Page 206 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

He brings down the whip and red welt blooms across her back.

Droplets of blood blossom in its wake. The man scoops up the blood and brings it to his mouth.

He sucks on his fingers. The coppery taste would fill his palate right now.

Bet, he’s turned on and can’t wait to cover her pristine butt with his markings.

The woman is naked. She’s bent over a whipping bench, on her elbows and knees, with her torso resting on the elevated portion of the bench.

Straps encircle her forearms, calves and waist, restricting her movement.

Her arse is in the air, her knees far enough apart that, even at this distance, I can see the moisture glisten down her inner thigh.

I shift in my seat on the other side of the one-way mirror.

The two are in an exhibition room at the Club.

Yep, that’s what we call it because it doesn’t have a name.

It's one way of guaranteeing absolute privacy to members. If the place doesn’t have a name, then everyone refers to it by a very generic name, which diminishes the chances of snoopy paps stumbling onto its existence.

I’m seated in the private viewing room as the sounds of the Dom and his Sub carry to me over the speakers. Normally, I’d be the one on the other side of the glass.

I’d be the one to raise my whip and snap it, making her wince, before bringing it down on her back, then below her butt, and across the backs of her thighs.

I’d be the one to pause and scoop up her cum and drag it over the freshly broken skin.

I’d be the one to widen my stance to accommodate the thickness between my legs.

I’d be the one standing over her, working her over, wearing only jeans.

I came here with that intention, anyway, but when I saw her stretched out and ready for me, I couldn’t proceed.

Her shape was wrong. She was too tall, too pale, her hair too dark.

Her little sounds of anticipation were all fake.

And her scent—it completely destroyed any chance of me feeling anything.

In short, that little siren has spoiled me for any other woman.

So, I contented myself with assuming the position of an onlooker.

He whips her again, and she groans. The sound should turn me on. It should thicken my cock, ratchet up my pulse. It should make me want to stalk over, grab the whip from the Dom, and whip his sub myself, but it’s not her. I curl my fingers into fists, then bow my head.

I need a release. I need a bloody release, so I can get thoughts of her out of my system. So, I can set her free to pursue her future. So, I can allow the world to discover her. It’s why I brought her with me, after all. So why am I finding it so difficult to let go of her?

I squeeze my eyes shut, then pull up my T-shirt, open my fly and shove my hand down the front of my pants.

I pull out my cock and squeeze it from base to crown and again.

I think of her eyes, those gorgeous green eyes that welled up with tears when I spanked her.

She was aroused; I’m sure about that. Though I hadn’t meant to lose my temper that way.

I hadn’t meant to punish her, but I couldn't stop myself. I allowed myself that one slip, and damn, if I didn’t sense that inner submissive in her.

Am I fooling myself? Does she have an inner need to be dominated by me? Would she be sickened by my proclivities, or would she find them intriguing enough to want to experiment with me? I massage my swelling dick, spreading my legs wider as I begin to pump myself. Up-down-up.

I will not corrupt her. Will not allow my tendencies to mar her. She’s young and innocent, and while she may be spirited, there’s little doubt she has no idea what BDSM involves. And if I had an iota of decency, I’d keep it that way. Doesn't stop me from imagining it though.

My balls harden, blood fills my shaft. I continue to squeeze my cock, again and again. Sensation radiates out from my crotch. My limbs grow heavy. On your back, thrust out your chest, bare your tits for my cum, you slut.

"Oh, fuck, Rabbit, I’m going to come." The tension tightens at the base of my spine, then explodes out. I come right there in my pants, my cum splattering in thick strands on my stomach.

A gasp reaches me. I turn to find Solene standing not a foot away, staring at me.

Her gaze is locked on my crotch as I continue to squeeze myself.

Her breath rises and falls; her chin trembles.

How the hell did she get here? Before I can ask the question, she licks her lips, and my dick attempts a quick resurrection.

In the adjoining room, the woman groans. There’s a snap of the whip, and she squeals.

Solene jolts, then jerks her head in the direction of the sound. Her gaze widens. Her jaw drops. The sound of the whip connecting with the woman’s arse fills the space. Solene’s body shudders. Color flushes her cheeks. When the woman moans loudly, she swallows.

"Such a good little submissive, you are," the man growls.

Solene stiffens. Shock flashes across her features. Then she brings her knuckles to her mouth and bites on them. She squeezes her thighs together. Goddamn, but she’s aroused. Does seeing the couple together and how he dominates her turn her on?

I should stop right now and ask her to leave. I should find out how she tracked me down here, but the lust painted on her features stops me.

"How badly do you want my cock?" the man demands. He throws down his whip, then grabs her hair, forcing her head back. "How much do you want me to fuck you?"

"So much," the woman gasps.

"Ask for it, you whore."

Solene lowers her arm to her side. Her eyes grow even bigger.

She seems taken aback, but clearly not enough for her to run out of here.

She shuffles her feet, yet keeps her legs pressed together.

I can only imagine the hot melting sensation between her legs at this very second.

My thigh muscles lock, and my balls tighten.

In the next room, the woman whines, "Fuck me, please. Please, fuck me, Master."

I don’t need to take in the scene unfolding in the room.

When Solene draws in a sharp breath, I know he’s thrust into the woman.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh reaches us.

I reach for a tissue from the side table, clean up the mess on my stomach, then I button myself up, rise to my feet and walk over to stand behind Solene.

Through the one-way mirror, the Dom curls his fingers about his sub’s neck.

I curl my fingers about Solene’s neck. She shivers.

In front of us, the woman’s back arches in response. She pushes her butt back, taking him in even deeper.

A quiver runs up Solene’s body.

"Does that turn you on, little Rabbit?" I whisper as I haul her close, until her back is flush with my chest.

She draws in a sharp breath.

"Does watching them turn you on? Do you want to be dominated like she is?"

Solene doesn’t reply. Her gaze is riveted to the tableau.

I push my hips forward so my cock is nestled against the curve of her butt, then tuck her head under my chin. "Do you like what you see, baby?"

She swallows hard.

"There’s no shame in admitting you’re discovering the submissive inside of you."

Through the one-way mirror, the man pounds into the woman with such force, her entire body lurches forward. She throws her head back and a keening cry emerges from her mouth.

Solene rolls her neck, and the back of her head connects with my chest.

"Ohmygod," she moans.

I slide my palm up her dress and dip inside her panties.

When I cup her pussy, she gasps, then parts her legs, giving me access.

I slide my finger inside her sopping channel.

She arches against me, pushing her butt back against my still erect column.

I add a second finger, and she throws her arms about my neck. "Declan, I want—"

"Shh, baby."

I curve my fingers inside of her, and she arches up on her toes. "Please, please, please," she groans.

"Stay with me, Rabbit."

I move my fingers in and out of her. In and out. I add a third finger, and she huffs. I press the heel of my hand into her swollen clit, and she cries out. "I can’t take it, I can’t."

"You can and you will."

Ahead, the Dom unstraps his sub and pulls her up so she’s kneeling on the bench.

He pinches her nipple, and she wails. The sound bounces off the walls and surrounds us.

The air seems to grow heavier. A bead of sweat slides down the side of Solene's temple.

I bend my head and lick up the drop, then drag my tongue to the curve of her ear.

I bite down on her ear lobe, and she flinches.

I pinch the swollen nub of her clit, then thrust four fingers inside her.

She cries out, I tighten my hold around her throat enough to cut off the sound and her breath. Her gaze widens. She glances up at me, a hint of fear in her gaze.

"Do you trust me?"

She blinks.

"Do you trust me, Rabbit?"

She holds my gaze for a few seconds, then nods.

Finally, fuck. I increase the pressure about her neck just a fraction.

Enough for her body to twitch. For her nails to dig into my forearms. Then I increase the pace of my ministrations, in-out-in.

The quiver starts from her toes and vibrates up her legs, her hips.

She thrusts out her pelvis, taking my digits deeper into herself, then curves her back.

Her eyes roll back in her head. I press my lips to her ear.

"Come," I snap, then release my hold on her throat.

Her mouth opens, she sucks in a breath and the color rushes to her face, and she cries out.

Moisture bathes my fingers as she comes and comes, then slumps against me.

I continue to weave my fingers in and out of her, finger fucking her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Her knees seem to give out, and I pull my fingers out of her, then sweep her up in my arms. I stalk back to the chair and sit down and pull her into my lap.

She cuddles closer, and I place my fingers against her lips.

Even though her eyes are closed, she opens her mouth and curls her tongue around my digits.

Sensations pool in my chest. A current of electricity zips down my spine.

My balls grow heavy, and I’m sure she must sense the insistent pressure against her hip.

She stirs, then raises her heavy eyelids. "What happened to you, Declan?"