Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

With Master John, once she’d signed the slave contract, she’d literally had no choice. While it had at times been terrifying, it had also been exhilarating.

But there was a firm line between consent and abuse, and he had crossed it. She understood that now, and would never allow it to happen again.

Stay in the moment, she silently urged herself. You’re with a man you can trust.

She glanced up at Eric and was startled by the expression in his clear green eyes. It was a look she hadn’t seen before, even during the few intense sessions they’d shared at the Masters Club. Dominant power emanated from his gaze, spreading out over her like a veil. His eyes were hooded in a sexy way that seemed to speak of his own desire. The submissive in her responded at once, yielding and softening as she stared back, mesmerized.

His eyes still on her, he leaned down and retrieved his gear bag. Unzipping it, he removed a short-handled single tail. She flinched reflexively as he snapped it in the air with a sonic crack. Her heart instantly shifted up a gear, beating hard in her chest. Her nipples ached beneath the boned satin bra cups of her corset.

“Imagine this whip flicking over your inner thighs,” he said in a low, sexy growl she’d never heard him use. “The biting kiss that heats your skin and fires your blood. That delicious blend of pleasure and pain that takes your breath away.”

“Oh.” The word came out on a huff of breath, yanked from deep within her. Her mouth remained open, her eyes fixed on Eric’s face.

He moved closer, his eyes smoldering. “You need that, don’t you, Rowan?”

“Yes, Sir,” she managed, her voice throaty with desire.

He moved closer. “May I touch your thigh, Rowan?”

As turned on as she was in that moment, he could have done way more than just touch her thigh. At the same time, the question brought home once more that she was with a man she could trust. He would not step past any boundaries she set. She was safe with him. Safe to let go.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, her skin tingling with need.

He ran his tongue sensually over his lower lip as he placed his free hand lightly on her bare thigh. His touch sent shivers of electric current over her skin as he trailed his hand higher by increments. When his fingertips lightly grazed the lace crotch of her damp panties, Rowan moaned softly.

His eyes pinning her in place, he drew a circle over the lace around her throbbing clit, making her moan again. She closed her eyes, her chest heaving.

His hand fell away and she bit back a sigh. She wanted to beg, to plead with him to touch her again, to draw another sexy circle around her clit and slip his hand past the barrier of lace. She ached for him to press a hard finger inside her wetness. She wanted…

“I want to whip you, Rowan. I want to whip your inner thighs until you beg for mercy.”

Rowan’s eyes flew open as she drew in a sharp breath. Eric was staring at her with hooded eyes. Power emanated from him, drawing her into its gravitational pull. She stared wordlessly at him, unable to respond over the thudding of her heart in her ears.

He moved closer. He placed his hand lightly around her throat, causing the swing to sway as he pulled her forward. The primal touch sent another shiver of raw lust coursing through her veins. Who was this man? How could he arouse her so completely with barely a touch?

He lowered his head so his mouth was close to her ear, his hand still around her throat. “Do I have your permission, sub girl?” he growled softly, his breath warm on her neck. “Can I make you fly with the flick of my whip?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please, Sir.”

Chapter 19

Eric let his hand fall from Rowan’s throat as he took a step back. He ran his fingers lightly over the silken insides of her thighs. Her skin was so soft and smooth. He moved his fingers higher, again lightly grazing the lacy crotch of her panties. Her sex was like a little furnace between her legs, the lace damp over its swell.

Did she want him, Eric, or just what he offered? At that moment, he didn’t care. He needed to mark that perfect, smooth skin. He ached to push her to the edge, and then just a little further.

He wanted more than that—much more. But even in the face of his own lust, he held himself back, reminding himself not to move too fast. Though she’d given her consent for this scene, that didn’t give him the right to take more than she was ready to give.

However courageous she’d been in coming out to a club after barely a week out of that bastard’s clutches, she was still emotionally fragile. He had no intention of drawing her into something for which she wasn’t ready. He would need to pay special attention to her cues and pull back at the slightest hint of distress.