Page 40 of Cruel Master

I sighed and stared down at my empty glass. No doubt she was waiting for a plethora of reasons—was she looking for an exit? Or was she nervous about stepping out dressed in the clothes I’d requested? I had to admit that the idea of parading my wife around the Dungeon in lingerie was both a source of pained jealousy and prideful arousal.

I wanted others to see her, to want her, and to know that if they ever dared to touch her, I would slice their insides open and hang them with their own intestines.

A beat passed and just when I was sure I’d have to send one of the waitresses in to retrieve her, the door finally opened. I stood up as a flash of white appeared. My mouth went dry. Angel stepped out of the locker room and scanned the lobby—seeking me out.

Her eyes found mine, and I felt my cock twitch in my pants. Fuck, but she was delicious. The perfect bundle of innocent white. She wasn’t innocent anymore, though. I knew that. She wasn’t the same woman I’d married, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t pretend sometimes.

I was so much older than her, and even if half a decade had passed since I’d last seen her as the virginal young woman forced to marry a man eighteen years her senior, I had to at least acknowledge that she had matured. As she moved towards me, her hips swaying, the white strings of her thong tightening on her sides with each step, I had to stop myself from coming in my pants like an untried youth.

She didn’t stop until she stood before me, her face tilted up to reveal the light pink shade that was spread over her cheeks. Embarrassment? I smiled. I liked that hint of humiliation she felt. I knew that if I were to put my fingers between her thighs she wouldn’t be nearly as shy as she appeared. She’d be wet and ready for the taking.

"You look beautiful,wife," I murmured. A man passed, a young redhead on his arm. Despite that, his attention strayed and lingered on Angel’s ass. A bolt of rage struck me. At the same time, another feeling rose from the depths. Pride. Possessiveness. He could look, but he could never have what was always meant to be mine.

I stepped forward until my front was right against hers. Her lashes lowered as I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and brought her face into my chest. This stubborn, feisty woman wasmine. Tonight, I intended to show her just how much she was missing when she ran ... and just how much she would crave me going forward for the rest of our married life.

Because Angel was tied to me, now and forever.

'Til death would we part.

18

ANGEL

The music filtering out from hidden speakers was low and pulsating. It was sensual, a deep rhythmic beat without lyrics meant to enhance the listener’s volatile emotions or … in this case, lust.

I was practically twitching with awareness as I entered the main club. I should have known Gaven wouldn’t let me out of my cage without an agenda. The man was nothing if not a wicked pervert. The moans. The gasps. The pain-filled and pleasure-filled screams of release. Just the sound of it, combined with the people’s voices in the room, put me on edge, reminding me of the limo ride here.

As if he could sense that, Gaven’s hand came down on my back, his fingertips brushing lightly along my spine, making me stiffen. “Something the matter, darling?” he asked, though his tone was a bit taunting.

Was he trying to make me uncomfortable?I tipped my head back and looked up into his face, but like always, he seemed to have the majority of his emotions hidden. Well, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of my discomfort. He’d learn that his precious wife was a new woman—a different woman.

“Of course not,” I lied, offering him a small smile. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, Ga—Master.” I quickly corrected myself, mindful of our location and just what that phrase meant to him here.

Here, in this club, he was the Master and I was the slave.

Gaven’s gaze narrowed on my face. “Shall we take a look around?” Though it was phrased as a question, it was evident by the way he took my arm without waiting for a response that he didn’t expect an answer.

I didn’t fight it. Instead, I glided gracefully alongside him, allowing Gaven to take the lead as I perused the area in search of an escape. I couldn’t do so right now, but there was no telling if—later—I might get an opportunity. I’d have to take any chance I could get.

The further we traveled into the club’s main floor and the further away from his friends we went, the darker the scenes got. Women chained to walls as their male counterparts stood at their backs. Sometimes, a man would stand back and cast a particularly evil-looking whip against their spines, eliciting shrieks of pain. Occasionally, we’d pass by a darker alcove and a man would be much closer with a naked woman bent over various objects—wooden spanking benches, leather couches, and more—as they took them in quick, animalistic thrusts.

My lips twisted with distaste. I’d learned a thing or two in the last few years about the world of bondage and submission, and if this is what Gaven expected from me, he could fucking forget it. Though there were plenty of ways to live the lifestyle of BDSM, I’d found one and only one that had ever appealed to me, that had actually made sense.

A Dom who didn’t understand where the true control lay wasn’t a Dom at all, but an abuser. In the end, it was the submissive who gave them permission.

Curiosity had me cutting my gaze to the man at my side as his fingers moved up and down my back almost absently, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching me. At first, I didn’t think he’d noticed, but after several moments, the corner of his lips twitched. And without looking at me, he spoke. “Something you’d like to say, Angel?”

I blinked. “Maybe.”

Finally, he turned his attention to me and I was settled with the full brunt of his midnight blue eyes. “Nervous?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just … confused.”

He arched a single dark brow. “About what?”

I gestured to the room around us and he urged me back against a wall, out of the way and far from the small crowd of onlookers taking in the scenes—a mixture of Dommes and Doms and their submissives all taking in the sights of exhibitionism.

“On what you expect from me,” I said blatantly. There was no point in prevaricating with him, not anymore. He wouldn’t get what he wanted from me, not for long, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.

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