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  “How’s work?” He smiled. “Your family?”

  “Both are good.” She swallowed her disgust as she watched Steven take a big gulp of his beer. She hated the sight of the lips she once kissed. “How about you?”

  “Lots of overtime, but the money is good.” Spinning the bottle in his hand on the bar, he continued to give her a charismatic smile. “Why haven’t you been around?”

  Oh, I’ve been getting my documents together so I can watch men and women be flogged, whipped, and have sex in a dungeon. “Been busy.” To dig at him, she added, “I’m actually dating someone.” A total lie, of course. The Dom who trained her—Cora had explained that she’d be assigned to one—wouldn’t look to her as girlfriend material. But Steven didn’t have to know that, and the lie poured deliciously off her tongue, making her feel better and showing him she was desirable.

  His eyes widened, incredulous. “You have a boyfriend?”

  I’ll have a Dom. “Yeah, it’s new.”

  The bartender brought over the Cokes, and Presley picked up the glasses, plastering a huge fake smile on her face. “It’s nice to see you again. Take care.” Rot in hell, bastard!

  She’d turned to walk away from him when Steven grabbed her arm with a rigid expression. “I hadn’t heard you were dating.” Glancing around the busy pub, he must’ve noticed Cora on the other side of the bar, because his jaw clenched. “Who is it?”

  “No one you know.”

  His gaze lingered on Cora and burned wicked before it returned to Presley. “Is it someone Cora knows?”

  “He’s a friend of hers.” She didn’t like the dark undertone in his eyes. Her life was none of his damned business. “Why do you care?”

  Steven hesitated, releasing her arm. “Don’t be stupid. You thought I wouldn’t?” At her pause, his eyes lowered into slits. “Presley, of course I care about you. We spent eight years together. All right, I fucked up—”

  “No, you didn’t fuck up.” The memory of a late-night conversation when guilt got the better of him churned in her stomach. Maybe he felt guilty because she’d packed up her life and left her family behind, but whatever the reasons, he had shattered the happy image she thought they shared. “You fucked another woman.”

  She should’ve seen the signs, considering it took him so long to commit to her. Perhaps that’s why he’d put a ring on her finger before he told her. Maybe he’d thought it would make her stay. But what was done was done. She was finished with Steven the night he told her he had cheated. “Really, it’s fine. I’m doing okay, and I don’t want to talk about this.”

  His face turned a deep shade of red, his voice lowering to a scary, sharp tone. “Presley.”

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Presley jerked her head in front of her, finding the bartender glaring at Steven. “No problem. I was just leaving.” Steven had no right to ask about her life, but she didn’t want to cause a scene.

  For the few weeks after their breakup, she’d despised him with every fiber of her body. During the second month, after hearing him apologize a gazillion times and try to talk it out, she became confused. Ultimately, she realized his betrayal had crushed her, and he couldn’t ever take back what he’d done. Now she wanted him to go away and leave her the hell alone. She simply wanted to forget him and the life they once had.

  Besides, she couldn’t hate him anymore. If it hadn’t been for Steven, she never would’ve had the strength to join a BDSM dungeon. She had lived life as a straight arrow—always doing the right thing—and where did that get her? Miserable.

  Once she accepted the finality of their relationship, she spiraled into an emotional slump, and Cora’s offer for a new exciting life was the perfect thing to get her out of it. What better way to get over her old life than creating a new—completely opposite—life.

  “Listen, I’m glad you’re doing well,” she told Steven, noticing an odd concern in his eyes that she didn’t understand. “Honestly, I am. But like I’ve already told you, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Goodbye, Steven.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hurried to the table on the other side of the pub, where Cora was giving her the stink-eye. Dropping down in her seat across from Cora, she placed the colas on the table that she got since their waiter was busy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Why didn’t you punch him in the junk?” Cora implored.

  Presley laughed. “Why would I?”

  “Hmmm . . . let’s see.” Cora tapped her lip, her blue eyes narrowed. “Maybe because you moved to Vegas for that prick, he cheated on you, and he deserves a good smack in the face. Seriously, Presley, you are way too nice.”

  “I told him I didn’t want to talk about things.” She lowered her voice so no one else in the bar overheard, angling the straw toward her and taking a sip of her cola. “Besides, you know as well as I do that he’ll be at places like this.” She waved her hand around the busy bar. “And if you want me to continue to come with you, I don’t want things to be awkward.”

  Cora snorted. “You’re lucky I love you and respect your wishes, or I’d castrate him.”

  “Might I remind you, he was your friend first.” Steven had made new friends in the month he’d lived in Vegas without Presley while he settled into his new job, which, in turn, was how he met his lover, Amanda.

  He’d cheated the second week he arrived but asked Presley to marry him anyway. He said that had been his only mistake, as he called it, and it made him realize how much he loved Presley, but how could she have stayed with him? She didn’t even know him anymore. Shame melted across her. How had she been so blind? “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have met at that party my second night in Vegas.”

  “There is that.” Cora flicked her hair over her shoulder. “For that I’m grateful, but I don’t like him talking to you. He doesn’t deserve your kindness. You should only say fuck off to him, and that’s it.”

  “Cora, I’m not talking to him,” Presley defended herself again. “He just said hello to me at the bar, nothing more.” She avoided telling Cora the whole truth, knowing her friend would be in Steven’s face lickety-split. The night of their breakup, when Presley arrived on her doorstep looking for a place to live, then Steven’s appearance begging for forgiveness and Cora ripping into him, wouldn’t be repeated.

  “Even saying hi is being too nice to him.” Cora picked up a french fry off her plate. “Once you finish your training, maybe you’ll find yourself a Dom who will agree with me and not tolerate you talking to that jackass.” She mumbled some more curses and glared at Steven, who remained at the bar and chatted up the drunk on the stool. Then she stuffed the fry in her mouth. “Enough about the jerk.” The heat in her eyes faded to a warm smile. “Are you excited for tonight?”

  Presley’s cheeks warmed at the reminder of what awaited her in a few hours, and she squirmed in her seat, swallowing the nerves that threatened to overwhelm her. “Ready to barf would be more accurate.”

  “Well . . .” Cora grinned wickedly. “I’m sure once you see a scene instead of reading about it, those nerves will settle into something else entirely.”

  Presley rolled her eyes at how her body flushed hot at that idea. No matter how much things seemed to unsettle her mind, her body liked the idea of the naughtiness awaiting her.

  “All right.” Cora wiped her face with her napkin then dropped it on her plate before she took a big sip of her cola. “We need to go shopping.”

  Presley didn’t move an inch. “Shopping for what?”

  “Clothes for tonight, of course.” At whatever crossed Presley’s face—maybe horror—Cora barked a laugh. “Don’t sweat it, sweet stuff; it’ll be nothing too crazy. But you can’t wear your normal clothes in the dungeon. You’ll look silly and out of place, and do you really want to stand out?”

  “No,” Presley snapped.

  Cora’s eyes twinkled as she grabbed Presley’s hand and yanked her up. “Come on. Let’s pay the bill. We ha
ve two hours to take you from the perfect angel and turn you into a devilish submissive a Dom will want to pleasure.”

  Chapter Five

  Dmitri arrived home a little later than he had planned. Driving through the wrought-iron gates leading up to his house, he noticed that the circular parking lot around the front entrance was full of cars. An indication that Kyler had arrived in time to open the dungeon doors after Dmitri had called, letting him know he’d be late from work due to a meeting.

  Downshifting his black BMW sportster, he drove along the cobblestone driveway as dusk settled in. The Georgian-style mansion stood proud in its redbrick glory, with black shutters and white pillars. There wasn’t a single detail to the house that he hadn’t had a part in designing; though the home was built to appear dated, he’d purchased the private lot only four years ago.

  Club Sin was an exclusive dungeon, and Dmitri liked it that way—intimate and private. Members didn’t pay a fee to join the dungeon. He didn’t need or want the money. People who shared his views on the BDSM lifestyle received membership.

  Dmitri enjoyed the power exchange and needed the kink. Members of Club Sin were those who lived a consensual lifestyle. Doms who lived in the mind-set that any scene brought a submissive to heightened pleasure. Most important, Doms who respected the gift of submission and understood what a safe word meant.

  In the three years the dungeon had been in operation, it had gained more than fifty members. Some came with him from Chains, such as Kyler and Aidan, as well as a few submissives. However, the other members had gained membership since the doors had opened. Those memberships came with a recommendation from a current member. That was what kept the dungeon safe and private. Everyone who belonged was personally connected to another member.

  Approaching the house, Dmitri pulled in to the open space in his five-car garage. He parked next to his Hummer and was out of the car a second later. He strode through the large garage, pulling off his black tailored blazer and blue tie, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his black dress shirt.

  Entering through the side door, he headed down the hallway. Silence surrounded him. He carried on until he entered his office and tossed his coat and tie on his desk.

  As he finished rolling up his cuffs, Kyler approached the doorway and said, “Presley’s waiting for you in the sitting room.” He entered the room and handed Dmitri some papers. “Her police report was all clear. She also brought the document from the doc.”

  Dmitri leaned against the desk, the tension in his shoulders lessening, glad that she’d shown up. He’d wondered if she had the strength to go through with it, and he was relieved that she did. In fact, his muscles quivered with excitement, which he quashed immediately and accepted the paperwork. “How’s she doing?”

  Kyler grinned, casually flopping down in the chair across from the desk. “Scared out of her wits.”

  Dmitri chuckled. “I bet she is.” He looked at the papers and scanned the results. She had no criminal record, and she had clean STD tests, as well as a negative pregnancy test.

  “Everything all clear?” Kyler asked.

  Dmitri deposited the papers in the file in his desk that held all the members’ information, then he nodded at Kyler. “She’s good to go.”

  A slow smile spread across Kyler’s face. “After meeting her, I see what’s got you all excited.” Dmitri had parted his lips to respond when Kyler stood. “Save it. I know she’s yours.” His laughter followed as he exited the room.

  Dmitri grunted, rolling his neck to loosen the muscles. She wasn’t his, necessarily. She was his to train, his to play with, and his to taste. However, the hardness of his cock all week gave some truth to Kyler’s statement.

  Only a minute passed before Kyler returned to the office with a wide-eyed Presley trailing behind. She wore a short black skirt and high heels, giving her quite a bit of height. Her mauve silk top hung low in the front, appearing taped in place to show her cleavage but hide her nipples. Dmitri raised his finger and did a circular movement. She complied, slowly turning for him. He bit back a groan.

  The back of her shirt was completely open, much like the front but wider. The sight of her soft skin, muscles around the spine, and lower two dimples evident above her ass hardened his cock so quickly that he sucked in a harsh breath.

  Stepping behind her, he traced her spine with a feathery touch, purposefully pressing his erection against her bottom. “Do you doubt how pleased I am by your appearance tonight?”

  “No,” she rasped.

  Over Presley’s shoulder, Dmitri noticed Kyler’s wicked grin. Damn the fool, but the distraction worked, and he stepped away. This little beauty could—and did—test his control. The sexual draw to her was definitely the strongest he’d experienced in a long time. He knew himself well enough not to ignore the passion igniting between them. Chemistry in a D/s relationship made for amazing scenes.

  “Turn around, doll,” he stated.

  Once she complied, he centered his thoughts on what mattered now, which wasn’t his hard cock. He gestured to Kyler. “Do you see we share the same tribal dragon tattoo on our forearms?” He waited for her nod, then continued. “This marking is for those appointed as a Club Sin Master. At present, there are five—including me—who have been given this title, who wear the tattoo, and it means they’re experienced enough to gain such an honor.”

  She studied Kyler’s arm more closely and looked at Dmitri’s forearm with curiosity. Then she gave him a firm nod. “Okay. Got it.”

  He grinned. She might be a sweet little thing, but she was receptive to what he told her. “These men are in charge while in the dungeon to make sure everything happening is safe, sane, and consensual.”

  “Oh, that’s . . . um . . . I like that.”

  He nodded agreement. “When addressing a Master in the dungeon, you’ll always use ‘Master’ before his name. When addressing a Dom in the dungeon, you will address him with ‘sir’ before his name. If you need to answer either a Master or a Dom, it should be with ‘yes, sir.’ Try that out.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Yes, sir.”

  “Very nice.” Amused by how awkward that appeared for her, he turned to Kyler to show her the proper way to address a Master: “Thank you for bringing Presley to me, Master Kyler. We’ll be down to the dungeon shortly.”

  “You’re welcome.” To Presley, Kyler winked. “Enjoy yourself tonight, sweetie.” He turned and vanished into the hallway.

  Once the sound of Kyler’s shoes clicking against the hardwood floors stopped, Dmitri turned to Presley. “Now,” he said, drawing her attention away from the doorway, “since you’re so new to the scene . . .” And a treat not to be passed up, with all that tempting innocence. “It would be my pleasure to train you, if you’re in agreement.”

  She blinked. “You?”

  A quick flare of irritation rushed through his veins. “Do you not find me suitable?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” She gave him a very slow once-over, the surprise in her eyes fading to the dark arousal hiding beneath all that shyness. Then her gaze lifted, returning to his face, her cheeks rosy. “Really?”

  He loved how she looked at him with that sexy hunger, but he didn’t like how she appeared to think she was undeserving of his interest. Why wouldn’t he want her? Christ, little did she know that he couldn’t stop thinking about those heated looks she offered him: the exact look she’d given him a second ago. “You’re in agreement, then?”

  “Yes.” She drew in a long breath and produced a sweet grin. “I mean to say, yes, I’m in agreement.”

  He fought his smile, watching her lean in toward him, as her body said she craved his touch. “Our agreement will be this: You’ll stay under my command to ensure that you have the right training to play in the dungeon with the other Doms.”

  “Right.” A hint of anger flared in her expression. “Other Doms.”

  Once again, he didn’t approve of how she wasn’t forthcoming with her desir
es. She either took his words and actions the wrong way, or she accepted his orders without a thought of herself. He would fix that little bad habit of hers before their agreement was over, of that he was sure. “Do you not approve of being offered to the other Doms?”

  “I . . .” She hesitated before she squared her shoulders. “I only sleep with one man at a time. I don’t want to have multiple lovers or a whole bunch of men touching me sexually.” Her nose scrunched up. “I’d feel dirty.”

  “Let me rephrase.” He never minded a woman who held strong morals and craved a monogamous lifestyle. In fact, he preferred women who sought that type of lifestyle. “I’ll train you until I determine that you’re ready to make yourself available to one Dom. Does that suffice?”

  She shifted on her feet, looking everywhere but at him. “I . . .” As she drew in the deepest breath he’d ever heard, her firm gaze returned to him. “Yes, that works for me.”

  Such a battle she suffered on the inside. As if she wanted to run and hide but she had something to prove to herself. Maybe she did. He couldn’t tell who she truly was; the innocent little darling scared out of her wits, or the brave woman not hiding from her sexual desires but fighting to experience them.

  Leaving the thoughts behind for now, he rounded the desk and took the waiver out of the filing cabinet. Grabbing a clipboard and pen off the desk, he tucked the paper into the clipboard. “For you to join the dungeon, you’ll need to sign the agreement. It states the rules of the dungeon, including safe word, hours of operation, and rules such as not interrupting a scene. It explains the roles of a dominant and submissive, and it contains a privacy clause.” He leaned down into her face. “You know what they say about Vegas; the same rule applies here. What happens here, stays here. No discussions about Club Sin with outsiders.”