Looking up, she touched his cheek. Should she tell him her ridiculous idea?
He wrapped his hand around hers in a light but firm grasp. A reminder that all of her was his tonight, even her very thoughts.
Blushing, she shook her head. “I was just thinking about something; it was silly.”
“Tell me.”
Oh God. Swallowing, she lifted her chin. “I just love the way you smell.”
His gaze on her was steady. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Her heart hammered as she spoke. Why was this so hard? “It’s like this leather scent; it’s so… nearly suffocating, but I like it.” She shook her head at herself. “I find myself inhaling you, trying to keep the scent in my head. Is that crazy?”
He lifted a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his index finger. In the dim interior light, his eyes were liquid and dark behind his glasses. “No, it’s not crazy at all.”
Her lids fluttered shut when he tugged gently on her hair, and she loved the corresponding flurry in her rib cage, the little pulse between her legs.
And for some reason she kept speaking. “So.” She laughed nervously. “You know that flogger I have? I bought it because it smelled like you; that’s why I wanted it. And I was just thinking that I wanted to sleep with it next to me, like a stuffed animal.”
“You are fucking cute when you blush.”
She shook her head. “I am not.”
“Are, too,” he murmured. His gaze lingered on hers a moment longer before he gently pulled her hair toward him. A second later his lips were on hers, licking her, tasting her. She melted into the kiss, held on to his smooth scalp as he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth. The entire world faded away as they continued this simple act, and when he finally pulled back she was panting. Her nipples tingled and her heartbeat was unsteady. He affected her as much with a simple kiss as he did when he had her restrained and on her knees.
“Untie your dress.”
With trembling fingers she reached to her waist and pulled the sash apart. The fabric immediately gaped open, revealing the black lace bra she wore underneath.
His fingers were warm as he reached into the cup of her bra to pull out her right breast. She gasped as he tugged on her nipple, pulling the tip to a hard point. She noticed something shiny in his other hand then. Something he was bringing up to her breast. Two little metal clamps with a screw on one side, held together by about six inches of chain.
He pulled out her other breast and toyed with her, tugging her flesh until that nipple was a tight bead in his fingertips.
Glancing at the items in his hand and back to her breasts, he said, “I’m going to screw these onto your nipples, Ruby. You’re going to wear them for me. All night.”
He pulled her nipple through the clamp and began to adjust the screw. Tighter and tighter, he didn’t stop until she gasped. After he’d screwed the second one on, he gave the chain a tug.
She cried out, the sensation shooting through her, directly to her pussy. He reached behind her, unclasped her bra, and threw it aside. Then he pulled her dress back over her shoulders.
Tying the belt, she looked at her chest and saw that the clamps and chain were obvious lumps beneath the fabric. “People are going to see them.”
The limo came to a stop, and he turned to give her that crooked grin. “Where we’re going, doll, no one will care.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The place looked normal from the outside. Just another club in an industrial area of San Francisco. But as soon as Mark ushered her through the door, his hand at the small of her back, she realized where they were. A sex club.
The entrance was a small room, sectioned off by a black curtain. There was a counter, behind which a beautiful blonde sat reading a magazine. The way she nodded at Mark and let him in with an easy silence told Ruby he’d been here before.
They went around the curtain, and Ruby saw that this place was nothing like the fetish party she’d gone to with Meg. The first thing she noticed was that it wasn’t crowded. A few people mingled, standing or seated, around the low-light perimeter, and she felt their eyes on her as they passed.
She’d heard rumors of a very exclusive, private dungeon in San Francisco, and she realized she’d just been granted access.
A man walked by them, holding a leash. The leash was attached to a studded leather collar that was fastened around a naked woman’s throat. As they passed, the woman kept her eyes lowered. Somehow, watching the couple sent a little pulse to Ruby’s sex. Did she ever want to be owned like that? By Mark? She supposed she’d never know.
There was a hushed air of secrecy here, and none of the flagrant, unashamed eroticism she’d witnessed at the fetish party. Instead of fantasy themes, there seemed to be one purpose to this place: extreme domination and submission. Mark took her hand and led her deeper inside, to a corner, where he positioned her facing away from a dark wall. “Tell me something, Ruby. At that fetish party, did you enjoy watching? Did it make you wet?”