Grabbing her purse and jean jacket to wear over her see-through shirt, she hurried out the door, locking it behind her. By the time she reached the main house, she was out of breath. As expected, Sir was standing in the foyer, arms crossed and frowning. Shit!
But, God, was he built. He was wearing a black, leather vest, and the bulging muscles of his chest, arms, and abs looked more solid than they did if he’d been wearing a shirt. His long legs and slender hips were also encased in black leather, with biker boots finishing the ensemble. The quintessential Dom—and he was pissed.
Tiffany bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, S—”
“You’re bleeding!”
Before his barked words penetrated her mind, he’d scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her into the living room, which was furnished in southwestern decor. He gently set her down on the couch and kneeled in front of her. Rolling down her bloodstained sock, he growled when he saw the nicks from the razor—there were a few more than the original two she’d been aware of. “Stay right there.”
Tiffany knew better than to argue when Sir was in full-Dom mode and concerned about her health and wellbeing.
Sir left the room but was back in less than a minute, holding a large, gray duffel with a red cross on the side—his fully stocked first-aid kit. He kept one in the house and another in his truck. His motto was “always be prepared,” and, not for the first time, Tiffany wondered if he’d been a Boy Scout in his youth. Although, she couldn’t imagine Sir as a child, even after seeing a few pictures of him with his parents and siblings back then, that were scattered around the house.
Again, he went to his knees. “What happened, pet?” he asked as he rifled through the bag and pulled out a few packages of sterile gauze, ripping them open.
When they made contact with her damaged skin, she hissed. “Ow!” She’d been able to block out most of the pain until now. One slice was deeper than she’d realized, while the others had already started to coagulate. “I cut myself while shaving, Sir. I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “You were rushing again, weren’t you?” When she nodded remorsefully, he continued. “We’ve talked about this, pet. Why didn’t you set the alarm on your phone so you’d have time to get ready?”
Her gaze fell to her lap where her hands were twisting together. She really hated disappointing him. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry, Sir. I meant to but forgot. And then my mother called, and I lost track of time.”
Keeping one hand holding the gauze to her leg to stop the bleeding, he reached up with the other and cupped her chin. His hard gaze softened when he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. He brushed some away with his thumb and sighed. “What am I going to do with you, little one?”
The question was asked so softly, she wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say it aloud or if he expected an answer. She responded anyway. “I’ve earned a punishment, haven’t I?”
The corners of his mouth ticked upward just the slightest bit, as if he were trying to hold back a smile. Amusement appeared in his eyes, but he didn’t laugh out loud. “Yes, you have. Do you understand why?”
“Because I rushed and hurt myself?”
“Exactly. There are reasons why I set certain rules, pet. Not because I want to punish you if you break them, but because I hate seeing you harmed in any way.” He gradually peeled the gauze from her leg. “Good, it stopped bleeding.”
He rummaged through his bag again and pulled out a Band-Aid, some alcohol swabs, a tube of bacitracin. Making sure he didn’t run a wet swab over the cuts, he cleaned the blood from her leg, then applied the ointment to each laceration. His touch and facial expression were so gentle, so tender, that Tiffany’s heart caught in her throat. Damn it, stop falling in love with him. This is only temporary! One day, he’s going to set you free and you’ll have to let him go.
“There, all set.”
She hadn’t realized he’d covered the wounds with the large bandage. Leaving her sock rolled down, he stood and helped her up. “Walk, don’t run, back to the cottage and put on a clean pair of socks, then return here.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Several minutes later, she entered his house again through the kitchen and found him sitting in his favorite recliner in the living room. Eastwood was perched on the right arm of the chair, getting his ears scratched. The cat gave her an annoyed look when Sir abandoned his job and got to his feet. “Very good, pet.” He picked up her jean jacket she’d left on the couch and helped her into it. When she turned around to face him again, she looked at him in confusion, and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, your punishment is coming. It’ll just be at the club, instead of here. We’re already running late, and I don’t want to miss our scheduled time in one of the private playrooms.”
He’d signed them up for a private playroom? Which one? Most of their scenes had been in the public forum or in an observation playroom with large windows so others could watch. In fact, Tiffany had only been in two of the private rooms at Club Domain on separate occasions with Sir. One had been decorated like a doctor’s office and the other had looked like a medieval dungeon. She didn’t know what the other rooms looked like. She knew each had a theme, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what the other subs had told her about the rooms she’d never seen.
Following Sir to the door, she preceded him when he held it open for her before locking it behind them. As he always did, he opened the passenger door of his pickup truck and helped her into the high seat. As he skirted the front of the vehicle, she put on her seat belt. Moments later, they were on their way to Club Domain.
Tiffany was still in awe every time she walked into the place. It was so elegant, it put Indigo to shame. However, The Covenant in Tampa, the club Mitch owned with his cousins, was more Tiffany’s style. If she had to compare them to other places, Club Domain felt like a high-society ball at a fancy venue where everyone sipped champagne. Indigo would be a local dive bar that smelled like stale beer no matter what time of day it was. Meanwhile, The Covenant would be somewhere in between. It was the perfect combination of the Ritz meets Cheers—a place that was classy, but everyone knew your name. That’s the kind of club Tiffany liked the best. When you walked into The Covenant, it felt like you were coming home to friends and family.
“What’s on your mind, pet?”
They were at a stoplight about two miles from their destination. Tiffany faced Sir as she answered him. “I was just comparing The Covenant to Club Domain and Indigo and was curious what Master Key was going to be like.”
“From what I read in the file, it’ll be similar to The Covenant, but Mitch and Ty are still working on the plans for the interior of the club and rooms. They’re getting the dungeon equipment from the same designer they’ve used before, but the decor will be more suited to a vacation resort. Mitch has been researching and visiting other clubs and resorts for the past few weeks, looking for just the right mix. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“Me too.”
“Have you decided what position you want to take there?”
Tiffany shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll have to wait until we get there and I see what needs to be done. I’ll probably fall right into something.”