Brat and Master by Sindra van Yssel

scariest expression she’d ever seen.
    “Holy shit, man, you’re hurting my wrist.” Blackie grabbed Jeremy’s arm. Blackie was bigger than Jeremy by several pounds, although he was shorter.
    “That’s why there’s a club safe word,” said Jeremy coldly. “And rules. You don’t touch other people’s toys without permission.”
    “I didn’t—” Blackie looked at Amanda and blinked. Recognition dawned on his face. “Oh, you mean Amanda. Let me go, dammit.”
    “Close enough.” Jeremy released him. Amanda pushed herself against Jeremy, trying to back his move but also putting herself in the way. She was pretty sure Blackie wouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t want a fight. And after seeing that look on Jeremy’s face, she wanted to be held very badly. He probably thought she was flirting with Blackie or something, given the way she’d acted the night before about finding other people. Hell, even the comment about not wanting to be alone played into the idea that she was an incredible slut. She wondered if he’d believe she had been innocently waiting for him.
    “She’s not a t—” Blackie started and then stared at Amanda, who had been wondering whether it had all clicked in or not. “So that’s what you meant,” he finished. “Sorry. Dammit.” His face fell, and he turned and walked away.
    Maybe he can learn, after all. But she didn’t want her focus to be on Blackie. She turned and looked up at Jeremy, fearing the coldness she expected to find on his face. Instead he was simply unreadable. His arm went around her waist and held her close. He wasn’t too angry at her, at least.
    “Do you object to being called my toy, Amanda?”
    Her heart sped up. “No.” She hesitated, then decided she’d better admit it. “That was hot. Like when you told him I was yours.”
    “One final question. Did you set that up to make me jealous?”
    She shook her head and bit her lip.
    “Tell me,” he said, putting his hand under her chin and tilting it up until she met his gaze.
    “He was a former lover. We had a falling out, but he wanted to get back together, I guess. I was telling him no.”
    “Thank you.” He let go of her chin and turned her slightly away, sliding his right arm up from her waist until his hand cupped her breast. There was nothing subtle about the gesture, and they were in full view of half the club. Vincent was probably still watching. She closed her eyes because she didn’t want to know, and relaxed into it. Normally, it was the kind of thing that ticked her off, even from play partners. Scenes belonged on the furniture, and she liked knowing where they began and ended. He was claiming her, in front of everyone, even if only for the night. Telling people he could touch her where he pleased. She didn’t mind at all, especially if Blackie got the message. Scenes were one thing. Right now, for one night, she wanted to belong to anyone.
    “I look forward to playing with my toy,” he whispered.
    She purred and leaned against him, arching and letting her head loll backward against his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb against her nipple through the fabric. He rested his other hand against the top of her stockings, then slid it upward to bare thigh. His fingers were fractions of an inch away from her pussy. She knew he would find her wet and willing, even if he wanted to finger her right there. Even if he wanted to bend her over the rail and fuck her. She relished being his toy.
    “You’re in a very submissive mood, aren’t you? Turns me on, you know.” He moved more squarely behind her, and she felt physical evidence of his arousal against her backside. He guided her forward until she was against the rail. The rail came just below her chest, and she realized her fantasy of being fucked while bent over it was impractical; it was too high. They didn’t, after all, want people falling.
    He lifted his lower hand, and her dress went fluttering until it fell down again. He cupped both her