Justify Me (Stark Trilogy 4.5)

"Is that bad?"

He tilts his head back and laughs, then seems to realize that he's drawn a bit of an audience now, too. "No," he assures me. "Not at all."

"Then don't apologize." I bite my lower lip, then tell him most of the truth. "It felt incredible." I keep the full truth to myself--that part of my reaction stemmed not from the touch, but by the fact that it was Riley doing the touching.

He tilts his head, and I see a question in his eyes. But I look away, unwilling to admit any more.

After a minute, he tugs on the collar. "We should continue the rounds. See, and be seen."

I nod, then stand and follow him around the room some more, my eyes taking it all in, my body on fire. I've never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, and I've never really considered being dominated. Most of the men I've slept with have been pretty vanilla. But I'm not a prude and I'm not ignorant. I've read my share of articles and books. But until I came here, I never put myself into the picture. Now, I see me in every one of these girls. More than that, starting with last night's dream, I see Riley standing over me.

Even more surprising, I realize that I don't mind his starring role in my fantasies.

My thoughts of him make me realize that he hasn't spoken since we left the bench, and I'm afraid that my unexpected reaction shocked him even more than it surprised me. "Riley?" I'm not sure he's heard me. I'm behind him, so I can't see his face. But then he stops and turns, his gaze skimming over me, making my entire body crackle with desire.

"What else?" he asks. "What else do you see that you like?"

The question makes me feel exposed, and I almost refuse to answer. After all, I've already shared way more with him than I'd planned. And yet I can't deny that this evening is turning into a journey of self-awareness. Including the awareness that for better or for worse, I want Riley Blade's hands on me again. And, yeah, I want a hell of a lot more than that, too.

"Tell me," he urges, coming to stand behind me. Once again, his hands go to my shoulders. He pulls me against him so that I feel his bare abs against my shoulders and the press of his erection against my lower back. His teeth nip the curve of my ear, and his voice slides over me, as sensual as warm honey. "Tell me," he repeats as his fingers move lightly over my breast, coming to a halt just beneath the edge of the bodice. "Tell me, and you'll get a reward."

"Riley--"

"Sir," he corrects. "Or Master. And there are punishments for girls who don't do as they're told."

I tremble in his arms, more aroused than I can ever remember being. "Yes, sir," I say, and feel one of his hands slip around to my lower back.

"Your safe word is pineapple," he tells me. "Now go on. What else in this room turns you on?"

I'm tempted to say simply you. But I know that's not what he means. So instead I tell him the truth. "I don't see them anymore."

"No? Well, that's an honest answer at least." His hand slides into my bodice, his fingertips brushing my nipple.

I bite my lower lip as he continues to speak. "Where were they before?"

"There." I nod toward the far side of the room and a simple straight-back chair.

He tugs on the back zipper of my leather pants, and I whimper. Not in protest, but in need.

"What were they doing?" he asks, rewarding my honestly by taking my nipple between his fingers and tweaking it, just rough enough to hurt. Just intense enough to make my knees go weak. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you saw that you liked."

"He--he put her over his knee."

"Did he?" The zipper comes down a bit more. The fingers tighten on my nipple. And my breath comes in ragged, wild gasps. "What did he do next?"

Zip.

"He spanked her," I say.

His hand slides into the leather, his palm cupping my ass as his fingers curve beneath my legs to find my core.

I hear his sharp intake of breath as he realizes just how wet I am--how turned on he's making me, this place is making me.

And, yes, how turned on my revelations about my own desires are making me.

"Sir," I beg, and he groans as if in approval, then thrusts two fingers inside me.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, thrusting deeper as I try to surreptitiously grind down on him. And when he withdraws his fingers and starts to tease my clit, I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my mind. "Do you want me to spank you until your ass is red and tingles, then finger you until you come? Do you want me to take you over my knee right now, your beautiful ass bared for all these people?"

Yes. Oh, please, yes. But I can't say the words. Instead I shake my head.

"Don't lie to me, baby," he murmurs. "Is it me? Do you want someone else's hand on your ass?"

"No."

"Good." His finger strokes my clit again and I shift my hips, wanting to increase the sensation. I look around, trying to see if anyone is watching us, but no one seems to notice us at all. As far as anyone in this room is concerned, we're standing close together watching the scenes unfolding in front of us. Riley, I realize, doesn't seem out of place at all.

"Do you come to places like this often?"

"Would that bother you?"

I shake my head. "You know what to do. That makes me feel safe. I was just...curious," I say, the word true on so many different levels.

He brushes a kiss over the top of my head. "I'm glad. And yes, I come to places like this often, but I come mostly for work."

I note the mostly. "What do you mean?"

"I've been undercover at several clubs, and I've spent a lot of time at Sanctum."

I don't know what Sanctum is, but I assume it's another club. "So you're not, um, a real Dom."

He chuckles, and the sound ripples through me, setting off a flurry of sensual sparks.

"Today I am. Today, I'm your Dom."

"Oh." I lick my lips. "You mean because we're here pretending. Looking." I know I'm pushing the limit here. That I'm playing with fire. But that's okay. After all, I've already decided that I want to get burned.

There's a pause, then I feel his breath tickle the back of my neck. "No, baby. That's not what I mean."

I close my eyes and draw in a breath, his answer turning me on more than I anticipated it would. "What do you mean?"

"I think that's enough questions from you," he says, the hard edge to his voice letting me know that he's done talking about being a Dom. Now, he's just going to show me. "Tell me, baby. Have you ever been spanked?"

I consider not answering, but the time for game playing has passed. "No."

"Why do you want it now?"

I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to be punished for liking this more than I should. Part of me is simply curious.

But it's more than that. I like knowing that I'd be submitting to him even as I'm giving him a gift. Because I heard the arousal in his voice, and I know that the idea of spanking me turns him on, too.

"Maybe I don't know how to tell you," I admit. Then I add boldly, "Maybe you should punish me."

For an instant, his finger stills on my pussy, the hesitation so small that it would be imperceptible were I not so attuned to this man.

"Pineapple," he reminds me, then pulls his hands free of my clothes.

He takes the leash again and leads me to the chair, the leather clinging to my hips, but my bare ass exposed by the still-open zipper.

He sits, then nods and tells me to stand in front of him. "Unzip your bustier."

I widen my eyes at this unexpected turn of events. His mouth curves up, just a little smug. "I want what I want, too. Trust me. You'll like it."

I hesitate, but comply, pulling the zipper down to just above my navel. He reaches forward, then spreads the leather, revealing both my breasts. He shocks me then by reaching into his vest and pulling something out of an interior pocket. A chain with two small clamps on the ends.

Nipple clamps.

"Come closer," he orders, and though I move hesitantly, I comply.

"Will they hurt?" I ask, surprised t

o see him smile in response to the question.

"Good girl," he says. "You didn't try to avoid. You just asked a question. And the answer is a little. But then it will get better. And then, I promise, it will feel incredible. Okay?"