head and shrugged. “I’ll handle this, Dustin.” Once again, Quinn captured both of her hands in his and bowed over them. “Dominatrix, at the risk of angering you, need I remind you what you did to Pepe, the last guy you chose for our threesome?”
Her jaw was agape. “The last guy?”
Quinn shook his head once and tsked a couple times. He clasped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. God this kid smelled like the make-up counter at Macy’s. “You see, Dominatrix Cassie is enamored of hot wax play. After Pepe got naked and stretched out on his stomach, she shoved the unlit end of a candle in big Pepe’s ass and lit the wick. While waiting for the wax to melt, she cranked the torture rack—”
Dustin’s eyeballs bulged. “Torture rack?”
He nodded. “After she clamps restraints on the man’s ankles and wrists, she cranks his legs and arms out until he screams. If they aren’t loud enough, she cranks a little more. Truthfully, she likes it when their shackled hands and feet meet.”
“Fuck.” Dustin wrapped his arms around his chest, pushed his knees together and scowled at Cassie.
“Liar! I would never hurt anyone like that.” She kicked Quinn’s shin. “Don’t piss me off, bucko. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.”
He fought the urge to laugh. She could be damn comical when she was pissed. “Thank you, Mistress Cassie. I do love it when you discipline me.” He winked. “You know how it turns me on.” He faced Dustin again. “Back to my story about Pepe. She’d crawled beneath the torture rack so she could force the man’s cock and balls into a cage.”
“Cage?” Dustin squeaked, his head whipped toward her and he stepped back.
Quinn nodded. “A little one, wired for electrical shocks.” His open hands mimicked the size of a coffee mug. “Poor Pepe was screaming, first in English and then in Spanish. Or was it Portuguese? Mistress Cassie thought they were shrieks of ecstasy.” He shrugged and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “How was she to know Pepe had farted and shot the candle from his ass onto his back, setting his hair on fire.” He shook his head again. “Pepe was a hairy bastard. The poor sumbitch went up like a roman candle.”
Dustin gasped. “Holy hell.”
Cassie jerked the bill of Quinn’s ball cap. “Listen you lying idiot. I’m so mad at you right now, I could ram your balls into a cage. Although I’d need a bigger one than you claim I used on Pepe.” She pointed to his crotch. “See his jeans, Dustin? They look like his crotch has the mumps.”
Dustin forked his fingers in his hair. “You’re a crazy woman.” He pivoted toward Quinn. “Tell me, what happened to the dude, Pepe? Did he…did he live?”
“Oh, he’s fine, even with second-degree burns. I was there to put out the fire.” He aimed a grin at Cassie. “I’ve got a fair amount of experience at that.”
Dustin pointed at Cassie. “You are one sick bitch.” He scurried back to his friends.
Cassie whirled on Quinn. “What the hell was that about?”
He grabbed her elbow and marched her toward her table. “That was me clearing out the shark tank. Get your purse. You’re coming with me.” Now that his comedy routine was over, his anger returned with a vengeance. Little Miss Cassie was in for one hellacious lecture before he apologized for what he’d said at the fire station and took her home.
“Like hell!” Her plump lower lip stuck out, and she reached for her drink.
He snatched the glass from her hand and slammed it back on the table. “You don’t want to push me right now. Not with all the anger I’ve got rolling around in my gut. What were you thinking to let a strange guy put his hands on your ass?” He glanced at her two friends sitting at the table, both of whom were wide-eyed, having just sucked air over his words. “Which one of you three is the designated driver tonight? And don’t you dare tell me it was supposed to be her.” He jerked his head toward Cassie.
Sara meekly raised her hand. “I am.” She slid her cocktail in front of Misty. The three young women had shared an apartment for over a year. Quinn would sooner Cassie still lived with Wolf, but he understood her need to exert some independence. He’d just wished her roommates exerted a more mature attitude. Hell, if he had his way, her roomies would be a passel of nuns, especially after Cassie’s behavior tonight.
“I’ll see that she gets home safely, ladies.” Anger, scalding hot, seared part of his brain even as he snatched Cassie’s wrap and purse from Sara’s outstretched hands. He couldn’t get beyond the vision of another man touching Cassie. He shook her arm and marched her toward the door. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t paddle that fine ass of yours once I get you out to my Jeep.”
She aimed a finely waxed dark eyebrow at him, her heart-shaped face pulling at the possessiveness in his soul. “You don’t have the balls.”
Quinn shoved open the door and Cassie’s feet tangled as he jerked her through it, the fresh air a welcome relief on her skin after the stuffiness inside the bar.
“I want you to take a few deep breaths to help clear that booze buzz you’ve got goin’ on.” His familiar woodsy cologne overtook her senses when he hauled her against his hard chest and leaned to whisper in her ear. “ʼCause you just made the foolish mistake of telling me I don’t have the balls to do something. Little girl, you have no idea what I’ve done in the past, or what I’m capable of doing in the future.”
In the moonlight, augmented by the parking lot security lights, his eyes glittered an odd mixture of blue-grey beneath the bill of his black ball cap. His proclamation triggered an unlikely concoction of fright and craving that poured through her system like hot chocolate on peanut butter ice cream. The desire to lean into him and curl her fingers into his faded Harvard t-shirt was so keen she had to fight to resist.
“Why are you so angry with me?” In the three years she’d known him, he’d never revealed this aspect of his personality. “And don’t call me little girl.”
His hands settled at her waist. “Turning twenty-one doesn’t automatically make you an adult.”
“Yeah, well, bragging about your conquests doesn’t exactly make you a good lover either.” She was tired of hearing about the females in his life, knowing he’d never give her ten minutes of his time, much less a corner of his heart. Which, of course, was the problem. She wanted his whole womanizing heart, not just a jagged edge. She didn’t care how many women he’d had before her; she just wanted to be his last. Yeah, fat chance, Cassie. Wise up.
He wound his fingers around her upper arm and steered her toward his Wrangler. “You allowed a man to put his hands on you.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn he’d spoken through clenched teeth as if he were pissed. But why? “We were slow dancing. People touch when they slow dance, or haven’t you noticed?” Earlier, on the dance floor, Quinn had deliberately circled her and Dustin twice, glaring as if he could kill, as if he were… Joy blossomed and warmed her soul. “Wait, are you jealous that someone had their hands on me?”
A harsh bark of laughter escaped. “Jealous? Me? Peanut, don’t go reading more into this than a good friend merely covering your back. You’re grasping at straws.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe some overconfident man needed his buttons pushed. “I’m glad, because I do need to move on. Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean another man won’t feel differently if I give him half a chance.”
He stopped for an instant before his hold on her tightened and he marched her forward.
“Dustin gave