GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) (44 page)

Her knees locked and she made a small sound in her throat as tiny fluttery things danced inside her belly at his command. She struggled against the clenching down low, but she couldn’t stop herself from leaning, just slightly, toward him.

“There are things you could learn about yourself here, Silver. Things I and other Masters with experience could teach you. Have you ever been restrained?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Respectfully, Silver.”

She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Ropes or cuffs?”

“I hardly see why I would tell you—”

“You will tell me.” His hand framed her jaw in a firm but not painful hold. “And you will not question me again.”

Her mouth went dry. Her eyes wide. She was almost panting. “Cuffs. Handcuffs.”

“What else have you done?”

Mind racing, she went over her considerable experience and tried to figure out a way to answer that wouldn’t make her sound like a slut. His dark look didn’t give her the impression she could make something up so she went with vague. “Everything. I’ve tried a bit of everything.”

“Everything?” His brow shot up. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

People were laughing at her again. She wanted to scream, to throw something—but she had a feeling that would only get her in more trouble. Tears of frustration blinded her. One spilled down her cheek.

“Stay with me, pet. I’m the one you need to impress, not them.” Dean used his thumb to wipe the tear away. “I’ve been in this lifestyle for about fifteen years, and
I
haven’t done everything. You’ve barely had a taste.”

“Fine.” She wet her lips with her tongue. “But that doesn’t mean I
want
to do more.”

Dean let his hand fall to his side. “Then the choice is clear, isn’t it?”

Yeah. Clear as fucking mud.
Seriously, why even discuss all this with him? If she stayed, he would punish her. And it wouldn’t be all fun and games. She could walk out with her pride barely bruised—impressing him didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

“If I stay—”

“Silver,” Asher called, warily eying Sloan, who still hadn’t moved. “Let’s just get out of here. There are other clubs.”

“He’s right, you know,” Sloan said, his tone clipped. “This obviously isn’t the place for you.”

Several murmurs of accord came from the dwindling crowd. They were getting bored of her. No one wanted her here and the entertainment value had passed.

“If you stay?” Dean prompted, as though he hadn’t heard anything but her words. He put his hands on her shoulders, and suddenly it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Like his opinion
was
all that mattered. “Hear me now, Silver. I will be very disappointed if you take the easy way out. I think you’re stronger than that. But I won’t force you. You can go home with your boyfriends and have a pleasant evening.”

She winced. Sure, going home with Asher and Cedric would be . . . pleasant. All she had to do was make sure they didn’t forget she was there. Getting punished would be better.

She gulped as she resolved herself to her decision.
Maybe.

“All right.” She took a deep breath and rushed through the rest. “So long as it doesn’t get too . . . personal.” She forced a smile. “I’m not available.”

“That remains to be seen.” Dean muttered before he squared his shoulder and glanced over at Asher. “You may stay if you’d like. But I warn you, don’t come here again playing the Dom if you won’t follow through.”

Asher nodded slowly. “Well, you see, things aren’t really that way between Silver and me. If I decide to get involved in things with Cedric here, it will be different.”

Wow. Thanks for completely abandoning me.
Silver let out a strained, but light, laugh. “Glad you made that clear, Asher.”

“Silver—”

“You can go. I’ll be fine.”

Apparently, that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear. Because he left without looking back, Cedric following demurely on his heel.

“Give me your wrists.” Dean slid his hands down her arms and forced her to focus on him as he undid a pair of cuffs from his belt. “I don’t give safewords for punishments, but I won’t push you any further than what you can take.”

Oh, that’s reassuring.
She ground her teeth and let him secure the cuffs. “I take it asshole gets to watch?”

“You will refer to him as Master Sloan in the club, pet.”

“Like hell, I will!”

“If you don’t, your punishment will be even more severe.” Dean’s tone softened. “And you don’t want that. Kneel. Tell Master Sloan how sorry you are for interrupting his scene.”

Her knees bent a little, as though her body had already decided to obey. But then she caught Sloan’s smirk and her pride snapped back into place. This fucktard had hurt her sister. He might get the satisfaction of watching her suffer, but he’d never get her respect.

She folded her arms over her chest and sneered. “What will it be, ten lashes? Twenty? Bring it on. I’m not apologizing to that sorry excuse for a man.”

The expression on Sloan’s face—damn, she wished she had a camera. Any amount of pain Dean could dish out would be worth that souvenir.

“You’re going to wish you didn’t say that, pet.” Dean sighed and took hold of her upper arm, towing her with him out to the main room. “Ten is a good number.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

He drew her in front of a large, throne like chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Now strip.”

“Strip?” She rubbed her arms and nodded. Fine, there was a crowd, but she had nothing to hide. All those women giggling and pointing could eat their fucking hearts out. She peeled off her top and shorts and faced Dean before letting out a flippant “So what are you going to use?”

“My hand.”

Aw, fuck.

* * * *

Dean struggled to keep his eyes on the mouthy little sub’s face. Not that the pink number had left much to the imagination, but somehow she hid more in the swatch of cloth than most women could in a muumuu. Even naked, her posture and icy smile disguised the vulnerable woman he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier.

Why did the woman in pink have to be Silver Delgado? Why couldn’t she have been someone a little easier to handle? Like . . . that Paris Hilton chick.

Not that high maintenance women appealed to him at all, but hell, maybe Silver wasn’t at all what she pretended to be.

He pulled off his suit jacket, draped it over the high back of the large, oak throne. Then he pushed the padded, velvet arms out of the way. The piece was custom made, used most often for spankings because it was damn comfortable, but the seat split down the middle to spread a bound subs’ thighs wide for a good fucking. He glanced down at the seat and shook his head.

Not this time, Richter. She needs something else from you tonight.

Settling himself into the chair, Dean patted his thigh. “Come on, Silver. Let’s get this over with.”

She looked over her shoulder at the small gathering and inched closer. “Can’t we do this somewhere a little more private?”

“No.” He reached out and caught the short chain between her cuffs to pull her to him. “You had no problem disrespecting Master Sloan in front of an audience.”

“He fucking deserved it.”

Tired of arguing with her, he hooked an arm around her waist and dropped her over his left knee. As expected, she immediately kicked and tried to roll off his lap. So he pushed her knees down and held them in place with his right leg, all the while firmly gripping the nape of her neck to restrain her. “No. But
you
deserve this.”

Without a breath of warning, he hauled back and laid a solid smack on her tight little ass. His hand was big enough to cover both cheeks, and a bright red mark blossomed over her pale flesh. She let out a screech which he cut off with two quick slaps, one on each cheek.

“Damn you!” She bucked her hips and screamed when he responded with a resounding smack on her upper thigh. “You’re hurting me!”

“That’s the point, my dear.” One more
crack!
and he decided to give her a little break. He petted her colorful bottom, speaking in a low, soothing tone. “There are rules here. You will learn to obey them.”

“You think this will turn me into a good little sub?” She tossed her hair away from her face and glared at him. “Are you really that stupid, shithead?”

He had to clench his jaw to keep from laughing.
Shithead? I think you’re ready for more.

“You.”
Smack!
“Will not.”
Crack!
“Swear.”
Slap!
“At me or any other member of this club.”

“Fuck you!” She choked on a sob as his hand connected with the soft undercurve of her ass. “Stop! Stop!”

“One more if you promise to behave,” he said.

“I promise!”

Finally.
For a minute there, he’d wondered if she’d ever back down. He really didn’t want to have to prolong her punishment, being that this was obviously the first time she’d ever been disciplined. Much as he enjoyed having her laid out, naked and available, she needed to know that accepting that she’d been in the wrong came with its own reward. He had a feeling a “good girl” would go a long way with her.

“Brace yourself, pet.” He felt her tense up and waited. A bit of a head game, but he couldn’t help pushing her, just a little, to see how she’d react.

A few shaky inhales and she let her body go slack.

He gave her a solid
whack!
and set his hand on the small of her back as she absorbed the impact with a quiet dignity he had to admire. Gently stroking her tender bottom, he let his approval deepen his tone. “You did very well, Silver. I’m proud of you.”

She went perfectly still. Abruptly her whole body stiffened up, and he had to tighten his grip to keep her from tossing herself to the floor. “As if I care? That’s some ego you’ve got, Richter.”

Well . . .
he had to admit, that wasn’t at all what he’d expected from her. He gave a curt nod and patted her butt. “In any case, your punishment is served. After you apologize to Sloan—”

Her laugh cut through his dwindling sympathy. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you miss the ‘I’d rather take twenty lashes’?”

Stubborn didn’t cover it. She had to be hurting! What was up with the continued defiance? “Silver—”

“Let me up.” She hissed, squirming. “You got your kink on. I’m done.”

“You’re done when I say so.”

“As if! You know, I could use you as a blueprint to build an idiot.”

“Is that so?” He fisted his hand in her hair. “You’ve just earned yourself ten more. Sad thing is, I’d originally intended five because of your lack of experience.”

“Oh yeah?” She wrenched her hair free and turned her head to curl her lips at him. “Well, experience this, asshole.”

Bending down, she set her teeth into his thigh.

His pants were thin enough for her to latch onto a nice chunk of skin. But the pain didn’t reach the part of his mind that had locked on to the task at hand. He couldn’t be angry at her, not when she was practically begging for more.

“Twenty it is.”

* * * *

Copyright 2011 Lexi Blake

Sent to steal her secrets, he soon craved her submission.

A routine mission…

Sean Taggart is hunting a deadly terrorist, and his only lead is the lovely Grace Hawthorne. She’s the executive assistant for an employment agency Sean suspects is a front for illegal activities. To get the truth, he is going to have to get very close to Grace, a task he is all too eager to undertake when he discovers her deliciously submissive nature.

…turns into a dangerous seduction

Soon, Grace Hawthorne is living a double life. By day, she is the widowed mother of two college-aged sons. By night, she submits to Sean’s every dark desire. She’s living out her wildest fantasies of pleasure—intimate acts of trust she’s only read about. As passion engulfs her, a murderer strikes, and Grace learns that Sean has a deeply hidden agenda. Will Sean choose his mission and break her heart or be the Master of her dreams?

Enjoy the following excerpt from
The Dom Who Loved Me

* * * *

What was he doing? He’d thought that he could charm Grace and get the information he needed, but one little encounter with her had Sean panting and thinking in the long term. He’d so much as told Grace he wanted a relationship with her. And he did. God help him, he was crazy about her. It was just one more reason to back off the intimate relationship with Grace.

Sean felt infinitely more in control as he dried off. He shut off the water and stepped into Grace’s delicate, little bathroom. It was a confection of feminine frivolity. He was surprised by it since Grace always dressed so austerely. This was a little peek into her soul, like those hot shoes she wore. Sean smiled at the neatly organized bath salts and bubble bath oils she kept in an antique bin next to the clawfoot tub. There was a stack of paperbacks on the window sill. He could tell from the flowery-looking covers that Grace enjoyed lying in her tub reading romance novels. He looked through the books and quickly figured out they mostly featured BDSM. She would be very interested in what he could teach her. He looked at that tub and pictured her there.

Of course, a tub that big was really built for two.

Not going there. He didn’t need to get his brain caught on the image of lying back in that tub with Grace cuddled up between his legs. He could wash her hair and then allow her to bathe him.
Nope
. He wasn’t going there.

Sean wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. He’d ask Grace if maybe one of her sons had left behind something he could wear. Anything would be easier than sitting around her kitchen almost naked trying to explain that he didn’t want to have sex with her when his cock so obviously did.

The sight that met him when he opened the door made him stop in his tracks. Every single thought of leaving Grace further untouched suddenly fled as his cock firmly took command.