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“You’re paying her, so it’s close enough to owning her,” Bron said. “You’re paying rent on her pussy. It’s not time to get sentimental about what collars can mean.”
Ilya still looked displeased as Bron showed him how the choke collar worked. He slipped it over my head, watching my expression. It tightened, but not uncomfortably, and it was still warm from Bron’s pocket.
I shivered, and not only because Ilya’s gaze was intense. What was he looking for?
“You like it,” he observed.
My belly fluttered. He was holding the chain under my chin, and it was snug around my neck without hurting me. His grip on it was firm rather than hesitant. I’d been on a leash before—it had done nothing for me. This however…
He kissed me. “Are you going to be good, little wife?”
My cheeks prickled and burned. “I’m not your wife, Ilya.”
“You’re all mine until I let you go.” His gaze roved over my face.
God, his expression was so earnest. It wasn’t hard to understand why he didn’t realize he was handsome, considering he spent most of his time with Bron. Our own personal terrorist wasn’t exactly free with his compliments.
I swallowed, not sure what to say to him.
“Come on. We’re not here to stand around in the closet.” Bron’s brows were dark slashes as he ushered us out.
Rather than a series of offices, which was what I’d expected, the space was set up like an actual club. High ceilings and dim lighting, a four-sided bar in the middle of the main room, comfortable seating, and a sea of people. It reminded me of the Island they’d taken me from, except here many of the women were on leashes and in varying states of undress.
“It’s not the same when they’re not screaming and running from us,” Ilya mused.
Bron shook his head. “We’ll turn you into a pervert yet.”
Ilya’s chuckle made me smile. “I already have a beautiful woman on a leash.”
“It’s a good start.”
Would there be people they knew here? I didn’t know how far Moscow was, but then again, I had only the vaguest idea of what Russia looked like on a map. Ninth grade geography had been ages ago and had included memorizing the names and locations of every US state, and a segment about global warming. There had been a few world maps to color. Russia over to the right of Europe, but aside from that, I’d had no interest in studying places I’d never get to see.
I drew myself up, raising my chin and walking with confidence. Bron had selected everything I was wearing, right down to my collar, but it was Ilya holding the leash.
Tonight, I felt like money.
I walked beside Ilya, with Bron at our backs, feeling delicate and pretty in the company of two large, hot men.
Bron found us an empty spot to sit—a semi-circular leather couch. They claimed it, taking up an aggressive amount of space, looking dangerous and delicious. Ilya swatted my ass and pulled me into his lap, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The two of them had started a conversation in Russian, and with the throb of the music in my ears, even their occasional English words were mostly drowned out.
A man came by and Bron said something to him. Moments later, drinks came with a topless female server who froze like a wild bunny when Bron glanced her way. She gave her head a brief shake and rushed on with her almost full tray.
I surveyed the room as I sipped at my drink, the strength of the unfamiliar liquor making me wince. The people who filled the space lounged and talked. Groups of people danced or made out. There were different flavors and levels of kink out in the open, and people wandered upstairs where there seemed to be private rooms. I recognized the occasional actor or musician.
“There’s a reason we had to sign those NDAs,” Bron said in my ear, catching me watching a female actor who had a man kneeling at her feet.
“That is not that woman’s husband,” I informed him.
“No, it is not.” He smiled devilishly, our faces so close that when his gaze shifted to mine, we were within kissing distance. His focus dropped to my mouth, and the feel of his breath on my lips made me want him to close the inches between us.
Casually, he straightened, taking away the temptation of initiating a kiss with a man I didn’t even like most days.
A pair of men came over, each with a beautifully dressed woman on a leash. The size of the rocks on their fingers suggested they weren’t paid company.
Bron made introductions, excluding us women.
“Go dance, woman,” Ilya said, unclipping my leash and urging me up. “There are some things we need to discuss.”
That weren’t for my ears? He knew I didn’t understand Russian, but okay…
I rose and headed to the dance floor, feeling awkward. The two women came with me, apparently given the same directive by their fiancés? Husbands?
Rather than ditching me or leaving me out, when they started to dance, they took my hands and encouraged me to dance with them—at least I assumed that was what they were saying. The tail of my choke collar swayed between my breasts, reminding me the man with the leash was watching.
The two women were gorgeous and about my age—one blonde and one brunette. They seemed to know each other, and when they occasionally kissed or slapped each other’s asses, I wasn’t surprised. It quickly became obvious they were performing for their men, going out of their way to face them and throw seductive looks their way.
The men sat together, looking deep in discussion about something relatively important, even though their eyes kept drifting to us.
I danced with them for a while, smiling suggestively at Ilya and meeting any attention from Bron with snobby hostility, enjoying how it made each of them react.
After a second drink, I got bored with the game and headed for the restroom.
When I came out, rough hands grabbed me and slammed me against the wall, stealing my breath.
Fuck.
But it was Bron, looking unhinged and angry as hell.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I just used the restroom,” I said, glaring up at him.
