Bianca lay on the bed, waiting for her Masters to join her.

She was perfectly fine, she had assured them, dimpling naughtily as they exchanged looks of worry.

“You just endured an attack…” began O’Grady, his brow wrinkled in concern but Bianca snorted rudely and grabbing his neck, pulled him down to kiss him. He groaned as he raised his head, his shirt hanging open, the sculpted boxer’s body on display as he growled,

“Saint, methinks the little Pet needs to be tamed.”

St Just, who was lying on the bed beside Bianca was watching the playful yet intense exchange with some interest. He rolled over and began to pull...