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  Then he tugged me forward, pulling me to my feet until I was in front of him.

  “I am not a Master, and you may look me in the eye whenever we are speaking, unless I agree to train you and we are in a scene. Do you understand?”

  I continued staring at his hand wrapped around mine. He’d pulled me so easily to a standing position. Air around us crackled with tension. It felt like a thousand eyes were trained in our direction yet I couldn’t look at anyone.

  I also couldn’t lift my gaze to his even though he’d implied I should.

  My breath sped up, chasing the thunderous racing of my heart inside my chest.

  “Haley,” Jensen warned. “Look at me.”

  He’d commanded. I wanted to listen. He knew I was new to this. If Master Dylan thought this man was perfect for me, he would have shared my knowledge and my willingness. It was difficult, but I obeyed.

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” I was parched, and I desperately wanted to reach for my champagne glass, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in front of me.

  I couldn’t remove my hand from his.

  A similar emotion flashed through Jensen’s eyes as his gaze wandered down my body.

  I didn’t consider myself overly beautiful, yet I had never lacked confidence, either. Except for the few years when I’d tried pitifully to fix a marriage that never should have happened and my confidence took a hit from that, I had parents who lavished their love on me. I had enough boys and men show enough attention to me that I knew I was physically attractive.

  Jensen seemed to be searching beyond the physical, beyond the tight, short black dress that showed off toned thighs and calves from years of yoga and running.

  I could have stood there for years and let him simply gaze upon me. Every area of my body that his eyes grazed over awakened.

  My chest grew heavy.

  A thick throbbing began at the tops of my thighs. Wetness flowed into my underwear. Beneath the flimsy lace bra and satiny top of my dress, my nipples hardened.

  “I’d like to take you on a tour of the place,” Jensen said, his grip around my hand flinching for a moment.

  I nodded my agreement, but he stood still, slowly arching a brow.

  I cleared my throat and answered. “Okay. Yes, that’d be great.”

  His lips that had pulled tight quirked at one corner. “Yes, what?”

  Oh. Right. “Sir. Yes, sir. I would like a tour, sir.”

  His lip twitched. “Just saying it once at a time is fine, pretty girl.”

  My stomach flipped and flopped. Pretty girl.

  God. There was nothing special about it. Yet there was everything important in the name.

  In a sense, he was calling me his.

  My knees buckled, not from desire to drop to my knees to serve him, but from the sensations igniting all through my blood.

  He caught me before I fell. “Are you okay?” He looked at the table and I remembered Master Dylan was still sitting there. “How much did she drink?”

  I looked at Master Dylan over my shoulder. He grinned. “This is still her first glass, you know that.”

  “Right,” Jensen clipped.

  His hand on my hip was a branding iron. Hot, tight, painfully so.

  I was a wreck, and I had only met him. I hadn’t seen a room, but I could probably orgasm at the slightest touch. Or without any touch at all. All the pieces of me that were stretched tight, pulled in different directions or broken, began knitting themselves back together.

  I had been right.

  I wanted this and needed it, and it only had a small part to do with the enigmatic and powerful man in front of me.

  “I would very much like a tour, sir,” I said, quietly, forcing him to pull his glowering stare off Master Dylan and back to me.

  “Very well, let’s go then.”

  Jensen

  From Dylan’s office, a distance away and under muted light, Haley had been gorgeous.

  When she first looked up at me, my breath almost came to a standstill. She was so stunningly beautiful in an understated way. Her green eyes, ringed with flecks of gold, were incomparable to the dark and thick lashes that surrounded them.

  Those eyes pulled me in, and for a moment, when she smiled hesitantly at me, her lips parted in obvious attraction, I forgot all about my worries.

  I forgot why I should have refused to do this.

  I wanted her at my knees, at my command, and not in a playroom where I couldn’t explore her freely, but in my bedroom where I could do all the wicked things I so desperately desired.

  Her scent was soft and muted, just like the rest of her, but no less alluring. Her porcelain skin made her look like she’d never spent a day in the sun. This was what Dylan had meant by being pure. She looked it, and I couldn’t ignore the thoughts of wondering what she’d look like bearing my markings, marring that skin in a temporary way, and knowing that when she dressed like a bombshell, beneath her clothing she carried me with her.

  Hell. I was falling fast. Not for her. For the control I’d once lived by.

  It took every ounce of that control to carefully lead her toward the public playrooms and finally realize that if I wanted to train her, I should probably speak to her.

  With my hand on her lower back, I guided her up the stairs. Dylan apparently wasn’t messing around tonight because he’d assured me that the scenes she was about to see were certain things she herself had fantasized about.

  I didn’t know what they were, I hadn’t cared earlier when the sneaky, manipulative bastard informed me.

  Now, I was dying to see them. My cock was so hard it was ready to burst through my zipper.

  “You talked to Master Dylan about your limits?” I asked, using his formal name. As a Dom, I didn’t have to address him as such in public but it was a courtesy I always afforded him. He was too good of a friend, even if I still sort of wanted to punch him.

  She cleared her throat and looked down at her shoes. They were sexy as hell just like the rest of her. She dressed like she’d been to this club before and looked like she belonged. Her shimmery black dress fit the swells of her full breasts and the sway of her hips perfectly. Her shoes were stiletto heels with only two silver straps at the toes and one strap around her ankle. They showed off the lines of her legs as well as the pop of bright, cherry red toenail polish.

  If she was trying for a submissive look tonight, she failed. She looked more temptress, and I was tempted.

  “Um, yes, sir. We spoke about what I was looking for, what I wanted...what interested me in this lifestyle.”

  “You’ve never had a Dom.” It was a statement, I already knew.

  For some reason, I wanted to know why. I was beginning to like the idea of being her first. I had trained others before Courtney and there was something special about being the first Dom to mark a woman’s body, to show her the proper positions. The way they surrendered for you and you knew it was their first time giving someone that...fuck, it made me harder just thinking about it.

  She shook her head and as we came to a stop at the top of the stairs, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Why not?”

  Her lip popped from her teeth and she kept her eyes down.

  When we got to know each other, I would insist she didn’t look at me unless I asked, but now it was different.

  I stepped to the side of the stairs so as not to be in anyone’s way and when she followed me, I touched my thumb to her chin and brought her face up.

  “Any sub of mine will not look me in the eye unless I ask, but that’s only during play. When we’re discussing, while we’re learning about each other, I need to read your nonverbal cues as you need to learn mine. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  I arched a
brow, warning her, and she immediately corrected herself. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  “Good girl,” I whispered. “Now, why have you not had a Dom before now? Why are you just looking into this?”

  Her chest heaved and that lip slid back between her teeth. Barely moving my thumb at her chin, I plucked it out and scowled. “There will never be a reason to be afraid of me, or of this. But if you choose to be trained, we will need to communicate, and we’ll discuss things that you never thought you’d have to talk about. So, I’m not going to ask again. If you can’t trust me with this question, the most basic question of all, there is no reason to continue.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s personal, but I’m recently divorced. I’ve always been interested, but he, my ex, wasn’t.” She glanced to the side and wrinkled her nose before dragging her gaze back to mine.

  “Was he abusive?” I hated to ask, but whether she knew it or not, these types of questions, knowing a sub’s background, were essential to training. The last thing a Dom wanted was to restrain someone in a way that caused flashbacks of horrific memories.

  A small, gentle laugh bubbled from her. Holy fuck, smiling and laughing she was so beautiful she almost knocked me back onto my heels. That little gesture hit me straight in the chest. “No, sir,” she said, her eyes still dancing with humor. “That would have involved effort. My ex-husband worked very hard at expending as little energy as possible into anything.”

  I would have figured a man who lost someone as beautiful as her was an asshole who didn’t treat her right. Being lazy was probably just as bad. My chest continued to tighten at the thought that she’d been married, though. And had been for a long time. Someone had already claimed her as his, even if he threw her away with disregard.

  A low growl bubbled in my throat but I forced it down.

  There was no point in becoming territorial over Haley. Train her, teach her, let her go. That was the plan.

  I sighed. “Okay. So, there are three rooms we’re about to enter. We’ll go watch, spending only a few minutes in each room. Then, we’ll go to a private room and discuss what you saw. If you decide to pursue training with me, we’ll discuss limits at our next meeting.”

  Her eyes widened, the pupils of her eyes expanding until the green was almost invisible. Shit, even discussing this was turning her on.

  I had a feeling if I told her to lift the bottom of her dress and allow me to slide a finger against her sex, she’d be dripping. The scent of arousal drifted into the small corner of the hallway we occupied. It was delicious. More tempting than her body.

  Without warning, I grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall into the first room.

  It was time she learned the reality of what she was getting herself into, and based on her response, that would be the only way I’d know if she could handle me.

  Chapter Four

  Haley

  I had never been so turned on in my life. The sensual atmosphere of the entire club had made me coiled tight like a wire about to snap since I’d first been touched by Master Dylan.

  Being touched by Jensen was a completely different experience. Where Master Dylan touched me with respect and kindness, Jensen’s touch sent thrills of attraction and lust shooting directly to my core. My panties were wet. Sweat trickled down my spine. Every step sent more nerves running like madness and doing flips in my stomach.

  Jensen’s hand on my back centered me amidst the insanity.

  The first room we entered had low thumping beats, like bongo drums that were beating a rhythm but not necessarily a song. At least not one I’d ever heard before.

  Immediately, my attention was pulled to the hiss of a whip. My stomach convulsed with a heady need as that hiss turned into the sound of leather meeting flesh.

  Yes.

  I turned toward the center of the room where the playing was occurring, only to have my feet frozen to the carpet.

  In front of me, there was a woman strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed at the top and the bottom. While I’d seen these crosses in my online searches, I’d expected to see her facing the cross, her bare backside exposed to the group of watchers that had gathered in the room. Instead, her naked front was on full display, hot pink marks across her breasts and stomach. Jensen and I were apparently late to the show and I frowned, thinking of what we’d missed.

  “Her name is Miranda,” Jensen whispered in my ear, making me jump in surprise. “She loves to be whipped, if you can’t tell.”

  I could tell. My breath grew shallow as my gaze trailed over the red welts lining her abdomen as well as her breasts. And my goodness, there were red strips against the tops of her thighs and around her cleanly shaved mound.

  A man standing close to Miranda reared back his arm holding what looked like a flogger before he landed two quick strikes, one on each of her breasts.

  My hands balled into fists and my body warmed and my pussy clenched. From fear, excitement, from wanting it, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  Wetness grew into my panties as the woman’s body reacted to the sting and bowed toward the man, as if she was seeking more. Her eyes glazed into blissful awareness when more strikes landed on her breasts. With another quick whip of the man’s hand, he flicked the flogger downward and it slashed across her exposed mound.

  My clit buzzed as if I was the one tethered to the cross.

  “You like this,” Jensen said from behind me. His hand on my lower back had moved to my hip and then to the front of my stomach. I hadn’t realized he’d been touching me at all until his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of my rounded stomach. “He’s using a leather flogger with flower-tipped ends. The ends dig slightly into the skin, giving a stronger stinging sensation than a plain flogger.”

  My breathing quickened.

  The man set down the flogger and came back with clamps.

  My nipples tightened.

  He twisted the clamp until he was sure it fit correctly, or maybe too snug, based on the way Miranda breathed through the pain and her jaw tightened. After he repeated the move, her blissful but pained expression morphed into euphoria.

  When I masturbated, I pinched and twisted my nipples until the point of pain, but never had I experienced anything like this woman in front of me.

  Jensen’s tight voice returned to my ear. “You didn’t answer my question, Haley.”

  What had he asked? Oh, well, technically, it hadn’t been a question. “Yes, sir. I like watching this.”

  “Is it the act of watching, or what’s occurring?”

  I thought of being on that cross, naked for everyone to see, and if I’d like dozens of strangers’ eyes on me.

  “I think it’s more the action, sir, the clamping and flogging.” Wetness dripped down my thighs. God, was I discussing being flogged? My nipples clamped? It was so forbidden and at the same time so natural. No one in this room was watching us. No one cared what I did. “The watching, I don’t know if I could relax enough to enjoy it, sir.”

  I turned my head toward him. He’d talked about us reading each other’s nonverbal cues and I wanted to see his eyes.

  Downstairs they’d been a dark blue. In the dim light, they looked as endless as the ocean, inseparable from the pupils. “You would. In time, after practice, you would absolutely love being watched.”

  He spoke as if he knew me, and I liked it so much I didn’t ask him why he thought that would be true.

  “What is it you like about this?” he asked.

  I frowned. “I thought that we’d talk about this after, sir.”

  “I’m changing the rules. I want to know as you experience it. Turn around, watch, and tell me what, about this scene in particular, has your pulse speeding so rapidly.”

  I turned back to Miranda and the cross.

  Jensen’s body
pressed against my back and scrambled my senses while I tried to focus on what was in front of me. But beneath his jeans, his erection pressed against my backside and I gasped from the surprise of it. “Oh.”

  “Talk,” he commanded.

  “The clamps,” I answered quickly. “I’ve always wanted that, the tugging pain, the sting. I want that, and the flogger. I’ve thought about all of this, all the time. But it’s more beautiful, more like a dance or a beautiful melody the way they move together.”

  “Miranda and Shawn have been married for ten years. He knows exactly what she wants. They’ve had that time to build their own unspoken language.”

  “I love it,” I admitted.

  “Do you know what he’ll do next?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak or guess. The chain suspended between the clamps swayed with every flick of the crop as it stung her skin.

  She looked somehow stuck between intense pain and ecstasy, and every time leather landed near her clit, the ecstasy grew closer and closer.

  “He’ll continue whipping her with the flogger until she begs him to stop. And once that happens, he’ll release her completely. Then he’ll carry her to the table behind him, cuff her again, and he’ll remove the nipple clamps from her. Do you know what will happen when he does?”

  “No.” But damn, I wanted to know. Not just in words, but with the experience of it being me on that cross.

  “She’ll explode. Her orgasm will happen without her ever being touched as soon as the nerves regain feeling. He won’t have to look at her or touch her, he’ll just command it and it’ll happen.”

  “Oh God.” My knees buckled again. I couldn’t contain it.

  His words sent me straight to the precipice of climax and I wasn’t the one cuffed and clamped and being stricken.

  “Do you want to watch?”

  “No,” I lied, my voice breathy and hoarse.

  I wanted to watch that. Embarrassment prevented me from saying yes. If she came apart like that, I might join her, and I wasn’t ready for a room full of people to see it happen.

  I needed water. I needed relief.