I’ve only taken two steps when a strong hand grips my arm, turning me around.
He’s standing inches from me, looking down with an unreadable expression. “Come,” he says simply.
You may refuse any request that makes you uncomfortable. Madam Montpierre was very clear about that, but I find my curiosity overpowering my fear. There’s a power to the moment. A power to him. It’s something tangible and thick. It’s undeniable and as irresistible as ice cold lemonade on a hot day.
So for once in my life, I don’t resist. I let the current take me. I let him take me.
He leads me by the arm down the dark hallway to the back and up the stairs. Toward the private rooms. My throat goes dry. What is he planning? I know there is security stationed throughout the building, and nothing can happen to me I don’t want, but the knowledge doesn’t stop fear and panic from rippling through me.
He says nothing until we’ve reached a private room and stepped inside. He closes the door behind me and I’m left with nothing to do but take in the scene. Leather straps dangle from a hook in the ceiling. There’s a table that looks like it came from a chiropractor’s office, a rack of whips, paddles, chains, handcuffs, and silk ties on one wall. Another wall displays butt plugs, clamps, spreaders, and other devices I can’t begin to guess what they are used for.
He steps close to me, caressing my cheek as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes drop to my earrings.
“White,” he says thoughtfully. The way his voice rasps in my ear like gravel sends heat blossoming from my chest to my core. It’s a vaguely familiar voice, but I can’t place where I’ve heard it. He exudes control and power, and my body responds to it. “Someone needs to teach you your place.”
He pauses, and I realize it’s his way of making sure I want this. He’s giving me a chance to back out, to escape. I could smile politely and slip out right now with no harm done, but I don’t want to. The tingle of electric excitement across my skin has me more than curious. It has me hungry. I already feel something I’ve never felt before.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “Someone should teach me.”
He bites his lip and I’m transfixed as I watch his bottom lip flick back out from beneath those white teeth. I want to feel those lips against mine. I want his heat.
“Red means you want me to stop, yellow means slow down. Do you understand?”
Safe words. Yes. He’s giving me the safe words. The thought that things might get so intense that I would need them sends a fresh jolt of excitement through me. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He moves to the wall with paddles and whips, walking slowly as he drags a finger along them. He settles on a paddle, unhooking it from the rack and flipping it once in his hand before nodding with satisfaction. “This will serve,” he says.
His eyes meet mine and I nod, sucking in long, ragged breaths. My heart pounds and I’m already so wet I can feel it soaking my panties. I’ve never been so turned on and he has barely even laid a finger on me.
“Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
I find myself obeying without question, as if his words are as strong as his hands, forcing me into submission. My palms slide up the smooth wall. I’m still playing mental catch-up, replaying the last hours rapidly, trying to put my finger on the precise point where my relatively normal life took such a strange turn. I push down the thought that I’m selling myself. Five grand a week and I’m willing to enter a private room with a stranger and become the object of his desires?
It’s not just about the money though. Money may have given me a push in this direction, but the reason I went through with it was deeper than that. I’ve spent my life watching my relationships fall to pieces because sex feels like a joyless exercise to me. When Scarlett described the club, a deep longing rose up in me. A deep, irresistible curiosity that I had to sate. I needed to know if this was the missing piece.
My thoughts are ripped back to the present by the touch of the rubber paddle being dragged from my neck down my spine to my bottom. His fingertips graze my thigh, pulling my dress up over the swell of my ass. Goosebumps prickle across my exposed skin. My fingertips dig into the wall and I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lip hard. I’m putting myself at his complete and total mercy, letting him have control, and it feels good. Fuck. It feels fantastic.