“No way. You’re helping her to be more independent.” She gave him a feline smile. “Besides, from what I can tell, she’s not orbiting around you. You’re orbiting around her.”
He sighed, tapped the wheel. “No question, but still. You know what I mean.”
“I do. Rory, she has your family. She has all of you. She always will. You know it.”
Maybe he’d stop worrying if his own feelings weren’t so strong. When it came to her, his every heartbeat pounded out one word.
Mine, mine, mine.
Des slid a hand around Julie’s waist, then moved it up her back, fondling her neck beneath her thick tail of hair. The familiar gesture had her leaning against him, looking up into his face. A quietness gripped her that was rare for Julie, a peacefulness that increased as Des brushed a kiss over her forehead. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against his tanned throat as he looked toward Rory.
“Having a woman belong to you, one who wants to belong to a Master, can be the best thing for her,” Des said quietly. “Every Dom worth his salt knows that. And questions himself constantly to make sure he’s looking out for her best interests. Not that he lets her see that,” he added, sending a twinkling look to Julie, who opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Can’t have our women knowing we ever doubt our absolute rule of law over them.”
“Yeah, right.” She punched him playfully in the side. “I know just when to call you Sir Asshole. Sir.”
She was teasing him, but when he grasped her fist and raised it to his lips, spreading out her fingers before he kissed her palm, that last Sir came out a little less taunting. A lot more breathless.
Then her gaze cleared as she noted a festival schedule displayed on a sandwich board sign. “Ooh, there’s a music performance at the top of the hour, over at the pavilion. Let’s go check it out. We can come back to the booths.”
Julie hurried forward to collect Daralyn and then waved imperiously at them to follow her toward the pavilion. Des shot Rory an amused look. “Are you familiar with the term power sub?”
Rory chuckled. “Only recently, but after I learned it, imagining Julie as a submissive was a lot easier.”
As they willingly followed the two women, Rory saw the seating under the large tent was a semi-circle of benches, on a slope so those in back could see as well as those in the front. Though things weren’t crowded yet, there were festival workers wandering through the gathering audience, handing out programs.
“Des, why don’t we go grab a couple drinks?” Julie said. “They have an acai lemonade that Daralyn and I want to try. Rory, you want a beer?”
“Yeah, if they’ve got Bud Lite.”
Des gave him a thumbs up and he and Julie headed for the food vendors. Daralyn returned to Rory’s side, resting her hand on his shoulder. When he glanced up at her, he saw she was wearing the ear cuff. He reached up and traced it, making her smile, lower her eyes in the way that inspired him to kiss her senseless.
Before he could do that, one of the festival workers, a middle-aged guy with thinning hair and an amiable expression, approached. “Sir, there’s a great spot for people in wheelchairs down in front,” he said. He stuffed the programs back into a sling around his front. “I’ll show it to you.”
“That’s all right. I’ll--”
The man had already stepped forward, put his hands on the bar on the back of Rory’s chair. With a friendly nod to Daralyn, he started to push Rory briskly in that direction. “I’ll just get you there. You’ll—”
He about pitched over Rory’s shoulder as Rory engaged the brake and the chair skidded.
It had been a kneejerk reaction, and not a good one, since the collision between opposing forces on a slope toward the stage tipped him forward. The guy jerked back, still holding onto the back bar, which kept the chair upright, but that wasn’t the problem. Rory was almost thrown out of the seat, though a death grip on his push rims and locking his upper body, no matter the pain that speared through his lower back, kept him in it.
But as non-ideal as ending up on the ground would have been, Rory preferred it to the alternative.
He hit the brake release and spun the chair around to face the guy head on. “Do not touch my chair,” he