Her mouth had started to tire when Sam stiffened and came.

“Very nicely done, sugar,” Marcus said. “Don’t stop yet. Ease him down gently.”

When Sam’s cock softened, Marcus pointed to a small stand discretely camouflaged by the ferns in the planter. “Fetch some wipes. Clean him up and dispose of the condom.” She started to rise, and he added, “Your response is what?”

“Yes, Sir,” she snapped before thinking. She came to attention, saluted, and included a glare for good measure.

As she stalked away, she heard Sam’s gravelly voice. “You’re going to have a fun time with this one, Marcus.”

Probably just as well she didn’t hear Marcus’s reply. When she’d finished cleaning Master Sam, he ruffled her hair. “Good job, girl.” After tucking himself back into his faded leathers, he rose and headed for the bar.

Gabrielle hesitated. What now?

Before she could stand, Marcus leaned forward, grasped her around the waist, and pulled her between his knees, her back to him. With firm hands, he adjusted her position until she knelt, bare bottom resting on her heels, knees widely spread, and her palms on her thighs. As his hands covered hers, she saw white scars and thickened skin over his knuckles. A lawyer that got in fights?

Leaning forward, he squeezed her shoulders, and his cheek brushed against her hair as he spoke softly in her ear. “When I say kneel, this is the posture I wish you to take. Concentrate on getting here quickly for now. We’ll work on gracefulness later.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, not wanting to fight. His legs enclosing her felt…good, as did his warm hands on her chilled skin and his cheek against her ear. Safe. And maybe he even liked her a little bit.

He reached around her to caress her breast. She bit her lip, wanting to push into his touch, and that just didn’t make any sense. Why did it feel as if he had the right to fondle her? With anyone else, she’d feel as if she were being groped.

When he slipped his other hand between her open legs, she stiffened. He simply continued, sliding his fingers in her wetness, and pleasure flooded her senses.

“Well, sugar,” he whispered, one finger tracing circles around her clit. “You might act like you didn’t enjoy making Sam happy, but you seem a tad aroused. Might that be true?”

A mortified flush scalded her cheeks. True, she hadn’t wanted to start, but sucking on Sam’s cock, hearing Marcus’s firm instructions—and imagining his cock instead—had sizzled her veins.

“Answer me, sugar.” He pinched her nipple, a small admonishment, and dammit, she was hot enough the tiny pain sent a shot of electricity straight to her pussy. It sure didn’t help her focus that his finger kept sliding up and over her clit.

“You know it’s true,” she said sullenly.

The lack of a Sir earned her another pinch, on her clit this time, and she yelped. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“Gabrielle, you seem to have difficulty following the rules. Are you sure you want to be here? I do think a trainee position is demanding too much of you.”

“I can handle it.” Maybe. However, physical punishment might be easier than him turning her on as easily as if he’d flipped a switch. And her emotions were…off. She wanted to stay right here with his arms around her. But that wasn’t the job. Decoy. I’m a decoy.

“You are a stubborn little thing.” He released her. “Stand on up now.”

Already missing the safety and the warmth of his embrace, she rose to her feet. Off to one side, a group of both submissives and doms were observing and laughing. She’d acquired an audience. Time for bratty sub to emerge.

But…oh God, she didn’t want another one of his punishments. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. Alone. Wanting him to hold her again. Stupid her, for wishing he’d like her.

Stupid her for thinking about anything but the task at hand.

As Marcus stood, Gabi motioned to the audience and said loudly, “Everyone else in this place has on clothes. This isn’t fair, S—” She barely kept herself from saying Sir. What the hell was wrong with her?

His mouth thinned. “Well now, I reckon we can find you something to wear.” As she stared at him in surprise—he’d caved in?—he led her back to the bar.

The giant bartender wandered over. “What can I get you, Marcus?”

“I do believe I could use some thick nylon rope and upper decorations, paper and a marker.”

The bartender rummaged under the bar. As he set out a coil of rope and the rest of Marcus’s requests, he shook his head at her. “Have you been a bad sub, pet?”

“He’s just being pissy,” she said and got a snort of laughter from the bartender. She frowned at the items on the bar. Rope? “But…but I wanted clothes…”

“You want to be here? Then show me.” Master Marcus’s cold voice shriveled her willpower to nothing.

Under his pitiless blue gaze, she couldn’t find…anything…to say. Staring up at him, she realized that despite Z’s assurance that Marcus would keep her for a month, this dom might refuse to work with her. And he was the only trainer. “I do want to be here.”

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he saw her uncertainty. “Then wear your…clothing…politely for the remainder of the night.” Marcus wound the rope around her, his sure hands twining it under and between her breasts, pulling it until the pressure caused her breasts to stick out and the skin to tauten.

It felt…strange. Snug as if the ropes held her in an embrace. And as he touched her, as his intent eyes studied her, she tingled and her nipples bunched into little points.

Once finished, he nodded in satisfaction and opened the small plastic envelope on the bar top. Two beaded pieces of jewelry fell into his hand.

She frowned, recognizing them a second before he bent and put his mouth over her left nipple. He set a hand behind her butt and prevented her from stepping back. Oh my God.

He sucked forcefully, his tongue swirling around the crest. As her breast swelled, the ropes seemed to compress even more, and the feeling of his mouth…pulling…sent pleasure spiraling to her pussy. He straightened and rubbed her nipple, keeping it erect as the skin dried. By the time he stopped, she was ready to moan.

Until he put a clamp on the very swollen, sensitive peak.

She squeaked, tried to grab her breast to yank the damned thing off, and he caught her hands.

“It’ll settle in a minute, but as contrary as you are, I got a notion you won’t leave these in place,” he said, his eyes on her face. “Let’s just remove the temptation.” He forced her hands behind her back, and one snick later, he’d locked her handcuffs together. And oh, God, the position squeezed the clamp until it felt like fingernails were biting into her nipple.

Under the feel of the cuffs, the control he took over her, she couldn’t hold back her whine. “Please, Sir.”

His head tilted and he studied her. “Please release you? Or give you more?”

The accuracy of his question stabbed right through her. The clamp hurt and yet… More. I want more. Push me, control me… “Release.”

He didn’t free her, neither from the restraints, nor his gaze for a long, long minute. “No. You’re not being truthful with me…and you’ve also proven you have no discipline whatsoever.” He bent and sucked on her other breast, squeezing the areola between his teeth. Fire shot down into her pussy. Again he teased her with his fingers until her nipple dried.

The second clamp went on, and she hissed at the stinging, burning pain. She twisted and yanked on her cuffs to get free. “Dammit!”

He studied her face. “You have a safe word, Gabrielle. You could use it about now.”

He’d like that, wouldn’t he? “No,” she gritted out.

His eyes hardened, and he tugged on one clamp. “No, what?”

“No, Sir.” Damn you to hell and back. She glared at him.

“I can smell your arousal, sugar,” he said softly. “Do not continue to sass me, or I will bend you over a bar stool and take you right now so everyone else can see how excited you are.”

She took a step back. He wouldn’t.

But from the unyielding look in his eyes, she knew he would. And the image, the thought of how it would feel to be taken here by him made liquid pool in her lower half. How could this merciless lawyer be the first man to excite her in…forever?

Even knowing she should keep poking at him, she bit her lip and kept silent. I really, really don’t want to play the brat anymore. Besides, she had the people around the bar avidly watching, so maybe she’d done enough for now. She’d definitely annoyed Mr. Lawyer, after all.

He wrote on the paper and tucked it under the rope. She tried to see, but her breasts blocked her view of the writing.

“You don’t have to serve drinks any longer tonight. Go and walk ten laps around the bar. Since you appear to enjoy attention, you can let the doms admire your…clothing.”

He waited. With a sigh, he tugged on a clamp strongly enough her response broke right out of her. “Yes, Sir!”

“Take yourself off then.”

Agent Rhodes was sitting off to one side, sipping his drink and watching. As Dickhead's gaze traveled over her roped and clamped breasts and his mouth twisted into a sneer, she felt cheap. Dirty.