Free My Wicked Devil (Club Wicked) by Ann Mayburn Page A

her waist and drew her back against him. His heat enveloped her, and the scent of his crisp cologne stroked her senses. It was pathetic how easily she became putty in his hands. She tried to rally the will to resist him, but it was impossible.
    “How old were you?”
    “Eighteen.”
    She could feel his chuckle more than hear it. “Brave little thing, aren’t you?”
    Taking a deep breath, she turned in his arms and looked up into his beautiful dark eyes. She was about to find out just how brave she was. “Lord Bryan?”
    His brows raised the tiniest bit at her use of his title, but she remembered he’d wanted her to back at Wicked. “Yes?”
    “Would you please kiss me?” Heat flared through his gaze, and his pupils dilated. Before he could speak, she rushed to add, “How you want to kiss me. How you would kiss your submissive.”
    He stepped back a pace, and she followed, not wanting any distance between them. Holding up his hand, he nailed her to the spot with his gaze. “No, Kira. You have to earn my kiss.”
    A sweet rush of desire spun through her veins like sugar candy. While his look was completely serious, there was a slight challenge in his eyes, like he was daring her. Curiosity prickled her mind, and she lifted her chin. “What do I have to do, Lord Bryan, to earn your kiss?”
    “Strip.”
    She glanced at the closed door. “Umm, what about Lawrence and whoever else is here?”
    “The house has been cleared for the evening, the curtains drawn. No one will see you, enjoy your beauty, but me. You are mine, Kira, and I will allow no other to covet what is mine.”
    His primal declaration set her on fire even as she scowled at him. “Then you’re mine as well.”
    “But of course.”
    Thrown off stride by his quick answer, she tried to regain her mental footing. “Well, good.”
    “Kira?”
    “Yes?”
    “That’s yes, Lord Bryan.”
    Swallowing her pride, she nodded. “Yes, Lord Bryan?”
    “Since you seem so hesitant to follow my orders and remove your clothes, I think you need a little motivation. Bend over the arm of the couch with your bum in the air. If that position is uncomfortable, we’ll work around it.”
    “Wait, what?” She glanced at the couch, and heat flamed through her cheeks.
    “What’s your magic word?”
    She let out a little sigh of relief at the reminder of her safe word. He said everything would stop the instant she said it, and she had to trust him to uphold his end of the bargain.
    “Pookie, my lord.”
    “Good. Now do as I ordered or get out and don’t bother me again. If you are serious about submitting to me, then you need to stop questioning my every command. Try to trust me, love, just a little bit. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
    The tremble in her legs worsened, but she did as he asked. The sincerity in his voice eased her fear a little bit. The thick green velvet-covered arms of the couch were oversize and plush. She leaned over, afraid that in a moment she was going to fall, but the arm provided a comfortable place to rest against. Panic started to tighten her gut, a fear that he was going to shove himself into her. She tried to trust him, she really did, but she hardly knew Bryan.
    Before her fear overwhelmed her courage, she used a technique she’d learned as a stuntwoman. Clearing her mind as much as she could, she picked one of her five senses and expanded it. Taking a deep, slow breath, she pulled the scent of the couch into her lungs. There was a faint whiff of something to the fabric, almost like pipe smoke, and she wondered if Bryan smoked a pipe.
    How very Sherlock Holmes of him if he did.
    A moment later, Bryan stroked his way up her legs, pausing to play with the top of her stockings, before pushing her dress up around her waist. His pleased, guttural murmur when he saw that she wasn’t wearing panties beneath her garters made the lower half of her body flush with need. He continued to touch her, his hands more than big enough to grip her