Jonas
The second I saw Kenna Carpenter step through the club doors, white submissive mask in place, my heart stopped. From her raven mane, to those pouty lips, to that bouncy little walk of hers, she was unmistakable, even masked. I spotted her the moment she stepped through the door. She took two steps inside and froze, wide eyes darting around the room.
And I wasn’t the only dom who noticed. The slit in her dress is cut so high I can spot the birthmark that peeks out from under her daisy dukes in the summer. And God dammit, she might as well have dumped a bucket of blood into shark-infested waters.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing here, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone touch her. I see movement as a couple of bored doms circle closer, but I skirt around behind her, determined to get her out of here before she realizes who I am. A femme reaches out and pets Kenna’s shimmering black curls before I can stop her, and something inside me rages.
“I’ve got her,” I growl. The other dom moves along, saying something in a sugary voice, but I don’t hear it. Kenna is so close. Too close. I can smell her shampoo and the soft perfume of her skin. I never let myself get this close. Each breath fills my lungs with her scent, sharply reminding me I shouldn’t touch her.
But I can’t help it; and giving in for just a second, I stroke the pads of my fingers over her silk-wrapped waist, holding in the groan that threatens to give me away. I close my eyes, trying to get control of myself. I’m an inch from every fantasy I hold dear, and not touching her is a physical ache. I need her to leave before I do something I promised I’d never do.
“You don’t belong here,” I whisper in Kenna’s ear, making my voice as rough as I can. She stiffens but doesn’t turn or make a move. I can feel the others watching her. Some are just curious, but others are watching her with dark eyes, and I can just imagine all the things they want to do to her. I hate it, mostly because those are the things I want to do to her. I stare a couple down as I take her elbow and push her behind one of the curtains.
“I could see it in your eyes the second you stepped through those doors. I don’t know who you are,” I lie, “or how you got in here, but I know this wasn’t what you were expecting.”
“I gave them an invitation at the door,” Kenna’s voice is filled with defiance. She chooses her words carefully, and it brings a smile to my lips. Did someone slip one to her? Did she find one? Those are only given out by members when they want to sponsor a guest. So, if she didn’t find it, someone invited her here. The thought makes my blood boil. I circle her wrist in my hand, feeling her pulse pick up under my touch.
“An invitation. But not your invitation. No one gets in here by accident, but you wandered in here like a little lost kitten stumbling into a wolf den.”
As badly as I want to keep her; to just give in to the lust flooding through my veins. I know I should scare her off. I pull her hands behind her back, pinning them to the base of her spine. She doesn’t fight me. Not even when I put my hand around her throat.
No. Her pulse thrums excitedly. She’s not scared of me. She’s fucking turned on. I try to put as much disdain into my voice as I can. I need her to leave. I can’t bear to see her with someone else, and I can’t keep her for myself. I tighten my grip, pulling her back against me, hard, in one last attempt to scare her into leaving.
“So, tell me Kitten. Now that you’ve seen what’s going on, what are you going to do? Your mask says you’re willing to submit, but I’m not convinced. I think you’d better run home as fast as those sexy legs can carry you. Run home, Kitten. Before the wolves have their way with you.”
Her pulse races under my fingers. She swallows hard, and she shifts her hips, grinding her ass against my hard-on. It’s all I can do to hold in the groan.
“If my mask says I’m willing, then I’m willing.”
I’m weak. I should drag her pert little ass out of this club and send her home. I should. But I don’t.
I release her wrists, spreading my palm over her stomach. Her breath hitches, excitement making her breasts rise and fall rapidly under my forearm.
Kenna’s head rests against my shoulder as she gives in to my hold, so trusting. So sweet. But the things I want to do to her aren’t sweet.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?” I ask, flexing my fingers along the side of her neck. “You’ll be mine. You’ll give yourself to me. You’ll do as you're told and if you’re a very good girl, I’ll reward you.”
“Yes,” she whispers, body trembling in my arms. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, possibly uncomfortable in her heels, possibly turned on. Probably both.
“Yes, what?” I ask, jerking her body back against me firmly.
She gasps, ass grinding harder against the bulge in my pants. “Yes, sir?”
“Good girl,” I praise, sliding a hand up her bare thigh, fingers slipping under the edge of the slit. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m going straight to hell for touching her, but the only thing that could stop me now is Kenna safe wording out. Jesus, we haven’t even talked about that, and I shouldn’t have laid a finger on her until we did. I force my hand to still, the tips of my fingers burning hot against her skin.
“You understand the club safe words?”
Kenna hesitates just a second, but then parts her lips. “Red means stop, yellow means slow down.”
“Not as innocent as you look, are you, Kitten?” I growl, stroking a finger over her inner thigh, suppressing the shudder that runs through me. She’s so soft, even softer than I imagined she would be. I fight the urge to turn her around and kiss her. I’m dying to see if she tastes as good as I remember, but this mask is a weak disguise. Kenna thinks this is anonymous, and I want to keep it that way. I need to keep it that way.
“Eyes closed.” I remove my necktie, securing it over her eyes. Normally, I prefer eye contact. There’s nothing prettier than watching a sub come while they struggle to keep their eyes on you. But this will have to do for tonight.
“Good kitten,” I croon in her ear. “Now bend down and take off those shoes. Hand them to me.” I hold her hip in one hand, placing a palm between her shoulder blades, bending her forward. Her dress is tight around her ass, but she does as she’s told. I stroke the round little peach of her backside, leaning sideways to watch as she slowly unbuckles the ankle strap of each heel. She steps out of them and straightens, the shoes hanging from her fingers by dainty straps. Without the heels, she’s short enough for me to rest my chin on top of her head.
I set them aside before coming back to circle her, trailing an appreciative hand over her body. I give her ass a squeeze and stroke my fingertips up her spine. I mold my palm to her hips and let my hand skim low on her belly. I come to a stop behind her and brush her silky curls over one shoulder. Kenna shivers as I study the graceful slope of her neck, finding the tiny heart-shaped freckle that sits just above her left shoulder.
I press my lips to the adorable mark, nuzzling the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin. Kenna’s head falls to the side, and she lifts a hand to my hair. I circle her wrist in my fingers, pulling her delicate hand behind her back. She arches, the low front of her dress gaping, and the view has me hard enough to cut glass.