Bondage Buddies (Masters of Marquis #1) - Golden Angel Page 0,17

feelings for him had definitely changed. In the first few months, they’d scened together, she hadn’t cared at all when he’d scened with someone else. In fact, she’d been kind of relieved to know he was, absolving her of the need to commit.

His hands cupped her breasts, fingers plucking and teasing her nipples as she watched, bringing her back to the present. Domi pushed her emotions, her thoughts about the future, aside. If this was their last scene together, she was damn well going to enjoy it.

Well, as much as she could enjoy an actual punishment. She was still a little nervous to discover what that might entail. Being a masochist, she could take—and find pleasure in—a decent amount of pain, but she didn’t know how far Mitch would be willing to push her.

Right now, he wasn’t pushing her at all. His touch was gentle, more of a tease than anything else. The eager pulse between her legs was growing needier, her nipples tingling for more than little tugs and pinches. Doing her best to suppress the impulse to squirm, Domi thrust her breasts out a little more, hoping Mitch would take the invitation.

Instead, he stepped back, dropping his hands. Domi whimpered, rocking back onto her heels. She hadn’t even realized she’d been leaning forward.

“Stay right there, sweetheart,” Mitch said, turning away and moving to the toy cupboard on the far wall.

Yay! Toys! Her pussy clenched in excitement. Toys meant they were about to really get started. Anticipation sliding through her, she pressed her thighs together right as Mitch turned back around, so of course, he saw the movement.

“Legs apart,” he barked, turning from regular bossy Mitch to stern Master Mitch in a heartbeat and spiking Domi’s arousal even more. The almost icy look in his blue eyes made her mouth dry. “A little wider than your shoulders, and don’t move from that position unless you want me to get the spreader bar.”

A shiver went up her spine. Did she want him to get the spreader bar? Domi loved the feeling of vulnerability, but she also hated knowing she’d disappointed him by failing to follow an order. She spread her legs, feeling the cool air on her heated flesh, which did absolutely nothing to soothe her growing desire.

Moving behind her, she could hear him putting things down on a table outside of her view. She was tempted to sneak a peek, but if she got caught, it probably wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, she was going to find out what everything was soon, right?

He came back around in front of her, gaze dark, intent, and focused on her breasts. Neediness surged as he cupped one mound, lifting it with a motion she was very familiar with, and automatically held her breath, waiting for the bite of the clamp he was holding.

The pinch gripped... and disappointed. Domi’s breath puffed out in surprise. Staring down at the rubber-tipped adjustable clamp, she immediately realized, while it was on its tightest setting, the tension was nothing near what she was used to. Her nipple throbbed slightly in the confines of the prongs but didn’t really hurt.

It didn’t burn.

It didn’t do anything to ease the itchy, aching need inside of her.

She stared in near disbelief as Master Mitch pinched her other nipple with a matching clamp, the silver chain hanging down between them swinging, the cool metal brushing against her stomach. Saying the clamps ‘pinched’ her nipples was too generous. It was more like a slightly overenthusiastic hug.

What the hell?

Mitch

The baffled, almost insulted expression on Domi’s face was almost too much for Mitch to bear. She was staring at the clamps on her nipples as if they were a puzzle she was trying to solve. Mitch actually had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.

He’d purposefully chosen the weakest clamps he’d ever used on her, ones that would tease rather than satisfy. For a newbie sub or one unused to pain play, these clamps on their tightest setting would be a punishment. For an experienced masochist like Domi, they were more like jewelry.

It also meant he’d be able to leave them on her for longer than some of the harsher clamps he could have used.

“Bend over at the waist, sweetheart,” he ordered. Domi’s gaze snapped up to his, searching for answers, but he kept his expression carefully blank. Her brow furrowed in the center, but she bent forward. “Keep your hands where they are.”

“Yes, Sir,” she muttered, her tone perilously close