Page 38 of Dominated

I’d been in business a long time. That wasn’t to say I was desensitized to the scenes I witnessed in my clubs, but most didn’t cause the stir that it once had when I first opened my doors.

Bale and his feather forced something out of me that I hadn’t expected.

A feeling that came on instantly.

A feeling that came with a level of ownership that, without him even touching me, I couldn’t deny.

I wanted Bale Pierce.

And I wanted that damn feather.

The way the soft, fluffy barbules would graze my skin, the way his hand would guide the softness across me, the way his skills would bring me to the peak.

That was what he was doing to her.

And each stroke brought her one step closer to a mind-blowing, body-shuddering orgasm.

Except he wouldn’t let her have one.

Instead, he filled her with the most intense passion—until she was on the verge of exploding.

With need.

Desire.

And that edging, that nearing toward the brink of an orgasm, lasted for hours.

She never came.

But I did.

The slow torture had two of my fingers thrusting inside my pussy, wetness dripping all the way to my wrist.

My body broke out in desperate, tiny goose bumps.

My satisfaction had me screaming in waves, octaves, tones that I couldn’t believe I reached.

He was the partner of my dreams.

His expertise could provide me with pleasure that I hadn’t experienced before.

I felt that in the air, I saw that in his face, I knew that in my gut.

I’d gotten one taste.

One night.

And now, as I was walking down the hallway to my private room, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would get another sample of his talent tonight. If he would fulfill my questions, if he would make me understand and accept his disappearance.

If he would earn my forgiveness.

Because, more than anything, I wanted him to touch me.

I wanted him to hold me.

I wanted him to stay.

As for my body, that didn’t need an apology; it was already reacting to the excitement of seeing him.

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