Training Tess by Sabrina York Page A

leash gnawed at him as well.
    He wanted Tess at the end of his leash.
    The fact that her Dom had a less-than-alpha energy didn’t matter. And it was evident, plain as day. In the way he held her leash, the way he angled toward her, the way he looked at her. Deferred to her. More importantly, the truth of their relationship was telegraphed by her body language.
    An idiot could see they were tourists.
    An idiot could see she wanted more. Needed it. The knowledge made Jared want to storm across the bar, deck the guy and claim her.
    Maybe bend her over the table and fuck her. Right then and there.
    That Cord, and every other alpha in the bar, was thinking the same thing nearly gave Jared an aneurysm. The thought of some other man, any other man, touching her made a pulse throb at his temple.
    Cord grinned. “Oh, she’s a virgin. Check out her posture. That woman hasn’t been trained a day in her life.” He snorted at Tess’ excuse for a Master. “Not by a real Dom, anyway.” Cord stood, studying the couple, teasing his finger around the lip of his glass, planning his attack. Jared’s hackles rose “So. How do you know her?”
    Jared waited until Cord tossed back his drink. “She works for Marla.”
    Whiskey shot out of Cord’s nose. “Oh, shit no.” He laughed and turned back to the bar. A wave of red rose on his tanned face, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.” He shot a woebegone glance over his shoulder. “A damn shame though. She’s a sweet turn of cheek.”
    And he wasn’t talking about her face. The leather pants were tight, molding Tess’ prim ass. Jared had always known she had a body to die for hidden under those conservative business suits but seeing her butt displayed like this made his palm itch. God. He wanted to smack it. He wanted her over his lap, naked and writhing and red. He wanted his handprint rising on her flesh. He wanted… Hell, he just plain wanted. His cock was hard as a rock.
    He should storm over there and take her, command her. Hunger, feral and raw, gnawed at him.
    She was sweet and, according to Marla, innocent. And maybe she was a virgin. Maybe she was new to the submission scene, or maybe she was just a tourist. But Jared couldn’t expunge the thought from his mind that she’d been interested enough to come here. To dress up in a leather outfit—which was damn tight and excruciatingly sexy on her—put on a sub collar and a leash and stroll into a club littered with men drooling to tie her down and manhandle her.
    He couldn’t shake the hopeful prospect that maybe, just maybe, he could have her. And if she gave herself to him willingly, there wasn’t a damn thing Marla could say about it.
    How fucking sweet would it be to see Tess on her knees in shackles, gazing up at him with his cum dripping from her chin? Oh, sweet. A shudder coursed along his solar plexus. Every nerve in his body hummed.
    He had to have her. He had to.
    “Oh, too bad.” Cord’s tone was sticky with sarcasm. “They’re leaving.”
    Jared whipped around and stared. His belly lurched. Shit. They were. They were leaving. Even as he watched, the couple stopped at coat check and collected their camouflage—cloaks to hide their true nature. It was only here that a Dom or a sub could be what they really were. The rest of the world was not to know.
    He swallowed a bitter laugh. Oh, she could cover herself now. She could wear all the prissy business suits and frock coats she wanted. It was far too late. Jared had seen her true self. And he would not, could not, forget.
    He was going to have her. Somehow. By hook or by crook. He was going to have Tess splayed before him, begging for release, pleading for his cock, dribbling cream on his workbench. He was going to have her tied to the rack and whimpering her pleasure, squirming against him, clutching his turgid cock with the sweet muscles of her cunt.
    He was going to have her. He needed her like he