Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

The waiter returned and made a show of uncorking the wine. He poured a smidgen into the large wineglass in front of Master Jack. Master Jack sipped and nodded. The waiter filled their glasses and slipped away.

Cleo took a taste of the wine. “This is absolutely delicious,” she enthused. She took another, longer drink of the rich, fruity wine.

“It is good,” Master Jack agreed.

Cleo eyed the bread basket, wondering if it would be rude to reach for it. Following her gaze, Master Jack smiled. “Please, help yourself.”

Lifting the thick linen napkin, Cleo chose a piping hot, crusty sourdough roll. Taking the small silver butter knife from its perch on the delicate china bread plate in front of her, she cut a generous pat.

“Mmm,” she breathed as she took her first bite, her eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. She’d eaten almost nothing over the course of the day, too full of nervous excitement to focus on food. Suddenly ravenous, she devoured the delicious, homemade roll now dripping with melted butter. She could happily have eaten the entire basket.

As she reached for another roll, she felt Master Jack’s eyes on her. She looked up to see him regarding her with amusement.

“What?” she blurted, for a second forgetting all protocols.

“Nothing,” he replied, only now reaching for his first roll. “You might want to save room for the prix fixe five-course meal. The food here is incredible. The chef trained with Jean-Christophe Novelli in Paris.”

Whoever that was.

Cleo sat back, resisting the urge to take another roll.

Yet another waiter appeared, this one with two small plates, which he placed before them with a flourish. “Artichoke hearts roasted with virgin olive oil, fresh garlic, lemon and rosemary. Enjoy.” He slipped silently away. The morsel of food on the small plate smelled heavenly, and Cleo reached eagerly for her fork.

Before she could take a bite, however, Master Jack, ignoring his own plate, said, “Remove your collar, Cleo, and hand it to me.”

Cleo’s hand flew protectively to her throat. She very nearly blurted that only Master Grayson or Mistress Dominique could order her to remove the Masters Club collar. She managed to bite her tongue in time. She had agreed to this. Play contract or no, she was bound to obey her temporary Master in all things.

Reaching back, she undid the small buckle at the nape of her neck and pulled the collar free. She held it out across the small table. Their fingers touched as he took the strap of leather from her, sending a frisson of pleasure along her skin.

A small smile played at Master Jack’s lips as he slipped it into an inside pocket of his jacket.“Now, undo the buttons at the top of your dress. I want to see more of your lovely breasts.”

Flushing a little, Cleo undid four of the tiny buttons, revealing cleavage.

“More,” Master Jack said. “Another six.”

Six? She’d be practically hanging out of her dress if she did that.

As if reading her mind, Master Jack snapped, “I’m not asking, Cleo. I’m commanding.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, quickly undoing the buttons as directed. The edge of her low-cut, lacy bra was clearly visible now, the top halves of her breasts fully exposed in the flickering candlelight.

They ate their small appetizer in silence. The food was delicious, but Cleo was too distracted now to fully appreciate it.

As if he’d been hovering nearby, the waiter instantly appeared to remove their empty plates. Once he had gone again, Master Jack said, “Take off your panties, Cleo. Hand them across the table to me.”

A simple request, had they been at the club. But here? Cleo glanced nervously around the room. Heads were bowed close over tables, other patrons murmuring softly together. No one seemed to be paying them any attention.

Swallowing hard, Cleo reached under the table, glad at least that her movements were hidden beneath the tablecloth. Lifting her bottom, she slipped her hands under her dress and tugged at the silky knickers she’d chosen for the evening. Her face heated as she awkwardly slid the underwear down her legs and past her shoes. Head bowed, cheeks flaming, she handed the wadded bit of fabric across the table.

Master Jack took it, slipping it into his jacket pocket. “Now your bra. Hand it across the table. And don’t even think about re-buttoning your dress.”

“Are you serious? Here?” Cleo blurted, sure she must have misheard. She was already practically flashing the place. They would be thrown out or arrested for indecent exposure. What was he thinking?

Jack’s dark blond eyebrows furrowed. “Do as you’re told, Cleo. I’ll handle any consequences.”

“But—”

He reached across the small table, catching her wrist in a firm grip. He spoke in a calm quiet voice, but there was steel in his tone. “No buts, Cleo. No questions. I direct. You obey. End of story. You resist me again, you question me again, and I’ll punish you soundly, right here in front of everyone. Is that what you want?”