The man said he was a fairly new club member… He’d joined with his wife… Beth lost track of the conversation as Sir’s warm hand moved over her leg, her waist, fingering the tender crease where her thigh met her hip.
Despite being naked, she felt as if heat waves were rising from her skin. When Sir laid his hand on the inside of her thigh and brushed his knuckles against the curls of her pussy, all Beth could do was close her eyes. Don’t move. Don’t move.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Nolan.”
Beth opened her eyes to see the man shake hands with Sir. The man glanced at Beth and the position of Sir’s hand. His face colored slightly before he hurried off.
Beth knew her face was probably just as red. Sir glanced back at her, his eyes crinkling. His fingers brushed against the swollen lips of her pussy, yanking her attention to his touch as if he’d pulled her on a leash. As his knuckles trailed back and forth, he watched her struggles to stay still, to breathe normally.
Cullen arrived with Sir’s beer. “Here you go, Nolan. Sorry about the wait.”
“No problem.” Sir took the beer from Cullen and then looked at Beth. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and she tensed. What was he—
He splashed some beer onto her breasts. She jerked as the icy liquid hit. Her nipples tightened into hard buds.
Arms resting on the bar, Master Nolan slowly licked the drops away, laving her nipples until she almost whimpered. His tongue followed the trail of cold beer to where it pooled in her belly button. He lapped it up like a dog. After a minute, he returned to lick one nipple lightly, then he bit down gently, repeating it over and over until fire shot from her breast to her clit, until she had to lock her teeth over a moan. Then he switched to the other breast.
“Nolan, I’ve been hoping you’d be here.”
Sir straightened as a hefty Domme in biker clothes walked over. A short, voluptuous sub in a tight latex dress with breast and pussy cutouts trailed behind her
“Good to see you, Olivia.” As he turned to talk with the woman, his big hand closed firmly over Beth’s ankle. The Domme gave Beth an amused look, then ignored her as she asked Sir about remodeling her house to add a dungeon room.
All Sir’s attention appeared to be on Olivia, except his hand kept inching higher up Beth’s leg. His fingers traced little circles on her inner thigh, spiraling ever higher until he touched her pussy. Even then, he never looked at her, just moved enough to rest his forearm on her lower stomach. His fingers dangled right over her pussy. His dark bronze arm was a startling contrast to her pale skin, his hand so wide it covered her mound completely.
“How close are your neighbors?” he asked the Domme, even as his fingers curled, stroking through Beth’s betrayingly wet folds. Slowly, unpredictably, his fingers caressed her opening, then spread the dampness over her clit. Sensation sizzled through her nerves. Her folds and clit swelled, feeling too tight as if the skin couldn’t contain the blood rushing to the area.
He touched her clit again, rubbed briefly, and then dipped into her opening.
Her breath strangled in her throat. She tried to ignore what he was doing, tried to stop the need rising within her. Dammit, why now? Any other Dom and she’d have been fine, not even slightly aroused.
This Dom… He didn’t seem to care about her response, wasn’t even looking at her. His wet finger traced over the sensitive edge between her clit and its hood, stroking it, over and over. Pressure built within her, the exquisite sensations bringing her almost to the peak. Almost. His conversation with the Domme buzzed in her ears, only the slide of his fingers was real. If he’d just touch her… She bit her lips. Her hips tilted only the slightest amount.
He slapped her thigh. The sharp sting stabbed through her like an electric current. “Stay still, sub.”
The Domme laughed, thanked him for his advice, and strolled away. Her sub gave Beth a sympathetic look before following.
Sir turned, his dark eyes cool as his gaze ran over Beth. She held perfectly still, tried to control her breathing, pleading with her eyes, Let me down, let me down.
He took a sip of his beer, another, started to set the bottle down, and stopped. He studied her again…and then he poured his cold beer right onto her overheated, sensitive clit. She gasped audibly, her legs jerking upward.
“Don’t move, sub.” She received another stinging slap onto her thigh that somehow only increased her need.
Her whole body was shaking now, her clit throbbing with need. Yet she was horrified when he lifted the leg closest to him and set her ankle onto his shoulder. He wouldn’t… No, no, no!
He scooted her hips toward him, bent, and started lapping the beer from her pussy. The first stroke of his tongue sent a blaze streaking through her; the next touch coiled the tension inside her higher. She heard her fingernails scratching the bar top. She tried to stay still and not move as his tongue circled her clit, the hood, the side, wiggling underneath, the other side, around and around. The tissue grew so engorged, so sensitive that every slide stopped her breath, shooting her closer and closer. The room faded. All she could feel was his tongue stroking over her, his unyielding grip on her leg.
Suddenly he thrust a rough finger into her, hard and fast, the invasion shocking. Overwhelming. Everything stretched and burst at once, exploding outward in waves of pleasure. She bucked against his face, her insides spasming around the thrusting finger. Somehow she managed to smother her scream so only muffled cries escaped.
Her arms shook, almost giving out. Master Nolan lifted his head, amusement flickering in his black eyes as he looked at her. He replaced her foot on the bar and adjusted her legs to the previous position. He patted her thigh, ignored her labored breathing, and said, “Don’t move, pet.”
Cullen walked over, shaking his head. “You know, if you didn’t want to drink from the bottle, I would have brought you a glass.”
Sir chuckled. “I like my way better.” He rested his forearm back on her stomach, his fingers trailing down against her pussy, and she barely suppressed a moan. Not again, please, not again.
Petal-soft touches danced over her clit, and her body sprang back to awareness.
“You know only a barbarian would refuse to use a glass.” The bartender glanced over Sir’s shoulder and grinned. “Like my new bar ornament, Z?”
Oh, dear sweet God. Beth stiffened, her humiliation complete as Master Z walked around Sir.
He turned and looked at her, his silver gaze mildly interested. “Very pretty, Cullen.” Looking at Sir with a faint smile, he lifted a brow. “I do believe I provide several well-equipped stations for scenes.”
Master Nolan patted her mound, making her jump. “I would never do a scene at the bar, Z. This was punishment.”
“Indeed.” Master Z tilted his head. “Did I not hear scenelike noises coming from this area?”
“Well, you know how I hate to drink from the bottle.” From the side, she could see Sir’s eyes crinkle. His finger started stroking through her wetness, relentlessly rubbing against her clit. As the inescapable pleasure surged through her, the muscles in her legs tensed, quivering uncontrollably as she strove not to move.
Sir continued. “Cullen didn’t give me a glass so I used what was available.”
“Don’t be blaming me, you bastard,” Cullen said.
“Well, that explains it.” Eyes lit with laughter, Master Z glanced at Beth, at where Sir’s hand lay, and he coughed. Another surge of heat ran through Beth, this time from pure embarrassment. “I do approve of punishment though. And I’ve noticed the submissives in the club are becoming extremely uppity.”
Cullen tapped his fingers on the bar. “That’s a serious problem. Are you planning a solution?”
“I am.” Z smiled slowly. “Some sales reps have been after me to let them demo their equipment. I’ve decided to have a machine day.”
Machine? Beth tried to ignore the insistent movement of Nolan’s fingers. What kind of machines would a BDSM club use? Winches?
“Machines?” Cullen asked. “You lost me.”
“Fucking machines, Cullen.” Master Z’s gaze drifted over Beth. “I intend, by the end of that evening, there won’t be a sub able to walk.”
Cullen barked a laugh.
Nolan chuckled, turning to run an assessing gaze over Beth, one that made her stomach knot. “Now that might be fun. I think she likes objects being inserted here and there.” His finger slid into her, and she gasped, her senses flaring.
“Switching to another subject,” Z said. “I plan to remodel upstairs and add another office, perhaps change the kitchen. Can you come by sometime and give me an estimate?”
“How about Tuesday? Maybe around four or so?”
“That will work well.”
As Master Z strolled away, Sir glanced at Cullen. “All that talking left me dry.” He picked up the beer bottle, and Beth could hear the swish of remaining liquid. He smiled at her.
Not again. Losing control on top of the bar, having no… “Please, Sir,” she whispered, and her voice trembled. “No. Please, Master.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Would you prefer to do this elsewhere? Upstairs?”
