Claimed (Club Sin 1)

There were two sides of Presley: the sweet submissive and the damaged, defensive woman. All of her sensitive reactions to him when he chuckled at her, and even her leaving him last night, stemmed from deep insecurities that shithead Steven had torn into her heart. “Does Presley still talk with him?”

“Not on my watch, she doesn’t.” Cora snorted. “Just so happened we saw Steven the other night, and I nearly killed her for being too nice to him. That’s what I mean when I say her desire to please is a flaw, too. It’s impossible for her to say to him what she’s thinking, even though I know she hates him.”

From what Dmitri could tell, Presley was a confused and lost submissive. Her submissive tendencies had been placed in the wrong hands and given to those who didn’t protect and respect the gift.

He didn’t like it.

In fact, he fucking hated it.

* * *

Presley shut the dental office door behind her at quarter after one, and the memories she’d fought off all morning at work, she allowed to flood her mind. A slow heat laced her veins as she remembered how the flogger made her skin flame—which brought forth sensations that both quieted her mind and made her wild—and how her body responded to Dmitri with such fierce intensity. The tantalizing scent of his cologne, mixed with pure masculinity, had remained fixed in her nostrils all day.

Hot tremors rushed over her, and shivers raced up her spine as she tried to shut down her thoughts; she could think about all this at home, not at work. Pulling on the handle to making sure the door was shut tightly, she strode along the porch of the bungalow, which had been renovated into a dental office. Her cell phone beeped. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.

Did you get my text? We should talk. Call me.

Shaking her head, she silently cursed Steven. Two texts in two days. Perhaps changing her phone number was necessary, maybe even overdue. But how irritating was that? All the hassle of a new phone number because he wouldn’t leave her alone. Hadn’t they already gone over this?

She didn’t want to be friends, even if they had a long history together. She wanted to forget about Steven and move on with her life, and that was exactly what she had been doing for the past three months. More so, the past two weeks, since she first stepped foot into Dmitri’s office.

Deleting the message, she heaved another sigh of exasperation and put the cell phone in her purse. Besides, something else concerned her more than the annoying Steven. Embarrassment still consumed her at how she’d acted after her scene with Dmitri last night, leaving her more confused than ever. What did Dmitri think about her now? Did he even want her to come to the dungeon next weekend?

Every passing minute intensified the mess swirling in her mind. Her confidence had vanished after an hour at work, but what could she do about it now?

Pushing all her worries aside to fret over later in a hot bath, she headed down the wooden stairs and toward Cora’s car in the side parking lot. Presley had never needed a car in Vegas and had gotten used to riding the bus. But exhausted from the night before, Presley hadn’t hesitated to take Cora up on her offer to use the car. She’d fill up the tank for Cora on the way home as a thank-you.

Once she reached the last step, she noticed the empty parking lot. They’d had only three patients come in for urgent care. That hadn’t been a surprise, since Sundays were typically quiet. She headed along the side of the house and was nearing Cora’s car when footsteps came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Dmitri strode toward her with powerful strides. Dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked stunningly gorgeous—and tall. Unable to stop herself, she backed away from him until bang, her back hit the brick wall of the dental office.

He leaned in toward her, his eyes blazing as he pressed a hand on either side of her head against the wall, sandwiching their bodies together.

Silence.

She gulped. “Hi.”

His dark stare pinned her to the spot, and he arched an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Err . . .” Oh, shit, she had not expected this.

He had come to her office to what—confront her? Wait, why was he here? How did he know where she worked?

After taking a moment to think straight, she realized she’d have to kill Cora later for giving him the address, because how else would he have known? She hadn’t included it on her application to the club.

Swallowing the rise of unease tightening her chest, as well as her discomfort under Dmitri’s very intense regard, she managed, “Can you move, please?”

“No, that’s not what you say, Presley.” He didn’t back away or blink, and did he even breathe? “Try again.”

His cold voice indicated he had a point to make, and the space around her appeared to get smaller. She racked her brain, trying to understand what he wanted her to say, but she failed miserably. “Um—”

“Let me help you.” His voice dropped low, vibrating through her entire body. “‘Dmitri, I apologize for leaving your house like I did. It was wrong of me.’” His sleek brow arched higher. “Give that a try, doll.”

Wait! What?

He wanted her to apologize for leaving his house last night. How did that make any sense at all? She figured he’d be annoyed at her girlie emotions, not her running out on him. One-night stands always went like that, didn’t they? Fuck ’em and leave ’em.

Besides, their agreement didn’t include sleepovers or breakfast, only her presence in the dungeon every Friday and Saturday night until their training concluded. It also didn’t include her being a crybaby, which, apparently, he seemed not to care about.