Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

Brandon stepped respectfully aside as Master Jack assumed his position in front of her, the single tail gripped lightly in his hand. “Are you ready to feel the sting of my whip, sub girl?” he asked softly, his deep voice sending another lovely shiver of anticipation through her.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied a little breathlessly.

He gave the large wheel a gentle push. It rotated in a slow circle until she was upside down, her long hair brushing the mat, her legs spread wide. The blood rushed to her head, her entire body tingling with expectation.

Cleo mentally prepared herself for the sting of the lash. But instead of the flick of leather, warm, strong hands moved lightly along her inner thighs, pulling an involuntary shudder of lust from her.

As Master Jack stroked her skin, he said, “I remember how well you can take a whipping, Cleo.”

Her body had loosened and relaxed at his touch, her spirit thrilling to his innate dominance. Whatever else he was or wasn’t, Master Jack had always been a brilliant scene partner.

His fingers glided tantalizingly over her hips. Cleo held her breath, both wanting and not wanting him to touch her. But then his hands fell away, leaving her vibrating with lust. Her skin tingled with expectation as he took a step back.

The first flick of the whip landed across the front of her right thigh. The stinging pain morphed almost instantly into dark, sensual pleasure. He painted a second stroke on her left thigh and then added several more on each inner thigh until her skin was on fire, along with her throbbing cunt.

She shuddered with involuntary pleasure as his long, blunt fingers moved lightly over the welts. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. When his fingers strayed closer and closer to her spread, bared cunt, she forgot how to breathe.

What was it about this man that instantly penetrated her defenses? Just about every Dom at the Masters Club was skilled at pushing all the right sub buttons. But with Master Jack, there was a layer of emotional intensity and even vulnerability that had always left Cleo slightly off-balance and yearning for more.

But all that was in the past. Maybe Jack Hartford really had moved on from his loss. But that was his affair.

He’s just another Dom, she reminded herself. This means nothing more than what it is. A Master taking his pleasure with a sub. He made that abundantly clear back in London.

Instead of placing his palm over her sex, as she had anticipated, he again took a step back. He gave the wheel another push, rotating it until she was upright once more.

Cleo blinked as she adapted to her position, waiting for the dizziness to pass. She shook the hair from her face as Master Jack regarded her, his expression difficult to read.

“I’m going to whip your breasts, Cleo,” he informed her. “Would you like that?”

Keeping her tone neutral, Cleo replied, “If it pleases you, Sir.”

All at once, his hand darted out, large fingers circling her throat. Eyes flashing with power, he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “That’s not what I asked.”

A long sigh of raw, uncensored lust escaped her lips as a moan. A hand around her throat had always been a powerful positive trigger for Cleo. All her emotional defenses came tumbling down as she slipped effortlessly into subspace. Her heart slowed, a lovely peace filling her.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I would like that, Sir.”

I would bloody love that, Sir. And afterward, you can suckle away the sting.

His eyes flashed with power. “Good girl,” he purred. His masterful approval warmed her to her bones.

He snapped the lash sharply across the top of her left breast, leaving a line of fire in its wake.

Cleo gasped as pain and pleasure crackled and popped along her nerve endings like fire in a grate. Again and again, he flicked the whip against her tender flesh, each stroke taking her deeper into subspace until she was trembling from head to toe, the word, “More” balanced on her tongue.

“You need this,” he murmured, running his fingers lightly over the welts that crisscrossed her breasts. He drew a sensual circle around one distended nipple, pulling another moan of raw lust from Cleo’s lips before she could clamp them shut.

Master Jack’s laugh was low and sexy, his eyes sparkling with lust. “And still you want more, don’t you, Cleo? You want me to whip your cunt.”

“Yes,” she breathed, caught in the thrall of his power, too far gone in the moment to resist this charismatic man in any way.

He gave the wheel another slow spin, causing her to rotate once more from an upright position. Master Jack crouched low beside her so their faces were level. Gently, he cupped her cheek. Looking into her eyes, he commanded, “Beg me. Beg me for what you need.”