Rough Exile

Chapter Twelve

Iwasexpectingthe club to be in someone’s basement, but it was the top floor of a tall office building that probably didn’t suspect what it hosted late at night on weekends.

The dress draped over my body showed off every curve, making my braless breasts look almost obscene. It was the kind of dress where I kept finding Ilya watching me out of the corner of his eye.

The security guards acted as though they didn’t see us as we passed their desk, but they were alert, and I doubted they missed much.

We got into the elevator, and as the doors slid closed, Bron tugged up the back of my dress and ogled my bare ass in the mirror behind me.

“What?”

“Just making sure you didn’t ruin this outfit by wearing panties.”

“You can tell she isn’t wearing panties by looking at her,” Ilya said, frowning. “You could have just asked.”

“True, but then we would have had a boring elevator ride.”

Ilya smiled. “Smart.”

Bron swatted my ass, leaving a delicious sting, then dropped my dress back into place. The cowl neckline dipped all the way to my navel, and a small chain held it together under my breasts. It was probably the sexiest dress I’d ever worn, and it felt delicious on my skin. Unfortunately, the slightest movement of it also made my nipples hard, which was all too obvious thanks to the drape of the fabric.

It was like being more naked than naked.

“You should see if she’s wet.”

“She dried her hair thoroughly. I don’t think she’ll catch a cold.”

Bron sighed, grabbed Ilya’s hand, then put it between my legs.

“Oh.” Ilya tried to check, but my legs were too close together for him to get his big hand all the way to its target. “Spread your legs for me, Lilah.” His voice had dropped to a husky whisper, and the order felt more like seduction than force.

I widened my stance, and his fingers brushed my pussy.

“So smooth,” he murmured.

“Do you like it?” I held his shoulder because I felt a bit off balance, gazing up at him. My shoes were tall, but even with them on, he was taller. It was strange not having to wear flats so I didn’t tower over the men I was with.

“I like both. This is…interesting.” He drew away his hand and showed his glistening fingers to Bron.

The anticipation of coming here had turned me on, but so had the short skirt and the knowledge that I was naked underneath, and with two men who enjoyed touching me.

Bron grabbed Ilya’s wrist and sucked my flavor from his fingers. Ilya gasped, his cheeks turning pink. When Bron let go of him, Ilya held his hand against his chest, as though he’d cherish that finger forever.

“Show me how you can master her tonight, Ilyusha. People will be watching.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Pretend you’re me. We have to see Vas and the rest of your family soon, so I expect you to impress me.”

The elevator door dinged and slid open. We stepped out into a foyer. There was a cloak room off to the right with no attendant, and Bron pulled us aside.

“I’m not good at being submissive,” I objected.

“If you misbehave in there, you’ll be shaming the boy…the man who has tried his best to shield you from me. It’s your choice whether or not to be a good girl.”

I glared at him. “I think we’re here because you take perverse pleasure in making us uncomfortable.”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes did. He fucking loved making us uncomfortable, and we all knew it.

Bron reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a dog’s choke collar, except the links were more delicate and probably not stainless steel. There was a matching leash.

I growled as he handed them to Ilya.

“Your puppy isn’t very well trained,” Bron observed.

“You’d better hope this puppy doesn’t piddle on your boots,” I grumbled.

Ilya frowned at the mess of chain in his hand. “What is this for?”

“To collar your woman.”

“Are you afraid she’ll wander into the street?” Ilya said, chuckling.

“It shows people I’m yours,” I explained. “That you own me.”

His brow creased. “But I don’t own you. You’re my fiancée, not my dog.”