couldn’t look, closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be a part of this. It wasn’t her. She was a nice girl. She’d been reared in a nice, safe Chicago suburb in a nice, safe family. She didn’t belong with this leather crowd, in a dungeon, watching young women get whipped.
Ethan zipped up the back of her dress and she sagged in relief. Thank god. She’d been sure he’d refuse.
“Stop for a minute, please.” Ethan’s loud tone practically vibrated the walls. Eyes still closed, Violet felt the world still to silence. Not even a flicker.
It hit her then. Her throat closed over as she fought the tears that threatened. They were all there for her. This show was for her. It had nothing to do with the woman lying on the floor. Ethan had given her a taste of submission and all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and weep.
She dropped her head into her hands.
Ethan scooped her up and placed her on the couch next to him. “Give me a minute and I’ll take you home.”
She didn’t look up as the warmth of his body left her. Cold seeped through her bones, chilling her blood. She shuddered. What was happening to her?
She lifted her head only to see Ethan talking to Caleb up front. Both men glanced in her direction with twin expressions of concern curving the corners of their mouths down.
How funny. She’d always thought Ethan had quiet, unassuming looks. But he didn’t look out of place at all standing next to the huge blond man with the face of an angel.
She shifted her attention to the floor at the men’s feet. She sucked in a breath. The girl was gone. Where was she?
Violet started to shake. She needed air. Needed space to breathe. She glanced wildly around the room. Spotted the door.
Ran.
Chapter Eight
“She’s getting away.” Caleb pointed toward the door.
The door closed behind Violet. Fuck! Ethan jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Later.” He took off in a run. The door practically flew off the hinges as he shoved it open.
Like a wild man, he scanned the room.
Where the hell was she?
He pushed through a crowd, paying no attention to the disgruntled looks. A flash of white in the corner of his vision had him heading left.
Anger, hot and irrational, flooded through his system, pushing his adrenaline into overdrive. He knocked a drink out of someone’s hands. Glass crashed to the floor and liquid splattered on his pants. He didn’t even break stride.
“Hey, asshole!” a deep male voice called after him. She didn’t trust him.
Nothing he’d done tonight had proved anything to her. He’d fucking stopped. With any other sub he would have pressed, prodded, commanded until she surrendered. Not because he’d force her, but because it had been what they both wanted.
It was what Violet wanted too, what she needed. Her pussy had been soaking wet, her nipples hard. He could have used his hands and mouth until she forgot all about her fears. Forgot everything but his touch and the orgasms he was pulling from her body. But he hadn’t. She’d asked him to stop. And he’d done it. For her. Because he thought if he continued it might damage their relationship and he wanted to prove she could trust him.
He’d gone against his Master’s instinct because he hadn’t wanted to risk the fragile threads of their fledging bond. He’d been prepared to take care of her, pamper her, talk to her all night until she felt better.
But she hadn’t trusted him enough to do any of that. Instead, she’d run from him, from herself.
If she thought he’d let her get away with it, she was in for one hell of a surprise.
He tore through the crowd. Out the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flash of white. He veered, following the blur, fighting past the writhing bodies grinding to the heavy thump of music under the strobe lights. He kept his sight trained on the exit sign, knowing that’s where she was headed.
The heavy wood door angled open. A stream of light from the busy downtown street cast Violet in its
Ethan zipped up the back of her dress and she sagged in relief. Thank god. She’d been sure he’d refuse.
“Stop for a minute, please.” Ethan’s loud tone practically vibrated the walls. Eyes still closed, Violet felt the world still to silence. Not even a flicker.
It hit her then. Her throat closed over as she fought the tears that threatened. They were all there for her. This show was for her. It had nothing to do with the woman lying on the floor. Ethan had given her a taste of submission and all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and weep.
She dropped her head into her hands.
Ethan scooped her up and placed her on the couch next to him. “Give me a minute and I’ll take you home.”
She didn’t look up as the warmth of his body left her. Cold seeped through her bones, chilling her blood. She shuddered. What was happening to her?
She lifted her head only to see Ethan talking to Caleb up front. Both men glanced in her direction with twin expressions of concern curving the corners of their mouths down.
How funny. She’d always thought Ethan had quiet, unassuming looks. But he didn’t look out of place at all standing next to the huge blond man with the face of an angel.
She shifted her attention to the floor at the men’s feet. She sucked in a breath. The girl was gone. Where was she?
Violet started to shake. She needed air. Needed space to breathe. She glanced wildly around the room. Spotted the door.
Ran.
Chapter Eight
“She’s getting away.” Caleb pointed toward the door.
The door closed behind Violet. Fuck! Ethan jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Later.” He took off in a run. The door practically flew off the hinges as he shoved it open.
Like a wild man, he scanned the room.
Where the hell was she?
He pushed through a crowd, paying no attention to the disgruntled looks. A flash of white in the corner of his vision had him heading left.
Anger, hot and irrational, flooded through his system, pushing his adrenaline into overdrive. He knocked a drink out of someone’s hands. Glass crashed to the floor and liquid splattered on his pants. He didn’t even break stride.
“Hey, asshole!” a deep male voice called after him. She didn’t trust him.
Nothing he’d done tonight had proved anything to her. He’d fucking stopped. With any other sub he would have pressed, prodded, commanded until she surrendered. Not because he’d force her, but because it had been what they both wanted.
It was what Violet wanted too, what she needed. Her pussy had been soaking wet, her nipples hard. He could have used his hands and mouth until she forgot all about her fears. Forgot everything but his touch and the orgasms he was pulling from her body. But he hadn’t. She’d asked him to stop. And he’d done it. For her. Because he thought if he continued it might damage their relationship and he wanted to prove she could trust him.
He’d gone against his Master’s instinct because he hadn’t wanted to risk the fragile threads of their fledging bond. He’d been prepared to take care of her, pamper her, talk to her all night until she felt better.
But she hadn’t trusted him enough to do any of that. Instead, she’d run from him, from herself.
If she thought he’d let her get away with it, she was in for one hell of a surprise.
He tore through the crowd. Out the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flash of white. He veered, following the blur, fighting past the writhing bodies grinding to the heavy thump of music under the strobe lights. He kept his sight trained on the exit sign, knowing that’s where she was headed.
The heavy wood door angled open. A stream of light from the busy downtown street cast Violet in its
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