Page 4 of Destined By Dragonblood (Blood Born #2)

Rather than kneeling in wait as a submissive club member would have done, Dolyn remained standing, every inch of his hairless, golden skin on full display. He appeared like a statue chiseled from stone—cock included—and my mouth filled with moisture.

Heat rushed through my body, settling into my groin and making my leather pants suddenly way too tight. Perhaps going commando hadn’t been the best choice, but I hadn’t been expecting this type of physical reaction toward a man.

Dolyn was a magnet, drawing me closer and tempting me to partake of something new, and I had no qualms about exploring this awakened part of me. Since I wasn’t sure how to do so without physical touch, I would rely on intuition more than logic.

I shut the door, leaving us in silence, completely cut off from the outside world. A hush, full of tension and expectation, flooded the room and made the hairs on my nape stir.

Our gazes held, sending a zing of pure lust straight to my cock and causing a full hard-on, which I didn’t mind in the slightest. His audacity to keep his golden brown eyes latched onto mine, however…

I raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t drop his focus to the floor as one ought to do when their master for the next hour entered the room.

Dolyn’s chin tipped upward in a slight hint of defiance, almost like he…looked down at me. As if those two inches he had on me made him superior. He didn’t realize exposing his neck in such a way suggested the opposite.

Giddiness lit in my stomach, spreading throughout my limbs, but I bit my grin back while blatantly adjusting my bulge. I approached, already knowing from his file I’d gone over a few times before dressing in my leather pants and harness that Dolyn disliked submitting.

And yet he’d paid to feel the bite of a cane.

A puzzle for sure, unexpected and thoroughly exciting. Also none of my business. I was in this room for one purpose alone: Give him his money’s worth of pain while enjoying the hell out of my mental release or more, depending on how our scene progressed.

Dolyn stared straight ahead as I slowly circled him, taking in his muscled mass.

His shoulders, set back in confidence, were wider than my own.

The V shape of his back would cause any bodybuilder envy, the dimples and swell of his ass a dominant’s dream.

Thick thighs, bulging calves…hell, even his feet were perfectly formed.

Sex on a stick took on a whole new meaning, as did Greek god. Dolyn was the perfect specimen of a man, but nothing about him intimidated me or suggested he had a dominant bone in his body, regardless of his stance and the claims he’d made on the forms.

Something inside me insisted I let out that damned chuckle, but I stifled the sound for the second time, sure he would be offended by my amusement over the front he attempted to put on.

I rounded Dolyn to face him, and as though drawn to me, he leaned closer regardless of him attempting to peer down his nose at me.

Less than a foot separated our flesh, and heat zaps like lightning ignited between us.

And I thought I’d experienced lust and desperation to dominate before.

Nothing compared to the intense want vibrating inside me.

Dolyn’s unconscious desire to submit begged me to attend to him, explore the desire he attempted to deny, and reward him for yielding to me.

Every cell of my being craved to command him, mark his skin, and watch him sink into subspace, which I sensed he yearned for regardless of his facade.

I despised being lied to, and this man reeked of dishonesty.

Or perhaps he simply didn’t yet understand the depths of his true self, thus denying he was a submissive creature by nature.

“Why are you here, Dolyn?” I had no right to his personal business, but if there were triggers he’d left unlisted and I inadvertently ignited, shit might get ugly. I refused to have that kind of drama in my club.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he either showed his first outward sign of submission by shifting his focus to the wall behind me or he did so out of guilt for lying.

I wasn’t convinced he would know the real reason if I asked.

“I crave pain and am allowing myself one last night to indulge.” His low voice, husky as though he’d smoked for years, slid over my skin, awakening every hair follicle on my body.

I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of fire and smoke—but not tobacco. More along the lines of...cedar embers.

Delicious .

The unexpected descriptor whispered through my mind, but I studied Dolyn’s full lips, somehow knowing he would be the embodiment of that word and so much more.

“ Master Vanni ,” I murmured the title he’d forgotten when addressing me.

“No man is my master.”

I looked forward to proving him wrong. “Sir, then,” I stated firmly, giving my attention to the rest of his face to see what other tells he gave away.

Jaw clenched, Dolyn nodded, the golden glints in his whiskey-colored eyes giving way to swelling pupils. Pink flushed his cheeks, the throbbing pulse in his neck suggesting he was as equally affected by our proximity as I was.

I crowded his personal space, loving how my body responded. I felt alive for the first time in years, completely enthralled and focused on my purpose. Horny as fuck and ready to give this man whatever he requested.

“You listed two limits,” I stated, needing them repeated out loud considering the undeniable attraction between us.

“Skin contact and penetration, Sir.” He echoed what he’d written on his forms, much to my disappointment. “I have an aversion to the first when it comes to humans, which makes the second an impossibility.”

“Humans,” I repeated, perplexed, but not inflecting my voice with a question for clarity. “Have you ever been fucked, Dolyn?” I found myself asking, my shaft bucking at the thought of sinking my length between his ass cheeks, past his tight ring, and into the silken heat of his core.

“Yes, Sir.”

A low hum rose past my lips as I pressed in even closer, mere inches separating us.

My heartbeat throbbed in harmony with my groin, much as it did when I pushed Ashley’s limits.

“Did you like having a hard cock thrust deep into your guts?” I murmured, hands fisting to keep myself from caressing over his stiff length.

He swallowed audibly, a slight tremor rippling over him as his hands clenched briefly before releasing. “Yes,” he whispered, once more forgetting to address me properly.

I eased back slightly since biting his lower lip in punishment was off-limits, and I needed some space to breathe, as did he.

If Dolyn had enjoyed having his ass owned, why did he use the word “aversion”?

Past trauma, I supposed, same as Ashley, but suspicion had me believing Dolyn’s issue stemmed from more.

Did he crave the pain as some form of penance?

The hard length straining toward his belly button and the droplet of pre-cum oozing down his shaft suggested he was here for more than a punishment.

Like me, he ached for relief.

I had no right to question why he’d come to my club. Opposite in their desires to submit, Dolyn and Ashley were two peas in a pod with their distaste for physical contact, and while both of them intrigued the hell out of me, only one stood ready to be taken care of tonight.

Dolyn deserved my full focus, and I would gift it to him.

I straightened my spine in readiness to give this man exactly what he needed from me—a cold-hearted beating that would ease his conscience and maybe empty his firmed ball sac if he could come untouched.

The conflict over his written answers and tells, however, required a verbal response to a question he hadn’t provided on his forms.

“What is your safeword?”

Dolyn returned his gaze to me, and I swore fire flashed in his eyes and blinked out. “I don’t need one, Sir .”

“The fuck you don’t,” I whispered, leaning closer. “What you crave, the lust for agony I feel radiating off your skin like electricity, will be a pleasure to inflict on your gorgeous body, but I promise I wield more than you could ever handle, boy.”

He snorted, the scent of burning cedar flooding my nose.

My cock pulsed inside my leathers, releasing an unnatural and unusual flood of pre-cum. God damn , this man worked me up inside like no one had before.

“I can’t be broken,” he claimed, his chin lifting, exposing even more of his neck.

I withheld my own snort at his gesture of submission and hissed as another burst of pre-cum slid down my thigh.

“I use the stoplight system for checking in, but red won’t cut it tonight.

I won’t give you what you need without a safeword, Dolyn.

” It pained me—literally—to state the truth, but I was a respected Dom and I would have an answer, or he could walk out the door unfulfilled.

The muscle in Dolyn’s strong jawline ticked again. “My safeword is beta , Sir.”

Interesting choice. Fitting, as the puzzle pieces of him moved around in my mind.

My instincts demanded I order him to his knees.

My fingertips tingled to grasp hold of his hair and shove his face into my groin and command him to use his tongue to clean up the mess he’d caused inside my leathers.

But, without the right to touch him, I had to ignore the hungry inferno he kindled inside me.

“You requested a caning.” I double-checked, my focus back on the task at hand.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And do you have a preferred position?”

“Over a bench, wrists and ankles shackled.” He didn’t hesitate to speak.

A shot of adrenaline rushed through me at the exact position I’d always craved to see Ashley displayed in.

I strode toward the bench where she had yet to kneel for me, the fantasy of her pale, off-limits skin intensifying the ache in my groin. I’d never lost myself in a scene and orgasmed unintentionally, but if anyone could take me to that point, it would be her.

I could now add this conundrum of a man to that small list.