Dallas reacts without thinking and launches the cushion across the room, satisfied by the disgruntled oof from Spencer as it smacks him in the face. Her joy is short-lived, though, when the cushion connects with the lamp on its way to the floor, white ceramic shattering into several pieces that litter the carpet.

Shit.

For a moment, a long blissful, teasing moment that allows Dallas to think she’s gotten away with it, nothing is said.

She awkwardly clears her throat and picks invisible lint from her jeans, actively ignoring the daggers currently being sent from Spencer as she attempts to fix her mussed hair. Dallas chances a glance in Emily’s direction and quickly realizes she’s in trouble, those pretty brown eyes pinned to her, Emily’s brows raised so high that Dallas worries they will disappear into her hairline.

She’d look silly without eyebrows, Dallas thinks.

“Dallas De’zinique Dixon,” Emily scolds. “Just what on Earth do you think you are doing?!” She shakes her head and turns to Aaron, Spencer’s Dominant barely reacting to the sudden turn of events. “I’m so sorry, Aaron. I will pay for a new lamp and Dallas will be cleaning up the mess just as soon as I’m done with her.”

Dallas’s stomach drops. That doesn’t sound good.

“It’s alright,” Aaron smiles kindly. “It’s easily replaceable.”

To Dallas, it sounds like that should be the end of it, a reprieve offered by their host for the evening, but she knows for sure that Emily won’t see it that way. It’s a matter of principle, of being a good submissive and respecting the Dominant who was kind enough to invite them for dinner. Dallas should treat Aaron and Spencer’s home with the same consideration that she would her own home.

In short, Dallas is screwed.