Claimed (13 page)

All he’d seen from Presley was a soft, gentle woman. He wanted to gut this ex-boyfriend, since apparently, the bastard had done serious damage to her confidence. Dmitri could only assume her sweet nature restrained her ability to deal with what had happened in an appropriate way, as in lashing out at the fucker for treating her so poorly; instead, she’d turned his mistake into something wrong with her.

He’d seen women react like this before, but it bothered him so much more to know that
his
Presley felt like this and was dealing with it all alone. Drawing in a controlled breath, he managed the flare of hot rage in his veins and nodded Cora on.

She glanced down to her hands resting in her lap. “After their breakup, Presley retreated inside herself.” She lifted her head. “I hated seeing her like that, so after I noticed her reading BDSM erotic novels—in obscene amounts, by the way—I told her I lived the lifestyle. Which led to my talking to you and asking if I could tell her about the dungeon, which you said yes to, and offered your invitation for her to meet you . . .”

Dmitri arched his brows at her rambling, and Cora chuckled, shaking her head. “Anyway, if anyone seemed like a submissive, it was Presley. She has a natural desire to want to please—as in, always thinking of other people first—which, by the way, seems both a good thing and a flaw—so between that and the books, I just blurted it out one day . . . and the rest you know.”

There were two sides of Presley: the sweet submissive and the damaged, defensive woman. All of her sensitive reactions to him when he chuckled at her, and even her leaving him last night, stemmed from deep insecurities that shithead Steven had torn into her heart. “Does Presley still talk with him?”

“Not on my watch, she doesn’t.” Cora snorted. “Just so happened we saw Steven the other night, and I nearly killed her for being too nice to him. That’s what I mean when I say her desire to please is a flaw, too. It’s impossible for her to say to him what she’s thinking, even though I know she hates him.”

From what Dmitri could tell, Presley was a confused and lost submissive. Her submissive tendencies had been placed in the wrong hands and given to those who didn’t protect and respect the gift.

He didn’t like it.

In fact, he fucking hated it.

* * *

Presley shut the dental office door behind her at quarter after one, and the memories she’d fought off all morning at work, she allowed to flood her mind. A slow heat laced her veins as she remembered how the flogger made her skin flame—which brought forth sensations that both quieted her mind and made her wild—and how her body responded to Dmitri with such fierce intensity. The tantalizing scent of his cologne, mixed with pure masculinity, had remained fixed in her nostrils all day.

Hot tremors rushed over her, and shivers raced up her spine as she tried to shut down her thoughts; she could think about all this at home, not at work. Pulling on the handle to making sure the door was shut tightly, she strode along the porch of the bungalow, which had been renovated into a dental office. Her cell phone beeped. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.

Did you get my text? We should talk. Call me.

Shaking her head, she silently cursed Steven. Two texts in two days. Perhaps changing her phone number was necessary, maybe even overdue. But how irritating was that? All the hassle of a new phone number because he wouldn’t leave her alone. Hadn’t they already gone over this?

She didn’t want to be friends, even if they had a long history together. She wanted to forget about Steven and move on with her life, and that was exactly what she had been doing for the past three months. More so, the past two weeks, since she first stepped foot into Dmitri’s office.

Deleting the message, she heaved another sigh of exasperation and put the cell phone in her purse. Besides, something else concerned her more than the annoying Steven. Embarrassment still consumed her at how she’d acted after her scene with Dmitri last night, leaving her more confused than ever. What did Dmitri think about her now? Did he even want her to come to the dungeon next weekend?

Every passing minute intensified the mess swirling in her mind. Her confidence had vanished after an hour at work, but what could she do about it now?

Pushing all her worries aside to fret over later in a hot bath, she headed down the wooden stairs and toward Cora’s car in the side parking lot. Presley had never needed a car in Vegas and had gotten used to riding the bus. But exhausted from the night before, Presley hadn’t hesitated to take Cora up on her offer to use the car. She’d fill up the tank for Cora on the way home as a thank-you.

Once she reached the last step, she noticed the empty parking lot. They’d had only three patients come in for urgent care. That hadn’t been a surprise, since Sundays were typically quiet. She headed along the side of the house and was nearing Cora’s car when footsteps came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Dmitri strode toward her with powerful strides. Dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked stunningly gorgeous—and tall. Unable to stop herself, she backed away from him until
bang,
her back hit the brick wall of the dental office.

He leaned in toward her, his eyes blazing as he pressed a hand on either side of her head against the wall, sandwiching their bodies together.

Silence.

She gulped. “Hi.”

His dark stare pinned her to the spot, and he arched an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Err . . .” Oh, shit, she had
not
expected this.

He had come to her office to what—confront her? Wait, why was he here? How did he know where she worked?

After taking a moment to think straight, she realized she’d have to kill Cora later for giving him the address, because how else would he have known? She hadn’t included it on her application to the club.

Swallowing the rise of unease tightening her chest, as well as her discomfort under Dmitri’s
very
intense regard, she managed, “Can you move, please?”

“No, that’s not what you say, Presley.” He didn’t back away or blink, and did he even breathe? “Try again.”

His cold voice indicated he had a point to make, and the space around her appeared to get smaller. She racked her brain, trying to understand what he wanted her to say, but she failed miserably. “Um—”

“Let me help you.” His voice dropped low, vibrating through her entire body. “‘Dmitri, I apologize for leaving your house like I did. It was wrong of me.’” His sleek brow arched higher. “Give that a try, doll.”

Wait! What?

He wanted her to apologize for leaving his house last night. How did that make any sense at all? She figured he’d be annoyed at her girlie emotions, not her running out on him. One-night stands always went like that, didn’t they? Fuck ’em and leave ’em.

Besides, their agreement didn’t include sleepovers or breakfast, only her presence in the dungeon every Friday and Saturday night until their training concluded. It also didn’t include her being a crybaby, which, apparently, he seemed not to care about.

Clearing her mind got her nowhere but more confused, so she focused on Mr. Angry Eyes. It surprised her that steam didn’t come out of his ears “Dmitri, I apologize for leaving your house like I did. It was wrong of me.”

“That sounds better.” His chin dipped, eyes coming in direct line with hers. “Explain why you took your warm body from my bed.”

The distance between them seemed to have evaporated, and her awareness of his closeness swept across her so fast that her breath caught. Funny things happened low in her belly. Strange things, considering she shouldn’t be aroused now.

“I . . .” She hesitated, wondering how honest to be with him.

She’d already been way too truthful, exactly what had landed her in this totally uncomfortable position. But his stern look told her to hurry the heck up and be honest about it, so on a quick breath, she said, “I thought you’d be relieved.”

His head tilted in his examining way, normally sexy. Now it only made her feel cornered. “Do I look
relieved
?”

She nibbled her lip, trying her best not to flinch away from the power he clearly had kept restrained. “No.”

“Smart answer.”

Another long awkward pause followed, and she had trouble holding his eye contact. Powerful Dmitri intimidated and excited the hell out of her. It was becoming all too obvious why this man held a job of power. He made her feel like a mouse, not hunted by a cat but by a big growly lion. “I’m sorry I got all emotional last night. Thank you for taking care of me, but I honestly thought you’d rather I be gone by morning.”

His jaw clenched. “If your reasons for leaving me last night were because you didn’t want to stay, this conversation would go differently.” His eyes flared, sending a deep flutter into her belly. “Since you have taken it upon yourself to decide what I want and think, then you should be well aware of the lesson you have coming, to never assume anything for me, considering your judgment is off.”

On edge, feeling slightly irritated, and before she could stop herself, she heard herself snap, “My judgment—”

“Come again?”

She sighed, exasperated at the growly man, yet somehow knowing he was right. “Fine. I shouldn’t have thought for you.” His showing up was enough of an indicator that she judged him wrong. “It seems you wanted me to stay.”

“Better.” He leaned away slightly but still crowded her with an impressive authority that she hated and liked at the same time. “Seeing that today is Sunday and the dungeon is closed tonight, I can’t deal with this situation now.”

From the tightness around his mouth, she got the distinct impression that it irritated him to wait. While part of her wanted to ask for clarification, the other part of her knew better than to interrupt.

“Next Friday, I expect you at the dungeon at eight o’clock, and you will wear a short skirt.” His gaze burned into her, almost in a dare to question him. “By short, I do mean expose-your-ass-cheeks short; a sexy shirt that will please me—with no bra; and leave your panties off.”

“What?” she gasped.

His eyes flared with his dominance, and her further protest died. He shifted in next to her, shielding her body from the street, and without a hitch in his movements, he placed his hand between her thighs.

As his fingers expertly stroked her on the outside of her scrubs, her eyes fluttered closed. She liked how he took what he wanted when he wanted. The way he touched her with no care that they stood in a public place made her burn with a fevered pitch.

His hand squeezed in a demand for her attention, and she snapped her eyes open on a gasp. Dmitri gave her that delicious half-smile, most of the anger gone from his gaze, replaced by a different kind of heat.

“I’ve made an appointment for you to go to the spa next Friday afternoon at two o’clock.” With his free hand, while the other still squeezed her mound, he reached into his back pocket then held up a business card. “Cora told me you have Friday off, so that will work with your schedule.” He slid the card under the V-neck of her shirt and into her cleavage.

She blinked, trying to get her thoughts off the swirling heat between her thighs and into the conversation. Once she managed that feat, she realized what he’d said. “You did what?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve arranged for you to have fancy lady things done to you to treat the body I shall play with.”

Not like she’d refuse a spa day, but he didn’t need to do that. Besides, it didn’t make any sense. Why would he give her a gift if he were irritated that she had left him last night? “But—”

Once again, that stern eyebrow arched. “Doll, you’re in enough trouble as it is. It would be wise to stop talking.”

Under his fierce stare, she ate back the rest of her objections, and at her silence, he inclined his head. “Good decision.”

He released the tight hold between her thighs and now worked her clit with incredible circles of his palm. The side of his mouth curved at the hitch of her breath, then he brushed his nose along her jaw, inhaling deeply as he slid his nose all the way down her neck.

His tongue snaked out and licked the sweet spot on her neck, and her knees weakened. She gasped and he stole the sound by sealing his mouth over hers. Long, slow strokes of his tongue clashed with hers, and when she moaned, he deepened the kiss. Not a one-night-stand type of kiss but emotion-packed, which didn’t resemble his kisses from last night. Each press of his lips against hers and tangle of his tongue became more heated, and her body erupted into flames under the intensity.

By the time he broke the kiss, the wall was the only thing holding her up as heady arousal burned through her blood, and Dmitri grinned in his wicked way. “There’s that look I like on you, doll.”

Chapter Twelve

Five days of absolute hell had passed in a slow blur. Presley woke each morning and spent all day—including late into the night—somehow dreading and looking forward to Friday. Finally, she could stop thinking about what Dmitri meant by “deal with this,” because tonight she’d find out.

Now, striding through the long hallway toward the back of the mansion, as instructed by Master Aidan when she and Cora arrived in the dungeon, Presley tugged the black leather skirt down over her bottom. It didn’t help much; her ass cheeks still hung out, exactly what Master Dmitri had ordered: The thing was too damn short. Even her mauve silk halter top rested just under her breasts to show off her midsection. She wasn’t wearing a bra—another demand—and it made her feel more naked than ever.

At least her skin looked smooth and shiny from her spa day. Dmitri’s “fancy lady things” consisted of manicure/pedicure and skin treatments, including an amazing exfoliating scrub. All of which had cost a mint; Presley had looked at the prices in the brochure.

As she closed in on the doorway at the end of the hall, her anxieties doubled and her heart raced. She had wondered if she’d be as uncomfortable in the dungeon, or if the edge had worn off, now that she had experienced her first scene. The sweat along her spine declared that she was still susceptible to the jitters.