Page 50 of Master My Love

“Pay him no mind, sprite. He’s not too bright. He read what MARINE stands for on the recruiting poster and was the first in line.”

She tipped her face up to his and shook her head, still not sure what was happening.

“Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Essential.”

“What?” she asked in bewilderment.

Jerry snorted, not bothering to explain. “Don’t listen to him, darlin’. The man has water on the brain. It comes from all those hours of dive training ’cause they can’t seem to get it right.”

Eric grunted, taking it in stride; he’d heard it before.

Jerry wasn’t done,however. “Or it could be from the constant exposure to ocean air. Lord knows they’re still in port, weighing anchor and tying prettylittle knots, while us Marines are off to find the enemy and fight by ourselves.”

“Except for SEALs, my friend,” he countered. “We’re airborne, rappelling from choppers, and saving the world while you’re rolling out of bed, unable to find your asses—and the enemy—with a compass and a map.”

Val, who’d finally figured out their dispute was as harmless as the slurs they were slinging, hid her laughter behind her hand. But the glint in her eyes gave her away when she commented, “I wasn’t aware there was such a rivalry. But aren’t the Marines a department of the Navy?”

Eric groaned when she said it because she’d set Jerry up perfectly. He immediately crowed, “We are! The men’s department.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard thatone.” This came from Samson, who’d gotten wind of the ongoing whose-branch-is-better debate and was leaning on the bar, enjoying the show. “Looks like Jerry has challenged you to a battle of wits, boss.”

“Yeah,” Eric replied. “Too bad ole Jerry came unarmed.”

Choking back laughter, Val pleaded with Samson, “Don’t encourage them, please, Master Sam. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire when the dispute erupts into a brawl.”

Master Thomas came up to the bar at that point and demanded, “What’s going on here? Is everyone on break? I need a beer.”

“You’ll have to wait,” Samson told him. “Jerry actually believes a jarhead has a shot at winning over a SEAL’s woman. Can you believe it?”

“As a matter of fact, I can’t.” His eyes homed in on Val, and he grinned slowly. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time with either of them, sweetheart. Not when there’s an Army man around.”

Samson, a former SEAL himself, snorted derisively. “Army my ass.”

“Yeah,” Jerry agreed. “ARMY aka Ain’t Ready for Marines Yet!”

Deciding it was best to let the other three hash out which branch was best, Eric turned to the stunningwoman in pale pink who was watching the debate with unabashed amusement.He hated to end her fun, but he had more interesting things on his mind. Stepping in front of her, he blocked her view of the arguing doms and waited until her vivid blue eyes rose to his.

“Wrists.”

His one-word command was all it took to refocus her attention. Lifting her hands, she watched as he secured the fur-lined cuffs. When he pulled a collar from his pocket, she tilted her head to the side slightly, eyeing the tag he’d added.

“What does it say, sir?”

“Master Eric’s Little One. Jerry was right about one thing. I’m slow-witted if I don’t ensure my collar is around your lovely neck before you enter the club.”

Her teeth caught her lower lip. From the way she batted her eyes, he suspected she was fighting tears. Collars in their world were a blatant sign ofownership and often meant as much as a ring. Inside the club, it was an explicit statement to other doms that this submissive was off-limits.It was an alpha move, and rather caveman like, but that was their way.

She gathered her hair up high so he could wrap it around her neck.

“I should haveprobablywaited until we were private to give this to you, but I needed to stop the competition.” Once he had it fastened snugly, he watched her hair fall around her bare shoulders. “You look beautiful.”

Offering his hand, he helped her down from the stool. Her dress had wide straps at the shoulders anda low, square neckline, which revealed the upper curves of her full breasts. The rest clung to her luscious figure, ending a touch higher than mid-thigh. She was petite, but in the matching pink fuck-me shoes, with the heel every bit of four inches, her legs seemed to go on forever. Too bad she couldn’t keep them on later when he stripped her naked.

He twirled his finger, a silent command for her to turn and give him the full effect.

The view from behind was as stunning as the front, with a low drape of material exposing a good portion of her flawless skin. The dress fit snuggly around her hips and presented her round bottom to its best advantage. A small tie, up high near her neck, held the entire garment in place.

He imagined a single tug on the bow would bare her to the waist. The rest would likely require a shimmy and a few tugs before it fell to her ankles. Watching her strip would be a treat, and he planned to make it happen sooner than later.

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