My hands moved to obey before conscious thought could catch up. I shed the leather harness first. Then my shirt. My trousers. Everything falling away until I stood naked, my cock jutting forward, hard and obvious.
Dom's eyes raked over me with heat that looked real enough to burn. “On your knees.”
I dropped. The floor was hard beneath my knees but I barely felt it, too focused on Dom towering over me, his cock level with my face.
“Open,” he commanded.
I did. He guided his cock to my mouth, let me take just the head, then stopped me with a hand in my hair.
“Slow,” he said. “Make me work for it.”
I hollowed my cheeks. Took him deeper inch by inch. His taste flooded my mouth—salt and musk and something uniquely Dom. My own cock throbbed untouched, leaking, desperate for friction I wasn't allowed to seek.
Dom's hips started moving. Shallow thrusts. Testing my limits. I relaxed my throat, took him deeper, let him use my mouth while I stayed perfectly still.
“Fuck,” he breathed. His grip tightened in my hair. “Look at you. So good for me. Taking everything I give you.”
The praise made heat pool in my stomach, made my cock leak steadily against my thigh. Around us, people watched. I could feel their attention even with my focus completely on Dom.
He pulled out suddenly. His cock wet and hard, bobbing in front of my face.
“Stand up. Bend over that table.”
I obeyed. The table was waist-height, perfect for what he intended. I braced my hands on the surface, bent at the waist, presented myself for whatever he wanted.
Dom's hand came down on my arse. Hard enough to sting. Hard enough to make me gasp and my cock jump.
“Count,” he ordered.
“One,” I managed. “Thank you, Sir.”
The second strike landed. Then the third. Dom built rhythm with the same precision he'd used on the restrained woman earlier. Each impact perfectly placed.
By strike fifteen, I was shaking. Hard enough to hurt, desperate enough that if he'd asked me to beg, I would have.
Dom's hand smoothed over my abused skin. Gentle after violence. “Good,” he murmured, loud enough for nearby watchers to hear. “So fucking good for me.”
His fingers pressed against my entrance. Dry. Just pressure and promise that made my breath catch.
“Not tonight,” he said quietly, for my ears only. “But soon. When we don't have an audience. When I can take my time with you properly.”
I nodded, couldn't speak past the want.
He pulled me upright. Turned me to face him. His chest against mine, his cock pressed against my stomach, his hand wrapping around both of us.
“Watch them,” he commanded, loud enough to maintain the scene. “Watch what we've created here.”
I watched. Bodies everywhere. Pleasure building in waves. The carefully orchestrated chaos designed to distract Harrow while we stole everything he valued.
Dom's hand moved on both our cocks, stroking us together with possessive rhythm. His other hand found my throat.Squeezed. Cut off air just enough to make my vision blur at the edges.
His hips rolled. Grinding against me. His breath hot against my ear.
“You're mine,” he growled. Quiet. Vicious. Meant only for me despite the audience.
The possessiveness shouldn't have worked. Shouldn't have made my cock leak and my body arch into his. But it did.
“Yes, Sir,” I gasped when he released my throat enough to breathe. “Yours.”
