Sex-pilogue

One month later

“What are you thinking about?” Ian leaned closer, studying Tori in their intimate little alcove inside Sadie’s. “You have the most deliciously sexy expression on your face.”

She felt relaxed and turned on. As she always did around her lover. “Or maybe I’m just sloshed full of champagne,” she quipped.

“No. I don’t think so. You look…” He scrutinized her, staring intently into her eyes as if trying to read her inner thoughts.

“Well?”

“You look like, well, you look like…sex. That’s the only way I can describe it. Like a walking, talking incarnation of sex.” His eyes narrowed, a slight frown on his face. “You didn’t already…? Never mind.”

“Ian King! I did not have sex here without you. Yes, the club staff pampered me all day, but that was it. The reason I look like this is thinking about what we’re going to do, here, tonight.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? After everything that happened here in the club? We’ve had fab sex at our places this past month, so maybe we shouldn’t push it.”

She placed her hand on his. “I want to be here. I’m ready. And neither of our flats has any fun furniture.” She winked at him. “Seriously, thinking about what’s coming… I want to eat you alive.”

Excitement flashed across his expression, which swiftly transformed to desire, his eyes intense and hungry. “Let’s forget dinner and go straight to the suite.”

“We’ve already ordered.”

“They can put the food on hold.”

He looked upward. Following his gaze, she glanced up to see that their alcove had thick velvet curtains that could be pulled shut. His eyes flicked to hers, a question in them.

“Ah. Oka-ay.” She reached for the fabric, guessing no employee would interrupt a closed alcove.

Surprising her, he stayed her hand. “I want you badly. Right now. It’s a raging, burning thing inside me.”

Her pelvis clenched, his declaration thrilling.

“But I want to do this right. You deserve the perfect night, nothing less. Nothing hurried or impatient.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind.”

“But I do. I need to do this for you. It staggers me that you’re willing to put your trust in me again. You’re amazing. I need to show you how much by treating you right. With respect and reverence.”

She frowned. “Maybe I don’t want—”

“By making slow, perfect love to you.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper and leaned closer. “Believe me when I say that when we’re done, you’ll have no doubt about how much I adore you. I’ll show you with my body that I’m the one who’s really enslaved.”

Frissons of excitement skittered across her skin, her sex growing wet and needy. “Oh, Ian.”

“Will you let me do this for you?”

“Yes.” She moaned, dizzy with lust. “Yes.”

He leaned closer.

It hadn’t been even twenty-four hours since they’d made love, but she hungered for his kiss and his body as if it had been months. His warm lips settled on hers, and her eyes drifted shut. He drew her against him, his arm sliding behind her back. She leaned closer, grasping his shoulders. Her lips parted on their own to accept his plunging tongue into her open mouth.

Yes, her mind screamed. Yes!

She burned for this man like no one ever before, and she nearly went back on her promise, nearly demanding he fuck her here. Now.

Fire inflamed her, the slow burn of desire instantly a raging inferno. She moaned again, pressing herself against him where they sat in the booth. His tongue danced in her mouth playfully, but she wanted more. She pulled his other hand onto her thigh, close to where she throbbed. She quivered when his fingers brushed her mons through her dress.

“Please!” she begged.

He kissed her a little longer before slowly pulling away. He looked as pained as she felt, but he shook his head. “Tori, I—” It was a hoarse, needy sound, and he cleared his throat. “We are going to do this right.”

He eased her away from him.

She watched him gain control of his lust right before her eyes. Even that made her want him more—his incredible control would soon be directed her way, and the burgeoning sub within her craved it.

He grinned wickedly. “It will be even more fun if I make you wait for it. Orgasm denial is my preferred punishment method. I’m sure if I think hard enough I can find some reason to justify withholding your release.”

“You’re not playing fair! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Hmm. I seem to remember a certain dominating high court judge misbehaving in her chambers.” He frowned severely before winking at her.

“Come on! That was over a month ago.”

“Revenge is a dish best served cold, don’t they say? But you won’t be cold, my sweet, delicious submissive, you’ll be burning up. Hot, bothered, and mindlessly begging for it before I let you anywhere near a climax.”

“What happened to, slow, perfect love?” She gave him a cute pout.

“It will be slow. It might even seem interminable.” His authoritarian voice trembled through her submissive senses, but his wink told her he was teasing.

She could barely talk. She sat there panting, all but oblivious to the fact that she was in a restaurant with other diners. Her one overwhelming urge was to get his clothes off and climb onto him. Force him to sink his cock into her.

She gazed wildly at the privacy curtains, but he grinned wider and shook his head.

“Please?” she whispered.

“Soon,” he whispered back. Looking out of their alcove, he added, “I think our food has arrived, my sugar sweet.”

The waiter set their plates on the table while she squirmed on her chair, all tingly and sweaty. She slid her gaze sideways to Ian. He looked so calm. He winked at her again, and her eyes narrowed. Two could play that game.

She glanced down and saw his bulging crotch, proof he was as aroused as she.

He grinned, seeing where her gaze had gone. “We’re going to have such fun.”

He had no idea. “Yes, we are.”

Surreptitiously, she slid a hand over and gently squeezed his cock through his pants, laughing when he jolted upright. His eyes met hers, and she saw laughter there…and a challenge. He would make her pay later for any trouble she caused now.

She squeezed a little harder, making it clear she’d play the game her way.

The waiter finished topping off their champagne flutes and asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Rope,” Ian replied, not taking his eyes off her. “I don’t suppose you have rope on the menu?”

“We do, sir.”

Surprise made her mouth drop open, and Ian laughed.

The young waiter’s face remained flat, the epitome of courteous, properly trained staff. “Would you prefer red or black?”

Ian grinned but reached down and purposefully removed her grasping fingers from his privates. “That’s okay,” he informed the waiter. “If My Lady will behave herself, I won’t need to restrain her.”

The waiter nodded and moved on.

Ian gave her a faux severe look, silently telling her he would tie her up right here in Sadie’s if she tested him further.

Then what? Would he feed her by hand while she sat there helpless to stop anything he might do to her? It reminded her of the last time she’d dined here.

She squirmed, aroused and mortified at the same time. “You are a master at this stuff, aren’t you?” she murmured breathily.

“Would you want it any other way?”

She took a moment to think about it. “No, I wouldn’t. I like everything about you, including your devious mind.” She grinned. “Especially your devious mind.”

Chuckling softly, he leaned over and bit her neck.

She jumped, but he held her in place to speak quietly into her ear. “I think you’ve proved more than equal in the dirty mind department, Miss Candi.”

“Oh, please, stop with the Candi moniker. My friend saddled me with that alias before I could stop her. It’s not worthy of”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“a high court judge. I should have something dignified and siren-esque.” She spoke up to make her point. “It’s something I must fix if I’m to stay in the club.”

“Ms. Candi?” A deep, baritone voice invaded their tête-à-tête.

Tori and Ian broke eye contact and looked up at the interruption.

“Whatever’s wrong, we’re here to fix it.”

Before them stood two handsome men. Shockingly handsome. They were walking, talking incarnations of the sexiest of humanity, as if Michelangelo had carved them for a bordello—or a sex club, if the Renaissance artist could have foreseen such a thing.

And they were a matched set of opposites—one dark and dangerous, the other glowing and blond.

“Um.” Speechless, Tori sat there, openmouthed. They looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them, and she certainly hadn’t seen them both together before. She sensed Ian was watching her ogle the sex gods, but she continued to stare, too scandalized to stop.

The blond Adonis broke the brief silence. “We were already on our way to say hello when we overheard that you have a problem with some aspect of the club. I apologize if it was a private comment, but we want to resolve any further issues you may have.”

“We’re fine. Thanks,” replied Ian. “No need for assistance. But it’s great to see you both again, Fletcher, Bass.”

The hint of animus in Ian’s voice surprised her. Was he jealous of them, over her?

Delight curled around her heart. She knew how much Ian cared—he’d told her and he’d shown her—but his jealousy gratified her, soothing the tiny, leftover part that hadn’t been good enough for the men in her past.

The blond Adonis bowed slightly. “Certainly, sir. Then it just remains to—”

“I’ve met you before,” she interrupted, looking at the dark one, finally placing him. “You’re the owner of Club Exotica, aren’t you? On my first night here, you introduced yourself by the Bonobo Pit.” She didn’t add that she’d watched him get well serviced by two women, nor that it had made her wet, but she couldn’t stop the blush suffusing her cheeks.

Eyes that were too knowing gazed back at her from his handsome face. The slightest turn of his lips gave away his amusement.

After a moment he said, “Yes, of course. Miss Devine was giving you a tour of our little establishment. How nice to see you again. Let me introduce my business partner, my brother, Sebastian Fletcher.”

They took turns shaking her hand.

“How nice to meet you, after…” Sebastian said.

“After?” Ian asked.

“We didn’t actually talk then,” she murmured, her cheeks growing even hotter.

She flicked her gaze to Ian. Obviously, he knew there was more to the story, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know how much that scene between him and the slave girl had aroused her.

Sebastian took pity on her. “Yes, I was dining here with some companions, but we didn’t get to meet.”

She relaxed since it seemed he would keep her secret, but then he gave her a sly wink. “If I recall correctly, you were rather provoked by my treatment of a naughty slave.” He glanced at Ian. “You might want to explore this with Ms. Candi. I believe she’ll be highly responsive.”

Ian laughed. “Thanks for the tip.”

“May we join you two?” Fletcher asked.

“We were just finishing up, old mate,” Ian said, his stern tone back. He seemed more bothered by the black-haired brother…but why?

Then Mr. Dark and Dangerous bestowed his hot intensity on her. “We’ll only take a moment more of your time, if you don’t mind?” His commanding tone made it clear it wasn’t a request. This man expected to be obeyed. Always.

The owners had the power to approve, or not, her membership application. She smiled and nodded. “Of course, please do join us. It was Michael, right?”

“Most people call me Fletcher, but I grant you permission to call me Michael.” He smiled only for her, then turned away to grab an extra chair.

When both guys stepped away, Ian whispered, “I’m not sharing you. Ever.”

She jerked back to look at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t think that’s what—I mean, I wouldn’t want that, either.”

She squeezed his thigh and after a second rested her hand there. It was the only thing she could think to do to reassure him. Then she returned her gaze to the two men, who were now sitting across from them.

Michael leaned in, his bearing somber. “Ms. Candi, on behalf of the entire staff, please accept our deepest regrets for the intolerable misunderstanding last month and for any suffering you endured on account of it. It was an unforgiveable blunder.”

Sebastian nodded, looking sympathetic. “Truly. Miss Devine has agonized over what happened.”

“Yes. She did,” agreed Michael. “I administered the agonizing, myself.” A slight smile played across his expression.

Flustered, Tori quickly reassured them, “It’s okay. I’ve already forgiven Miss Devine.” She gave him a happy smile.

Beneath the tablecloth, Ian’s thigh tensed under her hand. The men made small talk, but she barely listened, too distracted and excited by Ian’s oddly possessive behavior. She wanted to get him alone and show him how much she liked it.

He looked at her, and she grinned and moved her hand back to his cock.

His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed, but she could see laughter in his eyes. Then he began to subtly tug her skirt up until he could slide his fingers between her bare legs.

Turning back to the club owners, she pretended a great interest in their discourse about an ongoing search for a new masseuse, trying to ignore the hand now playing inside her panties. When he found her clit, she jerked slightly and her pelvis clenched.

Ian also feigned interest in the ongoing conversation while he pinched her clit. Hard.

She lurched in her seat and gasped.

Laughter twinkled in the two owners’ eyes. They knew exactly what was going on.

Her cheeks went hot. “Everything…here is wonder-f-ful,” she sputtered and attempted to slam her thighs together. In vain.

Ian played on between her legs.

“Before we go, we want to officially extend you an offer of membership,” announced Sebastian.

Michael leaned forward, concern replacing the customary wicked gleam in his eyes. “I want to assure you, Ms. Candi, you need not worry, ever, about Lord Bridlington bothering you here again. Or anywhere else.” He looked at Ian. “That the matter we discussed has been dealt with. Bridlington understands what’s expected of him.”

The finality in his tone, imperious and absolute, shivered down Tori’s back. Ian had been right. No one dared cross Michael Fletcher. Relief flowed through her. The weight of worry lifted, she felt lighter.

“Thank you. I’m grateful for your—” She wasn’t sure what he’d done to Rupert. “For your intervention in my disagreeable personal problem.”

“We are a full-service club and care about the welfare of our members, both on and off the premises,” said Sebastian. “Welcome to Club Exotica. We believe you’ll make a fine addition to our little band of naughty players.”

She suddenly realized that she would be perfectly safe here among this society of like-minded free spirits. “Thank you. I accept, and I’m thrilled.”

The brothers rose, but Michael tried one last time with a wicked smile. “If you need anything at all, I would be happy to be of service.”

Without a doubt, he meant servicing her. Based on how Ian’s spine went ramrod straight, he thought so, too. If she hadn’t just grabbed onto his cock, he probably would have risen to challenge the man.

“Oh,” said Sebastian. “Before we go, what was it you needed fixed?”

It took her a moment to remember. “Oh. It’s nothing. My friend stuck me with my silly pseudonym, that’s all. I wanted something…I don’t know, more alluring.”

“You can change your alias anytime. When you’re ready, inform—”

“She’s not changing it.”

Everyone looked at Ian in surprise.

His chin went up, and he peered at the men as if challenging them to argue.

Then he turned to her. “I like it, and I think it fits you. To me, you’re the finest, sweetest, most succulent confection I’ve ever tasted.”

Warm fuzzies filled her belly and tingled her sex.

He broke away to glare at Fletcher. “And to be absolutely clear, I never share my Candi.”

She knew she should do the mature, modern-woman thing and declare her right to make her own decisions about both her alias and her choice of being shared or not, but she didn’t. Regardless of her pride over her career, a deep part of her warmed to his declaration, and her newly discovered submissive side sparked to his ownership of her, loving that he claimed her publicly.

She tried to wipe the delighted grin from her face but lost the battle. “Boys,” she announced. “I’d love to say there is enough of me to go around and—”

Ian’s hand clamped down onto her sex.

“However,” she corrected, “there’s only one man I can possibly imagine playing with, here or anywhere.”

The ever-amiable Sebastian laughed. “I think you have your answer, Fletcher.”

“It seems that way,” the dark brother conceded smoothly. He started to turn away but at the last second threw a sly grin at Ian. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude not to share your Candi?” Fletcher bestowed a naughty smile on her. “And I’m always eager to savor a new treat. My invitation will always be open to you, sweet lady.” Before they could respond, he said, “Good evening to you both,” and was gone.

“Don’t mind him.” Sebastian shrugged and flashed a quick grin. “Fletcher thinks he owns the place.” He nodded his head and departed.

Finally, Tori was alone again with Ian.

He withdrew his hand from her thigh and smiled tenderly at her. “I sort of already said it, but I want to be clear. I would like us to be exclusive, no other playmates. I know it’s soon, but I want you to understand how I feel.”

She beamed at him. “I want that, too.”

Still pensive, he said, “I’m almost afraid to ask, pushing my luck probably, but do you think sometime in the future you might consider wearing my collar again?”

“Well, you see—”

“It doesn’t have to be anytime soon, or never if you really don’t want to.”

“Mr. King, please do not interrupt,” she teased in her high court voice.

But she couldn’t maintain eye contact. It was one thing to accept secretly that you liked being submissive and an entirely harder act to ask your lover to be master over you. But with Ian she felt young and fresh, and she craved pleasing him.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze and placed a hand on her bare neck. “Actually, I brought the collar with me tonight because I want you to put it back where it belongs.”

His eyes widened. “Really? You have it here…with you? Brilliant!”

Opening her purse, she pulled out the metal ring and offered it to him.

“Maybe we should wait until all the painful stuff is well behind us and you’re more comfortable here?”

“No. I’m comfortable now,” she insisted.

But he wouldn’t take the collar from her, so she placed it on the table.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said earnestly. “Plus, I want to wait until you’re ready for all of it. When I place that around your neck”—he pointed at the collar—“even if it’s only worn inside this building, I want it to mean that we’re exclusive everywhere. Publicly exclusive. I know it’s too soon to ask that much of you, but I’m willing to wait. And when the time is right, we can have a special collaring ceremony here in the club.”

Happiness blossomed in her heart at the knowledge that he wanted all that she did. The ramifications of a public relationship flashed through her mind—older high court judge entangled with young barrister—but she’d already made up her mind that it was their business and no one else’s.

“I’ll wait as long as you need,” he reiterated when she didn’t immediately respond. “But when we do this…” He picked up the collar and held it before her. “When we do this, I want it to be a symbol that you belong to me here and everywhere else.”

“I’m ready right now, and I don’t need a fancy ceremony. I just need you.”

He sat straighter, looking both excited and wary. “You’re ready to admit to friends and colleagues, to everyone, that we’re together?” His fierce, white-knuckled grip on the metal ring showed her that what she said next mattered to him.

She beamed at him—not the forced, apologetic smile she used to show the world, but instead a flowing, exuberant one that came straight from her heart.

“The sensible old me would say we should take our time, really get to know each other, and blah, blah, blah.” She laughed, and he joined her.

She reached out and took the collar from him, holding it up in the air like a victory trophy. “But my instinct tells me to go for it. After everything that’s happened, I’m going to decide what’s right for me. And having you in my life for as long as you want to be in it—that’s what’s right for me.”

She stopped short of telling him the full truth—how the idea made her ache with joy and love.

He grabbed her and kissed on the mouth, hard and fast. “I warn you, Justice Whittingstall, I will want you for a long, long time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my life.”

“I haven’t, either.”

“Since we’re going for the whole truth and nothing but the truth, there’s something else,” he said.

“Oh?” A flutter of unease materialized, hovering over her like a thin gray cloud. She wanted to burn it away with the blazing happiness inside her.

“There’s a second aspect to the collar that might take you some time to accept. Maybe you’ll never be ready. Either way, I won’t let it hurt our relationship.” He shrugged.

“Barrister! Just say it before I get a crop and whip it out of you.” A pleasurable jolt struck her sex, and she remembered how much she’d enjoyed lording it over him in her chambers. Whether dominating or being dominated, both were arousing.

He inhaled, deeply. “Okay, then. I’m still not sure it’s the right time to tell you just how depraved I really am. To tell you all the wicked things I want to do to you and how the idea of training you excites me. Before, I said the collar was mostly pretend, mainly to keep other guys away. But I want it to be real, at least in here. When I put this collar around your neck, I want you to submit to me, to accept me as your Dom.”

Always the legal eagle, she cross-examined, “Didn’t you also enjoy being dominated in my chambers? It seemed like you did.”

He shut his eyes, and she saw that he was thinking about it, clearly conflicted.

Flicking his eyes open, he gave her a sly, wicked grin. “Yes, I did. It was singular.” He chuckled. “I’ve always thought I was a full-blooded Dominant, but I also liked your controlling me. A lot. At the same time, I also crave your submission to me. It’s possible, I suppose, that we’re both switches.”

“Does that mean what it sounds like?”

“If you think it means that we both like to top and to bottom, as well, then yes.”

She grinned. “I certainly can’t claim that I don’t enjoy being submissive.”

“So, now what?”

“I think we take turns.” She picked up the metal ring and held it out to him. “And tonight’s your turn. Do with me what you will.”

…

Ian took the collar from Tori. Images of her naked and kneeling with only the collar adorning her body flashed through his mind. A jolt of lust hit him, so powerful it would have brought him to his knees had he been standing.

He swallowed down his violent need to fuck her hard, shaking with the effort, determined to give her a sweet night of perfect sex. The battle he fought now was his conflicting need to fuck her senseless versus his greater need to make their first time together here in the club as a real couple perfect for her. Abso-bloody-lutely perfect!

He shut his eyes and drew in a long breath, filling his lungs. He needed to center himself, needed above all to control his hunger.

He took a second stilling breath. And a third.

Opening his eyes, he met her gaze. “Thank you,” he mouthed, not quite trusting his voice.

Taking her by the hand, he led them out of the restaurant and down the hall toward their private suite. Using all his inner strength, he held an iron grip on his throbbing lust. If he didn’t, he’d have her up against a wall in seconds, skirt shoved up and cock pounding into her dripping sex.

It had only been a month since their last night at the club, only one day since they’d made love in her flat, but his driving hunger was a living beast inside him.

Climbing the stairs was a private battle. Every step, he had to fight the urge to take her right there on the stairs.

In this place, where fucking happened everywhere, it would hardly be noticed. It’d be radically easy to bend her over, bracing her hands against the stairs, and throw her dress up onto her back. He’d be thrusting into her warm, wet cunt before she even realized what was happening—but without a thought for her needs.

His grip tightened on her hand as he fought his mindless and delirious craving to be sinking inside her—a woman he’d grown to need more than anything else in his life. Did she have a clue how much she meant to him?

An attendant waited at their suite and opened the double doors for them. “Please let us know if you need anything,” she said before departing.

“Oh! It’s lovely,” Tori exclaimed, peering in through the open door.

She started forward, but he held her back, his hand still locked with hers.

“When we enter, my turn officially begins.” He dangled the metal collar before her for emphasis. “Agreed?”

She grinned. “Agreed.”

“Go on in, then, and look around. But know that I intend to take you up on your offer to do with my submissive whatever I will.”

He let go of her hand, and she danced forward, eagerly taking everything in. He followed her and shut them inside.

The suite’s opulent luxury was skewed toward ancient Egypt rather than Africa, with a painted blue sky, marble pillars, and fluttering silk drapes. A huge bed rested along one wall, and a sunken whirlpool stood in the center. The bondage equipment was hidden from sight in this romantic fantasy.

“It looks like Cleopatra’s palace, complete with strawberries and champagne. This is really lovely. Thank you.”

Ian glanced around. He supposed it was a nice room, but the only thing truly lovely stood before him, smiling almost shyly as she trailed a hand on the satin bed cover. She looked fragile and feminine in a silky dress that hugged all her luscious curves. She would forever be his Ms. Candi, succulent and sweet.

Forcing himself to appear calm, he took a step toward her, but she backed away, smiling and shaking her head.

“I have a surprise for you,” she sang out. “Shut your eyes, and I’ll undress so you can see it.”

“Not a chance.” He grinned, the unbearable lust easing a bit.

She nibbled her lip. “You look like a hungry wolf.”

“I’m a Dom. Your Dom. And I intend to watch.”

He leaned back against the door, giving her a sense of comforting space but keeping his eyes open. Crossing his arms, he waited.

“Oh. You really are going to watch… Ah, okay. Sure.” But she didn’t look him in the eye as she reached up to undo the silk tie behind her neck.

Her sudden skittishness, especially after her sexual confidence in the restaurant, charmed him. Perhaps it was only accidental, but her submissively downcast eyes struck an erotic chord, making the Dom in him need to care for his sub.

He smiled encouragingly through gritted teeth, silently begging his raging hard-on to give him a friggin’ break.

She slid her dress down a little while twirling and dancing to the soft, foreign beat of earthy music. She turned her back and let the dress fall to her hips, her face turned to look at him over her shoulder. The slinky dress settled on her hips for a moment, and she twerked her ass.

He sucked in a breath.

Fall, damn it!

It did, sliding over her curves to puddle at her feet.

She paused, easing into an elegantly sensual pose. She looked like a marble statue, her pale skin glowing under the light from a recessed lamp in the darkened room. Her fuck-me stilettos and sexy lingerie—a shimmery, multicolored barely there number—made his cock pump restlessly in his tight pants.

She slowly rotated to face him, and his fingers tingled, needing to undo the pastel ties. Needing to rip the fabric from her body.

Her eyes lifted to his, looking more confident now.

She was a dream come true. His dream.

The wildling in him screamed to be let loose, but he rigidly held himself back, knowing otherwise he’d pounce and scare her.

She smiled at him. Trusted him.

One last time, he forced the beast down and pushed off the wall. He walked toward her in measured paces. His hands clenched around the metal ring in his hand.

His tone was low. Calm. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, even without that hot number you’re wearing. But in it, you take my breath away and brighten my world.”

“Ohh.” She visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering and a smile lighting her face. He slid a hand around her lower back to draw her nearer, and she leaned in, brushing her erect nipples against his shirt.

He sucked in a breath, his control wavering. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her but forged his arms into steel bands of restraint so he wouldn’t crush her. She rubbed against him, and he groaned. Roiling emotions flooded him. He wanted so much more from her than just sex.

He released her and stepped back. He shut his eyes for a moment, centering himself, feeling every inch of his inner power and drawing out his innate dominance, regaining the control over his needs that had until that moment eluded him. When he opened his eyes, the master had returned.

He gazed down at her as if she were nothing more than his property. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding, but her tone was less confident.

“Now, strip.”

The quiet but overwhelming authority in his voice caught her by surprise. Her mouth dropped open into a little O, but she obediently reached up and slid the lingerie strap over the curve of her shoulder. And then the other. And finally she pushed the shimmery fabric down, revealing her lush, full breasts. Reacting swiftly to his intense scrutiny, her tits peaked hard and tight.

“Very nice.” He dropped his gaze to her satin briefs, tilting his head sideways, and waited. He craved her like a man starved, but outwardly he maintained an almost detached aura, his Dominant self fully in control.

Breathing hard, she trembled before him.

He remained silent, a Dom expecting complete obedience.

Moving slower, she dragged her hands to her waistband, pushed the last shield of fabric down from her body, and stepped out of her bottoms. She bent down to remove her heels.

He ordered, “Leave them on.”

Her eyes met his, and he saw both defiance and desire within their depths.

He grinned, always loving a challenge.

She opened her mouth, but he put a finger to his lips, silencing her. “Stand still with your shoulders back and arms to your sides. Feet apart.”

Her eyes grew dark and her mouth tight, but she complied.

“Now, chin up and chest high.”

She raised her chin.

“No. Arch your back. Display your tits for me to enjoy.”

Her eyes flared wide, but again she complied, maneuvering her body into the foreign posture.

“From now on when I say present, this is the pose you’ll assume.”

He gave her a wicked grin as his gaze trailed down her body. Strolling leisurely, he walked around her, his gaze hot on her nude form.

She kept her face forward, but her eyes followed his progress until she couldn’t see him anymore. When he stood behind her, he kissed a silky shoulder, then reached around and cupped her sex, squeezing.

“Mine,” he whispered into her ear, and she trembled against his hand.

Continuing his slow perusal, he came around to face her. “To be clear, all of your body is mine.”

Their eyes locked, his searing gaze branding her as his property and hers fighting the bit like an untrained filly.

…

“Kneel.”

Tori heard the command through a fog of lust and shock and resistance. This game of theirs was becoming more real than she could ever have imagined. She wanted it all but hadn’t been prepared for all the emotions washing through her in dizzying waves.

“Kneel now, unless you want more punishment than you’ve already earned.”

As if he’d poked her with a real red-hot brand, she lurched into motion. Casting her eyes downward, she settled before him on the floor. The plush carpet was soft against her shins, but the press of her naked ass against the heels of her shoes felt strange. The cool air washing over her heated skin also felt strange. That he remained fully clothed, reinforcing her lower station, felt even stranger.

A scuff mark on the toe of his oxfords drew her attention. Should she bend down and lick the spot clean? Mentally sliding into the role of submissive, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Maybe.

Through the fog she heard him speak from above. “We’re going to have a nice ceremony here in the club someday.” His tone was light, conversational. “I want that. We can even collar each other, but for tonight, I’ll improvise.”

She liked that. Was she supposed to tell him so? Or remain silent?

Abruptly, he dropped to the floor and took her hands.

She blinked, surprised to find him kneeling next to her.

“I want you to see how much I care about you. You’re beautiful, smart, strong, and oh my god, so sexy! I’m thrilled that you’re my girlfriend and are willing to wear my collar in the club. But before I put it around your neck, I want to tell you that I’m also planning to get you a ring.”

She was stunned, and it must have showed.

“No, not that. Not yet, anyway. Let’s call it a promise ring, maybe something gorgeous for your pinkie finger, because I want you always wearing something of mine. Marked, even in secret, as mine. Would you agree to wear such a ring?”

The lawyer in her had to clarify. “Is the promise that we’re exclusive both here and outside, and that we’re giving our full commitment to each other and to seeing where this relationship goes? Is that what the ring means?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“Then, yes, I’ll gladly wear your ring.”

He kissed her quickly before standing.

An incredible happiness that she’d never expected overwhelmed her. Things had progressed rapidly, and maybe she should think it all through, but she remembered Diana’s advice.

Only do what feels right.

This felt perfectly right.

She’d followed her desire to explore her sexuality, and it had brought her to Ian. He was her new friend and amazing lover. She looked forward to what more she might discover about herself with this special man.

His demeanor flipped once again. He peered down at her, every bit the powerful presence one would expect of a Dom.

Her response was instinctive and immediate. She slid back into her inferior position in their relationship, even if it was only temporary. Her gaze dropped to his feet, and she became his.

“Look at me.”

She raised her gaze to meet his eyes, ice blue and shocking in their intensity.

“Tori, with this slave collar you become mine, whether you’re wearing it or not. I will always put your well-being and happiness above my needs in my dominance over you. I cherish the gift of your submission.”

He lifted her hair and placed the collar around her neck.

Pulling back, he smiled arrogantly down at her. “One last thing. Even though we’re switches, whenever you wear this around your beautiful neck, sweet Candi, you’ll become my slave.”

She’d expected that but startled nevertheless when the lock clicked and the collar’s weight settled on the column of her throat. Hard. Strong. And cold on her heated flesh.

It titillated, because for all intents and purposes, she really was his slave tonight. Would he go easy on her this first time? Anxiety fluttered through her belly and shivered along her naked skin.

He hadn’t asked her to be his slave, he’d told her. And she again reacted instinctively, her loss of control affecting her entire being, arousing but also lowering her. And something else, too—submission to him freed her from making decisions so she could fully exist in the moment without the responsibility of choice weighing down her psyche. It was an unexpected gift.

“As my slave, your purpose here is simple. You’re here for me to use as I see fit. Serve me as I desire. Punish when I feel the need, and train to pleasure me the way I like.”

She shivered as a skittering fear traveled down her spine. He sounded completely serious. She knew he’d stop the minute she asked, but they had an agreement. She would see it through and hope it wouldn’t be too much for her to handle.

He stalked around her, raising her agitation. Then it went through the roof.

“I’m not saying we should always attempt to top our previous power-exchange sessions, but what you did in your chambers was very, very naughty. In the Royal Courts of Justice, no less. It demands suitable correction,” he intoned, sounding like a stalwart old judge. “Given that the perpetrator inflicted considerable emotional distress on her victim, it is hereby decreed—”

“Oh, come on.” She laughed. “Admit it, you loved every minute of it.”

“Silence! Learn your place, slave. Unless you’d like to double the punishment.” But he elaborated. “The emotional distress refers to the fact that the victim was for several moments sincerely worried that he’d be left naked and handcuffed within the chambers of a high court judge. You can imagine the great toll that took on a young, up-and-coming barrister of stellar reputation.”

She snorted but kept her mouth closed.

“Wise girl.” He sounded amused. “Shall we begin?”

She glanced up at him, studied him for a second. He was all talk. All bark and no bite, as they say. They were in the Romance Suite, lovely but lacking the BDSM toys filling the rest of the club. She tried to stifle her grin.

“What do you find so funny?”

Her eyes flicked upward again. He still wore an expression of severe displeasure, but laughter crinkled his eyes, emboldening her. “Oh, nothing important, Master. Just that your hand is going to get quite sore bestowing all that discipline for such heinous misbehavior as you describe.” She grinned full on—this slave stuff as fun as it was arousing.

He looked delighted. And wicked. “It would be painful, indeed. However—” He strode purposefully over to the velvet curtains that she thought covered windows. Pulling one curtain open, he revealed a wall full of toys.

She gasped. “Oh no!”

“Oh yes.” He smirked. “As you pointed out, administering such blistering chastisement as you’ve earned would be quite uncomfortable were I to use my hand. Thankfully, that won’t be necessary.”

She watched, horrified, as he fingered a bamboo cane. Grinning, he asked, “How sensitive are you to pain?”

“Very.”

“Always address me as Sir.”

“I’m very sensitive to pain, Sir.”

She gasped again when his hand moved from the cane to a nasty-looking cat-o’-nine-tails. He took it off the wall and lovingly caressed the evil knotted tips. She didn’t want to ruin his fun, ruin their beautiful night, but fear scrambled her nerves.

“Please, Sir. I’m pretty new to this stuff, but isn’t there supposed to be a safe word?” She pleaded with her eyes.

He jerked his gaze over to her, and his arrogant demeanor evaporated. “I’ll never hurt you, and we don’t have to do this. I thought you wanted the game.”

He walked over and helped her to stand. Sweeping her up into his arms, he moved to sit with her on his lap on the bed.

She relaxed immediately. Her gut, her brain, and most important, her heart, told her that he would never hurt her.

Feeling silly, she whispered, “Sir, I do want this, really. I’m so turned on right now. It’s just I think we should both have an out, if—”

“All you ever have to do is tell me and I’ll stop, instantly. That’s all. Tell me.” He held her tightly, like he’d never let her go. “But okay, to do this right, if you reach your limit say ‘red.’ Use it wisely, because once a safe word is uttered, the game is over for the night.”

Understanding what he meant, she nodded. If she continually modified his behavior, or he did hers when it was his turn to be the slave, then there was no true power exchange.

He gently pushed her off his lap so she sat on the bed, and he rose to stand over her, observing her. With a casual flick of his hand, he instructed her to lower her gaze to the floor. She did but tensed, realizing he had removed her ability to object, even by facial expression, to the tool he chose for her discipline.

A moment later, low, scraping, shuffling sounds came from across the room, as if he were lifting various items from the wall and replacing them. She wanted to break ranks and look, but she forced herself to obey, to be the slave he wanted her to be.

He sat on the sofa across the room. “It’s time. Come here.”

She rose and walked slowly over to him. It blew her mind how real the experience seemed, how the requirement that she go to him to receive her punishment turned her weak and vulnerable.

Even though she moved at a snail’s pace, all too quickly she stood in front of him, naked, with her eyes respectfully downcast.

And waited.

He played on her nerves by remaining silent as seconds ticked by.

She flicked a quick glance to the sofa, searching for the weapon, and he made tsking sound before ordering, “Turn around for me, slowly.”

She rotated in place, the sensation of his gaze roaming her body like a gentle caress. He breathed a loving, “So beautiful.” But the pleasure flooding her was brief. “Soon your gorgeous ass will be bright red. Still beautiful, but flaming.”

She choked, comprehending then what she should have known from the start. Everything he did was part of the game, designed to heighten her lust, make the experience more real.

However, the knowledge did nothing to lower her anxiety. She trembled with it, panted and grew dizzy. And she was wet. Dripping.

Mortification flared within her. Knowing he was about to spank her turned her on like a bitch in heat. It was a secret he would soon discover.

He was a skilled actor, something she already knew from his court appearances, but her body reacted as if she didn’t. His authoritative statements and masterful behavior compelled her body to arousal. In that moment, he truly became her master, freeing her from inhibitions. He wanted this reaction from her, and as his slave it was her duty, however temporary, to give him whatever he wanted.

With a gesture, he indicated she should drape her naked body over his clothed legs. Awkwardly, she leaned over, and he guided her down until she lay with her belly and ribs across his large thighs. He adjusted her until her bare ass was raised high, and her legs hung down one side and her head the other. He ran his hands across her bum, caressing her bare skin.

“So beautiful.”

The shock of assuming a position that she’d not experienced since she was young roiled through her. She was allowing herself to be spanked like an errant child by a barrister from her own court.

It was shocking and scandalous.

It was also fucking hot.

She moaned, unable to stop herself.

“Having fun, are you?” He chuckled, his roaming hand sliding between her thighs to tease her sex. When his fingers slipped between her damp folds, she trembled.

“So wet already?” He chuckled again. “Interesting.”

He slid his fingers in and out of her, drawing more needy sounds from her. Everything from the prospect of imminent pain to his wicked words and fondling fingers only made her hornier.

She squirmed, needing just a little more to come. “Please.”

She blanched. Had that desolate, needy plea come from her?

Now he laughed outright, clearly loving his power over her. It might have annoyed her, but for the driving desire for more of what he was doing.

“Please, Ian. I’m so close.” This time she actually whined, and he laughed louder.

He denied her the orgasm, pulling his hand from between her thighs. “Punishment before pleasure, sweet Candi.”

With lightning speed, he swiped his arm downward and smacked her ass hard, and she jerked.

Thwack!

A spot of heat instantaneously erupted on her bum. She twisted to see what instrument he was using and caught a glimpse of a black paddle.

He struck again, three times in succession.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The sharp swats, always in a new place, quickly grew to a raging inferno on her backside. She started to struggle, not consciously trying to climb off him but unable to control her instinctual response to get away. His free hand slapped down onto her back, holding her firmly in place.

Thwack!

“Ouch,” she squawked, then slammed her mouth shut.

“Too much?” He sounded more amused than concerned.

“No!” It didn’t make any sense, but—

“Why do I like this?” she wailed.

“Sometime, I’ll explain the physiological response you’re having, but not now.”

“You’re not done?”

He rained down several more blows, and she jerked after each one. She gripped his ankles tightly or her hands would have flown up to cover her bum. She tried not to cry out, but whimpers and mewling cries erupted from her lips even with her mouth closed.

“Nice and red.” He grazed his fingernails lightly across both cheeks, and she reared as if he’d scraped her with a sharp knife, her skin was so highly sensitized.

“Ouch!” She cried out when he hit her again, squirming uncontrollably. Her bum burned, glowing hot as lit coal.

She opened her mouth. Barely stopped herself from using the safe word. She wouldn’t take away his control. After all, she hadn’t given him any when she’d spanked him in her chambers. But the pain was becoming too much.

He placed the paddle down next to him on the sofa.

“Ow, ow, ow! Shit, that hurts!” She hung over him, panting.

He chuckled. “It was supposed to. But let’s see…” His hand slid between her thighs, searching. “You’re soaking,” he murmured, approval in his tone.

Her sex clenched repeatedly, eagerly grasping at the fingers playing at her entry. She was enflamed everywhere, as if the heat spread outward from her burning cheeks, even as more blood flowed to her arse.

Super sensitized, she didn’t just feel, she absorbed the moment into her being—the scratchy texture of his wool pants under her belly, the strong weight of his warm hand pressing down on her back, even the barely there wisps of his breath on her heated skin when he bent down to have a closer look at her ass.

Everything flooded her nervous system with input, and more blood rushed to her swollen sex, making the spot between her legs the most sensitive of all. She no longer questioned why the spanking turned her on—she only knew that she needed to come, needed him to give it to her, and needed it right this very instant.

“Please, Sir!”

“What does my slave need?”

“Please, Sir. You know.” Remnants of the old her didn’t want to admit how horny she’d become from being spanked, that nothing else mattered in the world but her orgasm.

Thwack!

“Ouch!” She’d earned it for not answering his question, as a good slave should.

She tried again, crying out, “Please fuck me, Sir. Fuck me hard!”

“Your begging is music to my ears, but that isn’t what I asked.” She sensed his hand rising again.

“No, no, Sir. Wait! I need to come, Sir.”

“Better.”

Somewhere in the midst of her ravening desire, a thought flitted through her mindless state of pain and pleasure—he was having too much fun, by far. When it was again her turn, she would thoroughly enjoy paying him back. But right now she needed to get off his lap and onto his cock. Then she realized something that had escaped her notice while her burning ass consumed her ability to think.

Through his pants, his engorged cock pressed into her belly.

Adopting the honeyed tones of a supplicant, she offered, “Sir, this slave would like to pleasure her master. Please let me serve you.”

“How? What do you have in mind?” He sounded somewhat surprised—at her subservient tone or at her offer, she wasn’t sure which.

She threw his words back at him. “My purpose is simple. I’m here to serve you, however you see fit, however you desire.”

Not waiting for permission, she squirmed off his lap to land at his feet. Gazing up at him seductively, she rose to her knees and reached for the zipper on his pants. When he didn’t stop her, she unzipped him and pulled out his erect cock. Licking her lips, she grinned slyly at him.

“Please, Sir. May I blow you?”

He laughed aloud and nodded.

She lowered her mouth to his twitching shaft and licked the tip once. Grasping the base with her hand, she delicately lapped the head with her tongue and was rewarded by the sound of his needy groan. Encouraged, she licked up and down his swollen shaft until he was completely moist and then slid her mouth down, enveloping him.

He groaned louder and shifted backward on the sofa, forcing his pelvis upward and his member farther into her.

A novice at sucking cock, she was thrilled by his reaction. Over and over, she bobbed her head, drawing him farther inside her wet warmth, her lips molding tightly around his shaft, occasionally raking him gently with her teeth. Every groan and grunt from him inspired her to try harder.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered harshly. “Yes!”

Gripping her head, he forced her down farther still, and she took it, took all of him until the tip of his cock grazed the back of her throat. He pumped her head up and down, over and over, and she let him, gave up control of her body to him. She fought the need to gag when he shoved her so far down his cock slid into her throat. He held her there, and she felt the invasion of his hot, hard rod into her virgin passage, her tongue fluttering along the velvety underside. After mere seconds, he released her, and she jerked back, desperately sucking in oxygen around the cock still filling her mouth.

He gently pushed on her shoulders to ease her off, but she fought back, surging down on him and licking furiously, wanting to bring him to his knees. She grinned as she worked, enjoying this new sort of sexual power she’d never conceived of before—that even as a submissive she had control over his pleasure. Determined to prove it, she gripped his cock tightly with her lips and sucked him deeper. Faster. Harder.

“Stop!” he thundered. “I want to come inside your cunt. I want to feel you quaking on me.”

Before she realized what was happening, he pulled her off and whipped her around, placing her on all fours on the floor. Spreading her legs apart, she watched him over her shoulder and offered him access. After grabbing a Durex condom, he mounted her doggy style. In one powerful thrust he filled her, his groin nestled against her cheeks. She pushed back on him, wanting him even more deeply embedded in her. Rising upright on his knees, he grasped her hips—his grip so tight she’d have bruises later—and he began to bang her like a man possessed. The animalistic sounds of their smacking bodies and grunting pleasure filled the room.

“Yes, Sir. More! Please, Sir,” she begged, getting closer to the fine edge of rapture.

“No! You’re just Tori now. Just you and me…and this.” He groaned, pumping her again even harder.

Joy flooded her. In this moment of exquisite sensation, he wanted her. Only her. Not their games, but her. They became true lovers, equal partners in their need to give and take pleasure from each other.

But she was frantic for more, mindlessly begging and whimpering and crying, desperate to hear his joyful shouts of ecstasy and wanting it for herself even more. The white-hot, blazing knifepoint grew closer. Brighter. He rode her with determination, driven and relentless, and she bucked frantically against his every thrust.

She became a wild thing only he could tame. The man who had hunted her mercilessly in court was merciless here, too. He demanded everything from her. Nothing would satisfy but her complete and total surrender—to sensation, and to him.

With a heathen cry, she gave herself over to the moment and to his desires. Her world exploded into an incandescent blaze of pleasure, peaking and falling, rolling and swirling. Exquisite euphoria that went on and on. His wild roar joined hers even as he continued urgently bucking into her, nearly lifting her from the floor with each thrust.

After eons of delight, they slowed to a stop, hovering motionless as they floated back to consciousness. Her chest pounded, and she tried to catch a breath.

He pulled out, and they fell laughing, panting, to the carpet, to lie facing each other.

“Was it good for you?” he asked, grinning.

“Was it good for you?” she countered.

They both knew it had been good. Very, very good.

Sobering, he rolled over her, holding himself up on his elbows. “I…um.” He looked serious, a little unsure, but also determined. “Ah, fuck it. I’m going to tell you something, and I hope you don’t mind.” He gave her a quick kiss and pulled back to gaze into her eyes. Then he said, “I love you.”

She suddenly realized how much she had longed to hear those words from him, even though a month ago she’d have sworn she wanted nothing like that. And she realized—she really, truly did—that the past, all of it, didn’t matter anymore. Only he mattered.

“I love you, too,” she said.

He rolled to his back and pulled her into his arms—sweaty, slick, panting, and all—and held her tightly within the circle of his care and love.

The hunter and the hunted were now a bonded pair. A wicked, naughty, salacious, bonded pair of kinkster switches. They would each make the most of their time on top, even knowing their time on the bottom would be equally fulfilling.

And, all the time, they would shower each other with love. Always.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at book two, Trapped!

Like FREE Books?! Download one of Entangled’s bestselling books here!