Claimed

by Stacey Kennedy

  His look was stern, but his eyes twinkled. “You think my logic was absurd?”

  “God, no,” she snapped, but reconsidered and followed up with: “Well, maybe a little. Why own a dungeon, bring everyone else happiness in their lives, if you don’t allow yourself to find it, too?”

  He stared at her for a long few seconds, then he tore his gaze away to pick up a fry. “So, you’re a burger-and-football gal, hmm?”

  Presley wondered why he’d shifted the conversation, but she decided to leave it alone. He clearly didn’t want to discuss it, and she didn’t want to ruin their night. “My father’s a football nut, so it stuck in my blood, and coming to these types of places in Vegas reminds me of home.”

  He smiled, though tension rested in the corners of his eyes. “My type of woman, so I’m glad you do.” He studied her in his intense “I’m looking right though you” way. “Do you miss your family?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Another round of cheers erupted in the pub as Dmitri ate another fry and his focus stayed fixated on her. When the noise quieted, he said, “We’ll have to go for a visit sometime. I’d enjoy meeting your parents.”

  She laughed softly, imagining her mother with Dmitri. “I’m sure they’d be quite impressed by you.” She picked up a fry, dipped it in ketchup, and nibbled the end. “How about your family? Do they live in Vegas?”

  He shook his head. “Both my parents died when I was in my late teens. My mother in a car accident. My father a year later of a heart attack. My extended family all lives abroad, we’re not close, and I have no siblings.”

  “Gosh, Dmitri, I’m sorry.” As she took his hand, the icy distance in his voice stunned her. “That’s horrible.”

  He gave his tender smile and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “Thank you, doll. It’s a shame, but it happened a long time ago. Besides, I was busy in college when they passed, and I had my career to keep me focused.”

  Something tingled in the back of her mind at that. No doubt, the death of Dmitri’s parents had driven his motivation through college to succeed, and his promise to look after Charles’s family had increased his desire for wealth so he’d have the means to do it. “That’s why you’re so successful at a young age. I wondered about that.”

  He gave a firm nod. “If you submerse yourself in your work, you can get to the top a lot faster.”

  “True.” She glanced at their held hands, considering his life. The awareness told her that there was something more to his admission; after a moment of thought, her mind cleared of any confusion. Her throat tightened as sadness gripped her. For all he’d done for her, given to her and shown her, understanding more of the man behind Dmitri wrenched her guts.

  He’d told her the other night that her need to please made her a submissive, but now she realized that his need to take care of others dominated him in the same way. What bothered her most was she doubted many knew that everything he did and all his success weren’t for his own needs but for others.

  A firm finger came under her jaw and lifted her head to Dmitri’s troubled eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Trapped in his powerful stare, her heart clenched, and for once in her life, she told him exactly what was on her mind when maybe she wouldn’t have before. “I can’t help think you live a busy life, surrounded by so many people, but it’s lonely.”

  Apparently, she had stunned him. He froze and didn’t blink, so she hurried along. “You carry all this responsibility and always look out for everyone else. Doing everything and anything to ensure that those around you have what they need in their life. But when does someone get to take care of you, Dmitri?”

  Raw pain and some other heady emotions seeped into his expression, stealing her breath. He trailed his knuckles over her cheek, and his lips parted, then another voice said, “So, this is your new boyfriend?”

  Presley’s heart leaped up into her throat at that voice, and all her compassion for Dmitri was replaced by sheer worry. Even if it pained her to do so, she slowly glanced up and discovered Steven, who glared daggers at Dmitri.

  She couldn’t understand what Steven was doing here. He never came to Mickey’s. He was always at Scores. She’d picked this place for that exact reason. Now she realized what Steven had meant with his text message on Monday. He didn’t plan to stop calling her. He intended to make it more personal if she continued to ignore him. Why was he being so damn persistent? As much as that annoyed her, since she’d already gone over all this with him, an icy horror drifted over her as she realized what Steven had said. Confirming her worst fears, Dmitri’s eyebrow arched as he muttered, “Boyfriend?”

  Presley cringed as her lie was exposed, and her cheeks flamed so hot. Even if they were dating now, they hadn’t been when she’d told Steven that. “Er . . . well . . . I . . .” She groaned, reining in her rambling. “Dmitri, I’d like to introduce you to Steven.”

  Dmitri’s eyes narrowed on her, a fire burned within their depths, and he oh-so-leisurely looked at Steven. “Introduce me, huh?”

  “Hey, man,” Steven replied in a light voice.

  Dmitri, as always, remained calm. However, behind his coolness was well-restrained rage. Presley sank down into her chair, and in the same voice that rolled with tension, he asked, “Do you have something to say to him, love?”

  Presley gaped at him, unable to do anything else. She had no idea that Dmitri held this type of hatred for Steven, and she wondered why he did. After fast seconds of thought, she came up empty. She’d barely talked about her past relationship, and she needed this moment to end, so she turned to Steven. “It’s nice to see you again, but we’re having dinner, so—”

  “No.”

  Presley clamped her lips shut, and she jerked her head to Dmitri, who continued his stern look. “That is not what you say to him. I’ll show you.” To Steven, his voice became oh-so-deadly, his expression equally tight. “You don’t have the right to talk to her. That privilege was lost when you fucked another woman and broke her heart. Get lost.”

  Her mouth dropped open at his knowledge of the affair, and in a single second, she considered all the ways she’d kill Cora for telling him. She dared a look at Steven and saw his face had turned a deep shade of red.

  Dmitri tugged on her earlobe to get her attention, as if Steven didn’t exist. She surmised that was exactly how he viewed the moment. “Now you have a go, doll.”

  “I . . .” She gulped.

  “This is much worse than I thought.” He shook his head in frustration, frowning at her. “I don’t like seeing this, Presley.”

  “Who is this guy, the boss of you?” Steven snapped.

  Presley tensed as a darker edge consumed Dmitri’s expression, one she’d never seen from him, when Steven added, “Listen, buddy—”

  “Now.” Dmitri brushed his thumb over her neck, so light and tender. “If you ask someone to leave you alone and they refuse you, you are to force them. If you don’t have a way to force them, you get help. As it is, I am that help.”

  “Stop talking to her like she’s a damn child. Who the hell do you think you are?” Steven roared, grabbing her arm and shaking her. “Presley, what’s wrong with you?”

  First she gasped at Steven’s harsh hold as his fingers dug into her skin, then she gasped again when Dmitri’s eyes blazed as he watched Steven’s hand on her arm. Then her breath became lost to her as Dmitri slowly stood from his seat. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers and his jaw clenched, he said to Steven, “I’m the one who appreciates her, will do my best to protect her, and I have no hesitation to ensure you don’t forget that fact.”

  In a move almost too fast to see, Dmitri punched Steven in the nose, and with a loud crack followed by a rush of blood, Steven dropped like deadweight to the floor. “Oh. My. God.” Presley raised her hands to her mouth, glancing between Dmitri and Steven a few times over. “You hit him.”

  “No, doll.” Dmitri sat down, picked up his pickle off the plate, and took a bite as if that hadn’t ha
ppened. “I knocked him out.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A quarter of an hour later, Presley stepped through the dungeon doors. The soft rhythmic music and erotic noises surrounded her, and a familiar excitement fluttered low in her belly.

  Master Dmitri had immediately stripped her to her new black lace shelf bra and teeny-tiny matching panties that she’d bought at the mall on Thursday. Then he’d left her with Cora—dressed in a dark purple corset with silver thong—sitting on the couch in the center of the dungeon.

  Presley had spent a good few minutes telling Cora what happened at dinner, and how the night ended with an unconscious Steven, which she still couldn’t believe. By the time she finished, Cora’s brows were drawn together. “And . . . what, you left right after?”

  “Yeah,” Presley replied. “Two of the waiters removed Steven from the pub. Dmitri finished his burger, paid the bill, then we came here.”

  “Hmm.” Cora nibbled her lip, her eyes searching Presley’s. “Strange.”

  Presley had to agree: Dmitri’s reaction had seemed strange to her, too. He didn’t say a word about it afterward or really even talk to her the entire drive to the dungeon. She asked once if he was angry with her, to which he replied, “Of course not, love,” then he took her hand.

  Reminded of how great her night had started out with Dmitri and how shitty it had ended, Presley shook her head in frustration. “I’m still trying to figure out why Steven was there in the first place. You know him. He always goes to Scores. I picked Mickey’s because he wouldn’t be there.” She took a quick glance around, but no one in the dungeon was near them, so she whispered to Cora, “Do you think Steven would . . . I don’t know . . . follow me?”

  Cora laughed, and the couch bounced beneath her. “While I think Steven is a total dipshit and would do something stupid, why would he follow you? He doesn’t want to get back with you or anything, right?”

  Presley nodded. “Right.” While Steven had shown with his texts he wanted to be friends, she knew him well enough to know he had realized it was over between them almost immediately after their breakup. So, what in the hell was he up to tonight?

  From all his reactions and his insistence to talk to her, she wondered if he knew of the lifestyle she led. Had he pieced it together from when he’d seen her at Scores with Cora? Tonight, when Steven had looked at Dmitri, she’d seen the anger in his eyes, as if he knew him and had an equal right to hate him, too. But even if Steven did know, why would he care what she did and didn’t do? They broke up because he had cheated on her. If anyone had a right to judge, it would be her.

  Besides, she wondered whether it mattered to her if he did know. Not particularly, she mused. Bottom line, Steven wasn’t in her life anymore, and that’s exactly how she wanted it. Her lips had parted to share her frustrations with Cora when Master Dmitri interrupted, “Presley, to me now.”

  Presley’s heart raced at his serious expression, but he didn’t focus on her long. To Cora, he said, “Go to Master Aidan on the other side of the dungeon. Tell him I’ve asked to keep you there until I order otherwise.”

  Cora hesitated, and the look in her eyes resembled pity. “Yes, sir.”

  Presley watched Cora hurry away, then a warm finger sliding along her bare shoulder had her hesitantly turning to Master Dmitri. She didn’t understand her nervousness, considering what she’d already been through in the dungeon, yet the way he looked at her now, with the tense set of his jaw, alarmed her.

  Reaching into his pocket, he took out one long piece of black rope. “Offer your wrists, doll.”

  She stood from the couch and wavered while she attempted to catch the racing of her heart, then thought better of it and lifted her hands. He bound her wrists in front of her in rope cuffs, then he led her over to the far dark corner.

  While she appreciated that he was placing her in a spot far from the crowd, she wondered why he’d taken such great care to shield her when he hadn’t done so last weekend. Heck, he had put her onstage for all to see, so why not now?

  At the wall, he settled in front of her, pushing on her stomach and forcing her back to rest against the stone. Raising her arms up to the ring above her head, he attached the rope to the loop, then he took another two pieces of rope from his pocket. He dropped down to one knee and bound her ankles to rings set in the floor, which left her spread wide. Worry settled in deep, even if she didn’t understand the cause for concern.

  Master Dmitri stood and he ran a finger along her rib cage. She shivered, relishing the bondage. The feel of the rope, the sensation of being trapped, and the fact that Master Dmitri had bound her all made her burn. However, right then and before her eyes, darkness—almost a cold distance—filled his features and removed any of the heat within. “What’s your safe word if you need it?”

  “Dragon.”

  “That’s right, doll.” He flicked her hair off her shoulders then leaned down to place a soft kiss against her collarbone. Without another word, and to her absolute horror, he turned and strode away.

  Wait. What?

  Doms never left their submissives alone. Hadn’t he told her that the first night, when she watched Cora’s scene? Panic stole into her coherent thoughts, and a cold sweat washed over her, hammering her heart.

  She stood in fear, totally bound to the wall, unable to move, for all to see, with nowhere to run, all alone in the corner of the dungeon. The dimly lit room now seemed pitch-black and far too empty.

  The world around her slowed, and her deep breaths sounded loud in her ears. Right then, movement to her left caught her eye, and she turned her head to discover Master Kyler advancing on her.

  “Look at this lovely pet.” He stopped in front of her, his brown hair hung messily over his forehead, and his blue-green eyes glinted dangerously. “All available to me.” He ran a warm finger over her hipbone, and her mouth went dry, panic tightening her throat.

  “Please . . .”

  Master Kyler grinned, and his features twinkled with a seductive edge. “Sweetie, you don’t have to say please for me to touch you. I’d be glad to.”

  No.

  Presley tried to find her voice, but it seemed stuck behind a wall she couldn’t get past. Her lips parted, and as much as she attempted to reach for it, it remained too far away.

  A hard slap on her thigh startled her, jarring her into focus, but before she could speak, Master Kyler added, “I’ve wanted to touch your sexy little body. Now look, I can.” His hand moved over her stomach, and she tried to get away, move back from his touch, but the bondage pinned her.

  His fingers traveled up her stomach and reached just below her breast, and with his knuckles, he tickled under her bra. She gritted her teeth in disgust, fought to get the right words out to stop this, but her throat closed further. “I . . .”

  “I want more.” Master Kyler gave her a look that might make some women melt, but her body went ice-cold under his touch. “Yes, that’s why I’m with you, Presley, to touch you.” He caressed down over her hip, then he walloped her again on the thigh with an extremely hard hit.

  She gasped, not only from the pain searing up her leg but at the terror consuming her and muddling up her thoughts. Only one thought came to her mind, and she shouted, “Master Dmitri.”

  “I’m here.”

  She jerked her head to the side and found him sitting on a stool not too far away. His eyes were transfixed on her, blazing with a powerful emotion she couldn’t understand, but he didn’t approach her.

  Oh, God, he’d given Master Kyler permission to touch her.

  “Such a frightened sub,” Master Kyler murmured, snapping her head to him, and he stroked the contours of her body with long drags of his fingers.

  Dread made her stomach churn, the ropes around her shook with the trembling of her body, and the metal hooks clattered against the stone wall. “No,” she finally managed, even if she didn’t know if she meant no to whatever Master Dmitri planned, or no to Master Kyler’s hands on her.


  “Sounds like a yes to me.”

  Master Kyler smacked her thigh again, forcing a loud gasp from her mouth. He leaned against the wall next to her and gave a dark smile. “That terror in your eyes makes me ache to fuck you, Presley. I’m going to use you up, nice and good, and enjoy hearing you whimper when I drive into your slick cunt.”

  She frantically shook her head and shut her eyes to avoid him, wishing for this all to go away. How could Master Dmitri do this to her? He knew this was her hard limit—being touched by other Doms—and he had disregarded it. Presley fought to think clearly, find a way out, but her mind spun.

  The whole damn night had undone her. Now her confusion only deepened. She had trusted Master Dmitri, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She didn’t want to fail, and she wanted to please him, but no, she didn’t like this. Why had he done this to her?

  Master Kyler tickled right above her breasts, snapping her eyes open. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t touched her breasts; she’d never been so violated. “You’ve got beautiful, perky tits, pet,” he said. “Perfect to squeeze when I fuck you from behind.” With his gaze trained on hers, which shined of wicked intentions, he ran his fingers down her stomach . . . No. No. No.

  Dragging his fingers across the rim of her panties, he then trailed down each thigh. “This cunt will be mine tonight, sub. All mine to lick, fuck, and own.”

  Sweat slid down her spine, and the room somersaulted around her. She blinked to hold her focus. More than how wrong Master Kyler’s touch was and how much she wanted him to stop, a harsh pain tore through her at Master Dmitri’s betrayal.

  She’d grown to care about him, and maybe she’d allowed herself to believe something more existed between them. But how could he care for her if he allowed another man to touch her? With that came the realization that she’d fooled herself, he was no different than Steven, and this shattered her heart.

  An unbearable agony ripped through her, reminding her of the pain the night Steven told her of his affair. With the broken pieces of her heart reopening, she didn’t find sadness anymore. Rage consumed her.