his hand.
“That’s right, sugar. I love how responsive you are for me. I can’t wait to take you somewhere tonight, tie you up, and taste every delicious part of you. Make you beg for release.”
She shuddered. God, just his words could set her off.
“But right now”—he leaned back, undid his fly, and released his cock—“just hold on.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
now
Brynn swayed on her knees, the shock of seeing Reid in front of her hitting her like a bullet to the chest. She stared at him, a hundred questions coloring her thoughts. Why was he here? How had he even gotten in? And what the hell was he expecting—that she was just going to jump at the chance to be with him after she’d explicitly told him she never wanted him to touch her again?
His stern expression didn’t answer any one of her silent demands.
“You need to choose your master, Brynn,” said a well-dressed man standing to the left of Reid. She glanced at the man’s tapered fingers; he held a chain, no, a leash. Oh. He was one of her choices, as was another shorter man on Reid’s right. Shit. Both guys were attractive enough, but could she turn herself over to them—put her trust in one of these strangers?
Her gaze darted to the second man’s waistband where a whip was attached, coiled like a sleeping snake. His fingers toyed with the handle as if his hand itched to wield it. Oh, hell no. Scratch him off the list. Anyone that eager to whip her wasn’t going to go easy.
She tilted her face and ventured another glance at Reid. His expression remained smooth, but something in his eyes yanked her back in time—back when she wanted nothing more than to give herself over to him, body and soul. Yes, he’d burned her like no man had ever before or since, but he’d also had moments of tenderness that had stilled her heart. He wouldn’t physically hurt her. She knew that. Which was more than she knew about either of the other guys.
But could she temporarily seal off the wound that sent slicing pain through her anytime she was around Reid and see him as simply a means to an end for the few days they were here? At least behind closed doors she wouldn’t have to pretend with him like she would the others. She inhaled deeply, causing the bindings on her arms to bite deeper into her skin, and held Reid’s gaze.
“Looks like she’s made her pick,” said the man with the leash.
Reid shook his head. “No, I want to hear you say the words, Brynn.”
Her fists clenched behind her. Why did he always have to push? Always make things more difficult than necessary? She put as much contempt as possible into her tone. “I choose you, sir.”
The set line of Reid’s jaw relaxed, and he gave a slight nod. The other men looked mildly disappointed, but stepped away and melded back into the shadowed groups sitting around small tables near the bar on the other side of the room. Reid hooked a finger in the loop on her collar and his other hand on her elbow. “On your feet.”
“Help me.” She eased to her bare feet, relying heavily on Reid for support. She’d never realized how much she counted on her arms for balance. A few feet away, a gangly man who was hauling his own sub to her feet turned his head in their direction.
“You’re not to talk without permission unless it’s to say ‘yes, sir’ or your safe word,” Reid said, his words loud enough for the other initiation pair to hear.
Oops. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yes, sir.”
“Better,” Reid said, and gave her ass a swat. “Now move.”
She gritted her teeth. Was that a smile she heard in his voice? She bet the bastard was marinating in smugness. He’d gotten his way, and now she couldn’t even protest—at least not when anyone could hear. She was only one slipup away from losing her chance to stay in the club. And now she was obligated to submit to whatever act Reid selected to demonstrate her submission in front of the group. Damn it all. She must’ve really pissed off karma in some former life.
Reid guided her to a curved love seat at the edge of the staging area and moved his hand to her shoulder. “On your knees, sugar.”
She shot him a steely glare. After being on her knees for far too long already, he wasn’t going to let her sit on the plush couch?
He shook his head, a tsk passing his lips. “So defiant. You have three seconds to comply, or I’ll make sure your upcoming show for everyone is much more unpleasant than what I have planned.”
His words splashed over her like ice water. The show. Public submission. Her anger at Reid had momentarily drawn her thoughts away from what she was about to face—humiliation, panic, possible fainting-goat behavior. The contents of her stomach threatened to make an appearance. She dropped to her knees, facing the open area she’d just left.
“That’s right.” Reid sank onto the couch behind her, placing a thigh on each side of her. He gave her hair a light stroke. “You can sit back on your calves. We’re going to watch one of the others go before it’s our turn.”
She nodded and rested her butt on the backs of her legs, which offered a bit of relief. She wiggled her arms to try to get some of the tingling to stop, but the minute movement the bindings allowed was not enough to accomplish anything. Reid ran his fingers along the leather straps, grazing her skin along with it. His head dipped next to her ear. “I forgot how fucking sexy you look when you’re tied up for me—just me.”
She stared at the Persian rug beneath her, her jaw tightening. She hadn’t missed his dig. He still thought she’d cheated on him. That she’d been playing games with him the whole time they’d dated. She could set him right, but what did it matter? Better for him to think that than know the truth—that she’d loved him with everything she had, only to find out later that he’d been the one who’d had a girlfriend the entire time. Asshole.
She shifted forward infinitesimally, moving away from his touch, and he gave a low chuckle. Maybe she should have gone with the guy who had the whip—that might have been less painful after all. Reid cupped her chin from behind and lifted her face toward the front. “I want you to watch. The show’s about to start.”
Her gaze lifted and locked on the scene before her. The gangly man was strapping a pixie-sized woman to a large wooden X in the front of the room. He’d stripped off her clothes, and her freckled back seemed to quiver with anticipation each time the man locked another leather restraint in place. Sweat prickled Brynn’s brow, and her heart seemed to take up residence in her throat. If Reid decided to strap her to something like that, she’d surely lose it.
Before she spiraled into a full-scale panic, she dragged her stare away from the action and scanned the room, quickly noting with disappointment that her sister was nowhere in the audience. At least twenty other people dotted the tables and couches around them, some talking quietly and sipping drinks, others riveted by the tableau at the front of the room. If not for the provocative clothing and the occasional man or woman sitting at someone’s feet, it could have been any high-end club. Glossy mahogany furniture, votive candles or fresh flowers on each table, a few cocktail waitresses milling around, even muted jazz in the background. The fact that all those lovely, refined people
