Page 19 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

The door into the club slams shut behind me, locking out the brisk winter air of our Northern California mountains. I pull my zip neck sweater over my head as I climb the stairs to my office. When I reach it, I lay the sweater across the surface of my desk, tossing my keys and wallet on top.

It’s been two months since I accepted Forrest’s offer to be his business partner, and I’m slowly but surely creating a comfortable yet tasteful work environment here at The Black Door.

The renovations for the underground portions of the club have yet to begin, but Forrest and I have gone over the preliminary plans with the witch from the Earth Coven who is helping us, and we’re set to break ground in the spring when it’s warmer.

I stroll around my desk to the massive leather chair, which costs more than the rest of the furniture in here combined, and spin it around.

The seat comes into view, and my lips tip into a half-smile when I find Sarina sitting in it, her body looking extra tiny in the enormous chair.

I smile down at her, shaking my head at myself for being too distracted by my inner thoughts to notice her scent when I entered.

“Hello, Pretty Boy.” She smiles up at me.

“Little Rogue.” I lean over her with my hands on the arms of the chair.

She scoffs. “I’m not—”

“Technically a rogue. I know.” I chuckle as I pull her to her feet and against my body. My hands cup her neck, thumb brushing the choker. Goddess, I love seeing her with that thin strip of red wrapped around her neck. “But Little Nomad doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. ”

She shakes her head, hair swaying with the movement, but her eyes sparkle with amusement. She nudges me with her nose, trying to lure me to give in, to meet her lips and kiss her the way we both want me to, but I don’t. Instead, I back away, dropping my hands from her body.

“I have things to do.” I turn towards the desk and boot up my computer. “And I want to be back in Crescent Lake for dinner.”

The two months that have passed since I agreed to Forrest’s proposal also mark two months since Sarina agreed to be my sub until she leaves, to let me own her body and teach her.

The nature of our visits to the club since then have mostly been to help with the business and discuss plans, but we’ve found time to play too.

None of it has been as intense as those first two times.

Mostly, it’s been me edging her as we sit in the club and sip our drinks.

Then I pull her into a corner booth or a private room and watch her play with herself, or I pin her hands down and tease her lingerie-covered body until she comes.

Each time, she’s worn her red collar. Each time, my focus has been on her pleasure—and only her pleasure.

I use the memories of our time together to get off when I’m alone.

Ignoring the growing desire below my belt from thinking about Sarina in all those compromising positions and skimpy outfits she loves to tease me with, I turn on my computer with a sigh.

But as soon as I remove my finger, Sarina jabs the button, shutting the screen off.

I huff out an exasperated sigh but bite my tongue, turning it on once more.

And again, as soon as I move my hand away, she turns it off.

I glare at her from the corner of my eye, nostrils flaring as I turn it on for the third time. She immediately tries to turn it off again, but I’m ready for her. I grab her wrist, wrapping my fingers around it and squeezing, and yank her away from the desk.

“Stop messing with the monitor,” I command in a low voice. “Please,” I add, holding her chin with my other hand.

She licks her lips and stares me down for a long, drawn-out moment before she finally nods. “Yes, Sir. I won’t mess with your monitor anymore,” she promises, baring her neck to me.

My gaze lingers on that sweet spot right below her choker, where her pulse flutters.

My jaw ticks as my lycan tugs against my restraint, urging me to lean forward and kiss or lick or bite that tender area of her flesh, but I don’t.

I drop her hand and release her chin, then plop into my chair and log into the system.

Sarina perches on the edge of the desk as the computer pings with dozens of new unread emails, and I work my way through them, trying to ignore her presence.

It’s much harder than it should be, though. To ignore her. It’s not just her scent or her inviting, tempting plump lips, or her wide eyes with their long, thick dark lashes—although none of that is helping.

No, it’s her foot on the seat of my chair, tapping it so it spins away and I have to spin it back, and her fingers drumming out a steady, syncopated rhythm on the desk. The drumming I can mostly ignore, but the spinning?

After the third time, I growl and grab her ankle. “I thought you said you weren’t going to mess with my stuff?”

She grins. “I agreed not to mess with the monitor .” She shrugs one shoulder and bats her lashes at me. “You should have clarified that you meant all of your things.”

My fingers curl around the back of her calf. I pinch it, hard, then tug her into my lap as she yelps in surprise.

Maybe if I hold her, she’ll let me focus and finish this work. If I get through it all fast enough, I may have enough time to play with her a little before driving back to Crescent Lake. As long as she behaves.

But of course, she doesn’t.

I reach for the wireless mouse. Sarina snatches it, jumping from my lap and hiding it behind her back, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Sarina.” I cock my head to the side, raising my eyebrows sternly as I reach my hand for the mouse. “Give it back.”

She laughs and darts away, backing up as I stalk around the chair to follow her. When she reaches the corner of the desk, she spins and clambers on top of it. But instead of following her, I sprint back around to the other side.

I grab her wrist as she hops down and twist her around until both hands are pinned behind her back and she’s trapped between the desk and my body.

The edge digs into her stomach from the force of my hips and chest behind her, and I pry the mouse from her fingers, setting it next to the keyboard.

I press against her, lowering her upper half to the desk’s surface with one hand on the small of her back, keeping her wrists clasped in my other.

She breathes hard, but she doesn’t fight me. No, my little rogue spreads her legs wider, her back arching as best it can.

I squeeze her wrists and yank her arms higher as she bares her neck to me. “Is this what you want?” I ask. “Do you want me to restrain you so you can’t move? To make it so you can’t bother me? To tie you up so you’re just a pretty little decoration for me to admire?”

She moans, wiggles her hips, and rubs her ass on my dick, making it twitch and harden.

I press my hips forward, pinning her tighter against the desk so she can’t move at all. “Answer me, Baby Girl. Do I need to tie you up so you behave? Or can I let you go and trust that you won’t mess with my stuff again?”

Sarina angles her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Are you willing to find out?” she taunts.

I hold in my laugh, tugging her upright and against my torso. My hand moves to her neck and wraps around it as she leans her head back on my chest.

“Take off your clothes.” I whisper the command into her ear in a low, dangerous tone.

Her eyes flick to the hallway, and she licks her lips. “The door is open,” she points out.

I raise a brow. “Did I stutter?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.”

I release her. She loosens the laces on the front of her orange sweater while kicking her shoes off, her eyes tracking my movements through the office.

I stroll over to the black chest under the window.

Unlatching it and lifting the lid, I keep her in my peripheral vision to ensure she’s following my orders.

She peels the sweater off her torso, which leaves her in a lacy, soft-pink bralette. Her fingers undo the buttons down the front of her jeans.

I rummage through the items in my chest, pulling out the sparkling golden rope I purchased on a whim a few weeks back and the spreader bar.

Her breath catches, and her fingers freeze on her pants as I stalk back to her, my eyes roaming heatedly over her shimmering skin. I set the bar on the desk chair, then I prepare the rope. Nodding at her hands, I remind her of what she’s supposed to be doing .

She gulps and continues undressing, moving faster, eyes locked on the gold cord in my hands as I unwind it and trail the end through my fingers.

The air in the room shifts, turning heated and decadent.

I circle her as she tosses her jeans aside, which leaves her in only her thin, sheer bra and matching underwear.

She reaches for her bra, readying her fingers on the clasps. “Should I?” she asks, her eyes cast towards the floor.

I stop in front of her again, gaze locking onto her chest. The light-pink lace stretches over her perky round breasts, and her brown nipples peek through the fabric at me. It’s the first glimpse of them I’ve gotten since we started playing together.

I sink my teeth into my lip as I debate with myself.

The thought of seeing her naked, with the ropes framing her breasts and her pussy, has my dick twitching again.

She’d look divine, tied up and presented for me to do whatever I want with.

But I know my limits. I will be unable to stand my ground and keep myself away from her if she’s completely naked.

“Leave it on.” I circle her wrist with my hand and lower her arms. Catching the glint of disappointment in her eyes, I add, “This time.”

She lifts her chin a little as I step closer and wrap the rope around her neck. I check that the lengths are correct, then tie a knot at the base of her throat. My hands graze the insides of her breasts as I tie a second knot between them, and then I tie a third right above her belly button.