Claimed

by Stacey Kennedy

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Dmitri pressed his hands against the roof of his car and exhaled a controlled breath, glancing outside from the garage. Dark clouds sweeping across the sky matched his mood. He’d woken to discover that Presley had left sometime in the night.

  He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

  Dmitri had never had a submissive behave so disrespectfully, and he wasn’t sure if his harsh reaction was for that reason alone or if it centered on Presley herself. His experience with her last night had warranted a deeper look, and instead of doing that, he was chasing her down with irritation burning his blood. How could she have logically thought her behavior was acceptable? Or that he wouldn’t lose his mind at what she’d done?

  He opened his car door, dropped into the plush bucket seat, and started the engine. With a squeal of his tires, he tore out of the garage and booked it through the wrought-iron gates just as they opened. The engine revved beneath his heavy foot, and he cursed any red light that got in his way.

  Las Vegas streets whipped by his window; he took the back roads to avoid the Strip traffic. He knew these streets well and pushed the car to excessive speeds in the industrial area, quiet on Sunday morning.

  Within fifteen minutes, he rounded onto East Silverado Ranch Boulevard, in a neighborhood close to the Strip. He glanced down the row of houses, and when he saw number twenty-four, he pulled over at the curb.

  Turning off the ignition, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, catching a whiff of the aroma from the leather seats in his car. The man in him wanted to call Presley out and demand answers, but the Dom knew better. Lashing out wasn’t his way. Issuing a stern portrayal of his dominance and stating his position on what she’d done, followed by punishment later, was his resolve.

  Once the tension in his chest had faded, he exited the car and approached the two-story home with the cherry-red door. At the front door, he knocked, and the sound of heavy footsteps barreled toward him before the door whisked open.

  Cora stood on the other side, dressed in a purple cotton T-shirt and light blue jeans. She wore no makeup, and her hair was pulled into a loose bun on top of her head. He’d never seen her so dressed down. She appeared much more innocent than the submissive he’d grown used to seeing in the dungeon.

  A smile had turned up the corners of her mouth, but as she took in who stood at her door, she frowned. “Master Dmitri?”

  “Hello, Cora,” he replied, pleased that his voice was controlled. “Outside of Club Sin, I’m Dmitri. May I come in?”

  Apparently, he had stunned her. She didn’t move for a long awkward moment, then she blinked a few times before she opened the door wider. “Of course, please do.”

  Dmitri entered the home, noting that it was much like the woman he knew, neat and orderly, though the design was modern and edgy. He stood in the entranceway, and the open concept showed off the living room with the bright kitchen. The hallway to his left, he suspected, led to the bedrooms. “You have a lovely home.”

  “Thank you, si—” She smiled, giving him a sheepish glance through her lashes. “Thanks. Do you need a drink, coffee or tea?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  She headed into the living room, and Dmitri followed. Once she sat on the white couch, he dropped down next to her and listened for a moment. He didn’t hear any noise coming from the rest of the house. As far as he could tell, Presley was nowhere in sight.

  He looked to Cora just as she shifted in her seat and fiddled with her hands. Her head remained bowed to her lap when she asked, “Have I done something wrong? Is that why you’ve come?”

  Normally, he’d never come to a sub’s house without asking permission, and he hated the disgrace crossing her features. “I apologize that I’ve showed up unannounced. Even more so, that you think you’ve done something wrong.” He waited for her to lift her head and noticed the worry clearing from her eyes. “I’ve come to speak to Presley. Is she here?”

  Cora stretched out her fingers, then she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, she’s not. The dental office she works at does urgent care on Sundays, and someone called in sick, so she took the half-day shift.” She hesitated, nibbled her bottom lip. “Has she done something wrong?”

  “Yes, I would say so,” he retorted. “Sometime during the nighttime, Presley sneaked out of my house.”

  Cora’s eyes widened. “She did not!”

  “She did.”

  Cora’s brows drew together. “I’m not sure what happened last night. Presley never said anything to me about it this morning, or that she left your house without you knowing.” A small smile curved her mouth. “She did tell me her first scene had been incredible and that you were amazing.”

  Then why did she run?

  Dmitri placed his arms on his legs, glanced down at the hardwood beneath his shoes, and tried to wrap his mind around her words to Cora. Her actions made no sense if she’d enjoyed herself. He considered what he’d seen from Presley and suspected she’d overthought things. Why had she gotten defensive and obviously worried over something he’d done?

  Bottom line, he wondered what had gone through her mind when she ran out. Did she think he didn’t want her in his bed, or had she left because she didn’t want to be there with him? He discovered that that thought didn’t please him in the least.

  What did please him was that Presley had been with Cora this morning and hadn’t been alone, although it was his duty, as her Dom, to be there when she woke. It irritated him that, even without knowing it, she had refused him a right that belonged to him.

  No matter how many ways he spun it, he couldn’t make sense of her leaving him last night. For him to proceed with Presley, he needed to understand her better. Lifting his head to Cora, he set to doing exactly that. “How did you meet Presley?”

  Cora leaned back into the couch and pulled one leg underneath her. “I have friends—not in the lifestyle—who run in the same circle as her ex-boyfriend, Steven. We met at a party the first week she moved to Vegas, and the friendship stuck.” She hesitated. “Good thing we found each other, too, since not long after that, she found out Steven had cheated on her with this skank.” Cora’s eyes went huge, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Dmitri smirked at the horror on Cora’s face. “It’s all right.” He doubted she’d ever talk to him in that manner in the dungeon, and he suspected she hadn’t meant to say what she had. “Please continue.”

  Cora lowered her hand. “It was actually really sad—Presley was so heartbroken.” Her pain for her friend was apparent in the hard lines of her frown. “I think if anything, it made her feel like she wasn’t enough for him, you know?”

  His heart sank, and now he fully understood. He assumed Presley had fought through her nerves not for herself or because of her desire to join the dungeon but to be the woman she thought she wasn’t, the woman she thought Steven wouldn’t have cheated on, and that was a damn shame.

  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 e
dge, 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.