Page 59 of To Catch a Sub

“A pity, you have such a pretty mouth.”

Colette had to take a few breaths before she was able to speak.

“Do you want anything else, Sir?”

“No, but when I do find my companion for the evening, I’d like you to assist with the scene.”

“If I’m available, Sir.” Colette rose, picking up her tray.

Master Red caught her arm. “Make yourself available.”

Now that she was on her feet, Colette had no problem arching one brow and smiling. “It would certainly be your privilege.”

With that she turned and walked away.

Colette dropped her tray off at the bar and headed for the door to the playroom suite.

She cast one quick glance over her shoulder, scanning the room for Landon, but still didn’t see him. Not that she could see everything from here—especially with red and neon blue lights spearing up through the opening in the floor making it hard to see anything beyond that.

Colette slipped through the door, immersed in shocking quiet once she closed it behind herself. She hurried down the short hall, but when she reached the junction, she paused. Her room was to the right, but the kitchenette and storage room were to the left.

Colette turned left.

She stuck her head into the kitchen to check the time. Only a little past midnight, so nearly five more hours.

She wasn’t going to make it to closing without giving in either to a Dom’s invitation, or her own nearly desperate need.

The storage room was cool and dark. For a moment, after she closed the door, she simply stood there, thinking maybe the absence of stimulation would calm the mounting desperation.

Instead, she became highly aware of how wet her pussy was and of the air moving over her lower lip with each breath she took.

Cursing, she tapped the wall until she found the light. Calling it a storage room was a disservice, since it was elegant and tidy. Rather than industrial shelving and heavy bins, the items were stored in elegant wardrobes, dressers, and chests. The armoire that contained the club sub outfits was across from the door. Beside it was a cube shelving unit with wooden box inserts. Her clothes were in one of those boxes, and she assumed the others contained Toy’s, Baby’s, Kitten’s, and Naughty’s street clothes.

Tempting as it was to strip out of the corset and go hide in her room, she had to see this through. If she couldn’t make it through one night working here, Landon would tell his boss, and either they’d revoke her protection, or make them move to a new location.

As hard as it was to be in Club Alibi, she didn’t want to go to a new location—she felt safe here.

A day of rest had helped her expunge some of the stress and fear she’d been carrying, but not all of it. The core of it was still there, rooted in the trauma of what had happened with Damien and her subsequent desperate flight.

The emotions were a hard knot behind her breastbone, pressing against her from within. Making her desperate for release.

A release submission could give her.

Colette brought her hands to her face, gritting her teeth and swallowing to stop herself from crying. The moment passed and she took a shivery breath, finger-combing her hair.

Then she started opening and closing drawers, looking for the thing she hoped would help her make it through the rest of the night.

She found what she needed on velvet lined trays in a bottom drawer of a tall dresser. Glancing quickly at the door, Colette pulled out two trays, setting them on a steamer trunk.

The collars ranged in size, color, material, and functionality. Most were made of leather, but a few were canvas or nylon.

She dismissed the white and pink one with inset hearts, as well as the turquoise double-layered collar with gem-encrusted letters spelling out “slut.”

There were two elegant, fey-like collars that had a unique shape, coming to a point at the bottom center. Both were made of layered leather. The outer layer of black leather had been laser cut in a vaguely Celtic design that allowed the inner layer of colored leather to show through. Beside those was a bulky brown leather collar with a hefty gold buckle and multiple attachment points.

She wavered over the fey collars, liking the artistry that had gone into them, but this wasn’t about style.

Colette picked an all-black martingale collar of leather and metal, then replaced the trays in the drawer.