She felt the thong between her buttocks being moved, and then his big hand spread her cheeks. Her eyes widened, and she kicked out, but his hard body leaned against her legs.

“You can't be a tiger without a tail, sweetheart,” Master Cullen said, amusement in his voice. “It's just not done.”

Something pressed against her anus, cold and slick. She wiggled, trying to escape, her hands tightening on the bartop, but the pressure continued, and then, with a plop, it went into her and stayed in. Her muscles closed around the smaller part. Dios, he'd done it to her again.

“There we go, all set,” Cullen murmured, patting her bottom. He moved the tail slightly sideways so her thong pressed tightly against the plug.

She gritted her teeth, trying not to whimper, and then couldn't help it when his fingers slid farther forward and over her pussy. She squirmed as he stroked her clit, turning it to an aching nub. He slowly pushed a finger into her vagina, and she could feel every inch going in. His finger in one place, the plug in the other… The sensations were too much.

He leaned forward, finger still in her, his chest hard against her back, as he whispered, “Later tonight, that will be me inside you, taking my little tiger from behind like this.” His finger slid in and out of her, and every bone in her body melted.

“And then someday—soon—my cock will be where that plug is.” He wiggled it, and she inhaled sharply at the sensation. It felt…different now with her clit throbbing. Erotic. Exciting. But to have him inside her? Put his huge cock…there? Madre de Dios.

He stepped back and set her on her feet. Her bottom closed over the anal plug, and she winced. His finger lifted her chin. “That's a very, very small plug,” he said, “so you can wear it longer without a problem. But if it starts to hurt, I expect you to tell me, am I clear?”

“Yes, Señor.”

“Good.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, turned her around, and slapped her bottom, making the thing inside move. She glared at him and walked away to the roar of his laughter. The tail flicked against her legs with every step she took.

* * *

Cullen washed up and returned to bartending. Off and on, he checked the room for Andrea. She hadn't come up to the bar for quite a while, and he didn't see her in the room. Face it, he enjoyed watching her; she brightened his whole night. He shook his head and finished making a raspberry mojito for Maxie and handed it over.

How long since he'd felt like this?

Not since Siobhan had been alive. Yes, he remembered those first heady days of falling in love. His hand paused at that phrase, and his gut tightened. Love?

Maybe so. But there was no hurry. He enjoyed his unfettered life too long to jump into another relationship.

“Master Cullen?”

His eyes focused, and he realized he'd just poured tequila all over the counter. “Damn!” Slamming the bottle down, he heard Andrea's throaty laugh.

His chest squeezed at the sound. He shook his head. Pitiful, Cullen. He held his hand out for her drink order.

When she handed it over, he frowned at her wrists. “Even if you're wearing fur cuffs, you still need the trainee ones on, sweetie.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The urge to buckle his own cuffs on her ran through him. No. “Where have you been anyway? The members in your section have been coming up to the bar for their drinks.”

“I-I'm sorry.” She flushed, then paled. “I… A sub was upset after a scene, and the Dom who'd been with her just walked away. When she started crying, I stayed with her.”

Testing her, he said, “We usually flog trainees who abandon their duties.”

She flinched, but from the set of her shoulders and chin, she'd do the same thing again and take the punishment. The little sub had a soft heart, did she? And his was in fucking trouble. He walked out from behind the bar.

Her hands tightened at her sides. Damn. She fully expected him to drag her off to a cross and beat on her.

He shook his head, grasped her upper arms, and raised her onto tiptoes to get the kiss he'd been looking forward to since just after the last one. After one second, her lips softened under his; after two, he'd taken possession of her mouth. And there he stayed, savoring the give-and-take, the hot and wet. When he let her back down, her breasts jiggled from the intensity of her breathing, and her nipples poked out beneath the tiger striping.

Still holding one arm, he cupped a breast to thumb one peak and saw her flush increase. Leaning down, he murmured into her ear, “Little, softhearted sub, if I strung you up to a cross right now, it wouldn't be a beating you'd get.”

His fingers on her breast, he felt her heart rate increase. A glint of laughter appeared in her eyes, and her lips curved. “I'm yours to command, Master.”

Master. God, he liked the sound of that from her lips. Hauling in a breath, he set temptation aside. “This is true. So go put your cuffs on. And you've worn that tail long enough, so remove it, and get your ass back out here.” He noticed Vanessa waiting at the waitress station, a dark frown on her face as she tapped her fingers on the bar. “Your partner is overworked.”

Andrea gave a disappointed sigh. “Yes, Señor.”

As he watched her walk away, hips swaying gently, his beeper went off.

* * *

Later than night, Andrea waited at the bar with a drink order and a grumpy attitude. Sometime in the last hour, Master Cullen had disappeared, leaving Master Raoul in his place. Had her Señor gone home sick? She bit her lip, wondering if Raoul would tell her. Compared to some of the other Masters, he was pretty approachable.

Or maybe she should call Señor. He'd given her his cell phone number last night when he walked her to her car. The thought of calling him, hearing his voice—

“Andrea.”

She turned and saw Master Dan. Talk about approachable. Not. Unlike at the party, his face held no expression at all, and she shivered at the look in his eyes. “Yes, sir?”

“Please come with me.” His fingers closed around her arm. Tight and hard. Too much like a cop's grip. The memory of being handled that way made her stiffen.

He led her past the dance floor to heavy oak doors that matched the ones at the entry and escorted her into a huge office with plush brown carpeting and creamy white walls. An antique desk sat in front of the wide windows.

Near the desk, Vanessa stood beside Master Marcus. Andrea saw a tiny smile appear on the trainee's face before changing to one of concern.

What was going on? Andrea stumbled, and Dan's hand tightened on her arm. She looked up. He had an expression he'd use on a cockroach that crawled into his kitchen, right before he stepped on it. Her ribs felt like someone had squeezed them in an iron fist.

“Wh—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “What's wrong?” Why are you looking at me like this?

Dan said, “What's wrong is that Vanessa left her locker open earlier, and her money was stolen.”

And he'd marched Andrea here like a criminal. Ice chilled her legs, creeping upward. “I don't know anything about that. I've been in the clubroom all night.”

“Actually,” Marcus said softly, “you went to the locker room to put on cuffs. Vanessa discovered the theft soon after.”

The coldness reached her stomach and sent tendrils into her chest. “I didn't take her money. I don't steal.”

“Apparently you do,” Dan said. “We found the money in your locker.”

No. That couldn't be.

Dan picked up a paper from the desk. “It's not the first time either, is it? Does breaking into a liquor store sound familiar?”

She recognized the look now. The same one worn by teachers or parents of the friends she'd tried to make and boys she'd tried to date. The ice on her chest weighed so much she had to fight to get a breath. “How did you get that? Those records were sealed.”

“Not to cops.”

I didn't steal anything. Believe me. Please. Her throat closed over the words. Futile. Saying anything to that hard-faced man—that cop—would be futile. Only Antonio and her family had ever believed her, certainly not rich people who looked on her as the scum of the earth.

I'm not scum. Anger rose, burning away the numbness. She'd try one more time. “I've never stolen anything in my life.”

The disbelief in the men's faces showed as plain as the gloating in Vanessa's.

Vanessa had planned this. Andrea's lip curled, and she glared at the sub. “You lying puta. Just because Master Cullen spent time with me.” Her gaze took in the two men. “Desgraciados, you deserve her.”

Marcus hesitated. “Do you want to call Cullen and—”

“Vete al Diablo. I don't want anything to do with any of you people.” Master Cullen wouldn't believe her any more than Master Dan had; he was a cop too. Her hands clenched. To see a look of scorn in her Señor's green eyes would hurt her worse than anything she could think of.

So much for this place. She kept her back straight, kept the anger high and hot against the despair seeping into her.

Master Dan looked at Vanessa. “The Shadowlands owes you an apology. It was our mistake in judgment that let a thief into our midst.”

“Oh, well, everyone makes mistakes,” Vanessa said lightly, looking oh-so-sweet.

The need to knock the smugness right off the trainee's face almost overpowered Andrea, and her fisted hand rose. But then the cop would arrest her. Not worth it. Instead she unbuckled her trainee cuffs and dropped them on the floor. Thud. Thud. Air brushed against the damp skin of her newly bared wrists. Yesterday she'd hoped to replace the golden cuffs with real ones; instead she had none. She stared at the cuffs on the floor and blinked back tears.