Illicit

Addressing him like that felt good to me because it felt good to him. I’d never understood it until I was  a part of it.

His focus fell to my mouth, then lower, settling on my cleavage and the way he looked at me so appreciatively drew a soft gasp from my lips. Then he stood and moved behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I breathed deeply, trying to steady myself as desire flowed through my veins like lava. My body was laser-focused on the firm grip of his hands on my shoulders, the heat flowing from his palms.

He bent over me, retrieved both wrists, then tugged them over my head and began lacing them together with another thick piece of rope. We’d practiced the prayer tie a few times already, but now, with a room full of people watching us, I was strangely even more excited than before.

With every pinch of the rope, my breathing grew heavier, until I was practically panting. I tried to clench my thighs together as the pressure built between my legs, but it was no use. I was strapped into the chair and unable to move.

When he finished, he held my hands up and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Talk to me, Rylan.”

I moaned, tilting my head back to look at him.

His eyes searched mine. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” I bit down on my lip as a wave of lust rolled over me.

Reed’s eyes widened, then he gave a curt nod.

In the few times we’d practiced this, I had been my usual annoying self, teasing him and trying to get a smile out of him, refusing to sit still, the whole shebang. I’d never become turned on, so this was a surprise for both of us.

“Keep your arms above your head.” He released me and I nearly crumpled forward, quickly bringing my arms back above my head like I’d been instructed.

I closed my eyes, focusing on keeping my arms pointing straight up, which must have been the point because I was so intent on not dropping my arms that the threat of orgasm passed.

Holy shit. Did I really just…?

Did I almost…?

I rolled my lips together to keep from laughing.

I’d almost just done that on stage.

In front of people.

Many. People.

I don’t even know who you are anymore, Rylan Janine. But, I mean, this new version of me

Did

Not

Suck.

“Rules,” Reed bellowed out into the audience, making me jump, “as I mentioned earlier, are in place for safety. Yours, mine. Ours. Master or slave, safety comes first. It’s important to remember that regardless of your rank in a scene–or even in a relationship–each person must consent.” Still standing behind me, he reached forward with both hands, his fingertips just inches away from the full mounds of my breasts.

I focused on his suspended hands, barely able to breathe. God, he drove me crazy. I just had to get through the next few minutes, then he’d take me to a private room and give me what I wanted.

Him.

“When you come to a place like the Rabbit Hole,” Reed continued, “you will see patrons in various positions, situations, and dress. It is important to know that just because a woman might be bent over a spanking horse, she is not yours to spank.” He wrapped his hand around my bound wrists. “Just because you might come across someone bound and defenseless, that person is not yours to touch.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. He could touch me any damn time he pleased.

“Unless explicit consent is given, do not lay your hands on anyone else.” He paused. “Do you consent to being touched?”

I nodded.

Reed retracted his hands and I sagged with disappointment, even though this was all part of the scene we’d practiced earlier.

“What my submissive has just demonstrated is that consent must be verbal. Clear and concise. A simple head nod will not suffice.” He moved into my line of sight, standing before me and lowering himself to a squatting position so our eyes were level. “Do you consent to being touched?”

Do I ever! “Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, Master,” I stated boldly.

Reed placed his hands on my thighs. “Good girl,” he whispered, for me alone. And, for a moment, it was just the two of us again. His eyes searched mine, lust and wonder mixed in his onyx gaze.

“Well done, Master Creed,” Mina’s voice boomed through the air.

I jumped, my spine stiffening. I hadn’t expected to see her here tonight, and, judging by the look of surprise in Reed’s eyes, neither had he. She’d been out of town for two weeks and–

“It is very important,” she continued, an edge to her tone, “that anyone who enters my clubs knows that they are safe and they are in control–at all times.” Mina strode onto the stage, shooting me a quick glance. I began to smile, but her eyes were tight, like she wasn’t pleased to see me.

Or she wasn’t pleased to see me here.

Tied to a chair on her stage.

Shit.

I focused on Reed, still squatting in front of me, but his face had hardened, his gaze unreadable.

He took a deep breath and stood, facing the audience.

“Even those who choose to relinquish control must do so with the knowledge that consent is theirs to retract at any time.” Mina looked back at me over her shoulder, then added, “Now, I apologize for the interruption, but I must have a word with Master Creed.” She paused, breathing deeply. “Please enjoy a round of drinks on the house.”

She turned toward us, eyes shooting daggers at Reed, then she gave a curt nod toward the edge of the stage and strode away from us.

He began to follow her and she barked, “Untie her.”

Reed paused, then scanned my body, from my bound wrists to my legs strapped to the chair, his eyes widening as if he’d forgotten he’d strapped me in.

Oh boy.

Someone hurried onto the stage and handed him a knife, which he quickly put to work slicing at my restraints. When I was free of the ropes, he asked, “Can you walk?”

I stood, nodding. “I’m fine.”

This girl might have had a serious case of lady blue balls, but I could also read a room. And we were in deep shit. For what, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to let him face it alone.

I slipped my hand into his and allowed him to lead me off the stage and down the hall, my heart beating rapidly against my ribs.