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“Don’t look at her,” he snapped.
Now they both laughed at him. Banner gave him a playful shove, and he stepped partially onto the snow-covered lawn. His instinctual reaction was to grab a handful of the fluffy stuff and give Banner a face wash, but he wasn’t in the mood. Now there was snow melting in his shoe, and he was excited and irritated and overwhelmed.
“Like a dog with a bone.” Konstantin shook his head.
Banner rang the doorbell, since he’d been there before. A sixtyish-year-old woman answered the door. Her short-sleeved T-shirt revealed a multitude of faded tattoos on her arms.
“Hi, Della.”
She smiled and stepped back to let them in. “Heya, Banner. Come on in. Just toss your coats on the rack there.”
The house was warm and smelled of bleach, like they’d interrupted her cleaning the bathroom.
“So which one of you lucky gentlemen is Ambrose?”
Konstantin grabbed Ambrose’s shoulder and moved him forward, then slapped his back.
Della smiled kindly. “Do you know what you’re looking for? Depending on how complicated the design is, I might be able to finish it while you’re here. If it’s fussier, it might take a few days.”
His heart felt like it was thudding in his throat.
“Uh, I don’t know. She’s a brat. She’s fun and funky and drop-dead gorgeous.” And she deserved the best collar anyone could make.
Della snorted. “You let the girl you want to take as a slave be a brat?” She shook her head. “The beginning of the relationship sets the tone, Ambrose.”
A girl in her late twenties padded into the room, dressed in a 1950s-pinup-girl dress. She went directly to Della and curtsied, her gaze politely downcast.
“The leather swatches, please, Misty.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied again and
left the room. Pretty little thing, but she didn’t hold a candle to Everly.
“See? Now, Misty would never give me sass. Maybe she had some fight in her when we met, but I fixed that quick.”
Misty was back in a moment and knelt at Della’s feet, offering up a stack of leather in different colors. Della ignored her.
“So is this collar for play or daily use?” She went to the sofa and arranged herself comfortably. Misty knee-walked to her and waited, the swatches still offered up to her mistress.
“Probably for play. I’ll get her to help me pick out something subtle for wearing in vanilla contexts.”
Again, Della looked nonplussed. “I’ll make something sturdy. If she needs a lot of training, the collar you put on her might need to take some abuse. Now, do you want something like lace or bells on it? Is she a baby girl or a kitten?”
A montage of Everly in costumes and situations they hadn’t explored together yet started playing in his head. So many perverted things he wanted to do to her.
“Something neutral is good for now.”
“Spikes? Decorative chain? Something hand-painted? Her slave name?”
Suddenly, the room felt too small and sweat sprung out on his forehead. Banner never said this would be like playing Twenty Questions. Of course, he could always buy her more collars later, but none of the others would ever be this important first one—the meaningful one—that spoke of his commitment to her.
Della took the swatches from Misty. “Go get drinks. This looks like it might take a while. What about a metal O-ring or a D-ring to attach a leash to? Do you want one? Two? Three?”
Finally, easier questions. How had Banner come here alone for Kate’s first custom collar? Ambrose might have fainted if the guys hadn’t volunteered to go with him.
“Just one.”
“How wide do you want the collar? As wide as a posture collar?”
