To the sound of her laughter, he was up the stairs and back in record time. She still stood almost where he’d left her.

“Come here, girl.”

“‘Girl’? Can’t you think of something better to call me?” She came to him anyway, the sway of her hips making his mouth water more than the steak had.

“Slave.” He opened his hand and showed her the slave bells he’d brought back.

“Slave?” She blinked at him. “I don’t make a good slave. Masters don’t like me.”

“I like you.”

“Are you a Master?”

“Yes, and I can be quite strict.”

A sigh escaped her, but it sounded more like longing than irritation.

Ambrose crouched and fastened the slave bells around her ankle.

“They’re so pretty!” She moved her foot and they chimed quietly.

He’d bought them on a whim when he’d picked up several other toys he had every intention of using on her.

“They are. They suit you.” From her ankle, he ran his palm up her smooth calf, and she inhaled sharply, as though she hadn’t expected it.

He rose and kissed her. She melted against him and a territorial growl tried to sneak out. When he’d seen her at the damned club, he’d wanted to punch that idiot Dom in the face. Actually, the guy had been decent about things when he’d realized she was taken, even though she technically wasn’t. But still, he’d been in bed when the text came from Konstantin and he’d found himself racing across town to reclaim her.

Maybe a real relationship was daunting to him, but it wasn’t as hard as seeing her about to submit to another man. If he wanted to play with her and not have to share, he’d have to figure out how to deal with his shit.

Ambrose pulled her over to a chair and sat her in his lap. He showed her the belled nipple clamps he also had with him, and she squirmed in place, unintentionally doing interesting things to his dick.

“Do you like clamps, slave?”

Her voice went small. “No, Sultan. But I’ll wear them if it pleases you.”

“Yes, you will.” He stroked her midsection, her shoulders, then gradually allowed himself to move to her breasts, but only when she was starting to follow his hand for attention there. He used gentle fingers at first, and gradually got rough, listening to her nonverbals. When he thought the pain would start being too much for her, her writhing became more pronounced and desperate. She rubbed against him as though she was ready to fuck.

Gently, he attached the clamps to her perfect nipples, loving the gasps and squeals they drew from her. He flicked the bells on the clamps then rubbed a finger gently over the exposed ends of her engorging nipples.

Everly groaned and ground against him, her panties not providing much separation between them. He stroked her lovely body, watching the way she responded to his touch. It didn’t take long to learn what she hated and what she loved, and he catalogued both for future reference.

“When I saw you playing with the other Dom, it made me unhappy, slave.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore. Besides, we never said we’d be exclusive.”

True.

Ambrose considered what it would be like to go to the club tomorrow night and play with someone else, but the idea fell flat. Everly was everything he wanted.

“For now, then. I want a promise that for now you won’t play with other men.”

“Until when?”

“Until we’ve established that the agreement is over.”

She paused, her hesitation making him irritable. Was it that hard to agree to this for a while? This whole thing was making him uncomfortable. It was getting very one-sided, with him becoming obsessed and her seeming indifferent. Or was he not reading her right?

“Yes, Sir.” She held her breath for a moment. “But only if you don’t take any other submissives while we’re together. I know some Doms don’t like having limits put on them, but if I’m expected to be exclusive I demand the same from you.” Everly was studying the floor, but he could feel her waiting for an answer.

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him.

“That was the idea, sweetheart. Besides, I doubt I could handle another girl while you have my attention.”

“I’ll try to make sure you don’t get bored and wander off.” She bit her lip, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining.

Shit. What was he doing? Now that she’d agreed, the internal backpedaling had begun. What’s the worst thing that could happen, Ambrose? Just don’t go off the deep end for this girl and there won’t be a problem.

Her eyes narrowed, and she squirmed on his lap more deliberately this time, an invitation rather than a reaction.

Time to think later.

“Did I tell you to tempt me, slave?” He frowned, trying to look displeased. “Kneel there and think about what obedience means.”

She groaned but got down from his lap and knelt where he’d indicated.

“What were you hoping to do, squirming your ass against me like that?”

“Honestly, oh Sultan? This slave was hoping you would use her.” She knelt up straighter and thrust her breasts out at him, the bells jingling with her movements.

He flicked the bells again, one after the other, until she was writhing in place, her hoarse little cries making his dick pulse. “You want me to use your ass, pretty slave?”

She mewled and shook her head.

“Well, that’s what your Master would assume, since it was your ass you were grinding against him.”

“I—I don’t think my ass could take you, Master.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re . . . big.”

“You’d let me try.”

Everly blushed brightly. “I would.”

Motherfucker. A girl should not be able to make him so hot with such a short sentence.

“Well, if it’s been that long since you were fucked there, we should probably prep you first.”

Arousal, interest, horror, interest—all crossed her face in quick succession.

“Prep me?” she squeaked.

“Do you like buttplugs?”

“I, uh, I don’t like them, no.”

“But you’ll let me use them on you if you don’t want me to hurt your ass later?” He raised a brow.

Her gaze lowered, but she nodded. “Now?”

“My, aren’t you eager? I was thinking we could wait awhile, but if you’re that hot to have me in your ass, we could start tonight.” He chuckled, enjoying the way she hid her face in her hands. “Well?”

“If it pleases you, Master,” she mumbled into her palms.

He went to the sound system and found a melodic metal album that had hints of Middle Eastern musical influence, and set it to play.

“Up.” He returned to her and pulled her to her feet. “Dance for me.”

Her frown of distress was adorable. “What? No! I don’t know how.”

When he’d placed her where he wanted her, he left her there and sat back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Everyone can dance. Move for me like you’re my slave girl.”

“A slave girl trying to get her Sultan’s attention?”

“Exactly.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“I need to remind you that I’m in charge somehow.” He let his gaze slide over her, then clapped his hands. “Dance. Now.”

Everly shook her hair back, the arch of her neck and curve of her clavicle making him crazy. She huffed in exasperation. Her eyes closed, probably to help her forget she was being watched. The subtle movements, the shy sway of her hips, grew bolder when he didn’t interrupt. The cadence changed as one song shifted almost seamlessly to the next, and the beat got heavier and more sexual. Now the bells were ringing in time with her movement, the anklet keeping time with the movement of her feet.

God, she was beautiful.

She danced as though she were alone, and she’d forgotten he was there. Or maybe she’d taken a class? He watched, rapt, forgetting this was a game between them.

She was his slave, dancing for his pleasure. The anklet was his mark of ownership, and she wore it, proud to be his. He could do anything to her—hurt her, fuck her, love her—and her dance was her silent way of begging him for any and all of it. The possessive tension in him grew until he could hardly bear it.