Freed (Club Sin 4)

Moving to her front, he slid his finger over her jaw. “Do you trust me?”

Her response was immediate. “Entirely, sir.”

He smiled, gentleness crossing his face. “I’m pleased that you do.”

She stared into his dark eyes, overwhelmed by him. What a whirlwind their relationship had been. First dating casually, then the conversation came when he told her he was a sexual Dominant. He had explained that he enjoyed playing in BDSM clubs, exploring a kinky lifestyle, and commanding a woman.

The idea hadn’t turned her away, it had intrigued her.

Many conversations later, she had agreed to explore the lifestyle with him and had joined a BDSM club, something she never pictured herself doing. Now she realized, with Charles by her side, her life would forever change from this moment on.

His gaze held hers before he walked around her, dragging a finger along her arm to her shoulder, over her back, then down her spine. “Such soft skin,” he murmured. “Skin that I will taste tonight. Skin that will heat under my touch, Mary.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, as a slow-building ache developed between her thighs.

No man had ever paid this much attention to her body. Not as if he was devouring her. No, as if he was savoring every moment and taking his time to experience every touch. She felt as if a man was finally paying attention to her and truly saw her soul. She realized with a warm glow inside that he wasn’t only treating her as a woman, but he was treating her like she belonged only to him.

Her eyes fluttered as he caressed her bare spine, and she equated it to his tongue exploring her flesh. When she sensed him in front of her, she opened her eyes, and then she saw him. His powerful stare captivating, his confident presence commanding. He was just so self-assured, so aware of himself and of her. She shivered, consumed by the man who had stormed into her life after they met at a mutual friend’s dinner party. After dating for only a month, she was falling madly in love with him.

His eyes held hers, and a small smile lifted the side of his mouth. “Made for the touch of a Dom, aren’t you, love?”

“Your touch, sir,” she replied, feeling drunk on him.

His smile began to beam. “Indeed, you are.”

Warm air brushed against her bottom, snapping Mary into the present and remind

ing her that she was half naked, except for her corset. She blinked twice before Elliott came into focus, and she sought to relinquish control to him in the way she had with Charles. As if she was right back at the very beginning of the BDSM game—being a slightly nervous and unsure submissive with a new Dom.

He traced her mouth with his finger, and the depths of his gaze held something she surprisingly wanted to learn more about. She shut her eyes, as heat pooled low in her body, causing her to tumble into delectable pleasure.

His touch was electric. All-consuming. Wickedly sensual.

When he dragged his thumb over her upper lip, she opened her eyes and they shared an understanding, as if he read her like an open book. But she saw him, too. There was something enticingly beautiful about Elliott. Powerful and sexy, yet also strong and confident.

She sensed a spark that wanted to burn brighter.

“So beautiful, Mary.” He smiled, dark and slightly possessive. “I expect you to stay with me until I release you, for however long that may be. Understand?”

“I understand, sir,” she replied.

“Good,” he said with a firm nod. “Because you are mine to consume tonight.”

Yes, her body exclaimed.

No, her heart whispered.

Tonight was just one night and was supposed to be about sex, raw passion—but trapped in Elliott’s stare, more than just a physical connection was ignited that she couldn’t ignore. Charles once owned her, consumed her, electrified her. Elliott’s touch requested the same thing. Mary yearned to give it to him. Though in the second her body agreed, her heart battled back.

Only minutes had passed since Charles had declared the start of their play session, but Mary was more ready for sex than she’d been, ever. And Charles had hardly touched her, only talking and gently caressing her. It didn’t matter that the club was busy around her or that she was a new member—only Charles mattered.

He grasped her chin and darkness drifted into his eyes. “Those lips, Mary, they haunt me. Look at how they part under my touch.” She pressed her mouth against his thumb. He groaned and said, “They make me want to demand pleasure until you are begging me to stop.”

Her mound clenched in desire. “I won’t ask you to stop, sir.”

“Of course you won’t.” His gaze flared in possessive want. “Because you are mine now.” He ran his thumb across her lip. “Such a beautiful woman, Mary.”

She snapped herself out of the memory, wondering why she was connecting these two men. Was it a sign from Charles that she should move on or was she losing her mind comparing them? Or was it just memories of when she used to play subliminally telling her how much she’s missed this? When she replied to Elliott, “Thank you, sir,” she really didn’t know who she was thanking, Elliott or a ghost from the past.