Excerpt: His Devil’s Chains

CHAPTER ONE

(Note: Unedited excerpt)

 

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ouch! What was that for,” Jordan Clark squeaked. She took a precautionary step back from the mammoth, muscled body of Master Black, one of the Senior Masters at Club Devil’s Cove. The frown he bestowed upon her was as black as his name.

Why am I always in the shit with this man when all I want is to have him fuck me until I turn into a silly dilly?

 “If you need to ask, it seems we have a bigger problem than I thought.” Jack’s voice droned in a deep growl to flow through her mind. It toggled the submissive deep inside her. Her shoulders slumped at the realization that once again she’d disappointed him.

It seems I’ll never crack it as submissive. Maybe I should just throw in the towel and give up.

Yeah right, as if that’ll ever happen. Not until you’ve got what you came here for.

Jack frowned as he watched her fiddle with her fingers. He’d never seen this bratty sub uneasy. Her lashes fluttered to cover her eyes.

“Eyes,” he snapped irritably. Her gaze rose to meet his. Like always, he had the feeling of peace when he gazed into their forest green depths. Lighter than the leaves of moss but darker than a stormy sea. It was an unsettling feeling, especially as his instinct warned him that the enticing little seductress was hiding something. The vertical lines between his brows cut deeper. “Why are you here, sub?”

Her one eyebrow curved upward in question. Her pulpy mouth turned into a pout. Jack knew what was coming before she opened those lips that held him captivated.

“Well, Master Black, if you need to ask, we have a bigger problem than I thought.”

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Oowww! Fucking hell! That hurts,” she wailed. She gave him a reproachful look while she rubbed the red welts on her thighs. She was beginning to hate that crop.

“Present!” Jack’s deep voice bellowed through the dungeon, drawing the other members attention to them.

Without thought, Jordan obeyed. She spread her legs wide and clamped her arms behind her. With her ass pushed out and her tits tilted forward, she waited in the desired position expected from a Dom when his sub awaited his attention in Club Devil’s Cove.

Jordan was miserable. Things weren’t going as planned. At first when she’d arrived at the club, she maintained a low profile until she realized that the Senior Masters gravitated naturally toward bratty subs. She’d taken her que from that and sassed off against every Dom that crossed her path. Pretty soon, she’d made a name as the Brat of the club.

Fat lot of good that did me. He still ignores me like a goddamned stop street.

Well, except when she deliberately pushed the wrong buttons and the Doms called him to punish her. Being punished all the time didn’t have the desired result however. The one time she’d been brave enough to approach him and blatantly propositioned him, she’d ended up as a piece of fucking furniture to the mighty Master Razor for daring to top Master Black from the bottom, as he’d called it. It had been the most humiliating night of her life. Especially when Master Black had joined them in the examination room for a demonstration and promptly used her ass as his footrest! And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d forced her to masturbate for glaring at him without spilling the three drinks that were on her back. Which of course, ended in ten strikes from his bare hand on her buttocks for failing.

Jordan held her breath as Master Black began to circle her. She had no idea why he’d singled her out, since she’d just arrived when one of the club coordinators had called her to him. He had no reason to punish her—not yet, anyway. Her breath hitched a couple of octanes when he traced the upper curve of her breasts with the edge of the crop. The corset she was wearing had been pulled in tight for optimum effect and pushed her breasts upward to the point of popping out.

“Hm . . . it seems these little buds are begging to come out and play,” Jack drawled. He pushed his finger into her breast, flattening it before he moved it upward, effectively forcing the demi cup bra of the corset down to bare her breast. He repeated the same with the other.

Jordan bit her lip, aware how her C-cup breasts jiggled in response. She could feel his eyes rake over her tits which were now woefully exposed and stood brazenly naked to his gaze.

 It wasn’t fair that she was so attracted to him. Not under the circumstances. He wasn’t a classically attractive man, but he had a magnetism that Jordan couldn’t resist. She’d been drooling over him from first glance. His shoulders were massive and tapered into a narrow waist and hips. She had been fantasizing how it would feel to have his amazingly powerful thighs pressed between hers. His abs rippled under her glance. Jordan licked her lips, imagining running her tongue over the strong lines of his torso.

Fuck, he looks so yummy!

A rush of sensations inflamed her loins. It wasn’t a foreign feeling—not when he was near. She always experienced pricks of lust that needled the pit of her stomach in his presence. His eyebrows rose in mocking elevation. It gave him such a rakish look that Jordan was overcome by the effect he had on her; something she had not bargained on happening when she’d accepted the job.

Oh god. She fought the desire to close her eyes and give over to the desire that swamped her.

Jack was one of the popular Masters at Club Devil’s cove. How else, with his manly and striking features that spoke of a man who took what he wanted. No sub was able to resist the way he turned that nonchalant gaze to anoint whoever he was looking at with the power of his presence. His high cheekbones and square jaw seemed to have been crafted by an artist which added to his roguish look with a neatly kept boxed beard. She craved to explore the powerful architecture of his shoulders under her hands as he flexed his hips into hers.

“Not tonight, sub,” Jack drawled, the amusement in his gaze yanked her from her dreamlike state. His voice sounded as if it were grating over steel, yet it was smooth and evocative at the same time. Every syllable strummed at her clit to stand at attention.

Jordan’s tongue flicked out to wet her dry lips. It felt like she’d swallowed half of the Sahara Desert, for goodness sake!

“Not what?”

He flicked his fingers over her straining nipples, watching with a satisfied grin as her eyes flared in reaction.

“I’m not going to fuck you. I might never, for that matter,” he said in a pensive tone.

Jordan struggled to suppress the bloom of a chill that began to crystallize across her pinched face but hiding her disappointment from him was a mute exercise. Those damn probing onyx eyes of his saw everything. The widening of his smile attested to that.

“I wouldn’t bet on that, Master Black,” she said.

“Ah, let me guess. You intend to seduce me with your sultry voice and sexy body.”

“Something like that.” Her voice had turned throaty and shot to his groin like a well-aimed arrow.

“We digress. I asked you a question, Emerald.”

Choosing the color of her eyes had been the first thing that sprang to mind when she’d been asked what her club name was. The way Jack rolled it around on his tongue to sound like a caress, caused a ripple of pleasure to carouse down her spine.

“Do I need to repeat the question, sub?” Jack drawled. The clapper of the crop lazily flicked back and forth over her nipples.

Teasing. Hypnotizing and arousing.

“Ehm . . .” Jordan flailed around in her mind to remember what he’d asked. It was no easy feat, especially as each caress of the hard leather over her taut nubs caused a radiant heat to flood and pool in the lateral walls of her abdominal muscles. His ever-watchful eyes exacerbated the excitement that his taunting caress caused.

Question? Think, Jordan. Oh, yes, what am I doing here.

“I’m at Club Devil’s Cove to enjoy the pleasures all the Doms offer, Master Black,” she quipped with a sweet smile.

“All the Doms, sub?”

Jordan watched his eyebrow curve into another slow rise. She squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable with the way his eyes were boring into hers. Intently, with such a direct glare that she could swear he saw right into her soul. That with the lazy blink of his eyelids, he acknowledged that he’d found her secret. It left her feeling disconcerted and wary. The pink tip of her tongue glistened the pulpy fullness of her lower lip.

“Of course, Sir.” She brazenly winked at him. “I mean, this club offers the variety of spice.”

“A very astute observation, Emerald.” He leaned closer, watching her with a searing look. “If what you claim is the truth, why is it, sub, that wherever I turn, I find you underfoot?”

Jack’s gaze narrowed as he watched her eyes take a slow journey down the length of his body to come to rest at his size eleven boots.

An impish smile curved her lips upward. “You have to admit, Master Black, you have some big ass feet.”

Crack! Crack!

“Ooww! Fucking hell!” She cried out as Jack landed perfectly aimed strikes against each nipple.

“You are sorely trying my patience, Emerald,” he balked. His voice turned guttural.

The strikes to her nipples had been thuddy and stung the bejesus out of them but it hadn’t hurt, not nearly as much as the hits on her bottom had. Although she did her best to ignore it, each painful throb of her punished breasts caused her clit to swell and turned her labia slick with moisture. She breathed in deeply, cursing the brat inside her that didn’t know when to keep the fuck quiet.

“I was only stating a fact, Sir.” Her eyes did another foray to his feet and back up. Only this time, they were hijacked by the bulge at his crotch. “And, I have personally witnessed that what they say about the size of a man’s shoes is true.”

Jack ignored the snickering behind him. Like he’d ignored Lance Talbot and Richard Almar, two of his best friends when they’d arrived to watch. He was having a hard time keeping his own face straight. Jordan Clark played the role at being a brat with practiced expertise, but he had a suspicion it was all an act. At the same time, he couldn’t deny how her sassy nature excited him. She was the kind of woman who would offer the sweetest submission as a sub, while outside of the club, she would be the challenge he’d always craved in a relationship.

Back the fuck up, Jack! A relationship? Where the devil did that thought come from?

“What do they say, sub?” he taunted.

“That the size of a man’s feet, represents the size of his . . .” A red flush bloomed over her cheeks. Jack’s cock twitched as she blinked her eyes in the direction of his crotch. “You know,” she said pointedly.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Do enlighten us, Emerald.” Jack was enjoying her discomfort immensely. For once, she was visibly squirming under his stare.

Jordan glanced around. She winced as she noticed the large number of members who were gathered behind her.

She cleared her throat. “A man’s . . . tool,” she whispered.

The group of people watching, burst out laughing. Jordan’s cheeks turned beet red.

Jack rocked back on his heels. He jammed his thumbs into his leather’s pockets. The smile was becoming harder to suppress.

“A man’s tool? What tool would that be, my pet? His hammer? His saw? I personally own numerous . . . tools.”

It was refreshing to find a sub in the BDSM lifestyle who was too shy to utter the word cock. Most of the ones who frequented the club were bold and had no trouble verbalizing what they wanted.

Jack walked closer until they were toe to toe. Her breath hissed through her lips when her nipples brushed against his open leather vest. He leaned closer.

“Say it, sub.”

Jordan was mesmerized by the silver flare in the depths of his black eyes. It made them glitter like they’d been dusted with diamonds. She was overwhelmed by his closeness. The fresh ocean breeze scent of his cologne teased her nostril, causing her loins to clench in reaction. She bit back a groan as her nipples beaded into hard stones.

Oh, hell ladies, not now! I’m sure he can feel you poking holes into his chest.

 

More in book 5, His Devil’s Chains.