Dare to Submit(2)

The sound of raised voices caused his eyes to snap open.

Mike stood and she’d risen to her feet. Her full br**sts nearly spilled over the leather corset binding her body with enticing hooks Decklan wanted to open one by one.

Mike said something.

She shook her head.

The dom’s face grew hard and he grabbed her hair.

Her eyes opened wide. “Red.” She said the word loud and clear.

Instead of releasing her, Mike yanked her hair harder.

In less than a heartbeat, with Max right behind him, Decklan was out of his chair and heading across the room. He wasn’t about to allow a woman to be taken advantage of in his presence. Especially not this woman.

* * *

“Come on, let me be the first one in this club to get into that pu**y.” Mike, the dom Amanda had agreed to scene with tonight, pulled her hair harder than she liked, especially when she wasn’t near to being aroused by him.

“No.” She cringed at the thought. Hadn’t they already negotiated? Laid down the accepted rules and boundaries? She’d been uncomfortable all night, and now she knew why her instincts had been on high alert.

“No?” This time he yanked on her hair to show his displeasure. “What about me and my friend?” He spoke louder than was appropriate or necessary, and she blushed as people around them began to look. “One of us in that tight pu**y, another in your ass?”

Hell no. “Red!”

“Get your hands off her.” This from the man whose dark gaze followed her everywhere but whom she’d never met.

“What’s going on here?” John, a club monitor, approached. Fully dressed in leathers and wearing a badge indicating his status, his arrival was exactly what Amanda needed.

He turned a hard and pissed gaze on Mike, the man she’d stupidly opted to play with tonight.

He stepped into her personal space, getting between her and Mike, the ass**le. Apparently he had a protective streak.

“The lady said red. Mike didn’t respect it. You can take care of the bastard. I’ve got her.”

John nodded, pulling an argumentative Mike away for what looked like a good dressing down.

“Thank you,” Amanda said to her rescuer, admiring his take-charge personality, which turned her on as much as his good looks already did. She’d had her eye on him for months.

Cropped, jet-black hair and a strong, chiseled face that knocked her on her ass. He had an air of authority that aroused her.

“My pleasure.” He smiled, taking her breath away. Until now, she’d only seen him from across the room. His impact was more potent up close.

She only came to the club once in awhile, to try and get what she needed from a guy without the hassle of a relationship. It still amazed her she’d only ever really desired him. But he’d never approached her, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to take what she wanted from a man. Never had been. Didn’t trust the reaction she’d get in return. There was a reason she had a membership here, where expectations were laid out up front and if someone approached her, he wanted her, if only for the night.

He clearly hadn’t.

The deeply ingrained insecurities instilled by her perfection-demanding mother rose to the surface. Too fat. Not pretty enough. Passably smart, but where would that get her?

“Let me take you out of here,” he said in a gruff voice, pulling her back to the present. She met his gaze.

The unexpected flare of desire in his dark blue eyes took her off guard. If he’d approached her earlier or another time, she would have taken him up on the invitation. Now, it seemed like he’d made it because he felt sorry for her. She’d been someone’s pity f**k once before. Never again. Insecurities were one thing. Being stupid quite another.

“Thank you but I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He lifted her trembling hand, which made his point for him.

He obviously thought she was upset about the incident with Mike. He was wrong. She was overwhelmed by his masculine scent, and her body trembled with the effort it took not to take him up on the offer. Pheromones didn’t care about things like emotions and pity f**ks.