Four Beautiful Letters (Desire Island 4)

~*~

Sophia entered the huge dungeon that evening, excitement fizzing in her veins. The place was filled with state-of-the-art BDSM equipment, each scene station equipped with its own set of impact toys and bondage gear. There were trained Doms and subs moving through the crowd, assisting with a scene here, spotting a difficult activity there, even offering their services in direct participation. The smell of leather, sweat and sex was ripe in the air.

Her first day on Desire Island so far had exceeded her expectations. In addition to being a first-class beach resort, the place definitely lived up to the glowing reviews and accolades it had received at various online BDSM sites she subscribed to.

The water play seminar that afternoon had been both informative and intense. While Sophia wasn’t particularly looking to hook up with anyone during her week-long vacation, the guy she’d been paired with for the water play session was very easy on the eyes. She guessed he was somewhere between thirty-five and forty. He was maybe six foot two, his body lean and muscular. His hair was a rich, deep sable brown with glints of gold. He had a strong nose and jawline, his eyes dark, his lips full.

He had given off a sexy, dominant vibe that had added erotic tension to the scene. When he’d put his hand over her mouth and nose in the moment before guiding her under, something edgy and dangerous had sparked in his eyes. Just thinking of it now sent a shudder of desire through her body.

She tugged at the bottom of her black leather bustier, wishing it weren’t quite so confining. She’d bought the ensemble—a leather bustier and matching leather skirt, along with ankle boots with more of a heel than she was used to—especially for this trip.

She adjusted the strap of her tote bag, which contained a bikini top and batiked sarong she might change into later, if the fetish-wear became uncomfortable.

When the seminar had ended earlier that afternoon, Nick had mentioned he was thinking of checking out the dungeon party, assuming he could finish some last-minute business he had to attend to. She’d said she, too, was planning to be there. Though neither had said it outright, Sophia hoped they would pick up that evening where they’d left off with the water play.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned expectantly, her heart constricting with a small jolt of excitement at seeing Nick again.

“Hello there, sexy lady,” a man of about fifty with sandy-colored hair graying at his temples said. He wore a black leather vest, unzipped to reveal graying chest hair. There was a pair of metal handcuffs dangling from the belt loop of his too-tight leather pants. He had watery blue eyes and a nervous but determined smile. His gaze moved hungrily over her body, lingering at her breasts. Finally, looking up at her face, he said, “I’m Steven.”

“Sophia,” she replied, accepting his offered hand.

“You up for a scene?” he asked eagerly. “I’m wicked good with a cane and I’m looking for a naughty girl to use it on.”

Sophia had had her fill of posturing Doms and wannabe Masters over her years in the scene. But Desire Island wasn’t just some random club. One of the biggest draws for Sophia about the place was its exclusivity. The merely curious couldn’t just book a reservation and show up with their whips and chains. Every potential guest had to go through an extensive vetting process to determine their experience level in the scene, and provide proof of a clean bill of health.

Steven wasn’t exactly her type, but Sophia tried never to judge a book by its cover, especially in the scene. For all she knew, Steven might be an incredible Dom. And she did love a good, whippy caning. The skin on her ass prickled with anticipation.

She was just opening her mouth to agree when she spied Nick coming into the large room. His eyes met hers and he lifted his hand in greeting, a smile moving over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Sophia said, turning back to Steven. “I’m here with someone tonight. But it was nice to meet you.”

Steven pressed his lips together, a scowl flickering briefly over his face. Then he smiled and shrugged. “Okay. See you around.”

As he melted away, Nick approached her. He looked good, dressed in a black knit shirt over dark jeans, black Gucci loafers on his feet. He had a gear bag over his right shoulder—a promising sign. As he got closer, she noticed the watch on his wrist, elegant in its gracious simplicity. Clearly, the guy had both money and taste.

“You got here in the nick of time,” she said, grinning at her own pun. “I was just about to give up on you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. He shook his head, his smile rueful. “I never should have taken that last phone call from New York.”