Sophia turned resolutely to Lord Larry. “Let’s go.”
They played the game two more times. Sophia didn’t manage to get Nick either time. Happily, the guys she scened with, even Lord Larry, knew what they were doing. Her juices were flowing nicely from the spanking, flogging and hot wax treatment she’d received respectively from her three Musical Dom partners. She’d tried to ignore Nick and his scene partners, and she’d mostly succeeded.
As she headed back to the circle yet again, Nick waylaid her and murmured into her ear, “I’ve had enough. How about you? Want to blow this popsicle stand?”
“Sure,” she agreed, glad he’d been the first one to suggest it.
As they left the dungeon, Sophia asked, “Want to take a walk on the beach? I hear there’s a fire play demonstration tonight.”
Nick put his arm around her. He looked very, very good in a black silk pirate’s shirt open at the throat, soft black leather encasing his muscular legs. “I was thinking maybe we’d just go upstairs to my suite? Share a nightcap and…” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, his lips quirking into a sexy smile.
“That works,” she said, smiling back. She could see a fire demo any day.
When they stepped into his suite, they were greeted by a ringing cell phone.
“Shit,” Nick muttered, striding across the room toward the phone, which quivered on the desk. “I probably better get that or he’ll never leave us alone.” He grabbed the phone, punched a button and held it to his ear. “What is it now, Brian?” He glanced back at Sophia, mouthing, “Sorry,” before turning away.
She looked around his suite, which consisted of two rooms, unlike her single room on a lower floor. Moving toward the sliding glass doors that led out onto a balcony, she pulled them open. She stepped outside into the cool, moist air and leaned on the high railing to stare out at the dark ocean.
She’d left the door ajar, and she could hear Nick’s deep voice rising with agitation as he spoke. He’d mentioned something at dinner about a possible snafu with a big deal he’d been putting together. “Okay, okay, Brian,” he finally said. “Calm the fuck down. I’m opening the laptop now. I’ll handle this, I promise.”
Sophia turned back. Nick was seated at the desk now, booting up his laptop, the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. She came back into the room and moved into his line of sight. “Everything okay?” she asked softly, a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“What?” He glanced distractedly at her and then seemed to focus. “Hold on a second, Brian. I said, hold on.” He covered the phone with his other hand. “Look, I’m really, really sorry, Sophia, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to spend at least a little time on this. I feel like a total douche, but we’ve been working on this for months, and if I don’t do a little damage control now—”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, pushing down her irritation at the interruption to what was supposed to be a sexy night. “I get it. Life gets in the way, sometimes.”
“Thanks,” he said with obvious relief. “I really appreciate your understanding. Why don’t you help yourself to something from the minibar while you wait? I’ll just be a little while. I need to give this my full attention.”
Sophia shook her head. She had no intention of sitting around watching Nick at work. She had a feeling whatever he was dealing with was going to take more than a few minutes. “You have my cell. Just shoot me a text when you’re ready, and I’ll come back up. The night’s still young. I think I’ll go check out the fire play demo on the beach.”
Nick frowned and seemed like he was about to protest. But then he just nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll text you ASAP.”
As he replaced the phone to his ear, she left his suite, closing the door with a click.
Sophia went outside onto the beach and approached the fire pit where the action was taking place. As she eased herself into the circle of spectators, she recognized the woman wielding the fiery whip. It was Ella Bertrand, one of the co-owners of the island, whom she’d met when she’d first arrived. In her late forties, Mistress Ella was beautiful, with silver hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a caramel-colored vest and matching leather pants.
The Kevlar whip snaked in a fiery line through the dark. The person on the receiving end of the flaming whip was a tall, slender man in his twenties with a shaved head and a studded slave collar around his neck. He was naked, save for a codpiece covering his cock and balls. His arms were raised, hands behind his head, his back to the Mistress. Each time the whip met its target, he gave a small cry but held his position.