Ava's eyes turned round and wet in an instant, taking a small step back as she stared at the collar displayed on a bed of blue velvet. “I-I can't accept that, Finn.” Before he fully comprehended the words, she continued with, “That must have cost a fortune. I told you, I don't need to be spoiled. I just need you.”
Finn flipped it around, studied the piece of jewelry. A friend of his had made it for Ava, at Finn's behest. To his eye, the workmanship was excellent, and the piece reflected everything Finn had hoped. A pair of filigree silver wings stretched out to the sides, the tips acting as the anchor points for a short length of delicate chain. The stems of the wings curled down and around into twin spirals, capped by small balls with tiny sapphires set into them. From where the spirals connected, a sapphire teardrop dangled down, no bigger than his thumbnail.
“Sometimes a man needs to spoil his woman,” he said slowly, running his thumb over the teardrop. “I'm a Dominant, Ava. I make you cry, I make you come, and God knows I put you in positions where any other woman but my sub would slap me across the face and stomp away, muttering about asshole men. Like now, for instance. The money doesn't mean anything to me, little dove. What this collar symbolizes is more important than money.”
“God, you're killing me.” It was a whisper, tight and emotional. “Please...please may I look at it again, Sir?”
He pinched the chain between his thumb and forefinger with care and lifted the trinket from the box. As it twirled gently in the pale blue lights, it flashed and sparked. “It's yours, Ava. Do with it what you will.”
She reached out and cupped the delicate jewelry. Her gaze darted to his, then back to the silver wings. “It's so fragile, Finn. What if I break it, or lose it? I think I'd cry for a month if something happened to it.”
He knew he'd won this battle when her fingers stroked over the silver. Her expression was beautiful, full of longing and a deep yearning he felt inside himself. He opened the tiny catch in the chain, then fastened it around her neck. It fit perfectly, the chain just long enough for the wings to sit in the hollow of her throat. And it suited her. Fuck, did it suit her. “If it breaks, we fix it. If we lose it, we find it again. No more tears tonight,” he admonished tenderly, catching one of the tip of his finger as it rolled down her cheek.
“Sorry, Sir.” She wiped at her cheeks, sniffling with a quiet laugh. “I think I'm happy.”
“You should be,” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows. “I have plans to make you a very happy girl indeed before the night is over. Now thank Master Danny for being such an appreciative audience, then collect your clothes so we can check them into the coatroom.”
Her fingers froze midway to reaching for her collar and she blinked slowly. She'd forgotten their audience of one, he thought with satisfaction. It was only luck that had kept any other members from coming to sign in; he pondered over how she might react if they had. Probably the same way she was going to once they stepped beyond the doors into kink central.
Finn sidestepped, revealing the dark-haired Dom sitting in his chair with a shit-eating grin, apparently enjoying his evening's entertainment. He tapped his finger on his watch as a subtle reminder of time ticking past, and Ava licked her lips. Her right hand scratched along her left inner forearm, one of her anxious tells. “Thank you for watching, Master Danny.” She leaped forward, snagged her clothes off the desk, and scrambled toward the coatroom as though the two masters might choose to devour her if she stood still long enough.
“She's just the sweetest thing,” Danny murmured as they watched her trying to stuff the bundle of clothing through the slot beneath the safety window. Finn's jacket plopped to the floor, followed by a heel. The slacks were making a slow escape, one leg sliding toward the carpet. “I'll let you go rescue her before she has an aneurysm...have a fun time, Finn.”
“That's my intention.” Gathering the forgotten papers, Finn strolled over to Ava as she bent to grab the fallen boot and jacket. He beat her to them, passing them to the lady waiting patiently behind the glass. He took out his membership card yet again and slid it, and the signed papers, through after the clothes so Maureen could scan it and log the garments under his name.
“The collar's beautiful.” Ava snuggled up close to his side as the entrance doors opened and a quartet paraded in.
The dynamic was fascinating, even to Finn. The woman at the forefront of the four was sheathed in a long red raincoat that covered her from head to toe. She flipped back the deep hood to reveal a mass of wildly curling black hair, then peeled open the rest of the coat. Tattoos unveiled a story over her skin, the tale disappearing under the lacy material of her sheer black bustier, reappearing over her flat stomach, then going to ground beneath matching boy shorts and continuing down her thighs.
Bottle-green eyes, sharp and wicked, landed on Finn's. Plump red lips curved in a wolfish smile so similar to his own, he'd have called Domme even if she didn't have a harem of three young, muscular men practically kneeling at her feet while she spoke to Danny. She exuded dominance like perfume.
Finn didn't like the way she eyed Ava. Tucking his arm firmly around his sub's waist, he reclaimed his card from Maureen and handed over the cash for the Ava’s entrance fee, waiting for Ava to offer her arm for the club stamp. Finn noticed she held out the arm without the worst scar, tilting the limb just enough to keep the marks of her pain from catching the light.
With the formalities completed, he escorted Ava through the double doors into Black Light, feeling the Domme's stare on his back until the doors swung shut behind them. Not taking a chance she'd come up behind him, Finn guided his little dove toward the bar, sitting her on a stool in all her naked glory, and positioning himself behind her.
“The collar is nothing compared to you, little dove. Do you like it?” He fingered the chain around her neck, gave it a gentle tug. “I know it's not the most practical, but there'll be times when I'd rather see elegance around your neck.”
“I love it, Master Finnegan. Thank you.” Ava leaned back against him. “I'm sorry I've been difficult today, but I'm glad I'm here with you tonight. I'm going to earn my collar, I promise.”
The tall, lithe bartender Finn remembered from Roulette glided down the bar to them with the strut of a supermodel. She looked like one too, all blonde hair and welcoming smile. If he recalled correctly, this was Spencer Cook's wife, Klara. She set her hands on the edge of the bar. “What can I get you tonight?”
“Two bottles of water, please.” Finn tugged on the collar again while Klara completed the drinks order. “The collar is my gift to you, Ava. You've already earned it, so now you can enjoy it.” Frustrated when he had to take his card out yet again, Finn mused over the benefits of signing him and Ava up for a lifetime membership and just having the damn membership barcodes tattooed on their wrists. It would save precious time, wouldn't it, and if they used the club more often—here or on the west coast—it would be worth the monetary cost. “I don't have anything too elaborate planned for tonight, little dove. Is that okay?”
She spread her hands, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I'm already dressed for the party, Sir.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled; Finn turned his attention to the doors where the Domme made an entrance, her three young men fanning out at her back. She swept in, and he realized what he'd thought was dominance was more along the lines of arrogance. The woman expected heads to turn at her arrival, but he saw the flash of displeasure cross her face when she barely garnered any attention from the members already seated or in scenes.
Two bottles of water and Finn's card were on the bar when he dismissed her and focused on Ava. Klara was standing, staring at the scene across the room with her hands on her hips, her distaste clear. When she clicked onto the fact Finn was watching her, she inclined her head. “Tonight's tab is set up for you, sir.”
“Who is she?” he asked quietly, mindful of the ears around them. The bar wasn't too busy—the main room was already buzzing with conversation
and scenes in full swing, but one never knew who had an ear tuned to discussions they shouldn't be listening to.
“Marie Antoinette.” Klara's voice dripped with disdain before she caught herself. “She's a Domme, obviously. The three men with her are her regular submissives, but she occasionally toys with others. Male and female,” she said with a pointed glance at Ava.
Slipping the card into his pocket, Finn hooked the bottles of water around the neck with two fingers and accepted the silent warning. “Thank you. I think Ava and I will go find somewhere private to play.”
“I think that's a very good idea, sir. There are several dungeon monitors on duty tonight if you require assistance.”
“Come on, little dove. I have a task for you before we get down to playing.” Finn wrapped his left arm around her, keeping her tucked into his side away from Marie Antoinette and her entourage, and aimed for an empty loveseat across the room.
There was a relaxed quality to the place tonight, none of the frantic energy that had bounced around on Roulette night. People weren't hurrying from one couple to another, trying to catch all the action of scenes spun by the wheel. This was just kink in its purest form—people coming together to share a common interest. Dominance and submission at every turn, from the baby-girl cuddled on her Daddy's lap, sucking on a pacifier, to the man stretched taut from cuffs around his wrists while his bear of a Dom attached clothes pins to his skin in spiraling circles around his body.
Inadvertently destroying Ava's trust in him was his greatest fear. Reading her wasn't an easy task sometimes, not with the way her lines shifted in increments. Not that he faulted her for it, quite the opposite.
He was relieved she loved Master Finnegan as much as she loved him, that she trusted both halves of him equally. He hoped tonight would only strengthen that trust.
Finn set the bottles beside the loveseat, then stepped away from her and sat on the plush cushions. He took a moment to scan the area, noticing several pairs of eyes were already admiring her curves. She wasn't the only one naked in the room, male or female, but she made a statement just by standing in front of him, her gaze locked on his face and ready for him to speak.
He didn't disappoint her. Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the floor between his spread legs and said simply, “Kneel.”
Chapter 13
Ava
People were watching her, their eyes drilling tiny holes into her back as she straightened her posture and tried to ignore the itch scurrying under her skin. She wasn't used to being this exposed. But instead of focusing on the room, she kept her eyes on Finn.
He'd reacted oddly to the woman who followed them into Black Light, the one the bartender called Marie Antoinette. She'd felt his unease seeping into her and raised her own defenses in response. If he didn't like the woman, it would be a team effort—Ava trusted his instincts and was more than happy to walk away from potential conflict.
She was going to be pissed if anything spoiled the memories of the night she got her beautiful collar.
Finn snapped his fingers together and directed her to the floor. His calm, “Kneel”, turned her insides to mush, and she sank as gracefully as she could manage to her knees between his spread thighs, resting her hands on her own.
Nothing was said. He made no movement, no noise.
They stayed like that, quietly absorbing the sounds of Black Light. The more she listened, the more her body fell into tune. Muscles relaxed and tension flowed away. Her pussy felt swollen and ached like a bitch, but the inferno in her ass had mellowed to a stimulating warmth. Submission slipped into position, chipping away at the sharp edges of anxiety and paranoia until her need to please eclipsed all.
“Good girl,” he crooned when her eyes lowered respectfully, heavy and languid. “Ignore the rest of the world and just focus on you. It's been a real long day and this stunning little body keeps revving up and powering through. Spread your legs wider, little minx,” he ordered firmly. “I want to see how wet that pretty pussy is.”
She sat back on her heels and widened her knees.
“Breathe with me, Ava. Four beats in, hold for four, exhale to six.”
She fell deeper still, the chatter around her fading until the slow count of numbers and the corresponding breaths settled her into their rhythm. She liked this happy place. She was sheltered between his legs, protected from the people outside her bubble.
“Put your hand between your legs. Touch yourself. Show me how wet you are.” His voice deepened on every word, sucking her down into the void where his voice was law. He could make her come with a word, shatter apart without laying a finger on her. His control was absolute when they connected like this. “Nice and slow, little dove. Think back to Roulette, to the medical room. The straps holding you down, keeping you at my mercy while my fingers delved into that tight cunt. You were so wet, even before the lube.”
Ava's hand moved of its own accord, obeying his command. Her fingers stroked over her labia, caressing them until they parted. Memories of being restrained, helpless and vulnerable to Finn's wishes, slicked her pussy with arousal.
He'd flogged her that night, beaten her with a honey dipper until she damn near flew high enough to graze the moon with her fingertips before the wheel tossed fisting as their next activity. The prospect of taking his big hand inside her was one of the scariest things he'd ever asked of her—hell, it had even concerned him. He'd demanded she safe word, had been prepared to do so himself until she found her spine and summoned courage she hadn't known she possessed.
“I plan to take you that way again, Ava. I dreamed of that night while we were apart. Feeling you stretch around my fingers, taking me in and squeezing those muscles around my hand. I was so proud of you even as I wanted to fuck you. You made the most exquisite sounds that night, and I'll hear them again.” His tone was darker, riddled with black desire. “Get those fingers wet, little dove.”
She grunted softly, thrusting two fingers inside herself. They didn't come close to the breadth of his, didn't give her the same dominated rush she loved when he forced his digits into the tightness he owned. Hers were too smooth, too small. Though they were toughening up with physical labor, they didn't have the same rough callouses to stimulate her sensitive channel.
“Give me your hand, that's a good girl.”
It lifted toward him, her fingers glistening and slick. Finn took hold of her wrist as she watched, leaning down to close his mouth over them. The lap of his tongue electrified her nervous system and when he sucked, she felt the strong pull in the pit of her womb. Her Dom was a magician with his mouth. “Delicious little minx,” he purred dangerously. “Feeding my addiction. I could eat you out for days, drink every last drop, and still need more.”
She was open for that. She had a feeling his jaw would tire before the well ran dry, because when it came to Finn, her well never bottomed out. His presence was enough to make her dampen, his voice the catalyst for a flood. Her body hadn't ever responded to another man the way it did to Finn.
“I'm not going to fuck you tonight, Ava. As much as it pains me, I have something in mind for you I'm sure you'll enjoy. But my cock is adamant it needs relief, so you'll be my good girl, won't you, and help me with it.” He nipped at her fingertips, hard enough her clit pulsed in answer.
“Of course, Sir. Anything.” She sounded eager to her own ears, almost bouncing with the need to please. Servicing him satisfied her. Coming back to Black Light as a couple, as Dominant and submissive, upped the stakes for her. There was a distinct desire to show him, to show everyone, how she had progressed as a submissive, under his care and guidance.
So, when Finn released her wrist and tapped meaningfully on his belt buckle, she didn't think about eyes watching her or thoughts that weren't hers judging her. She focused on the metal beneath her fingertips, the pull of leather through the buckle and how the belt slithered open in her hands. Popping the button of his jeans free, feeling the bulge of his erection press against the zipper as she
eased it down.
Her attention riveted on the hard, heavy cock falling into her hand, the thick shaft throbbing in time with his heart. Her fingers wrapped around him tightly, the way he liked, and she felt the strong, lazy surge of blood pulsing through the vein running along the underside.
Finn lifted his hips; she wrestled his jeans over his hips, down to mid-thigh.
Mesmerized by him, she grasped the root of his shaft, stroking firmly upwards to the plump crown. She circled the fat, ruddy head with the pad of her thumb, smearing precum over smooth flesh. She wiggled in delight when his breath hissed between his teeth, a sure indication she was doing well. Touching him intimately never grew old, not for her. Each time was an opportunity to learn something new about how he liked to be pleasured, a chance to put into practice a skill she'd learned for his benefit.
The internet, she'd discovered, was a treasure trove of dirty, sensual acts. There were some that roiled her belly with nausea, and others she wouldn't object to exploring with Finn, if she ever got the courage to confess her longing. Reading articles about satisfying her man orally and watching “educational” videos when Finn wasn't looking, had given her ideas.
Loving him gave her the means to put them to work.
“May I, Master Finnegan?” she requested politely.
“Do your worst, little dove.”
She bent her head over him, cupping her lips over the sleek crown and mouthing it gently. Drawing them carefully over the smooth flesh, her tongue flicked out, lapping at the eye of his cock and tasting the salty essence seeping out. He was excited and had been for quite some time if the amount of precum glossing his shaft was any indication. She liked, very much, that he'd gone commando—they both wore nothing to deter the other.
Blowjobs and Finn were a recipe for intimidation. No matter how many times she went down on him, there was always that glimmer of apprehension in the back of her mind, along with a multitude of questions she already knew the answers to.
Black Light: Branded Page 23