Claimed (Club Sin 1)

He slid her panties to one side and slipped one finger inside her, then two, and she arched her back. He settled in nice and deep, giving a few gentle thrusts. After he withdrew, he dragged her moisture up to the ache of her clit, where he swirled the bud, and she squirmed in his arms.

“Stay still.” At his hard yet tender command, she relaxed in his arms. “That’s it, love. Put your foot there on the table. Yes, that’s right. Now angle up those beautiful hips . . . ah, lovely.” Spread entirely open now, she held his focus, ignoring the crowd she couldn’t see but sensed all around her. Master Dmitri’s mouth twitched. “I know you enjoy being watched, doll, and they enjoy watching you.”

A rush of pure unadulterated heat made her quiver and her blood turn to liquid fire, not only at the others watching her but more that they witnessed Master Dmitri touching her. The way he had the power to make the world fade away, making the moment only about them.

Once he settled his fingers deep within, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pinned her to him. “You’re going to come hard enough to soak my thigh, Presley.”

Before she had a chance to tell him she couldn’t come like that, he thrust into her with hard and fast up-and-down strokes. Her breath became stuck somewhere in between an inhale and an exhale; she wasn’t quite able to react to the deep pressure building inside and curling her toes.

Each hard thrust sent his palm smacking against her clit, and her eyes closed against the surge of pleasure. She grasped his flexing forearm, digging her fingernails into his skin. Heat burned deep in her belly, shooting thro

ugh her veins, making her scream against the intense sensation.

Within only a few more thrusts, all those inner tight muscles clenching to survive released, exploding into unknown ecstasy. Light danced before her closed eyes, and her pelvis flared with powerful contractions.

At some point, he had removed his fingers, but she remained in the hazy aftereffects of a mind-blowing orgasm. The air around her seemed to have vanished, and she could only pant and whimper against the whole body throb she now endured.

Her mind snapped into focus only when Master Dmitri took her hand and placed her palm on his thigh. He gave her that devilish half-grin. “Nicely wet, wouldn’t you say?”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she gasped.

“Of course you didn’t.” His voice dropped low, and his eyebrow lifted. “Your orgasms belong to me. Only and always to me, Presley.”

His possessive claim made her realize that she hadn’t mistaken it earlier. But she was more than done with thinking things over and even more exhausted from the night. She’d be happy about that once her mind decided to work again. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Eighteen

The hot, dry midafternoon Vegas sun beamed down on Presley as she strode down the dental office’s staircase, cursing her feet with every step. Five dental cleanings in a four-hour shift were enough to leave her in need of a good massage and a hot bath. Maybe it was time to find employment at a dental clinic that didn’t do urgent care and wasn’t open on weekends.

Last night had proved exactly why she should get her résumé together. She had wanted to stay over at Dmitri’s house, investigate that possessive edge, but he’d said she needed a good rest before work and her body had agreed. The night had exhausted her, not only physically but emotionally.

However, during her half-day shift she had noticed a subtle change in herself. She didn’t work hard because she had to prove to herself and the client that she was good at her job, but because that was what she was paid to do. Perhaps most wouldn’t notice the switch in her motivation, but she had, and it startled her enough that she almost sprayed water on the client’s face.

What Dmitri told her had been right. She didn’t need to please everyone, only him, and there was freedom in that. The heaviness had left her chest, and she smiled, realizing Charles’s importance to Dmitri’s life.

He’d said the lifestyle helped him control his need to be dominant in public because the need was met in private, and he’d done the same for her. She noticed over the last weeks that the worried voices in her head—always telling her how to act, desperately seeking approval, and making sure everyone was happy—had settled, because Dmitri fed those desires, as well as gave her the kink her body enjoyed.

Happiness rushed through her. Things were good, real good.

She’d stepped off the last step and inhaled the hot air, catching a whiff of the not-so-nice scents that came from a busy city, when a hand wrapped around her arm and she started. Jerking her gaze up from the cement pathway, she blinked in surprise. “Steven?” His nose didn’t look broken, but he had two black eyes that she suspected would look worse in a couple days. “What are you doing here?”

His hold tightened against her arm, his brown eyes darkening. “Do you really need to ask that question?”

“Um . . .” Her instincts warned her. “What do you want?”

His features were twisted, and his voice took on a low growl. “What are you now, some freak?”

“Pardon me?”

“After you moved in with Cora, I dug around and learned about the fucked-up sex shit Cora’s into from an old boyfriend of hers.” Steven gripped Presley’s arm painfully hard, giving her an ugly glare. “Yeah, I wanted to find out what type of person she was, and I didn’t like what I found. She goes to fucking sex clubs.”

Presley could only assume Steven was talking about an old club Cora used to attend, since she’d read the strict privacy clause in the dungeon’s agreement. She knew without a doubt that Cora never would have told anyone about Club Sin, especially not a vanilla ex-boyfriend.

Steven drew in a sharp breath and said through clenched teeth, “I knew it at Mickey’s in how the fucker talked to you—degraded you right before my fucking eyes. So, I followed you after the pervert punched me.” His eyes narrowed into slits, and his voice became taut with tension. “I saw you go to that mansion, which must be the sex club, since I saw not only Cora show up there dressed like a fucking whore, but a lot of other women, too.”

“Followed me?” Presley’s blood boiled, and his appearance at Mickey’s made a whole lot of sense. He had followed her from her home last night, and apparently, he’d followed her to Dmitri’s house, too. “You have no right to do that!”

“Like hell I don’t.” His expression contorted with unleashed rage, and his voice became even scarier. “We were together for eight fucking years, and you came to Vegas for me. Fine, we’re no longer together, but I still consider you my friend. And you’re in way over your head here. Clearly, you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” Emotion raged so deep in his eyes that a vein in the middle of his forehead looked a second away from bursting. “I’m close to your family, and I won’t let you become a whore. I won’t let you go down this road.”