Cherise Sinclair - The Dom’s Dungeon

“Thank you.” Alex nodded to the table beside the arm of the chair. “Right there, please.”

The sub obeyed and trotted away. Alex handed Mac the gin and tonic he'd ordered earlier for her and picked up his scotch.

She sipped, blinked, and sipped again. “I haven't had one of these since college,” she said and actually smiled. Two more sips and she looked at him full in the face. “Thanks for the rescue. And for believing me.”

He nodded. Such big brown eyes. To see them filled with terror and tears had seared his heart. A ball of anger still burned deep inside him, one with no place to go.

“What are you going to do about her?” she asked quietly. She glanced at Cynthia, who knelt at Brian's feet two chairs down.

“If a witness turns up, we'll look at prosecution. I'm going to talk with the management here and at the other clubs. And with the Doms. She'll discover the BDSM world is smaller than she knows and a lot more unfriendly.” He stroked MacKensie's golden hair. “I'm sorry, MacKensie. Our lifestyle has many safeguards, but none that could prevent this kind of end run around them.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned her head against him. The gesture, now, when she wasn't terrified, showed her trust in him had grown.

“Sir, permission to speak?”

Alex looked up at the sound of the smooth, rich voice. Cynthia knelt at his feet, eyes downcast. He knew she wouldn't incriminate herself; she was a very smart woman. But he'd see what she had to say. “Speak.”

“Master Bob said you've taken that sub on for training, but I can see that you are not intimate with her. I would be pleased to serve the needs that she can't.” Cynthia opened her corset, letting her full breasts spill out. Tall and slender and with those augmented breasts, Cynthia was a walking wet dream. And in his case, a walking nightmare.

Alex suppressed a growl. “I don't—”

Giving a tiny duplication of his growl, Mac glared at Cynthia. “He doesn't need you, you overbred cow; he has me.” And she grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs.

“Well, now,” Alex murmured in a low rumble that sent nerves racing up Mac's arms.

Oh frak, what have I done? Mac froze, shocked at her own behavior.

Alex's lips curved, and then he gave Cynthia a dismissive look. “I'm more than adequately served. Leave.”

The sub jerked back as if Alex had slapped her. Mac almost laughed as Cynthia stalked away, rehooking her corset, heading toward the front of the club. Apparently the Dom she'd accompanied had left. Smart man.

Suddenly Alex's hand pressed against Mac's pussy. She jumped, her gaze shooting to his amused eyes. His hand felt huge between her thighs, and hot against her bare labia.

“If you keep rearranging our bargain,” he said, “I might not be able to keep up.”

“I…” Trapped by his blue gaze, she couldn't find the right words to say. I didn't want you to take her? I was jealous? I wanted to be mean? All of them were true. “But…”

His eyes crinkled. “You, little cat, do not have permission to speak.” He lifted his hand from the juncture between her legs. “And you're not ready to be played with down here…yet.” His fingers threaded through her hair, and he leaned forward, tipping her back against the arm of the chair. Her gasp opened her lips, but he didn't shove his tongue down her throat, didn't grab her breast.

Why hadn't he groped her down there? She'd sure given him the chance.

Instead his tongue traced over her lower lip in a teasing slide. Then the upper. His mouth brushed against her cheek, her chin, her neck; his lips were firm yet smooth. Not wet or sloppy at all.

When he returned to her mouth, he nibbled her lower lip, then sucked on it lightly. Slanting his mouth across hers, he kissed her, his tongue only caressing her lips, no further. He moved down her neck with tiny nips and licks and kisses. She shivered when he bit the muscle at the top of her shoulder, holding it between his teeth long enough to send goose bumps down her arms. Back up, ever so slowly, and this time when he took her lips, she opened to him, letting her tongue fence with his.

Never sloppy. He was even so careful that she wanted to push him a little. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and suddenly his hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth, the controlled violence shocking.

Exciting.

When he pulled back and licked over her lips, she took a deep breath. The air felt as if the temperature in the building had been raised too high. Then coolness wafted over her chest. She stiffened, looking down. Her bustier lay open, lacing undone, her breasts exposed.

Alex's arm felt like iron under her back, and that hand still held her hair. Held her trapped. Without taking his eyes from hers, he curved a big hand around her breast, his fingers hot against her skin. She inhaled sharply at the unexpectedly erotic sensations shooting through her as he caressed her. The surge of…of something inside her frightened her, and she grasped his wrist and ripped her gaze from his.

“Look at me, MacKensie,” he said, voice deepening. When her eyes returned to his, he smiled slightly. “Good girl. Now let go of me, or I'll restrain you.”

“You wouldn't.”

But his eyes didn't waver.

He would. She forced her fingers to release his wrist. “You promised. I'm not aroused,” she whispered. Fear curled inside her to join with the unsettling tension, and an odd temptation to let him continue, to have his hands…everywhere.

“You told Cynthia you'd take care of me,” he whispered back. “Can you tolerate another ten minutes of being fondled?”

She'd been an idiot to offer herself instead of Cynthia, but he hadn't asked her to do that. Her big mouth had run amok all by itself. Okay, ten minutes… What was another person groping her anyway? At least she liked him as opposed to the others. She managed a short nod.

When the sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his eyes heated, a trickle of worry crept into her. What could he do in ten minutes with just his hands?

She found out exactly what he could do when his hand on her breast moved, and his fingers circled one nipple, then the other, grazing over the bumpy areolae to the jutting peaks. Peaks—her nipples were hard, and the room wasn't cold. Surely she couldn't be aroused.

His index finger circled one nub, around and around, until that nipple actually ached. He did the other, and the feeling was… His fingers closed on one rigid peak, rolling it gently, then giving it a small pinch that sent a stab of excitement through her body and seemed to awaken nerves in her pussy. A throbbing in her groin joined the throbbing in her nipples.

She swallowed a moan as he alternated between her breasts, back and forth, pressing the nipples hard, then harder, until each controlled pinch hurt and yet increased the burning hunger inside her. A moan escaped her.

Satisfaction glimmered in his eyes before he tightened the arm under her back, bringing her breasts up to his mouth. His lips closed on one swollen nipple, and she found out just what hot and wet really meant. His tongue swirled around the peak, and suddenly she could almost feel it swirling on her clit; and then he sucked, a gentle pull, then more forcefully. The other breast the same. And back, this time sucking, and suddenly, a slow, careful bite on the peak.

“Ahhhh!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders in shock as electrifying sparks shot through her. Had that sound come from her? She pushed against his chest, horrified. She never lost control like that; she was a—Oh God, she wasn't a whore. Not anymore. Shame washed through her, filling her until there remained no room for arousal.

He'd drawn back when she stiffened. His sharp eyes considered her face, then her hands and her breasts. “Why does being aroused scare you?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes.

“No, look at me, little cat.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her, like warmth stroking over her face; she could feel how he waited for her compliance. Her hands in fists, she opened her eyes.

“Good girl.” His lips curved up in approval. “You told me you don't get aroused because of something in your past.”

He waited for her nod.

“Why did that something make you frightened of your own response?”

Because whores don't feel.Because johns don't care. Men paid for an available body, not a responsive one. Because losing track of surroundings was a way to get hurt. “I just don't like it.”

His eyes crinkled even as he shook his head. “You do like it, little cat. But you don't want to, because it scares you. There is a difference.” His warm hand stroked over her breast again, and she was horrified to feel her nipple pucker and poke into his palm. “What would happen if you didn't have any choice? If you couldn't push my hands away or keep me from continuing? You could only feel.”

The thought shut off her breathing for a second. Not have any control? Fear filled her even as heat seared through her veins, and her nipples tightened until they actually hurt.

He nodded as if she'd spoken. “Want and fear both. So how brave are you, little cat? Will you let me take you further?”

Her body urged for more. Her head said no, but she knew damned well that her head was screwed up. How brave was she? She didn't think her body would ever, ever be interested in sex again. Shouldn't she see…? But what if I panic? What if I don't? “All right,” she whispered.

God, how could that approving smile of his make her feel so good inside?