"Maybe we need to show her exactly what that means," Cruz said, his voice full of dark, sensual promise.
Jonathan nodded and tugged Hartley between them. "Mmm, maybe we do."
Leo studied Scarlett. She seemed amused by the interaction, not fretful, which told him she was comfortable enough to know Cruz and Jonathan would never hurt Hartley.
"Come with us, little one," Cruz commanded. "It's time for your first lesson."
"Lesson?" Hartley asked, dark eyes going wide.
Jonathan flanked her other side, guiding them away. "No speaking unless asked a direct question. Leo, Scarlett, I'll check in with you later. Have fun."
His friends left them alone amidst the squeak of leather and hiss of whip; the grinding music and clink of glasses; the smell of sex and sweat hanging thickly in the air.
Leo waited. He figured she'd either chatter, step back nervously, or dive right in with questions. And once again, she surprised him.
She said nothing.
Those Gypsy eyes stared back, not with challenge, but with patience. Waiting for him to lead. Waiting for him to speak first. She may be a newbie, but Scarlett had already pleased him faster than some of the more experienced women he'd played with in the past.
Oh, he was going to enjoy the evening very much.
"I'd like us to get to know one another before we discuss play. Would you like to go talk?" He offered his hand with an invitation she was completely free to decline.
Her gaze assessed him. He watched the thoughts flicker across her face, noting she had a mind that preferred logic to emotion. Fact and figures trumped impulse. He'd spent years in the lifestyle studying women and their thought patterns, finding how each unique personality needed a particular type of play for maximum effect. He'd begun to wonder if the scientific game of figuring them out had become more important than the physical aspect. Damn depressing, but this woman had already pushed his buttons without saying anything. Perhaps, there was something more here.
She reached out and took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the private area away from the main activity of the club. He chose a room that reminded him of a library, comfortable with the dark leather chairs, thick burgundy carpeting, and bookshelves filling up the far wall. An antique light burned low on the desk, wrapping them in dark intimacy. The room was perfect for playing naughty secretary, and the quick image of her sprawled on the desk, her bare bottom lifted for the slap of his hand, burned his vision.
She lowered herself onto the sofa, the short hem of her slip hiking up past her thighs. Her skin was pale and smooth. He couldn't wait to see the contrast of his darker skin against hers, sliding in between those gorgeous plump thighs to pleasure her.
As if she caught his thought, her breath hitched, so low he barely heard. Her fingers tugged the hem down in a display of nerves, before settling back into her quiet intensity.
Yes. This woman would be fun to watch shatter. Now he needed to find out how deep her control really went.
"I'd like to begin with some questions. I ask them so I can get all the important information to decide what you're looking for and what you need tonight."
"Don't you believe I already know what I need?"
Her voice reminded him of classic Lauren Bacall--growly, sexy, and deep. Already, her intellectual challenge told him her brain was usually in control of her body. His favorite type of woman to play with. "No. Many times a sub thinks she knows, but her Dom sees something more. How much do you know about BDSM?"
"I started with research from books and the Internet. Then I took the orientation at Blasphemy. I've been a member for a few months."
Good, at least she had some hands-on experience. He'd met way too many women turned on by erotic romance and diving into the club scene without realizing what was fact and what was fiction. Safety was always priority number one.
"Have you scened often?"
She stiffened. "No. Just twice."
His brow quirked. "Why?"
She considered him before giving an answer. Beneath her inexperience lay a touch of a brat--one of his favorite types. She seemed to naturally want to challenge a Dom. He'd need to use a firm hand. "I didn't really connect with the Doms."
Interest piqued. "Did they push too hard? Force you to say your safe word?"
She shook her head. "No, the opposite. I was frustrated after the session. During my orientation, I dealt with the Masters which I found more satisfying."
Hmm, she probably played with newer dominants and couldn't forge a connection. "Did you try to communicate your frustration to them? Tell them what you wanted from the experience?"
"It wasn't their fault they couldn't get me off."
Interesting. Her tone held a touch of hostility, contradicting her words. There was something deeper going on and he intended to figure it out. "Some matches don't work out, just like in the vanilla world. Your Dom is responsible for giving you pleasure, and it's not your fault if you weren't satisfied. Unless, of course, you kept something important from him. Was that the case?"
She shook her head.
"Then we'll need to remedy that experience."
She nodded, but he glimpsed the flare of doubt in her dark eyes. He lowered his voice in warning. "Since you are aware of the club rules, I'll expect to hear 'Yes or No Sir' or we'll need to begin our session with punishment."
Those red lips opened in a tiny O, then snapped close. "Yes, Sir."
"What do you do, Scarlett?"
"I'm a statistician. I've worked for the government the past five years but I'm moving to the private sector."
His interest peaked. A math nerd and a submissive. A heady combination. He, too, loved the calming effect of numbers and solving the puzzles they offered to understand the world. It was hard finding people who became passionate about the beauty of mixing simplicity with complexity through math. He bet she had issues shutting off that powerful mind and concentrating on her body. He made a mental note.
"I notice you haven't checked off many hard limits for a beginner." Her bracelets clearly showed she was open to pretty much anything, including sex. "You're open to pain. Flogger, spanking, cane, whip? Preferences?"
"I was told while I experimented with my threshold I could always use the club's safe word--red--or yellow, to slow down."
He nodded, pleased. "Correct. Since we're only playing tonight, I'll concentrate on core basics rather than testing limits. That's for your future Dom to decide during your training. Do you agree?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And sex is on the table?"
Not even a slight blush marred her pale cheek. "Yes, Sir."
His cock twitched. He tamped down on his arousal and concentrated on the conversation. Plenty of time for his little head later. "Tell me about your background. I'd like to make sure you have no triggers."
"I don't." He arched his brow in warning. "I mean, I don't, Sir."
"It wasn't a question, Scarlett. I never go into a play session without feeling comfortable about my sub. This is for safety--for both of us."
Her chin tilted up slightly. Definitely defensive. Definitely a secret there he was dying to probe. "I'm divorced. It became a bit rocky at the end, but it's been a year now so I've worked through it. I went to therapy, so you won't have any surprises."
Admiration cut through him. He always believed everyone should get counseling just to get through life's pitfalls but it took guts to ask for help. "I'm sorry. Did you engage in BDSM play with your husband?"
"No, Sir."
She didn't seem to want to expand, so he pushed further. "Light bondage? Blindfold? Role play? Anything?"
"No, Sir."
Her stark admission told him more than he needed. Though he wanted more, he was pretty damn sure her ex hadn't been into bedroom kink and it had eventually become a problem. He studied her stiff body and distant eyes. No, this wasn't the way to go into their first session. She needed to be open to the experience or he'd be fighting ghosts he wasn't sure
of. Going with his gut, he dove for the jugular.
"Little one, I understand it's hard to spill your innermost stuff to someone who's a stranger, but in under an hour, you're going to be naked, wet, and coming on my tongue. We could do this the hard way, or the easy way. The more I know about what you want and are looking for tonight, the better it will be. Use the mask as a tool to allow yourself to take the leap. But also know, I will strip away not only your clothes, but all those walls you've built to protect yourself. Now, make your decision."
Shock flared in her dark eyes, before quickly becoming masked. But she didn't duck her chin or try to hide. He watched her mentally step back and recalculate. Leo didn't know if she was ready to dive deep yet, but he sensed if he didn't push, they both may regret it later. Sex wasn't just an orgasm or feeling good for a few minutes. It was the biggest mind fuck of all--because it started with the brain, and who a person was at the very core. The right type of sex took all that mess, twisted it up, and released it hard and fast, like the crack of a champagne cork. Afterward, both body and mind were cleaner. Quieter. Saner.
And that type of sex could never be boring.
Especially with this woman.
But he'd pushed harder than with others, and could have blown the whole damn thing. If she was an intellectual, she may not be able to let herself take the leap and tell him. Maybe he'd--
"I was married for three years to a man who slowly eroded everything I originally liked about myself."
Leo stilled. She spoke with a steady calm, but he caught the slight tremor in her body. Moving on pure instinct, he tangled his fingers with hers, offering her warmth, squeezing slightly in comfort. Damned if she wasn't tearing down every preconceived notion about what she'd be able to handle. This type of raw truth was rare this early on, and he'd make damn sure she felt supported. "Tell me about it, little one."
Her fingers squeezed back, accepting his offering. "I didn't think it was wrong to want more out of sex. Oh, sure, we started with vanilla, which was fine, but after the first year, I realized I craved other things. Dirty things. When I brought it up, he was shocked. Began telling me I was messed up to ask him to spank me, or tie me up. I tried to let it go, but my need kept getting worse. I tried talking to him. Asked him to experiment."
"He didn't want to?"
She shook her head. "Over time, I had to fake my arousal, but he could tell. I think it made him feel like less of a man, and he started taking it out on me. First, it was my weight. I was too big, not sexy enough for him to want me. Called me fat and useless. Then it poured out in all aspects of our life together. From how I did my job, to how I cleaned the house, and everything in between. I was a failure of a wife. I was a failure at turning him on. It went on and on. And finally, one day I realized I didn't even know who I was anymore. I looked in the mirror and saw nothing. Or at least, nothing I liked."
Anger thrummed in his veins, heating his blood. Oh, if he could bash her ex's face in, he'd be over the fucking moon. Typical shit. His ego got threatened so he took it out on his wife. "Sounds like you were strong enough to realize he has a serious condition."
She cocked her head. Coal-black waves spilled over her right cheek and tumbled over her shoulder. The scent of citrus drifted to his nostrils. Clean. Tangy. Sharp. Like her. "Condition?" she asked.
"Yeah, your ex is a true asshole." He relished her smile, then leaned into her space. The air between them crackled to life, twisting tight with a delicious sexual tension that couldn't be forced. Oh, his hands itched to get all over those gorgeous curves and show her how sexy they were. "Damned if you haven't impressed the hell out of me, Scarlett Rose. First, you were strong enough not to let him win. To claim who you were and walk away. Second, you were brave enough to tell me the truth. That's a woman I want to be with. A woman I want to give excruciating pleasure to with my mouth and tongue and teeth. Tie her up with her thighs spread wide and fuck her till she begs for mercy. Spank her ass till she's dripping wet and hot." Her pupils dilated at his words. "Would you like that?"
"Yes, Sir." This time, her words came out ragged. He raked his glance over her tight nipples, and noted her rapidly racing pulse. Citrus mingled with the musky smell of arousal. She liked the dirty talk. Good, cause so did he.
"Then our play will begin. Call me Sir at all times. Use the word yellow to slow things down. Red if you want things to stop completely."
"Yes, Sir."
"Don't be afraid to use it. Gaze lowered as I lead you to our room. No speaking unless spoken to." He studied her lush body, allowing a slight smile to rest on his lips. He hadn't looked this forward to a session in too long.
"Shall we begin?"
Chapter Two
HOLY CRAP.
This was really happening.
Scarlett tried not to shake as she followed him through the writhing crowd on the dance floor, down the long hallway, and deeper into Blasphemy. The thrum of the music and chatter dimmed, until just the teasing flick of a whip drifted from various doors, along with low groans and grunts sounding like both pain and pleasure.
Excitement flicked her nerve endings. Already, the anticipation of what could happen tightened her nipples and gave her that roller coaster feeling in her tummy. All those years of trying to ignore her darker desires sprang up and practically screamed for release. She was going to have sex with a stranger tonight. A stranger who'd bring her to orgasm by doing things to her she'd only dreamed about. A stranger hidden behind a simple black mask, but who burned with an inner fire that both aroused and terrified her.
She kept her gaze demurely lowered, but his image had already imprinted on her brain. When Hartley had mentioned Jonathan and Cruz wanted her to meet their Navy friend, she'd been hesitant. Her first official sessions at Blasphemy had been disappointing. She'd been hoping to meet a Dom who knew exactly how to arouse her, but the moment she'd gotten naked, those damn negative voices flared. The harder she'd tried to ignore them, the worse they got, and instead of getting wet when he'd put his hands on her, she'd gotten stiffer and more miserable.
The second time, she requested the flogger, hoping that would give her the push needed to get out of her head. She'd liked it, but didn't achieve anything close to orgasm, so she'd figured maybe it wasn't for her.
But tonight, she had her mask. She'd finally feel safe enough to push her limits. Her fantasies revolved around submitting to a man she'd never see or hear about again. Since Leo was both experienced and trustworthy, Scarlett figured he'd be perfect to help her. She'd only be in Baltimore for a few more nights before heading to Vegas. This was her last shot to experiment at Blasphemy before she moved.
Though, she had a sinking feeling Leonardo Sinclair would not be a man easily forgotten.
From his sinful black hair, sexy stubble, and rock-hard body, he was a man who ate up the space in a room, and owned it. Simply dressed in black pants and a black t-shirt, he shimmered with trapped, animal like energy. The way he regarded her in utter stillness caused goosebumps to prickle her skin. That hooded, dark gaze traveled every inch of her body, probing her gaze behind his mask with such punch, Scarlett was terrified he already knew every one of her secrets.
Corded arms held intricate tattoos in artistic beauty. She loved tats, but had never dated a man with one. It took discipline not to reach out to trail a finger over the gorgeous designs and ask a dozen questions. Of course, that action would have gotten her punished.
Oh, my, what would it be like to have this man punish her?
When he sat and spoke with her, the warmth of his hands had surprised and comforted her. Though he seemed deliberate with every movement, he was quick to offer touch, which had immediately softened her. How did he seem to know what she needed when they'd only met? Was it because he was a practiced Dom? Or was it this particular man?
The questions danced in her mind with every step toward the play room. Scarlett snuck a quick peek at his tight ass, framed perfectly in those neatly pressed pants. He was easily o
ver six two, and seemed to automatically part the crowds ahead of him like Moses and the Red Sea. He walked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and had no doubts he'd achieve it. The sheer boldness of his confidence made her immediately wet, until she felt the damp lace of her panties cling to her inner thighs.
God, he hadn't even touched her yet. She hadn't been this wet in so long, she feared some of her erogenous parts had been broken. Looks like they only needed a good lube.
She tamped down on the ridiculous thought, fighting back a nervous giggle that was completely foreign to her, and entered the farthest room on the right. She blinked against the sudden darkness, tensing only slightly as he shut the door with a soft click behind her.
Relief flooded through her veins. He'd chosen one of the simplest rooms in the club. There were no hard-core themes, which may make things easier. She'd refused to mark limits with her bands. She'd been locked up for so long in a sexual prison, Scarlett hated to reject anything, even if it scared her. Now she just had to hope her courage didn't fail.
Her gaze travelled over the giant St. Andrew's cross and beautiful red cabinet that held an array of floggers, nipple clamps, vibrators, and other toys. The four-poster king size bed was dressed in earth and burgundy tones, with thick blankets and fluffy pillows. The walls were covered in red velvet, wrapping them in a sound proof haven. Somehow, the simplicity lent to an air of intimacy the other more elaborate rooms lacked.
Leo moved in front of her, and she focused on his shiny black shoes.
"You may look up."
His voice was like gravel mixed with sand--rough, gritty, earthy. She fought a shiver and stared back at him.
"I have an important question."
She tilted her head, curious. "Yes, Sir?"
"Did you look up at any time during our walk here?"
Crap. She blinked, taking a moment to sift through her options. Then fell back on truth. "Yes, Sir."
Had his lip twitched slightly or was it her imagination? "Why?"
Her cheeks warmed. "Because I was staring at your ass."
This time, she caught the curl of his lower lip. "Such a bad girl for disobeying." He clucked, reaching out to tug her long hair, moving his fingers through the thick strands, rearranging them over her breasts. "Such a good girl for telling me the truth." Still stroking, he let his hands coast over her straining nipples, brushing lightly against the satin fabric so the delicious sensation streamed through her blood, turning to liquid heat. She tried to keep still, but the teasing rhythm continued until her body arched for more. He murmured under his breath, then those gentle fingers grasped her nipple and twisted. The sudden bite of pain hit, then shimmered into a strange aching pleasure, wringing out a gasp. His voice held a dark satisfaction. "I'll decide whether to punish or reward you in a bit. For now, take off your clothes."
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