Page 50 of Crushing Clover

“It’s fine. It happens a lot.”

The man looked appalled.

“Really, it’s all right. I know he didn’t choose me for my sparkling personality.”

Denny barked a laugh, and Rush shook his head with affectionate exasperation.

“What can I help you with today, my friend?” They shook hands which seemed weirdly formal, but men could be weird sometimes.

“I’m looking to buy a new set of leather cuffs for her.”

“Do you want something in stock, or something custom?”

“Something in stock is fine, but she’s got tiny little wrists and ankles.”

Ankles, too?

Denny didn’t blink, but my face must have been a violent shade of purple.

“We moved the kink stuff to the back.”

“You’ve been having trouble?”

“We’ve had a group trying to shut us down lately. Apparently, the stuff we sell is dangerous for the minds of impressionable children.”

“How many impressionable children are wandering into your store?”

The man laughed. “Zero.”

As we neared the back, the leather jackets and motorcycle chaps gave way to kink equipment. I’d never seen any in real life but at least I recognized some of it.

“So, something simple?”

“Yeah. Cuffs with locks, a collar, and maybe a posture collar.”

I wanted to sink into the floor.

“Are you blushing?” Rush asked.

“I’ve never been into a store like this,” I admitted.

Denny clapped him on the shoulder. “Corrupting vanillas isn’t usually your style.”

“You can see why I’d make an exception.”

I could feel him frowning at me. Was I embarrassing him?

Denny chose a selection of cuffs and put them on the counter. They looked similar to the ones Saint had tried using on me, but smaller.

Rush fitted one around my wrist. His touch was impersonal, but I still felt like he was doing something suggestive to me in front of a voyeur.

“Lord, she’s as red as her hair.”

Rush looked up at me and chuckled. “They’re so cute and shy when they’re new.”

“I remember when Trella used to blush for me like that.” He shook his head, grinning. “Now nothing I say or do shocks her.”

Both cuffs fit perfectly, and even though the locks for them were tiny, I could tell there would be no escaping from them unless I got my hands on a hammer. It was a non-issue though. I couldn’t leave—not unless I really thought staying with them would put my life in danger. Sure, Saint could be unpredictable and angry, but I still felt safer in the house than I would on the run.

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