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Oorah, baby.
With that, she went in search of Master Griffin and found him right where he said he would be—sitting at the bar, laughing hard at something Master Quinton had said. Mia and Master Kyler were there, along with another Blasphemy Master whom Kenna didn’t remember from before—a dark-blond-haired man with striking, mismatched eyes, one blue and one green.
Master Quinton did a double-take, his gaze going right to her arm. It had been covered the other night when she’d seen him again. But he just smiled. “And there’s the lovely Kenna.”
“Hi, Master Quinton,” she said, ducking her gaze. She felt it the moment Master Griffin’s eyes were on her. “Good evening, Sir.”
“Hello, Kenna.” His fingers gently grasped her chin, and she lifted her gaze again. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Master Griffin,” she said, warming under his praise.
And, damn, he looked fine in that black button down, the sleeves rolled to the middle of his forearms.
He introduced her to the others, including Master Leo, the Dom she hadn’t known, before finally saying, “Gentlemen, Mia, if you’ll excuse us.” He eased off the stool. Taking her by her flesh hand, he guided them through the club’s main floor.
It wasn’t as busy as it had been on Friday night, but there was still a good crowd and plenty on which to feast the senses. At one grouping of couches, a nude submissive knelt at his Mistress’s feet, his face on her thigh, her hand stroking his hair. At the St. Andrew’s Cross, a Dom with a severe-looking face and a wicked aim was doing a demonstration with a whip, something that Kenna never, ever wanted to experience herself. And up on the altar where Kenna had first found Master Griffin the other night, a submissive begged to be allowed to dismount a vibrating Sybian machine while her Dom pushed her down by the shoulders and commanded her to come.
Kenna shivered at that one.
“Like something you see, little one?” Master Griffin asked, observing her too closely as usual.
She smiled. “Yes, Sir.”
His gaze flashed to the stage, then back to her. “Duly noted.” One brow arched as they rounded the corner from the main floor space to the side arm of what had once been the church’s transept. There, he pressed her to the cool stone wall. “I certainly like what I see, Kenna.” His fingers stroked down over the thin fabric of her dress, over her breast, her belly, her upper thigh. “Not that you need me to be, but I’m proud of you for wearing something that shows off your prosthetic. I feared you were hiding it the other night, and it’s absolutely nothing that needs to be hidden.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, peering up at him. “Your reaction—” She cut herself off, but knew there was no way he’d let her get away with that. In for a penny... “Your reaction was the only one I cared about.”
“Mmm,” he said, leaning in. “Such sweet words.” His mouth found hers, gentle at first, then harder, more demanding. She lifted her arms to embrace him, but then hesitated. He hadn’t told her—
“God, touch me, Kenna,” he groaned around the edge of the kiss.
She wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and her real hand went right to his hair, digging into the thick, silky length just the way he liked. She loved it, too, how her touch could wring such tortured, delicious sounds from his throat. The kiss was an intoxicatingly slow burn of sliding tongues and tugging lips, and was enough all by itself to make Kenna wet.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he backed off. “Let’s go.”
Taking her hand again, he guided her down a side hallway that led to a series of themed playrooms, including the one they’d played in the other night.
The minute the door closed, Griffin was on her from behind. His arms around her stomach, his hands grasping her breasts, his hard cock grinding into her ass. “I’d thought the bodysuit was bad, Kenna. But you are a fucking goddess in this little thing.”
She sucked in a breath at his raw desperation and need. “Thank you, Sir.”
“But I want it off of you. I don’t want anything between me and your skin tonight. Undress and prepare for me to inspect you,” he said, pointing. “On the mat.”
