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In fact, no, Dmitri didn’t like the position he found himself in, but Aidan’s point was moot. “I haven’t even taken her into a scene,” he defended. “How could anything be going on? I just met the woman.”
Kyler dropped his burger to his plate and gave Dmitri a hard look. “Did you put a rush on her documents and ask me to print off her police report instead of going the normal route?”
Dmitri’s frown deepened. “And?”
Aidan wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Why?”
“Because I have the means to rush her documents and call in a favor.” Dmitri stared down his friends, annoyed to his very bones. “That makes me a dipshit?”
Kyler returned the harsh look with one of his own. “Have you ever given a sub such treatment?”
“When in the hell did this become about me?” Dmitri scowled, folding his arms. “I worried that if I made her wait, she might get herself worked up and suffer because she’s skittish. That’s it.”
Kyler retorted, “Why do you care how she feels?”
“Because as the owner of Club Sin—” He nearly said I owe her that, but what did he owe her? He wasn’t even her Dom yet, nor had he made any agreement with her.
In the face of the hard looks from his two closest friends, he swallowed his argument. His behavior was unusual, especially for him. He’d never rushed documents and never cared enough to worry about a submissive outside the dungeon. Of course, he’d never had a sub as innocent as Presley, but why was he being so gentle with her?
Normally, he wouldn’t care so much about her in the emotional sense, and he’d give a personal thought to her only if he had her in a scene. Then he’d worry about her emotional state, because that was his duty as her Dom. Now he had no reason to feel an attachment to her.
Exactly as he told her, in the dungeon, her life was his business. Out of it, her life shouldn’t interest him.
Only problem?
It did.
He’d gone out of his way to ensure that she was comfortable. He’d gone out of his way to hurry things along to get her in the dungeon. And he’d gone out of his way to make certain she’d come back for more by promising a kiss.
He wanted to command Presley. He wanted her kneeling at his feet and staring up at him with that slight intimidation and hot excitement. He wanted her to awaken under his touch like he’d seen her do. He wanted to be the one who introduced her to BDSM and shed those nerves, igniting a passion in her that she’d never known. The thought of all that made him ache and crave to fuck her until they both were drenched in sweat.
At whatever expression had crossed Dmitri’s face, Kyler inclined his head, smiling from ear to ear. “Good for you, Dmitri. At least you’re man enough to admit it.”
Aidan thumped Kyler’s arm with his fist. “Bastard.”
Surrounded by his friends’ laughter, Dmitri didn’t share in their amusement; his only focus now was experiencing that rich hunger to claim her submission.
Chapter Four
On Friday evening, happiness rushed through Presley, since she was back in Vegas; not that her three-day visit with her parents hadn’t been great, but Vegas had become home. She gazed through the window at the Las Vegas Strip as hordes of tourists passed by the glass window of Scores sports bar. She chuckled at their
doe eyes while they took in the sights, knowing she probably looked the same four months ago.
Now she had other concerns, including the fact that tonight was the night she would get up close and personal with BDSM. She’d gone to Dr. Schmidt’s office straight from the bus station—the envelope of her clear test results in her purse—and once she got home, Cora had dragged her back out to celebrate tonight.
“What’s your pleasure, miss?” a masculine voice said.
Turning away from the window, Presley spotted the bartender with the cute smile and regretted the ability to drink herself stupid. Tonight would be much easier if she were shit-faced, but Club Sin had an alcohol ban. Submissives needed to act on their own accord, not be driven by alcohol, or so Cora had told her. “Two Cokes, please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
As the barkeep fetched the drinks, Presley noticed that the man next to her on the stool reeked of whiskey. Maybe no drinking was a good thing. Nothing would be sexy if she smelled like that. She wanted to pour on the sexy tonight, or at least try to, with her best imitation.
“Presley.”
Her stomach dropped at that voice. She peeked sideways to find brown eyes surrounded by thick eyebrows, a thin face with spiked sandy-colored hair, and even the charmed smile that once captivated her.
Why hadn’t she thought he’d be here?
