Page 16 of Lesson In Honesty
Snagging her wrist, he spun her around so her back was against his chest and her arm was twisted up between them. Her expression flashed with surprise, not pain, so Liam tamped down the urge to intervene.
Levi leaned in close, his lips almost touching her ear, and delivered what had to be a dressing down of epic proportions—the color drained from her face, shame filling her eyes, andshe nodded soberly before he released her without any hint of malice.
Now that, Liam thought with approval, was a Dom in serious control of his emotions. Not everyone would’ve restrained her so carefully after several failed gropes, and there were a few Doms Liam knew personally whose tempers wouldn’t have been as skillfully contained.
“Oh, he’s good.” Violet’s drawl backed up his thoughts. “Do you think—”
Liam tuned her out briefly. They might be a long way from home, the future unpredictable on all levels, but he felt a surge of hope that their time away from Avalon might be everything he’d imagined when he made the decision to relocate.
These people were strangers to each other, yet they were already forming bonds. Thin strings leading from one person to the next, good and bad, which would eventually weave into a net that was more familial than occupational.
The next few months might be better than he originally thought.
Sierra
The reindeer stuffie perched on the turntable, looking a lot healthier than Sierra felt. As she absently spun the wheel, perusing the wardrobe choices she’d laid out for her latest rehabilitation project, vague flashes of last night’s escapades kept flicking through her brain.
Liam shocking the stuffing out of her by acknowledging her secret yearning.
Liam stepping into Daddy shoes as though he’d been born in them.
Herself, downing a shot glass full of crystal-clear liquid.
Herself, deepthroating her Dom in a room full of other, unfamiliar Dominants.
Herself, floating through cold, crisp air to land in a soft, warm bed.
Closing her eyes against the vaguely pulsing headache playing the xylophone on the inside of her skull, she realized there was no wonder she’d woken up with a tacky mouth and sore throat. She just didn’t know whether to be mortally embarrassed or ridiculously proud of herself.
Maybe she’d decide when her hangover passed.
Picking up a pretty red, green, and black tartan kilt she’d made from the scraps of another project, she held it in front of the reindeer with a critical—if squinty—eye.
The colors worked well with the honey-brown fur, and the kilt’s length suited the long, floppy legs. An elasticated waistband would keep it in place quite snugly.
“Mph.” With a groan, she laid her head on the kitchen table and swallowed back nausea. She couldn’t believe that one small glass, barely the length of her thumb, was potent enough to knock her on her ass like this. “Reap what you sow, Sierra.”
“But you sowed it so well.” Silent as a ninja on bare feet, Liam snuck up behind her and dropped a kiss between the thin spaghetti straps of her sleep top, right beneath her nape where her nerve endings shivered. When she squeaked in surprise, he chuckled. “Been a while since you got blowjob drunk, minx. How’s your throat this morning?”
Was she blushing? No, she was too dead to blush. Her answer was a mumble, sort of coherent if she enunciated carefully. “Like an anaconda after it swallows a hippo.”
He laughed. “How much do you remember?”
Far too much for her to ever look at his colleagues again, she thought morosely. She must have made a horrible first impression on them—swinging from shy and non-communicative to drunk with one shot, performing fellatio like a seasoned whore, and being carried away from the party without any recollection of her departure.
She grunted softly, moving her cheek to a cooler section of the table. “I won’t be leaving the house anytime soon.”
“Quite a lot then,” he murmured, his tone ripe with amusement. He stroked her head gently, his palm sliding down to cover her nape for a light, reassuring squeeze before he stepped away. “Violet and Fordham are taken with you, minx. A few of the others seemed impressed with your vodka antics.”
Antics. Such a small, humble word representing her fall from social grace.
She groaned as the coffeemaker started; her stomach threatened to revolt in spectacular style at the scent of anything stronger than water. “Oh goodie. I’m popular as long as I’m horribly, stupidly intoxicated.”
“Babygirl, people love you for you, not how uninhibited you are under the influence.” The refrigerator door opened and closed in quick succession; she jerked her head up at the endearment. “What, did you think I’d forget my sub has been a naughty girl, lying to herself and to me?”
She swallowed back bile. “Lying is a harsh word.”
“Hmm.” Liam set a glass of juice on the wood with a sharpclunk. “When did you first realize being Little appealed to you?”