The dom stepped closer. Bree laid her head back against Luke’s shoulder as the man stroked her breast. She was so tight against him, Luke could feel she was holding her breath. In anticipation, he was sure.

“Such perfect nipples, beautiful lady.” The guy’s fingers went white with the sharp pinch he gave her.

She gasped, bit her lip, and her knees buckled. Luke clenched his arm beneath her breasts to keep her on her feet.

“Come for us, pretty lady,” the dom crooned. Then he turned his gaze to Luke. “Christ, I want to taste her. Just her fingers. I’ll pay anything.”

Bree moaned. This was what she wanted, needed, a man to pay her homage, to want her so badly he’d give anything. Not the way Derek had tried to sell her, where it had been all about his power and nothing to do with her desirability.

Grabbing her hand with his, Luke dove beneath her skirt. “Let him taste your fingers,” he demanded. As soon as she withdrew her hand from between her legs, he took her place, working her hot clit, easing into her channel, then back out.

She was tense and needy in his arms. She wanted, yet she was scared. She needed, yet she feared he would punish her later in ways she wouldn’t like. He understood all this after his months with her; he recognized the nonverbal signals. He was her release. He was her boundary. Whatever he said he wanted suddenly became her need.

“Do it, you dirty little cunt, or you’ll pay for disobedience.”

She put her head back a moment, closed her eyes, sighed. “Yes, Master.”

Their ringmaster shifted so that Luke could watch—the movement intentional, he was sure—as Bree raised her fingers to his lips.

The dom sucked, licked, savored, his dark blue eyes never leaving her face. All the way to his bones, Luke felt her tremble with the enormity of it, her delight in it. She was desired, and in so many ways, it was more than any one man alone could ever give her, more than Luke knew he was capable of giving her. It was his acceptance she craved, and the other man’s need; his command over her, and the dom’s heated gaze on her. For tonight, it didn’t have to be fucking or sucking. It was the sights, the sounds, her heightened senses, the hot, needy, unquenchable yearning that drove a man to do crazy things for the woman he had to have above all others. With the other man’s mouth on her fingers, and Luke’s touch between her legs, she shuddered, made a sound that was half groan, half moan, then her whole body shook with climax, her thighs clamping on his hand, holding him close, inside her, deep, more than just his fingers, a piece of himself that Luke would never get back. It was the fantasy he’d created for her over the phone, but better. Yet in many ways, it confirmed his worst fears.

He was trapped by his own lesson. Even as he held her in the throes of orgasm, he wondered how long before she needed him to give her to another man in order to get the same high?

How long before she wanted to be the woman on that bed?

As he hauled her along the sidewalk to the parking garage, she trembled. If she hadn’t been so long-legged, she might have stumbled in the high heels, but she managed to keep pace. She loved his he-man act. It made her pulse race and her breath quicken. Yet his silence and the grim set of his jaw frightened her, too, as if nothing had changed since they’d arrived at the club. His eyes were the deep amber of a rampaging lion. What if there was a backlash?

What if he gave her to another man and didn’t want her back?

What if there was only her mother to go home to in the house where her father had died?

“Luke.”

He turned, his gaze dark. She shut her mouth.

In the parking garage, the spot he’d found was next to the wall in a darkened corner on the other side of a concrete piling. Before she even had a chance to protest, he opened the back door of his car, pushed her face first onto the backseat, and came down on top of her, the door crashing closed behind him.

The interior was dark and suffocating with her face against the seat. Her heart hammered.

“You bitch,” he whispered in her ear.

She shivered at the tone, half afraid, half melting with need.

“You wanted him to fuck you, didn’t you?”

“No,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure what she’d wanted back there. She wasn’t sure what Luke wanted to hear.

He pulled her head back by the hair. Her scalp tingled, but the pain streaked down to her very center and turned her molten.

“Then tell me what you wanted, and don’t lie, slut.” His breath was warm and sweet against her nape as he pinned her beneath him, his cock pressed hard against her.

She thrilled to the evidence of his desire. “I loved that he wanted me, but that you wouldn’t let him have me.”

He laughed harshly. “You manipulated me, you little whore.”

“No, no. I did what you wanted, Master.” She truly couldn’t tell if this was real or an act, and the uncertainty made it that much more exciting. She thrived on desire inextricably linked with fear.

“You liked it too much.” He shoved a knee between her legs, spread her, then delved between her thighs, finding her wet pussy and swollen clit. “Tell me the truth. You wanted him to fuck you.”

“No, Master. I wanted you to fuck me in front of him.”

He was silent and still a long moment. “Why didn’t you beg me to do it then?” His voice was rough, skeptical, distrusting.

“Because it’s better if you order me to do what you want.”

“Why?” He stroked her clit.

She shivered with need. She could admit she had the need. She’d been so worked up in that room, she’d wanted the orgasm. She’d wanted release. He gave it to her the best way possible, with her back to him so she didn’t have to see. It could have been her own hand beneath her skirt. “When you make me do it, I don’t have to feel bad.”

He didn’t give her time to even think before he shot another question at her. “Why did the women make you hot?” Pushing her leg with his, he forced her wider and pumped his cock against her, only the pants of his tux separating them.

She could barely think, couldn’t remember exactly why. “Because it was dirty and taboo, two women touching and kissing like that.”

“You like the taboo.”

“I don’t like it.” She gasped as she felt his hands again, unzipping himself. “It’s just horribly erotic. And I hate myself, but I can’t help getting wet.”

“So you do like the taboo.”

No, no, she wanted to say, to deny, but he was right. She sometimes hated herself for it, but yes, taboo spelled excitement.

She heard the tear of a condom, and he held himself aloft to roll it on. “Would two men together do the same thing?” he asked as he put the crown of his cock to her and rubbed her pussy.

She gasped with the contact, how easily he slid over her, how wet and ready she was. “Yes. It would be horrible and yet so exciting.”

“Would you like me to fuck you to the sight of it?”

“Yes, yes.”

He slammed home inside her, so high and deep, he stole her breath. Then he stilled, his body wrapped around her, inside her, claiming her. “Tell me more,” he demanded.

“Yes. I’d want it that way. Watching them. You taking me to the sight of it. As long as you forced me.” In her head, she knew there was never any force to what he made her do, but with the words she could pretend and make the guilt melt away.

“I’ll always force you. And you’ll do everything I order you to. If I tell you to fuck another man, you’ll do it. But don’t you dare”—he bent and nipped her neck hard like a mating jungle cat—“don’t you dare want it or like it or need it.” He pulled out, thrust hard, then held still with his cock buried deep and his voice a harsh rasp. “I’m your master, you dirty little slut, and I’m the only one you’ll ever want.”

“Yes, you’re my master.” She whimpered in fear and pleasure and pain. “I only want you.” It was only Luke who could do this for her, tapping into all her varied emotions.

“I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to take you like the bitch you are. And you will come, because if you don’t, I’ll hurt you. I’ll punish you. I’ll make you pay.” He shoved one hand beneath her and put his finger to her clit.

She could barely breathe through the terrifying ecstasy.

“Say yes,” he demanded.

“Yes.”

He fucked her. It was hard. It was fast. It was so incredibly good in a world where everything was supposed to be bad. Bree screamed. She didn’t want to come; he forced the climax to roll over her, dragging her down into the depths of his desire with the hot pump of his cock inside her and his shout of ecstasy filling her head. She came for him, no faking, no lying. Hard. Long. Over and over until she felt as if everything had gone black and perfect.

He’d rescued her from Derek, tried to offer the tenderness he thought women wanted, but it was force she really desired. Not violence, but the act of a dominant man subjugating her, making her do things she wanted but couldn’t admit to. And he’d loved it. His climax had been explosive, tearing through his body, dizzying him with its force.

The distinction between Derek and him was that his desire for her was part of everything, even as they bore witness to bondage and debauchery in a cheesy sex club, as he threatened her with other men, as he fucked her hard without an ounce of tenderness, he still wanted and desired her above all others. That made him completely different from Derek, who’d fallen into the degradation side of the whole thing. He’d forgotten about making her feel special at the same time, stopped caring that she needed to know he got off on her sucking another man’s cock for him, that no other woman made him feel the way she did.

Tonight was possibly the fucking best sex they’d had. Maybe it was the devil talking to him, but he wanted her the way she was tonight, hot, sexy, needy, crying out for him, and coming so hard that she dragged him right along into bliss with her. The night they’d gone bowling, he’d seen a new side of her, had wanted that personality, yet the woman she was tonight had captured his soul. He wanted both; he just wasn’t sure he could have them together.

There were so many damn problems with what they did together. In the aftermath, he could hear her confessing that she needed to be forced so she didn’t have to feel bad. Someone long ago had done a number on her. Her father, or another man, someone had taught her wrong things about sex. And Luke was playing right into what had been done to her. Yeah, he was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. He didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t want to stop.

Because fuck if she hadn’t taken them both to heaven. “I am pleased with you,” he said formally. “You have done well tonight.”

She sighed her contentment. “Guess we can’t tell my mother what we did on this date,” she murmured, her eyes closed, lips curved slightly.

He smiled for her though she couldn’t see. “She might not have a full appreciation for it.”

She snuggled deeper into him, then tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Is that what you’ll make me do next time?”

“Which part, the woman on the bed with all the men, or the two women?”

“The dom,” she whispered. “Trade me to him.”

His heart lurched. He had no intention of letting any other man touch her or have her. He knew now that a part of him would kill if he thought that’s truly what she wanted. But he was open to fantasy as long he was the one in control of it. Besides, with her, the threat might very well be better than the reality. It had been tonight. “The next time you piss me off, I’ll consider what punishment you deserve, forcing you to fuck or suck. Or masturbating for a crowd.” He gathered her hair in his hand and bunched it against her head, holding her. “But part of the punishment will be my pleasure in watching you so I’m going to choose your torture with my needs in mind, not yours.”

“Yes, Master,” she murmured, a sleepy little sigh whispering out of her.

“If you’re a lucky girl, it might be the dom from tonight.”

“Then I’ll have to be very bad.”

“Bitch,” he snapped. “Don’t make it sound like you want him or you’ll piss me off.” But he savored the easiness with which she teased him. It was unusual.

She shook her head, serious, smile gone. “Only you, Master. You aren’t like the other men I’ve known.”

He’d never asked how many men. He didn’t want to know. Usually it was the shoe on the other foot, with the woman not wanting to know her lover’s past, but he knew that his experience was mild compared to hers.

They sat together like that, her in his arms, for long minutes as he drank in the feel of her. Until finally she spoke. “I’m afraid to go home to my mother.”

He made a noise of attention, waiting for her to go on.

“I don’t know how to get away from her. When will she be ready for me to leave? Sometimes she seems fine, but others, she’s just . . . strange.” Then quickly she put her fingers to his lips. “Don’t answer. I don’t know why I’m saying all this.”

He didn’t know what would make her feel better.

“But it’s time to go,” she said, the moment abruptly over. “I have to be at work in the morning.”

There would be other nights. She needed him. Of that he was sure.

But was he good for her?