“God, you’re uptight. Did the aliens maybe forget to remove your anal probe?”

“You mean you’re not God? Nooo, say it isn’t so!”

“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.”

“Is that your face or did your neck just throw up?”

“You don’t speak again, unless to use your safe word or yellow to indicate you’re frightened.”“I was at yellow the minute I walked in the door.”

“Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.”

“I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.”