hold on, to wait for him to return and prove that he wasn’t off somewhere playing with someone else.
Nausea rolled through her at the thought. Pain squeezed her chest, from the growing anxiety, from her heart threatening to break. Part of her just couldn’t believe it, but Master Wolf had just been so matter-of-factly confident about it.
“Hey, Cass, are you okay?”
The question, coming from right in front of her, nearly made her jump. Her gaze cut up and landed on Master Wolf’s concerned face.
No, she wasn’t okay. She really, really wasn’t.
If she stayed here, she was going to cry. And if she cried, she wouldn’t be able to convince anyone that she was okay. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of all these people, and she certainly didn’t want to do or say anything that would embarrass herself, or Master Quinton.
But if he really was doing a demonstration, she couldn’t be here when it was done, when people might be talking about it or wondering, after their earlier very public display of affection, why she hadn’t been the one to do it with him.
“Um, yeah. Yes, Sir. I’m…I was sick…I guess,” she said, swallowing hard. She pressed a hand to her forehead. The next sentence that came out of her mouth wasn’t a lie. “Just starting to feel unwell again.”
He frowned, his brow coming down over a bright green gaze that locked onto the cuff on her wrist. “Maybe I should find Master Quinton,” he said, slowly, like he was trying to put together a puzzle.
A fast shake of her head, and her words spilled out in a rush. “Please don’t bother him with this. You guys are so busy in here tonight. I’ll send him a text, but can you just let him know, uh, that I had to go?”
He stared at her, and she could almost see the debate playing out across his face.
“Please, Sir?”
He gave a single nod. “Are you going to be okay getting home? Do you need a ride?”
“Oh, no,” she said, slipping off the chair. “But thank you.” With a weak attempt at a smile, Cassia finally escaped.
She barely saw the crowd or remembered leaving the building or knew how she got home.
All she knew was the fear that maybe she and Quinton weren’t everything she’d thought they were, and the pain of a heart that had already given itself away.
Sitting on her living room couch, she studied her phone, and then she finally typed out a message.
Hello, Sir. Waited for you, but started feeling unwell. Hope you have a good night.
There. Done.
Were they done?
Cassia forced a deep breath and blinked back the tears that wanted to fall. But she wasn’t letting them. Not yet.
Maybe, just maybe, there was an explanation here. Because never in a million years would she have believed that the man who licked her hand and declared that he wanted to be exclusive would go back on his word.
* * *
Quinton rolled his shoulders and tried to shake off the frustration of the confrontation he’d just broken up. He’d cut an occasionally problematic Dom off from more liquor, but still had a bad feeling in his gut about the guy’s demeanor. So about fifteen minutes after the Dom had called Quinton an asshole and wandered away from the bar, he’d gone in search of him.
He would’ve gone sooner if business hadn’t been so booming. He should’ve gone sooner.
Because he found the guy harassing a male submissive he’d played with a few times, and not taking the younger man’s no for an answer.
Quinton had tried to talk the Dom down, but the guy started getting belligerent—and then he got right up into Quinton’s grill.
Thing was, Quinton had been trying to help the sonofabitch save face in front of the sub until that moment, but that had been his line in the sand. He’d dismissed the submissive, and the Dom had lost his shit and taken a swing that had split Quinton’s cheek bone. The fucker.
Not even sure where they’d come from, Masters Kyler, Jonathan, and Cruz were suddenly there, helping Quinton bodily remove the guy from the club. He was done around here.
It felt like for-fucking-ever since he’d seen Cassia kneeling so pretty for him on the bar. And he hated how long he’d left her alone.
Swinging around the counter, his gaze searched. A bald-headed man sat in the stool Quinton had reserved for her. Frowning, he went up to where Wolf was making a trio of cocktails. “Hey, man. Sorry. You seen Cassia?”
Something flashed in his friend’s eyes. He placed the drinks in front of the customers and pulled Quinton aside. “Yeah…wait. What happened to your face?”
Quinton waved him off. “Cassia?”
Wolf’s expression was grim. “Yeah, I saw her, and I think I fucked something up.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Quinton asked, concern roiling through his gut. On top of the fight still snaking through his blood, he was right on the edge.
“Did you have a demonstration tonight?”
For a second, Quinton didn’t know what the hell Wolf was talking about, and then it was like he’d been clobbered upside the head. He hadn’t removed it from the schedule. Quinton had gotten Griffin to replace him, but he’d never gone into the schedule and removed his name from the calendar. “Please don’t fucking tell me you told my submissive I was off playing with someone else.”
“Jesus, Q. I didn’t know. I didn’t know she was yours or that the schedule was wrong.”
“Aw, Christ,” Quinton said, a sickening tightness squeezing his gut as he looked out over the crowd. “Where is she?”
“She left. Twenty minutes ago. Said she wasn’t feeling well.” Wolf’s expression was like someone had just ran over his puppy. It wasn’t the guy’s fault. No, it was all Quinton’s. His own carelessness had caused this mess—and the likelihood that Cassia was sitting at home right now believing he was balls deep in another woman.
God, would she really believe that of him? After everything?
She’d left, hadn’t she?
“How can I make this better?” Wolf asked.
“Not your fault, and not your responsibility,” Quinton said. “This is all on me. But can you handle the rest of the night?”
“Yes. Not even a question. Go make this right.”
He was already moving. Looking at his phone, he saw her text message, and the formality of it was like a knife to the gut, cold and impersonal and capable of lots of messy damage.
As soon as he got where it was quieter, he called. Voicemail. “Damnit,” he bit out.
Quinton was desperate to get to her, to fix this, to make sure she was okay. To make sure they were okay. And to make sure she knew everything she needed to know so that something like this could never happen again.