Sloan just gave him an abrupt nod then attached the leash to her collar.
Drat. She’d hoped he’d been distracted from his intention; she should have known better.
He looped his hand around the end of the leash, holding it tightly, as though he thought she might try to get away.
She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Just briefly, of course.
“I came over here with an invitation,” Alex told Sloan calmly. “This year is a rather big one for me, and Tara tells me I need to celebrate. So, I’m having a party, and you’re invited.”
She raised her eyebrows. The other Dom was usually a smooth talker. This was the most awkward and embarrassed she’d ever seen him.
Sloan grinned. A big, slow smile that spoke of trouble. “Yeah? How old you turning?”
Alex muttered something.
Sloan placed a hand behind his ear. “What was that?”
She almost rolled her eyes at his teasing. Then remembered the leash that prevented her from moving more than a foot from her Dom. Best not to rile him up with anything that might be perceived as disrespect. It wasn’t disrespect, of course. But sometimes men weren’t far evolved from their fourteen-year-old selves.
“Forty,” Alex told him stiffly.
“Thought I saw a few more gray hairs there, old man.” Sloan whistled. “Jeez, getting old doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”
If they’d been women, they’d probably have been complimenting each other on how good they looked. Well, unless they were catty bitches. Kinley had met plenty of those. That was how she’d developed this dislike of her body, from stick-thin women with their backhanded compliments.
Alex just rolled his eyes. “You’re only a year younger than me. It’s the last Saturday of the month. Eight p.m. at my place. Don’t bring a present.” He strode off.
“Oh, I’ll be bringing a present.” Sloan grinned.
Knowing Sloan’s sense of humor, she almost felt a little sorry for Alex. Just a little. Although, he did seem to take pleasure in the fact she’d been collared and leashed, maybe she wasn’t going to feel sorry for him after all.
Sloan walked her over to the spanking bench Mace had reserved for them. Generous, wasn't he? She was just filled with warm fuzzies for the overbearing Dom. Not. Ever since he'd been placed in charge of Club Decadence, he’d become almost ridiculously overprotective of everyone in the club. And she meant everyone. Dom or sub. Someone needed to stage an intervention.
When they reached the bench, Sloan pointed to a spot next to it, and she knelt, wincing at the thump of her knees hitting the ground. Graceful, she was not.
He frowned down at her, and, for a moment, she thought it was her clumsiness making him scowl, but then he snagged a passing sub, whispering something quietly to her. She moved off, returning in less than a minute with a red cushion from one of the couches scattered throughout the dungeon.
He held out his hand, and she slipped her smaller, paler one into his, letting him help her stand. He placed the cushion under her and kept hold of her hand as she knelt once more.
Even though she'd worried him, angered him, and had nearly been the cause of an argument, all he thought of was her comfort. Well, to a point. She knew she was going to be vastly less comfortable very soon.
She was grateful for the cushion as he began to slowly unpack his bag. The size of the butt plug he drew out made her swallow heavily. Lube. A rubber paddle.
Oh shit.
He hardly ever used anything to spank her other than his hand. That was more than enough. The man had hands the size of dinner plates and enough strength to make a big impression. It seemed he intended to make an even bigger one tonight.
When all the implements had been placed on a table, he wheeled it over to the bench then moved toward her. Kinley hastily dropped her gaze so all she stared at was his scuffed, black boots and dark jeans.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She had a feeling she was really going to regret not telling him everything.
“Come.” He held out his hand once more, helping her to her feet. She trembled slightly. Her ass was still throbbing from his earlier spanking. How on Earth was she going to survive that paddle?
He leaned down, the rough stubble on his cheek rubbing against her smooth, cool skin.
“You’re trembling. Scared?”