Chapter Twelve
Rex
The Pearl Paradise Dungeon...
“Fuck that!” Rex growled as he spun around and stormed back into the dungeon, heading straight toward the corner where Master DD was still stroking Xia’s pussy.
The sound of her moans echoed through the dungeon and struck a primal chord in Rex’s core.
His fingers curled into fists as he fought against the unfamiliar surge of possessiveness that gripped him.
Each step back toward the scene felt like fighting against his own carefully constructed rules of detachment.
The sight of Master DD’s hands on Xia’s flesh sent a rush of scorching heat through his veins. His jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
“That’s enough, Master DD. We might be old friends, but it’s over.
Take your fucking hands off her.” The words tore from his throat before he could stop them, surprising even himself with their raw intensity.
The Dominant in him bristled at his own loss of control, but the burning in his chest wouldn’t subside.
“Well, look at that.” Master DD’s calm gaze only fueled the fire building inside him.
“It seems you’re slipping in your old age, my friend.
Not very sportsmanlike of you to interrupt our scene, Master R.
” The man’s measured tone grated against Rex’s nerves.
“Angel and I agreed on this scene. Since she doesn’t wear the mark of any Master.
.. yours included, and as she confirmed that her loyalty to you is only that of a wife whisperer, there is no—”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, DD. Move them, or I’ll do it for you.” Rex’s voice dropped dangerously low as every muscle in his body coiled tight with barely contained aggression.
“Master DD, why don’t I treat you to Rex’s special stash of aged Macallan whiskey?
” Max intervened with a cordial voice, but the grip he locked on Master DD’s shoulder was firm.
Rex knew he wouldn’t ignore the silent order it carried.
Everyone in the BDSM club world had the utmost respect for Max since he was also the Chairman of the BDSM Community Forum statewide.
Max’s diplomatic intervention barely registered through the red haze clouding Rex’s mind.
He watched Xia push herself up. Her wide-eyed gaze locked on him with confusion, which soon took a back seat to defiance flashing in her eyes.
His blood simmered. The unfamiliar emotion clawing at his chest was a wild beast he couldn’t cage.
“Fuck.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue.
His carefully maintained control was slipping through his fingers like sand, all because of this maddening woman who was supposed to be nothing more than a means to an end.
The fact that seeing another man’s hands on her triggered such a visceral response in him was beyond infuriating. So much for keeping her at a distance.
“What the hell was that about, Rex?”
Her use of his name hit him like a physical blow.
In this sacred space where protocol and respect were everything, her deliberate insolence sparked something dark and demanding inside him.
.. awakening his inner demon. Without conscious thought, his body moved with predatory grace toward her.
Her protests and colorful curses only fueled his determination as he efficiently secured her to the punishing bed, spreading her wide and vulnerable with her arms above her head, legs spread wide with her knees pushed up beside her waist.
The sight of her bound and at his mercy should have calmed the storm raging inside him. Instead, it only intensified the possessive hunger gnawing at his core.
“You do not disrespect me in here, sub. My name is Master R. I suggest you don’t forget again.” His voice emerged as a dangerous growl, barely recognizable to his own ears.
“You had no right to interfere with my scene, Sir, especially since I didn’t use my safeword. You made it clear that my services were not required when you went off to play with miss Pearly.” The bitter edge in her voice stirred something primitive in him.
“I also instructed you to find me another potential for later.” He glowered down at her, fighting the urge to claim what his body was screaming belonged to him. “So? Have you done that?”
“Ehm... not yet, but I knew there would be more than enough time after—”
“After Master DD fucked you silly.” The words spat from his mouth like venom. His jaw clenched against the surge of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm his legendary control.
“Whatever the intention was is none of your business,” she snapped irritably.
The fire in her eyes matched the inferno in his chest. Rex’s control was hanging by a thread as he towered over her.
“It most definitely is my business. For as long as you are my fuck stand-in when the need arises, there will be no other Dom delving where I am. Is that clear?”
“You have got to be kidding.” Xia lifted her shoulders off the bench in a defiant posture that stoked the fire even higher inside him.
“You can swing your dick left, right, and center, and delve as many pussies as you want, but I’m not allowed to?
How is that for calling the kettle black, you asshat? ”
His pulse thundered in his ears. “You work for me. I make the rules, and since you don’t seem to grasp the extent of what that is, let me demonstrate.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and each word dripped with raw authority.
The possessiveness coursing through his veins was foreign and unsettling. This wasn’t like him—this primal need to claim, to mark... Fuck! To own. Yet watching her challenge him, seeing the fire in her eyes match his own, awakened a primitive demand he’d never experienced before.
Standing between her spread legs, he stared at her spread open body.
Her cunt was wet. He felt it, slick and hot around his fingers as he pushed them inside her channel, two from each hand, spreading her open like an offering.
Her breath hitched as her thighs started to tremble.
Rex didn’t care. He wanted her stretched open wide.
He wanted her full, and he wanted her to fucking remember who owned this tight, dripping hole.
His eyes locked onto hers in a predatory, unblinking stare. Without warning, he spat.
Right into her. Right inside her pulsing and swollen pussy.
Her back arched off the table, a choked “Shitting bulls—!” tearing from her throat as her hips jerked like she was trying to escape him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because she was his, and they both knew it.
Ignoring the way her body clenched around him or her breathing stuttered in needy little gasps, he circled the table in slow, deliberate steps.
His boots thudding against the floor counted down his approach.
He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
Her lips parted on a whimper, and he didn’t hesitate. Again, he spat.
His eyes darkened as he watched the spittle land on her tongue.
“Swallow it, Angel.”
Her eyes widened, and for a second, he thought she might fight him. But then she swallowed—obedient, so fucking perfectly that the sight of her throat working around his spit sent a jolt of satisfaction straight to his cock.
“Good girl.”
Releasing her jaw, he reached down, shoving four fingers back inside her cunt. She gasped, her hips bucking, but he didn’t let up. He squeezed, reveling as she pulsed around him while struggling against the invasion.
“You feel that?” His growl turned rough. “That’s mine. Every inch of you. Every hole. Every breath.”
Her lips parted as a whine escaped, and defiance flashed in her eyes.
His blood burned at the battle waging inside her.
His demonstration of dominance was calculated, each action was designed to stamp his authority, to brand her as his property.
But with every defiant response from her, he felt his carefully constructed walls crumbling.
His grip tightened as he leaned in. “For as long as you’re useful to me, no other man’s fingers, tongue, spit, or cum touches what’s mine. You don’t taste them. You don’t feel them. You don’t even fucking dream of them.”
Her back arched as he twisted his fingers inside her.
“This cunt?” He squeezed again, harder. “Mine.” His thumb pressed against her clit, just enough to make her gasp. “This mouth?” He gripped her jaw again, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Mine.” His lips brushed her ear as he continued in a dark, possessive promise.
“And this pretty little throat?” His fingers flexed around her neck, just enough to make her pulse jump beneath his palm. “Mine to fill. Mine to choke. Mine to ruin.”
She blinked, and he knew... she was drowning in him. Fucking hell, and he was losing himself in her.
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice sounding rough with an annotation dangerously close to desperation.
Her breath hitched. “Yours. I’m yours.” The words were a whisper, a plea, and the confession he sought.
It was enough... for now.
“Good. Don’t forget that, sub.”
“Why don’t you show me just how branded I am, Master R. Here and now, for all to see.”
Her challenge hit him like a physical blow.
His body responded instantly to her words.
The memory of her hot little cunt around his length was still fresh in his mind.
His eyes narrowed at the challenge, his cock straining against his zipper as primal possession warred with his need to maintain control.
“Because all everyone will see is me servicing a cunt that has been heated by another Dom. I have standards, Angel. Just like you, I refuse to be a stand-in. But you’re right. Branding you should be more... visual.”
The words hung in the air like a promise—or was it a threat? Then he moved.
No preamble. No hesitation. Just raw, unfiltered dominance, that didn’t ask for permission because it already owned her.