Page 32 of Betrayed

Her eyes shifted downward, focusing on the closely trimmed beard on his chin, unable to meet his gaze. She continued to herself,and I’m finding I don’t want you to be.

He stared down at her. “Master. That was your trigger.”

So perceptive. More tears escaped, tracking down her temple into her hair, falling faster than his thumbs could keep up with.

“Ma colombe,”he murmured softly. “I’ll have you freed in a moment.” Reaching above him, he released the nipple suspension chain first.

“Wait. You’re ending the scene?”

“You’re not ready for this.”

“But I don’t want that, please.”

It was the truth now. But when he’d demanded she call him... Well, she had wanted to push him away, to be released, and run back to her safe hidey hole in Houston where nothing threatened her heart.Or aroused your body, or brightened your spirit, or made you feel alive again,an inner voice taunted.

Confused and feeling like a fool, a sob broke free from her throat. She was driving away the first man who had the potential of truly satisfying her and melting the icy shields she erected around her heart.

“Shh, who is the dom here?”

“You, sir.”

“That’s right. Let me get you free and we’ll talk.”

She didn’t want that, either. How could she explain what she was going through if she didn’t understand it herself?

“There is no avoiding this,” he warned, before opening the first clamp.

Mari hissed as the circulation returned to the compressed tip. When he bent to her, easing the pain with his mouth, she almost begged him to stop, preferring it after the humiliation of the aborted scene than his tender soothing. But he shifted to the other breast, providing the same ease, and she felt the stirring and the wanting ignite in her belly again.

Arturo slid his arm beneath her shoulders and removed the neck support, while his other hand opened the pillory. Once free, he lifted her and gently settled her on her side, facing away from him.

“I’m sorry.” Misery rang in her voice.

“Hush. It’s my fault. I pushed you too fast, too soon.”

“How could you have known?”

He made a grunting sound. “Two plus decades as a dominant, the limits you set, a masochist shying away from pain. All were huge red flags. Not to mention keeping to yourself always, taking up with safe doms, different ones every week, and ones who aren’t looking to commit. All the signs were there. In my arrogance, I thought...”

“Please don’t blame yourself. I’m the one who is helplessly broken.”

“Only bruised, surely,” he tutted as he quickly unlaced the binder. “Using a private room for the first time didn’t help,” he added as if to himself, before muttering angrily in rapid French.

“I didn’t mean for it to stop. The position was too intense is all. I only called yellow, not red.”

Free of all restraints, he rolled her onto her front and began massaging her shoulders. “I direct the scene, the beginning, middle, and the end. We are at an end for tonight.”

She nodded, more tears falling silently as he worked the stiffness from her joints. Long moments later, he gathered her into his arms and carried her across the room. She was being sent home, and she didn’t blame him.

Twice now, she had wimped out on him and ruined their scene. There were plenty of other submissives at the club that would suit him better and not fall apart with a little nipple play and creative bondage, or freak out over a word so common in the lifestyle it was said hundreds—no, more like thousands—of times each night on the main floor. No doubt he’d tell Master Dex and he, in his disgust, would have her membership canceled.

Feeling like the worst submissive ever, she let out a broken sob and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

He stopped. Through watery eyes, she saw he’d brought her not to the door but to a large throne-like velvet chair on the far side of the room. Settling her on his lap, he tucked her head beneath his chin and covered her with a soft blanket that magically appeared.

“We are going to sit here and talk until we figure out what we could have done differently.”

“It was me. I’m what went wrong.”

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