“An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.”

“I'll work with her." For now. Then he gave Z a steady look and drew his line in the sand. "You are the owner, sir, but they're my trainees. I would be most grateful if you could remember that." Don't do it again.Gray eyes level, Z tilted his head in acknowledgement and slid the trainee's paperwork down the bar top.With a grin, the bartender set a drink on the bar. "You know, Marcus, you say fuck you almost as politely as the boss."-Master Z, Marcus and Cullen”

“She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.”

“He'd seen when she began to panic, but he hadn't offered comfort like other Doms or changed his plans. He'd just waited her out. She could hate him a little for that.”

“Marcus stepped behind the bar, saying, “Dan sent me over to assist you and learn how to tend the bar.” Doms could be pain-in-the-ass mother hens.”

“We were in the middle of a scene, and this crazy woman comes roaring out of the crowd, screaming, grabs my whip, and damned if she didn’t punch me.” Rubbing his reddened chin, the man’s lips curved a little. “It’s almost funny, but still, she ruined our scene.”

“When he sat up, she gave a sigh and relaxed against the lounge, the exquisite torture over. His eyes crinkled. “You might not have noticed,” he said as if having a conversation in a coffee shop or something, “but last time I looked, women possess two breasts.”