“Jer... ” I whimpered, my pulse jumping. I leaned up and kissed him deeply. When I pulled back, I turned toward Dirks.
“I want to use this now.”
Dirks’s answer was instant—a quick, eager nod, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip.
“Doors locked?” Jer asked.
Dirks flicked his gaze toward the studio entrance, then the side door. “Yeah. Locked.”
Jer’s mouth curved. “Good. Then let’s make it official.”
47
dirks
“Clothes off,” she demanded.
I glanced at Jer, but he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, the ghost of a smirk on his face.
My fingers worked at my shirt, then my belt, then my jeans. By the time I shoved my boxers down, my pulse was pounding in my neck, heat creeping up my chest.
“Come here,” Luna murmured, curling her finger.
I crossed the small space, stopping just in front of her. She stepped in close—close enough that the hem of her shirt brushed my ribs, close enough that her scent got under my skin.
Jer hadn’t moved. He was watching like this was a show he’d paid for, his gaze dipping to my throat when she lifted the collar.
“Hands at your sides.”
The leather was cool against my skin at first, and then it warmed as she fit it around me. I felt the press of her thumb when she adjusted the rhinestone charms into place—M-A-D-A-M-E—her Madame, spelled out for anyone to see.
Her eyes met mine when she fastened the buckle. “Now you look exactly how you’re supposed to.”
Jer’s voice cut in, low and approving. “Perfect.”
My stomach flipped, and I didn’t even notice I’d dropped my gaze until she tipped my chin back up. “Good boy.”
She gave the attached leash a tug until I took the single step that closed the space between us completely. Without warning, she pulled off her leggings and shirt, exposing her pretty pink panties and matching bra.
Jer flicked his gaze from her collar around my neck to the curve of her breasts, to her leash wrapped around her hand.
“Message received, Luna,” he muttered.
She gave the leash another tug, and my knees bent automatically, bringing me down to where my mouth was level with her stomach.
She didn’t strip for me because she didn’t need to. One bare foot pressed onto my shoulder, steadying herself as she shifted her hips. From this angle, she stood over me with her legs parted.
With a slow pull, I eased her underwear aside. My breath stuttered. The rhinestones spellingMADAMEbit into my throat as I leaned in, the collar digging deep like a reminder.
“Lick,” she ordered, jerking the leash for emphasis.
I obeyed, tongue making the first slow pass through her folds, tasting salt and heat, her body trembling.
“No hands, and you don’t stop unless I tell you to.”
“Yes, Madame.”
I circled her clit before dipping down again. Her foot tensed against my shoulder, her breath catching, and I knew I’d hit the right rhythm.
