Also by Sparrow Beckett
Finding Master Right
Playing Hard to Master
Sparrow Beckett
InterMix Books, New York
AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUS E LLC
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PLAYING HARD TO MASTER
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2015 by Sparrow Beckett.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19853-1
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / October 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity.
In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers;
however, the story, the experiences, and the words
are the author’s alone.
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Contents
Also by Sparrow Beckett
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from To Have And To Master
About the Author
Chapter One
Morning shift sucked, and not in the good way. Covering Morgan’s maternity leave at the salon was proving more difficult than Everly had anticipated. It wasn’t just the double shifts that made her feet ache and loathe heels for life. The worst part was having to drag her sorry ass out of bed early to open the hair salon.
As a hairdresser, she was expected to look her best—full makeup, hair styled, cute shoes, etc. Getting dolled up at eight a.m. sucked major monkey balls. Maybe eight in the morning wasn’t early for most people in the working world, but she really, really wasn’t a morning person.
The bells above the door jingled at ten o’clock sharp, signaling her first client was here. Who made a hair appointment at ten in the morning, other than a senior citizen? From the back of the salon, she spotted the guy.
He was no senior citizen.
His frame filled the doorway, making him look like he was there to conquer the salon and enslave its women. Under his fitted shirt, muscles bulged. From this distance, she couldn’t make out his facial features, but his body was enough to either scare her or send her libido into overdrive. Sometimes the line between the two blurred.
She moved up to the desk and glanced down at the appointment book. Ambrose Langly. Interesting name. Not common around here. It sounded foreign and exotic. Almost too dignified for the thuggish guy making his way to the desk.
Ugh. If he was another one of the university snobs, she’d pass him off to Willow after this appointment. But even from a distance, he didn’t look like he belonged in a university. Maybe a WWE wrestling ring. Or prison.
Shaking off a shiver of fear, she put on her best cheerful expression, reminding herself that appointments meant money. Then she walked out from behind the desk to greet him. Mama needs a new pair of fuck-me boots.
“Ambrose?”
His forehead creased when he caught sight of her. “Yes.”
“Hi! I’m Everly.” She stuck out her hand, noticing the purple polish was chipping. She made a mental note to touch it up later. It matched the streaks in her hair.
Ambrose took her hand and politely shook it but frowned. “Nice to meet you.” He peered around the salon briefly then sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
Okay, then. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person either. “Sure. Come on back.” She waved him to her station, and he followed. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m a groomsman in a wedding,” he mumbled behind her. “The bride will kill me if I don’t look presentable.” He almost sounded sulky.
She chuckled then gestured to her chair. He sank into it, dwarfing the standard hairdressing chair.
Standing behind him, she hit the foot pedal and brought the chair down so she could actually reach his head. “What is it about weddings that make people so crazy?”
“I have no idea. The groom, who’s my best friend, has even started his own Pinterest account. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.”
She swung the cape around his neck. “I’m guessing you don’t want your favorite sports team logo shaved into the back, then?”
He laughed. “No. Not my style anyway. Just trim it, nice and neat.”
The man had a beautiful head. What would it look like if he grew his hair out long? Even at the short length, she could tell it was a light shade of blond, which matched his light complexion. Combined with his size, she wondered if he had Viking heritage. She chuckled inwardly, picturing him sweaty, holding a sword, an army behind him ready to obey his commands. Vikings would make good Doms. And this guy looked like he could give a mean Dom-eye.
Good Lord. Since when did clients make her imagination run so wild? The combination of not getting laid in a while, ovulating, and her biological clock ticking shot her sex drive through the roof. Maybe she’d hit the dungeon tonight and see if she could find a play partner. It’d been a while—there might be fresh meat she hadn’t scared off yet.
After plugging in her clippers, she made her way back behind him. “So do you have to wear a tux and everything?” By the casual look of his jeans and T-shirt, and the Roman numerals tattooed on his thickly muscled forearms, he didn’t seem like the type who liked to dress up.
“Yup.”
“I’ll bet you clean up nice.”
His answering smile was sinful.
Her cheeks heated. Why had she said that? Flirting with certain customers was normal, and brought better tips, but flirting with this guy seemed . . . dangerous. “I mean, you don’t seem like the suit-and-tie type.” She paused to readjust the clippers.