I couldn’t help myself; I reached out and grabbed her wrist. A dangerous move on my part, as it could be considered sexual harassment. But I had to know if I read her wrong. If the signs she showed me with her body were somehow created in my mind because she refused me.
I loved a challenge.
I wouldn’t be a stalker.
The second my fingers wrapped around her skin warmth spiraled down my spine. My cock swelled as I heard the hitch of her breath, saw the dilation of her pupils, and felt the tremble of her body. Pure, unadulterated desire in its rawest form swept through the room, making it harder to draw the warm thick air into my lungs.
I tightened my grip, needing to hold onto her. She softened with a yearning, striking me straight into the chest. There, I saw vulnerability and it yanked me so hard I nearly found myself pulling her straight into my arms. “Again”—I dragged my finger across her wrist, controlling the carnal urges storming into me—“I’m sorry for upsetting you. That was never my intention.”
She looked at her arm when I removed my fingers. Head bowed, and avoiding my gaze, her voice became raspy. “As long as we understand each other, I’ll forgive you.” She turned to leave my office, and I noticed the slight waver in her step and how her legs were close together. I knew her cunt was wet and that her clit was swollen and throbbing.
I watched her every move the way a predator would watch his prey, studying to understand her. Now I knew all I needed to about Allie. She was a liar, and she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
The game changed in that second. Allie wasn’t a submissive I played with under contracts. She also wasn’t a dominant woman I dated in the public eye. She was something else entirely, and I wanted to know more about this woman who kept calling me out, demanding I do better, and who made me fight to stand beside her instead of kneeling at my feet.
Allie could run.
But she was mine to catch.
Read on for a sneak peek at another Club Sin title from Stacey Kennedy:
Commanded
Available from Loveswept
Prologue
Eyes cast down. Rope. Naked flesh.
Sawyer Quinn studied the bound submissive before him. The tight bindings squeezed her flesh in the proper way so that the black hemp rope accentuated the curves of her feminine body. Even though she was enticingly beautiful, his cock mourned the action tonight.
Tonight, he mentored the Dominant Max on suspension bondage. Sawyer observed the artful ropes that captured the dark-haired submissive named Amanda. He didn’t linger too long on her rosy, erect nipples, though, as she most definitely belonged to Max.
Keeping a close eye on Max’s proficiency as he bound Amanda’s knee, Sawyer leaned against the dungeon’s stone wall for support. Black leather couches surrounded glass coffee tables, and wrought-iron sconces dimly lit the room. The best of BDSM equipment decorated the square room, with St. Andrew’s Crosses, spanking benches, ropes hanging from steel support beams, and much more. Club Sin was a five-star BDSM club, and Sawyer happily renewed his membership each year.
Under his careful examination, Max fumbled with one of the knots before undoing it to try again. Max tended to become frustrated during their training sessions, being too hard on himself for not getting it right the first time. Sawyer knew Max was trying to stay focused as he corrected the error—not an easy task when you have someone looking over your shoulder.
All in all, Sawyer thought, Max had done well.
Throughout the fifteen years Sawyer had been practicing BDSM, he noticed two different types of people who enjoyed bondage. One type included those who tied up their lover to add kink into their sex lives. The other type included those who had a bondage fetish.
The people with a fetish got off on seeing their lover wrapped in rope, just as Sawyer did when he bound a woman. Sawyer had first trained with knots in his early twenties. Then he had focused on Shibari before moving on to suspension bondage. Over time, bondage had become second nature to him. He could bind a woman to increase her pleasure as easily as he could tie a shoe.
The loud slaps of a leather flogger against flesh echoed across the dungeon from the spanking bench across the room. Sawyer stayed focused on the task at hand, seeing that Amanda kept her eyes closed while Max continued working over her body. Max knotted the rope at pressure points that he’d learned from Sawyer during their first training sessions.
Pleased by Max’s care of Amanda, Sawyer took note of the crowd, while soft music came from the speakers above his head. It didn’t surprise him to find newer members watching the scene. He couldn’t spot Club Sin’s owner, Dmitri. Nor could he see any of his fellow Club Masters—Kyler, Miles, Aidan, and Porter—all of whom Dmitri had appointed to help run the club, oversee the submissives in the dungeon, and educate the members.
His fellow Masters were highly experienced, and the training aspect of the scene stole away the passion and intensity. Those who watched Max and Amanda tonight did so to learn.
Nevertheless, his students enjoyed themselves.
One quick look between Amanda’s thighs under the light and he saw her wetness. Sawyer grinned to himself, understanding their mind spaces. When he bound his ropes around a woman, locking her into his care, his cock hardened. Always.
Now, though, his dick lay soft and unaffected in his jeans. Needless to say, since he wasn’t doing the binding, a little boredom had begun to settle in. When he had first earned Master status in Club Sin, he’d taken great pride in teaching others. While he still enjoyed playing with casual submissives, the joy of mentoring other Doms had diminished.
“There,” Max said, breaking into Sawyer’s thoughts. “She’s good, right?”
Sawyer pushed off from the wall, moving toward Max to see his handiwork. Amanda’s erect nipples indicated the level of heat burning through her. Yet her arousal was not Sawyer’s concern. “Do your bindings feel all right, sweetheart?”