Here's an adult excerpt:
Her steps toward the Club faltered and she clattered to a halt. What was she doing? Surely everything that happened today was a message that tonight wasn’t going to go any better. And miracles were the stuff of storybooks and the bible, neither of which she paid any mind, any longer. Time to back up, cut her losses and head for home. Master Jordan would have given up on her by now in any event, and being late for…class…just wasn’t done here.
As she retraced her steps through the well lit parking lot, her innards chilled and froze into a block of ice. Fear and second guessing herself were familiar companions and the cold was the best way to lock things down and get back to the status quo.
His very recognizable voice reached out and wrapped an invisible restraint around her. The asphalt surface of the lot gritted beneath her soles as her feet stuttered to a stop, and the sultry air of the unseasonably warm evening pressed around her body. She stared forward and sought for the will to run. This could only end badly like everything else in her life.
Her body hitched around against her will, drawn to its Master, no matter she hardly knew him. She was really late, and by rights he should have written her off and moved on. But he was outside, standing on the steps, his tall frame and broad shoulders silhouetted against the imposing building. Waiting for her? Maybe even concerned for her? Even the terrified individual living behind all her shields knew this for the last chance that it was. Heels tapping on the hard surface, she crossed the pavement, drawn to him by that invisible tether. He came down the steps to halt at the bottom.
Fetching up directly in front of him, she went to her knees, the grit and dirt of countless feet and vehicles imbedding into her skin, but she ignored the slight discomfort. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, sub? For being late? Or for running?”
“Then you’ll accept correction.”
The dark, implicit assertion threaded its way through her collective senses like a velvet skein and her head nodded in response. “Yes.” That’s what she needed at the end of the day from hell, and what she deserved.
“Up.” A firm grasp at her elbow brought her to her feet, and when his big hand cupped her chin, she lifted her eyes to meet his intense stare. There wasn’t a hint of softness, only awareness and certainty. She shivered in the face of it and accompanied him up the stairs, past the huge bouncer with the inscrutable face who held the door.
Master Jordan led the way, and she followed. Not once did he check to determine her progress nor ascertain she was actually behind him, secure in his arrogance. No, trusting that she’d keep her promise. Emily kept all her promises, except the ones to herself.
The submissive at the coat check station took her little bag. The speeding ticket protruded from the top, the color distinctive in the overhead lighting, and
put his hand out. With a
sympathetic glance at Emily, the sub handed the purse over. Extracting the
scanned it, then fixed her with a look so full of fury her breath failed in her
chest. With visible restraint, he passed her belongings back for safekeeping
and tucked the claim check into his waistband. It appeared she wasn’t leaving
until he decided she could, and his reaction to that ticket made her wonder if
he wasn’t a traffic cop in his other life. Jordan
It wasn’t a member room, private except for the video surveillance and the checks by the dungeon monitors that her Dom turned into next. Instead, it was a semi exposed scene and punishment room. Crap. She quaked and trembled and couldn’t bring it under control.
Master Jordan’s calm stare, one hand set firmly on her shoulder, absorbed her terror and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against the people all around.
Eyes popping open, she mourned the loss of his touch and tried to moisten a very dry mouth and form some kind of plea. He waited, only the tick in his jaw belying his overt patience. You can do this.
Keeping her eyes on his, she worked the tiny buttons on her fitted shirt free, and let the fabric drift down her arms, grabbing it before it hit the floor with the fingertips of one outstretched hand. Aside from a hot flare of his dark eyes, immediately contained, Master Jordan simply stared. The skirt’s zipper whispered its subtle purr, and pooled around her feet. Stepping out of it, she bent to scoop it up and paused to work the buckle of one stiletto strap.
“The shoes stay on.” He made no secret of his desire for her, lust coloring his tone, and his leathers bulging as they contained his junk.
Her nipples beaded harder, rasping against the lace of her bra, and her sex drew up, clit pulsing in recognition of his dominance and desire. Awkwardly folding the two articles of clothing, knowing she was merely prolonging the inevitable, Emily dropped them to the side and reached behind her to work the hooks of her bra loose.
watched heatedly as her breasts rose, pushed forward by her efforts, and
emboldened, she took her time removing the scant piece of lace. Allowing the
straps to slide slowly down her upper arms, she shrugged each cup free, one at
a time, and the garment drifted to the floor. Jordan
He was on her without warning, dragging her close, putting her on her toes as one hand wove through her hair to tug her head back, while the other palmed her buttocks and ground her pelvis against the bulge of his leathers.
“You have no control in this room, sub. None. I told you to strip, not tease. You’ve just added to your correction.”