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“I don’t know. I don’t know which one I like best,” Mrs. Winchester said, staring at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a gorgeous floral dress that highlighted all of her curves.

The blue dress she’d just tried on before had been boxy and the color hadn’t been right.

“If you like the blue one, then that’s the one you should get,” Liston said.

Opal knew what Liston was doing, but it was the wrong move. Mrs. Winchester wouldn’t be happy with the blue dress.

“That one looks amazing, Mrs. Winchester,” Opal told her. “Get it.”

“Really?” Mrs. Winchester turned to look at her, chewing on her lip.

“Really. It was banging.”

“Am I going for banging?” the older woman asked.

“You are,” Renard barked. “Get the floral dress. Opal knows what she’s talking about. The other dress sucked.”

Oh, dear Lord.

She turned to frown at him. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to be quiet.”

“Well, she needed some help. I got tired listening to her go on about that blue dress when it looked like a sack on her.”

“It looked that bad?” Mrs. Winchester asked.

“You know, Renard, my back is feeling a lot better. You can go home now.”

And it was. The medication from the pharmacy was doing a good job.

“Nope,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Opal turned back to Mrs. Winchester, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t sound awful while still being honest. “It wasn’t the best.”

Mrs. Winchester nodded, going back into the dressing room.

Opal frowned at Renard. “Are you sure you don’t have somewhere to be?”

“Nope.”

“What about the restaurant?”

“All under control.” He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the next two women who entered. Opal didn’t know them.

She half expected the women to turn around and run with how he was staring at them. Instead, they started whispering to themselves, sending admiring glances his way.

Um. No.

He was hers.

So it was her turn to frown at them just as Mrs. Winchester approached the counter with the floral dress.

“I’ll take it,” she said decisively.

“You . . . you will?” Opal stared at her in shock. Because every week Mrs. Winchester came in to try on dresses and every week she left without one.

Opal had finally decided that she was just after some human company.

So this was a big shock.

“Yep. Decided this is the one.” And then the older woman nodded at Renard who nodded back. “Good idea having your man in here, Opal. Helps to have a male perspective.”

“I’d quite like a male perspective on this dress,” one of the women said, holding up a red, slinky dress that Opal was dying to try on but didn’t dare because it cost far more than she could afford.

Even with her staff discount.

“Won’t suit you,” Renard said abruptly.

The woman looked shocked, then frowned.

Ha!

Mrs. Winchester left and Opal turned to Renard to find those two women had gotten closer to him.

“What about this one?” The other woman held up a short black dress which would look amazing on her.

However, Opal didn’t like the way that she was staring at Renard. As though he was a snack and she wanted to eat him.

“Would you like me to take it to a dressing room?” Opal asked.

“What? Oh, yes.”

“And I’ll try on this dress.” The first woman had abandoned the red dress and picked up a lacy peach one which would not go well with her skin tone.

“You might like it in a dark blue instead,” Opal suggested.

“I want to try the peach one on,” the woman insisted.

Whatever.

Both women got dressed as Opal tidied up the mess they’d left.

“What do you think?” one woman asked with a giggle.

“Don’t you think she looks sexy?” the other woman said.

She turned back to find both women crowding in front of Renard. Then one of them reached out and touched his chest and she saw red.

“Both of you look terrible,” she said abruptly. “You need to take them off and get out.”

“Excuse me!” the first woman huffed. “We are the customers.”

“And this is my man. Get your hands off him now before I remove your hands for you and shove them down your throat.” The women gaped at her, then Opal leaned forward. “Boo!”

Both women let out small screams and headed into the dressing rooms.

Suddenly, Renard grasped hold of her wrist and started pulling her toward the back of the shop.

Great.

“Let go,” she told him.

“No. Opal is taking her lunch break. Sort them out,” he ordered Liston.

“Hey, you can’t boss Liston around,” she complained as they headed into the back room. He then drew her into a storage cupboard out the back which was mainly used for cleaning supplies. “Why did you bring me in here?”

“Because it’s private.”

“Why? So you can yell at me?” she complained.

“Why would I yell at you?” he said as he turned toward her, wrapping his hand around the back of her head.

And then he was kissing her like he meant to devour her. Like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

He was kissing her like he never wanted to stop and frankly, she didn’t want him to.

And Lord, he smelled good. Why did he always smell like gingerbread?

When he drew back, she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“That was about you laying a claim on me and now I’m going to do the same to you.” He shoved her short skirt up over her hips and she let out a small squeal.

He covered her mouth with his again. “No making noises, baby. Or I’ll stop and you won’t get your reward.”

“I’m getting a reward?” She was so confused right now.

“Yeah, dumpling. You’re getting a reward. Is it better for your back to be sitting or standing?”

“Don’t call me dumpling and I don’t know. Standing?” she guessed, still feeling at a loss about what her reward would actually be.

And then he kneeled before drawing her panties to one side and slowly pushing her legs apart.

Okay, she was beginning to get the idea. Opal leaned back against the wall as he started to eat her.

Oh. Fuck.

This was something she didn’t have much experience of. Stefan hadn’t been interested in using his mouth on her. And before him . . . yeah, none of the guys she’d been with had been into this.

Of course, they’d all enjoyed having their dicks sucked.

“Stop thinking,” he growled at her. “Or I’m going to stop.”

“What? Nooo.”

“Can’t spin you around and slap your ass. Can’t torture you until you scream and beg. Stopping is all I’ve got at the moment to punish you. So you do as you’re told or I’ll stop.”

“That’s so mean.”

“That’s why I’m the sadist.”

She tensed slightly. Was she giving him everything he required? Was she enough for him?

She could take some pain. But would it be enough for him?

“Gem, where is your head at?”

“I can take some pain,” she blurted out.

He stilled, then he rested his face against her stomach for a moment.

“Fuck, Gem, told you that I only enjoy inflicting pain on willing subbies. Ones who need it.”

Shit.

“Sorry. I know.”

“The pleasure comes from giving a sub what he or she needs. They want me to make them hurt and I enjoy giving people what they need. I like breaking them a little so I can help put them back together after. Surprisingly, I actually like aftercare, although not many subs want it from me.”

They didn’t?

Idiots.

“No one is going to make you hurt against your will. I won’t allow it.” His voice was fierce.

Her protector.

Her warrior.

“What if you need more than I can take?” He would leave her, right?

Well, this is short term, anyway.

“Right at this moment, only thing I need is to put my mouth on your pussy and make you come. Being a sadist isn’t my whole life. Sure, it’s a part of it. But if that need gets too big for me to ignore, then we’ll talk about it and make a plan.”

They’d talk and make a plan.

“Is this what a healthy relationship feels like?” she asked.

“Yeah, baby. This is healthy. I finally get to eat you out, and we’ll both feel really nice and healthy.”

“Then you best get on with it,” she told him. “Don’t know what’s with all the yapping.”

He snorted before his tongue returned to her pussy, licking along her damp lips before flicking her clit. A small whimper escaped her as he pushed a finger deep inside her.

God.

Felt so good.

Then he drew away.

“No!” She lightly smacked her hands down on his shoulders.

“Tut-tut, as the sadist in his relationship, I’ll be doing the slapping, not you.”

What?

She gaped down at him. Hadn’t they just said . . .

Oh, the asshole was grinning.

“You’re making sadist jokes?”

“I never make sadist jokes. We’re very serious, us sadists. All whips and blood and tears.”

“Fine. I get it. Your life isn’t just about making people hurt and cry.”

“People who want it,” he clarified. “And we have yet to explore just what you like, Gem.”

“And we won’t if you keep stopping to yap,” she complained.

“Stopped because you were making noises, Gem. You make any more and I’ll stop for good.”

Nooo.

God.

“You like inflicting misery in ways that aren’t just physical, don’t you?”

He chuckled.

Bastard.

But she wasn’t upset. She knew what she had to do to get what she wanted.

And she also knew that when she got it that it would be amazing.

So she put her hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet as Renard ate her out until her orgasm washed through her, making her shake and tremble. Her legs grew weak and she was grateful as he stood and drew her close to him, holding onto her.

“That’s it, Gem. Good girl. You did so well.”

She closed her eyes, loving the way he held her, whispering to her as he rubbed the sore spot on her back.

“My good fucking girl.”

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d punch them in the dick,” she told him. “Weirdly, don’t feel like doing that with you.”

“Well, can’t say that my dick is sad about that,” he replied.

She grinned.

Then she leaned back to look up at him. “So as much as I appreciate the orgasm, although I should protest the fact that you gave me one in a storage closet at my work, why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“There have to be a reason?” he asked.

“Are you saying you just ate me out because you wanted to?”

He grew still which warned her that she’d said that wrong thing.

Fuck.

What had she said to upset him?

“Guessing none of those assholes you were with ever ate you out for the fun of it? Because they enjoyed it?”

“Uh, you would guess right.”

“Pricks.”

“Yeah, they had those. Small, ugly things too.” Hmm, she should return the favor, shouldn’t she?

Opal ignored the ugly feeling developing in her tummy at the thought of getting on her knees and sucking him off.

This is Renard.

He’s sexy and protective and kind, in his own Renard way.

Nothing like the men who had come before him. So she tried to slide onto her knees, but he held her up.

“What are you doing, Gem?” he asked.

“I was going to return the favor.”

“Right.” He drew her carefully up into his arms, leaning her back against the wall. In this position, they were facing each other. “This ain’t tit-for-tat.”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“Just because I get you off doesn’t mean you have to do the same for me.”

“It doesn’t?” she asked, shocked.

“Opal, baby, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Of course.”

“Guessing this comes from Stefan so when the things he taught you pop into your head, you need to push them back out. Because everything he said or did was fucking fucked. Understand me?”

She wasn’t sure she could promise him that. But, at the same time, she knew what he was saying was the truth.

And that she should try, at least.

“I’ll try.”

“Honest to fucking God, I’d like to resurrect him just so I could torture him painfully and slowly.”

She took a deep breath in and let it out. “Aren’t you . . . it didn’t turn you on?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” he asked.

She startled, holding in a moan of pain as her back protested. The painkillers were doing a good job of masking the pain, but her back still didn’t like sudden movements, she guessed.

“Didn’t like it? Fuck me, baby, you let me do that every day and I might turn into one of those happy-go-lucky assholes who are always smiling. Beginning to see why the men around here are so happy all the time, their women let them do that to them each morning before breakfast, it would be the best part of their day.”

Her brain scrambled to keep up with his words, but basically, she got that he was saying he liked it.

“Then aren’t you uncomfortable?”

He snorted. “Do you mean are my dick and balls sore because I didn’t get to come? Yep. Do I care? Is it going to make life hard for me? Is it going to make me grouchy? Do me damage? No, baby. This was about you, not me.”

Her brain reeled from that.

This was about you, not me.

Holy. Crap. Balls.

“Never had someone say that to me.”

“Then you’ve hung out with the wrong men, baby.”

Yep.

She sure had. But if there was a God, it seemed he was setting that right.