Page 79 of To Catch a Sub

“Desperately, Master Landon.”

The pad of one thumb stroked over the gusset of the panties, a light pressure against her pussy lips.

Colette jumped, nearly coming out of her skin as pleasure rippled through her.

“Sensitive?” he asked. “Or on edge?”

“Both.”

“Then we’ll wait. I don’t want you coming too quickly.”

“That’s just mean, Master Landon,” she murmured as he started unhooking the front closures on her corset.

“Is it?” He paused to run one finger gently along the seam of her sex, the light touch maddening.

She gasped, back arching as she tried to tilt her hips to increase the pressure.

But he went back to her corset, his big, strong fingers tucked under it against her belly so he could get a good grip.

One hook at a time he freed her, his fingers working their way up her hot flesh.

“Exhale,” he commanded.

Colette breathed out, and he undid the top few closures, his fingertips brushing against her captive breasts before the corset fell away.

Her nipples were hard with arousal, her breasts feeling loose and soft after hours in the corset.

She’d been so caught up in this moment, in her own need to submit and be touched, that she’d forgotten why she couldn’t be naked with Landon.

“Colette.”

Something in his tone made her go still. She opened her eyes, looking down at him.

Landon was staring at her side, his jaw clenched so tight that the muscles stood out in stark relief.

He was staring at the long cut that ran up her torso.

Merde.

His gaze rose, locked on hers. There was fire in his eyes, a heat that made her gasp.

“Who did this to you?”

* * *

Landon hauled Colette down the playroom hallway, ignoring the few people who watched them curiously.

Colette tried to yank free of his grip, but he didn’t release her wrist.

It was time for them to have a long overdue conversation.

He slammed open the door to her room, yanking her in behind him before whacking it closed.

As he whirled to face her, they were both breathing hard. Colette was mostly naked, wearing only the high-waisted club sub underwear and his collar. She had one forearm crossed over her breasts. It hid her nipples, but made her breasts plump enticingly above the band of her arm.

Fury had gotten him this far. But now that he stared at her, now that he could see the long, angry-looking injury in the normal lighting of the bedroom rather than the dramatic lighting of the club stage, he had to acknowledge it wasn’t just fury, but fear that gripped him.

Fear for her. Fear that something had happened, something had been done to her. An injury, that if it was only a little deeper could have killed her. Could have caused her to cease to exist.