Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

She lost herself for several moments, leaving the planet as she spiraled out into the universe. As she slowly came back to herself, she became aware of his heart tapping against her back, and the slickness of their now sweat-soaked skin.

Never in all her years in the scene had she had such an intense erotic experience. The most amazing thing about it was he’d done it without the erotic pain she’d always felt was essential to her BDSM experience. No rope, no chains, no whip, no barked commands.

Just pure, sweet, sensual love-making.

Dog’s bollocks, she silently cursed as the world clicked back on. This is going to be the hardest five days of my bloody life.

Chapter 10

“Cleo?” Jack asked softly.

“Mmm,” she breathed dreamily, her eyes closed, a small smile on those rosebud lips.

He considered pulling the Dom card, commanding her to get down on her knees to thank him properly for using her. But he wasn’t in the mood for enforcing M/s protocols. Besides, she looked so peacefully sated lying there, like a newborn baby drunk on mama’s milk.

He couldn’t deny the boost her obvious pleasure gave to his masculine desire to please his partner. He needed to be careful, however, not to make assumptions based on his own feelings. True, Cleo had been incredibly responsive and passionate both times he’d made love to her, but it was quite possible it wasn’t personal, as odd as that might sound to a vanilla person. He had to consider that hers might only be a hardwired submissive response to being taken, with no say in the matter.

She opened her eyes, as if feeling his gaze. The dreaminess fell away as she sat up, pushing her long shiny hair from her face. She rolled from the bed to the carpet so she was kneeling in front of him. Their eyes met for a moment and then she looked away. Her face closed as if a wall had just risen between them.

Her eyes downcast, she said formally, “Please excuse me, Sir. I must have dozed off for a second. I meant no disrespect.”

Jack forced himself to mentally change gears. She was reminding him in a subtle but clear way that this wasn’t a love connection. It was an M/s encounter, limited by definition in duration and scope. In a way, it was just an extended scene.

It would be up to him to alter that dynamic. He needed to build on the foundation of their mutual love of and need for BDSM. He needed to take their relationship from a scene connection to something more. Much more. He still had four days and change to do it.

“None taken,” he replied, his tone brusque. “Let’s take a shower. Go run the hot water. It takes a while to heat up. You may use the toilet if you wish. Then, wait for me on your knees on the bathroom mat. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cleo got to her feet and padded into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom.

Jack remade the bed, smoothing the duvet into place and then folding back the covers. He placed the sleep mask on the nightstand. Bending down, he retrieved his gear bag and set it on the bed. He rummaged a moment and withdrew a pair of padded wrist cuffs and a length of chain, which he set on the pillow. He replaced the bag just under the bed and walked into the bathroom.

It had both a large, free-standing claw-foot tub and a glass-enclosed shower stall. Cleo was kneeling on the mat by the shower stall as directed, back straight, hands resting lightly on her thighs. Despite his two recent orgasms, Jack’s cock nudged in appreciation at the lovely sight.

Moving past her, he opened the stall door and stepped inside. The water was hot, the large shower head big enough for two to stand comfortably beneath. “Come join me,” he commanded.

Cleo immediately rose to her feet and entered the stall. Steam billowed into the room as she closed the door behind her. Without waiting for his direction, she took the soap from its perch and lowered herself once more to her knees on the hard tile. She rubbed the soap between her hands to make it foamy, and then ran it up along his right calf.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he queried, looking down at her with amusement. “I don’t recall directing you to do that.”

She looked up in startled surprise. “Washing your body, Sir. I just assumed—”

“Exactly,” he said, reaching down to pull her upright as he cut off her words. “You assumed. A proper slave never assumes, Cleo. She waits for her Master’s command.”

The soap fell from her hand as she drew in a breath. Color suffused her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sir. My owners—”

“Aren’t here right now,” he interrupted again. He placed a hand on her throat, curling his fingers around her slender neck. “While you’re with me, you will make no assumptions and take no action without express permission. That includes basic functions like using the toilet and taking a drink of water. You exist right now solely to serve, please and amuse me. It does not amuse me to have you take control as you just did. Do you understand?”