Claimed (Club Sin 1)

Master Aidan, who sat on a stool a bit away from Cora, had his shadowy eyes transfixed on her. “Yes, I do see.” Cora was fine, even more than fine. She looked ready to erupt into an orgasm.

“This scene is for her.” Master Dmitri closed in on Presley’s back, his erection pressing against her bottom, causing her to swallow hard. “Because she likes it. Do you understand?”

Remembering how to address a Dom in the dungeon, Presley responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Nicely done, doll,” he murmured, running one large hand over her abdomen. “Now you understand the point of setting your limits.”

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, got it—know your limitations, or your Dom will put you in a horrible situation.”

He chuckled. “Too right.”

Presley shivered as his warm breath trailed over her neck and amplified the heat between her legs. Wetness pooled in her panties and seemed to increase as she watched Master Aidan stand, drop his leather pants, and sheathe himself in a condom. Then he slammed himself inside of Cora, thrusting unforgivingly.

Holding her breath, Presley ignored her trembling body as she watched Cora erupt into the most impressive orgasm. She’d never come like that. Had the spanking intensified the orgasm, or being tied up and put on display?

An orgasm in a second—unimaginable.

The hottest of all tremors started at the tips of Presley’s fingers and shimmed their way down to her toes. Watching others get off in front of her, and the idea of others watching her orgasm, set her aflame, even if she fought against the idea of having sex in public.

Master Dmitri leaned away, tickling a fingertip along her spine. Damn Cora for picking out her clothing. The open shirt gave him a huge amount of access to her sensitive skin. She should’ve worn a turtleneck, because then her legs wouldn’t be wobbling.

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he whispered into her ear.

I’m insane! The idea of being strapped up for all to see and spanked in public makes me hot! “Nothing.”

He tsked. “I expect an honest answer, Presley.” He spun her around to face him, which only made matters worse; his intense stare ignited a fierce throb in her clit. “For now, seeing as you’re shy, I’ll help you.” He cupped her shoulder and pinned her to the spot, and the world closed in on her as if he were interrogating her. “Did you enjoy watching Master Aidan fuck Cora?”

She blinked twice, questioning whether she’d heard him correctly. “I . . .” She shut her mouth, unable to put her thoughts into words.

“You liked watching others have sex in front of you,” he said, far too casual. “You even liked the idea of being bound and others watching you orgasm. But you don’t app

rove of penetration in public.”

She gulped. “Sex—I mean to say, intercourse—”

“Is a private matter behind closed doors?”

“That’s right.” She hastily looked at the floor. “I’m not sure I could ever do that in public.” You sissy! In this place, everyone must take their wankers out and thrust them into anyone, right?

“Eyes to me.” The sharp command snapped her attention to him, but he smiled gently, showing none of the harshness in his voice. “You said not sure instead of won’t. That means penetration in public—as in a cock thrusting into your cunt—would be a soft limit for you.”

Her mouth dropped open.

His eyes twinkled and he tapped her jaw, forcing her lips closed. “You don’t have to enjoy everything BDSM has to offer.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and his gaze focused there. “You simply need to discover what you do like.”

The ravenous hunger reaching his eyes liquefied her. “Okay.”

A dark flare surged through his expression, stealing any of the heat, and on instinct, she stepped back. Before she could firmly plant her heel on the ground, he gently pulled her in place in front of him. “Try again.”

She gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“That sounds lovely.” He smiled that sexy grin, displaying none of the power he’d exhibited a moment ago. “Let’s see what else you might take an interest in.”

While the switch in him had surprised her, she appreciated the clear signals. When she did something inappropriate for the dungeon, he didn’t chastise her like a child or make her feel foolish, but one look sent the message clearly enough for her to rethink her actions. He gave her the chance to correct herself, and she liked that.

Taking her hand in his strong grip, he led her across the dungeon toward Master Sawyer, who was slumped on one of the couches drinking a Red Bull. His bare chest glistened with sweat, and his muscles appeared strained.

As they approached, Master Dmitri called, “Rough night, Master Sawyer?”