Master Me (10 page)

“Like this?” He pulled her legs over his shoulders.

“Yes,” she cried as he plundered her, driving in and out faster now that completion was near.

He yanked up the last card. “This one. What’s this one?”

Her eyes went wide as she stared at it. “Six of Pentacles. Us.”

“Us,” he repeated, pressing the card over her heart. “Us. The future.”

He’d always be there for her. If he had to go to Chicago…

The rest of the cards went flying as he captured her hands and pistoned into her welcoming heat. Ana screamed, convulsing around him. Her hips surged off the mat, slamming into him as her tight sheath milked his tortured flesh. Spirals of pleasure-pain rippled through him until his entire focus centered on the rhythm of their bodies slapping together and the pressure building in his cock. His world at the tip of his penis.

He shuddered and his power drained to his cock. Helpless to his body’s demands, he blasted within her, emptying his seed with a strangled yell.

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Breathing hard, he stared at the card lying between them on her chest.
Us
. It signified them. Together. He saw it. The damn cards saw it. What would it take for Ana to see it?

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Ana stared at the outfit Max handed her. “You want me to wear that out of the house?”

“The proper response is ‘Yes, Master’ and to put it on.”

She rolled her eyes, staring at the leather skirt that would barely cover her bare pussy. As if it didn’t show enough flesh, a slightly off-center slit ran to the waistband.

“I think you lost your mind when you came this afternoon. Apparently your brain is somewhere in the dungeon.”

“Maybe I should try to find it. Want to help me?” He slid his finger through her folds. “I have an idea where it might be.”

“How can you possibly want me again?”

“After all the years I’ve stayed away from you, how could I not?” He pulled her against him, revealing the hard ridge trapped inside the leather pants that matched her outfit—though with a great deal more fabric. She’d never seen anything hotter than Max in those pants. They rode low on his hips, showing off his chiseled six-pack to perfection. Coupled with his wild hair, tattoos and biker boots, he looked like the baddest bad boy to hit town.

Sweet heaven, she wanted to recline back on the bed and invite his badness to do its worst. Unbelievable. They’d spent the better part of the afternoon in the dungeon, until he’d carried her to his bedroom and tucked her into his bed. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept until he’d woken her and taken her again. Afterward, he’d sent her into the shower, telling her to hurry because they were going out.

She glanced at the triangle-cut leather that comprised the top of the outfit. She wasn’t sure it would even cover her breasts. Well, maybe she could do a Lady Godiva thing with her hair. It wouldn’t cover her past her waist but she could hide her near-74

Master Me

naked breasts with it. Of course she’d have to free it. After her shower, Max had pulled her hair back into a ponytail then braided it so it fell in a tight rope down her back.

She tossed the top on the bed and slid on the skirt, unfortunately completely right about how much it covered. It settled low on her hips, leaving the drawing Max had done fully in view. Turning to the mirror, she studied the oval of delicate leaves and tiny purple flowers, all expertly shaded to look like a pastel drawing. How had he done that with markers? She needed to get a picture of it before it faded.

“Like it?” he asked, coming behind her and splaying his hand over her belly.

“Yeah. You’re an amazing artist.” She grinned. “A master.”

He growled and bit her shoulder. Leaving her, he got the top of the outfit and wrapped it around her breasts, fastening it in the back. It covered her breasts adequately, but Ana was sure if she moved funny, she’d pop free. She’d have to be really careful.

“Almost done,” he said. Going to the bag he’d pulled the clothes out of earlier, he pulled out a set of cuffs. “Hold out your wrists.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, the cuffs dropping her right into the scene. He fastened them around her wrists. A delicate chain was attached to each and he attached the ends to her collar. He helped her into a pair of shiny black stilettos.

“One last thing.”

Her heart lurched as he pulled that item from the bag. Lifting her chin, he attached a black leash to the collar and turned her back to the mirror.

“Dear God, I look like a refugee from BDSM boot camp.” And she looked hot.

Damn hot. The image of herself kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock while he held the leash sent a rush of arousal to her freshly washed pussy.

“You look like a sub who obeys her master.” Wrapping her braid around his hand, he pulled her to kiss him. Her breasts swelled, pushing against their inadequate 75

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covering. He slipped his hand beneath the top and palmed a mound while he took his fill of her lips. She moaned, thrusting her hips against him.

“We have to go,” he murmured.

“Yes, Master,” she replied.

He smiled, drawing his thumb over her swollen lip. “I love when you say that.”

Going to the closet, he removed a voluminous black cape and draped it around her shoulders. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“The club.”

Panic rushed through her and she nearly dropped to her knees—not in submission.

“What? No. Please, no, Max. I can’t go there. I can’t let—I don’t want other men to—”

He pressed two fingers over her lips. His chin tilted down as he stared into her eyes. “Hush. Cresses don’t share. Never forget that, angel. I might want to show you off and display my claim but I won’t let anyone else take you. Not as long as you’re mine,”

he promised.

She nodded, the action jerky, and looked away from him as he slipped on a jacket.

Fear fisted in her middle. This was the full test of her commitment to being a submissive. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be seen in public like this. She was worried about what might happen at this club—it was where Tyler had wanted to take her. A cold terror filled her, making her legs tremble as she followed Max to his SUV.

They didn’t speak on the way to the club. The security was rigorous and Max showed identification to gain access to the parking ramp. As they navigated the garage, Ana saw other women cloaked as she was. They seemed unworried, even a little excited as they followed their masters. What did they know that she didn’t? Maybe they were into group sex with strangers. Some people were.

Max didn’t take her hand when they left the SUV. That was unusual, although she figured it was because of the setting. He had to be the Dom with no questions. She 76

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followed him quietly, a few steps behind. Near the entrance to the club, she heard strains of Indian music similar to what she’d heard in the single Bollywood movie she’d seen. The blend of woodwinds and drums infiltrated the lower levels of her consciousness, wrapping her with its arousal-heightening sensuality.

At the door, Max again had to show ID and the doorman held the door open. Max ushered her inside with a hand to the small of her back. An attendant removed Ana’s cloak. She desperately wanted to clutch it around herself and hide behind its weight.

Instead she stood docilely.

The club reminded her of popular dance clubs, the interior dark with multicolored lights blinking on and off. Looking around as her eyes adjusted, she found the similarity ended there. Most obvious was the area that should have been a dance floor.

It seemed to be more of a stage of sorts where Doms were having their subs perform sexual acts. Sometimes with other people. At one end a female sub was being flogged—

and the woman seemed into it. Ana wasn’t sure what to think of that.

Her breathing hitched. Max wouldn’t take her down there, would he?

Unable to continue watching, she peeled her gaze away and found the two levels of tables surrounding the floor area were filled with women—and men—in various states of undress. The setup reminded her of posh nightclubs in Vegas. The rest just made her think orgy. The mellow pitch of the Indian horns barely covered the low moans from the sex taking place throughout the room.

A woman clad only in a black g-string and nipple jewelry approached them and bowed slightly to Max. “Master Cress. May I see you and your slave to your table?”

“Yes, Mirinda,” he answered. At his familiarity, Ana eyed the woman, jealousy flaring through her. Mirinda had a phenomenal body. She could easily see Max drawing the woman…or plowing his cock into her barely covered pussy.

Max leaned close to Ana. “Draw back your claws, little cat. I’ve never fucked her.

Although, in all truth, I can’t say that about every sub here. After all, I couldn’t have what I wanted.” Taking the leash hanging between her breasts, he led her as he 77

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followed Mirinda. Instinctive revolt rose inside her. How dare he lead her like an animal?

What did you expect
,
Ana
?
It
’
s a leash
,
her inner voice chided her.
And doesn
’
t it feel a
little hot and naughty
?

It did and if there was any place where she’d let Max do this, it was here. Let? She almost laughed. Like she really let him do anything. He knew her refusal point and she knew he’d do whatever he wanted up to that point. That’s what submitting to him was about. She respected that just as he respected her limits. Here of all places, it was of utmost importance to behave. She knew without him telling her so that his position in this D/s community would be questioned if his sub was rebellious or disrespectful. She could mouth off at home but not here.

The hostess stopped at a tiny table and told Max to have an enjoyable evening. She disappeared without ever acknowledging Ana. Ana made a face and turned to the table. It had only one chair.
Why
was there only
one
chair? Confused, she looked askance at Max. With a discreet tilt of his head, he indicated toward the couple at the table beside them. The woman sat on the floor between her master’s splayed knees, her legs curled beneath her and her head resting on his thigh. Glancing around the club, Ana saw that many subs were in the same position. The subs didn’t appear demeaned by their lowly positions. They appeared…
protected
and even coddled as their Masters petted and fed them.

Okay, if that was the way it was.

She waited for Max to sit then folded herself into the same position as the sub beside them. A slight tug at her collar made her look up at Max. He smiled down at her as he draped the leash over his thigh. He cupped the back of her head and tipped it a little farther back, giving her a lingering kiss. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. She was totally out of her element.

“Just relax, angel. I’ll lead you.”

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His assurance didn’t soothe the butterflies pounding around in her stomach. Not much did, as she furtively glanced around in shell-shocked amazement. The show on the center floor reminded her of a circus. It was a show for all intents and purposes, the actors caught in a frenzy of sexual activity. Each seemed to want to outdo the last and Ana could only watch in horror. Tyler had intended to put her body on display on the floor like the other Doms were doing. He’d intended to give her body up to whatever bidder came forth. Bile rose in her throat as she watched what looked like money exchange hands and flies open.

Idly, Max stroked her hair while she stared in transfixed shock. She barely noticed his brothers Ryan and Theo arriving with their wives, Jessica and Keera. Josh tagged along behind the couples, alone. She worked with all five but had never seen them in this light. The men were dressed identically to Max and she saw for the first time that they had the same tattoos, just as Max had said. How could she have known them all these years, been part of so many of their family functions and not known this?

The women were attired in the same way she was. Though they were married to Theo and Ryan, Max had explained to her earlier that Keera and Jessica were subs too.

Together, the seven of them were unmistakably a family—four black-haired, gray-eyed gods and their women. Ana’s stomach clenched at the thought. She wanted to belong with this family. She couldn’t. It would hurt too much when she said goodbye. She always had to say goodbye. Heck, she’d even said goodbye to her own family when her father had been transferred several years ago. She’d made the decision to stay behind and nothing had ever been the same.

She was alone. Max’s hand caressing her said otherwise yet she couldn’t forget she was leaving even him in a few more weeks. Turning away from the people who filled the soon-to-be-empty corners of her life, she focused on a sub who’d been led to the floor moments ago. She writhed, moaning loudly over the music while three men took her.

That could have been her.

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She buried her face in Max’s thigh.

“Come here, angel,” Max murmured. He pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled his slightly parted legs with her back pressed to his chest. She gasped in surprise as her skirt hiked up, exposing her to whoever might walk past. He locked an arm around her waist. Slowly he trailed the fingers of his free hand along the inside of her thigh while he murmured calming words to her.

She relaxed in tiny increments while he gentled her. Despite her pussy being exposed, she might as well have been wrapped in a blanket for all anyone cared. She barely jumped as Max’s hand left her thigh and slid up into her folds. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder. The sultry Indian music rose around her, its erotic tones bolstered by the moans growing more and more apparent. It was easy to imagine, she and Max alone in his private harem. The Master pleasuring his slave.