Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

~*~

They were quiet on the short drive from the restaurant to Jack’s hotel. Jack kept his eyes forward as he made his way through the city traffic. Cleo still wasn’t used to people driving on the wrong side of the road, and had yet to get behind the wheel since coming to New York. She was actually glad for the brief respite of the quiet drive, as her brain was whirring.

The dinner had been one of the most intense experiences she’d ever had that didn’t involve erotic pain and restraint devices. Master Jack’s subtle control in an environment she’d first believed to be vanilla had been mind-blowing. It was perhaps the first time in her BDSM life that she’d truly submitted—that is, that she’d done something way out of her comfort zone, based solely on her Master’s command.

She studied his profile as he drove. He had a strong nose and chin that balanced his beautiful mouth and soulful eyes. She wanted to run her fingers over the faint blond stubble along his jaw-line. For a moment, she allowed herself to fantasize that she was his real slave and partner, instead of a passing fancy tacked on at the end of a business trip.

The plan was for her to stay in his hotel suite for the duration of the slave contract, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. If she was with him 24/7, it would be that much harder to compartmentalize her feelings and keep herself emotionally safe.

On the other hand, she’d never had that kind of time with the guy, their previous interactions always limited to club scenes. What was that saying? Familiarity breeds contempt? While she doubted she could ever hold this particular Master in contempt, that kind of concentrated time together might knock him off the pedestal she’d placed him on in her mind. He couldn’t keep up the intense, masterful persona 24/7. She’d get to know the real man—the one who snored or farted in his sleep, who had killer morning breath or slurped his coffee and crunched his cereal in an annoying way.

He pulled into the circular driveway of a boutique hotel. A valet appeared at once to open Cleo’s door. Master Jack retrieved Cleo’s bag from the boot before allowing the valet to drive the car away. A uniformed gentleman held the door as they walked together into the small, elegant lobby.

Master Jack placed his hand lightly on Cleo’s lower back as he guided her toward the old-fashioned lift, complete with a sliding bronze scissor gate. The car was small, barely large enough for the two of them and her travel bag. Master Jack kept his hand lightly on her lower back as the lift lurched upward. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to lift her face to his for a kiss.

They exited on the ninth floor and walked along a thickly carpeted hallway to the last room on the right. Master Jack brushed the keycard over the scanner, releasing the lock. The door opened into a large, well-appointed sitting room, the back wall featuring a huge picture window that looked out over the glittering Manhattan skyline.

“Wow,” Cleo enthused, forgetting for a moment their respective roles. “Quite posh.”

Master Jack turned to her, placing two fingers over her lips. “Shh. Some house rules. While we’re in these rooms, you will not speak unless spoken to, or unless I’ve given you express permission. You will remain naked while you are here. You are mine to do with as I wish. Understand?”

As he spoke, he dragged his fingers from her lips down her throat, his touch leaving a trail of heat. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, instantly wet. She stepped out of her high heels and reached for the buttons on her dress.

“No,” he said, stopping her with a look. “I’ll do that. Stand at ease, arms at your sides.”

He reached for her top button, flicking it open. As his fingers moved deftly down the dress, Cleo’s nipples hardened to points. When he had it all the way open, he pushed it from her shoulders, leaving her naked in front of him.

He tossed her dress over an armchair and then removed his jacket, which he also draped on the back of the chair. As he stared down into her eyes, he smoothed her hair back from her face. Catching it behind her head in a makeshift ponytail, he tugged hard, forcing her face up toward his.

His lips met hers, his tongue slipping its way into her mouth as his grip on her hair tightened. Aroused by the combination of the kiss and the erotic pain, Cleo instinctively lifted her arms to pull him closer.

He jerked her head back sharply, pulling away long enough to hiss, “Hands at your sides, slave. How dare you? You’re my property. Don’t forget that.”