by Shelly Bell
Smiling, she turned to her cousin. “Hell, yeah.”
* * *
With his dungeon gear bag slung over his shoulder, Tristan Kelley sidestepped Yvette, the blonde sub headed his way, and made a beeline for the exit. There wasn’t a sub here worth staying for, and while his dick hadn’t seen much action lately, other than some lube and his palm, nothing had raised his interest tonight.
“Leaving already?” asked the amused voice from behind him.
Only a few feet from the door, he pivoted toward his best friend and business partner, Ryder. “I’ve got some stuff to do before the move upstate.”
Debating whether he was making the right decision, he’d put off packing until the very last minute, but now that he had finalized his contract, there was no changing his mind.
“I call bullshit, Tristan. What’s the real reason?”
He scrubbed a hand over the two-day-old stubble on his cheek. “I meet the same single women at every play party, and at one time or another, each has expressed an interest in becoming my permanent sub. Why can’t I find someone who just wants a night or two of kinky fucking without expecting more?”
At twenty-eight years old, he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship, vanilla or otherwise. Every sub he’d played with this year had thought she’d be the one to tame him, but he’d done the whole commitment deal once with disastrous results. Because of his ex-wife, Morgan, he’d lost everything that had mattered to him. There was no way he would go down that road again with a woman.
“Don’t look at me. I’m with you.” Ryder grinned. “At least I don’t have to worry about that with Maggie. Gotta love open marriages. We single men reap all the benefits while the poor married saps have to deal with all the day-to-day bullshit that goes into a relationship. Speaking of which, I’d be happy to tag team her with you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Ryder had an even bigger aversion to commitment than he did, never fucking the same woman twice. Someday, Ryder would meet someone who would knock him on his ass, and when that happened, Tristan was going to make sure he had a front row seat.
Tristan shook his head. “No thanks. Not in the mood.”
The ménage thing was sexy as hell, and he’d certainly participated in his fair share, but there wasn’t a woman here who could make his dick stir from its slumber tonight.
Besides, it didn’t matter to him that Maggie was in an open marriage. Maybe it was because of his past, but in his opinion, having sex with someone other than your spouse, even with their consent, was infidelity. But he didn’t judge others, just as he didn’t want someone else to judge him for his sexual preferences.
Ryder shrugged. “Suit yourself. She’s waiting for me in the master bedroom.”
“Thought you abided by the no-sex rules at your parties.”
“It’s my house. If I can’t fuck here, where am I supposed to do it?” Ryder asked, his gaze glued to Yvette, who’d yet to become a notch on his bedpost. Leave it to his best friend to line up his next conquest while having a naked woman waiting for him in bed. Compared to Ryder, Tristan was a prude. “If you change your mind and stay, the other bedroom is open and available. Just like all the subs.” He snagged a bottled water off the bar and winked at Yvette before returning his attention to Tristan.
“That’s the problem. I just want someone for one night. Someone I’m not going to see again.”
“You’ve certainly made that easier, considering you’re moving this week.”
“Not permanently. And I’ll occasionally come back to the city. Lord knows I’m not going to find anyone in the lifestyle up there.” Although with the women he’d met lately, he’d been thinking he might go vanilla for a year. It certainly couldn’t be any less fulfilling.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you agreed to the job,” Ryder said, his brows knitted into a frown. “Hey, there are kinky people everywhere. And you did have your first real experience with BDSM there.”
“Somehow, I think the chances of finding another Olivia in that one-horse town is slim to none.” Olivia had been four years older than he was and the first to show him the ropes. Literally. “You sure you’ll be okay without me?”
Ryder folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t worry about leaving me to run everything. I’ve already got phone calls into my contacts about the expansion into the southwest.”
Shit. He and Ryder had discussed that they needed testimonials for the long-term success of their products before they’d expand into other territories. “Tell me you’re joking. We don’t have the capital—” At Ryder’s smirk, Tristan realized he’d been played. “You dick.”
“Give me a little credit. I wouldn’t make any major decisions without your consent.” Ryder pounded him on the back hard enough to make his teeth chatter. “Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Tristan punched him in the arm. “There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.”
“True that. Speaking of which, I’d better go meet Maggie before she starts without me.” On a laugh, Ryder walked off with the swagger of a man who was about to get laid.
Meanwhile, Tristan had a date with his right hand.
As he inched his way through the crowd to the front door, Dreama, a sub he’d met but never played with, came in. She gave him a little smile, careful not to make eye contact, and forged a path toward the basement. She was a sweet girl, but there had never been any sparks between them, and she was now in a collared relationship.
Seeing the opportunity to sneak out before someone else stopped him, he stepped to the door.
And there she was.
Tristan’s breath caught in his chest as if he’d been kicked in the ribs. She was a vision in pink, her long red hair flowing down her shoulders and pale skin that was just begging for him to mark. He could practically see his pink handprint on her ass and the way the flogger would make it appear as though her entire body blushed.
Along with several of the Doms in the room, his eyes tracked her as she entered the house with her gaze lowered, her blatant innocence calling to him…to all of them. She was new blood, a little lamb who had stumbled into a den of hungry wolves. It was only a matter of time before they’d be circling her, eager to get a taste.
He hesitated to leave, his curiosity roused by this angel in pink. Had she come with Dreama? Who the hell was she?
He hungered to harness that innocence for himself. To have her kneel at his feet in submission and to feel her silky skin against his rough palms. He stood rooted to his spot as she passed by him, leaving the scent of vanilla behind.
His whole body thrummed with anticipation, as if it was prepared for something momentous. The cock that had been hibernating all night suddenly blazed to life and began throbbing mercilessly against the front of his pants. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this way. If he’d ever felt this way. He’d been numb for so long, nothing exciting him beyond a momentary thrill from domination. Now it was as if every part of him was awake.
There was no reason to stay, and yet he couldn’t make himself walk out the door. Not until he learned more about this mysterious beauty, and why the hell she affected him this way.
For a few minutes, he leaned against the wall and observed her. It was clear from the way she moved tentatively into the house that this wasn’t her typical scene. She tugged at her hair, curling it around her finger, and repetitively pulled at the hem of her odd dress, seemingly uncomfortable in it. Hell, it was so short it barely covered her ass, but that wasn’t unusual at a play party. In fact, she was still wearing more than half the women here.
Dreama stopped to put her arm around the mystery woman, whispering in her ear. She steered her over to the far side of the room, where a man in black leather waited with obvious eagerness.
Tristan crossed his arms and frowned. He didn’t know the guy well, but he knew he was relatively new to the BDSM lifestyle. She should be with someone with more experienced, especially if
his gut was correct and she was as innocent as she looked.
But it wasn’t his business.
His redheaded angel shifted her weight from foot to foot as Dreama appeared to introduce the two of them before sauntering off and leaving her on her own. I should go.
By all accounts, she’d already been claimed for the night. There was no point in watching her scene with another man. Voyeurism wasn’t his kink, especially when he craved to be the one doing the dominating.
His feet moved, only rather than taking him in the direction of the exit, he found himself standing just inches away from her, angling himself so that he appeared to be admiring the garish painting on the wall as he listened in on their conversation.
“I know Dreama meant well, but I have to be honest. I don’t think I’m ready yet to play with someone who doesn’t have any experience,” the guy said, surprising Tristan with his accurate assessment.
At least now he didn’t have to worry about her sceneing with someone who didn’t know what he was doing. There were plenty of qualified Doms here tonight who would just love to get their hands on her.
His body tightened with tension. Why didn’t that make him feel any better?
Time to go before he did something stupid…like volunteer.
“Oh. Sure. I understand,” she responded, her voice as dulcet as he’d imagined.
Intending to leave, he took a step backward and began a pivot toward the door, when she crashed into his right side. So much for making a clean getaway. Not wanting to be rude, he flipped around to apologize and came face-to-face with her.
She stared up at him with clear green eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Her pale pink lips were swollen as if she’d just spent the last ten minutes with his cock between them. Jesus, were they naturally that plump? Her tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip and leaving it glistening in an invitation to sample.
“No,” he said, his voice sounding a bit grittier than usual, “I’m sorry.” It was a lie. He couldn’t have planned it better. He coughed to clear his throat before offering his hand. “I’m Tristan.”
A cute little notch formed between her brows as she accepted, placing her palm against his. Her skin was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be.
“I’m…” She lowered her gaze and a beautiful blush crept down her cheeks, disappearing under her dress.
For a myriad of reasons, some people didn’t want to give their real names at these parties. He wasn’t sure why she was hesitant, but seeing that blush sent a jolt straight to his cock.
“Why don’t I just call you Angel?”
“Angel?” she asked breathlessly, peeking up at him through her lush lashes and smiling. “I like that.”
All thoughts of leaving the party fled. He couldn’t go before he got a taste. She was positively edible, and he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into her.
He took a step closer to her, her hard nipples brushing against his chest. He dipped his head to her neck, inhaling. God, she made his mouth water. “You smell like vanilla.”
“I’m a baker,” she said, a tremor in her voice. Her hands went to his chest, fisting his shirt in her hands as if using him to keep herself upright. “I didn’t have time to shower. Or change.”
That explained why she was wearing only that surprisingly sexy makeshift dress. It was actually a shirt. “You smell delicious.” He sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth and nibbled. She tasted as sweet as cake, and if her pussy tasted half as delicious, he’d likely go into a diabetic coma by the time the night was over.
At her quiet moan, he whispered, “And your clothes are irrelevant. In five minutes, the only thing you’ll be wearing is a smile. That is, if you consent.”
Her breathing quickened. “If I say yes, what will I be consenting to, exactly?”
Images of her naked and bound flashed through his mind. There were so many dirty things he wanted to do to her, each one ending with her climaxing harder than she ever had before. And he was just the man to make that happen.
He cupped her heart-shaped face in his hands. “Paradise.”
Two
Isabella had never been so turned on. Her body was practically vibrating. She’d only been with Tony, and he’d been a boy. Tristan, on the other hand, was the definition of a man. He towered over her petite frame, and although he wasn’t bulky, she could feel the hard contours of his chest under her hands. He reminded her of a lion with thick, dark blond hair framing his face and stubble lining his angular jaw. His gaze homed in on her as if she were his prey about to be devoured.
Physically, he was everything she fantasized about and more. In fact, she was fantasizing right now about plunging her fingers into his hair as he worked his mouth between her thighs. But it wasn’t just his looks that had her panties growing wetter by the second.
It was as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. That all the pain she’d suffered in the past had been worth it because it had led her here to this man. There was an energy between them that drew her to him like steel to a magnet, or in this case, submissive to a Dominant. She’d met several people who alleged they were Dominants, but this was the first time she hadn’t needed to be told. This man exuded confidence and control. From the way his eyes seemed to demand her obedience to the way his lips tilted up in a slight grin as if he knew exactly how her body was responding to him.
A man like Tristan was exactly what she needed for tonight. Temporary and uncomplicated. If she’d been at a different point in her life, she could’ve given her heart along with her body. But she no longer had a whole heart to give. Hers was just barely beating. Maybe if she’d met him a few years from now after she’d graduated from college, tonight would have been a beautiful beginning rather than a brief moment in time when their paths had intersected before diverging once more.
Still, staring up at him as he cradled her face in his hands, she wasn’t naive to think he felt the same connection. Not when he could have any woman in the room.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t change his mind once he learned the truth. “I need a little more than your promise of paradise before I consent.” She took a quick breath. “You should know…I’m new to this lifestyle.”
Although his expression didn’t falter, his fingers twitched against the skin of her neck. “When you say new…?”
“This is my first play party.”
He removed his warm, gentle hands from her body.
A painful slash of disappointment cut through her. But what had she expected? Why would he be interested in her, someone dressed in a pink T-shirt and who smelled like a bakery when he could have someone like Dreama, a woman who wore her sexuality on her sleeve and dressed accordingly? She couldn’t blame him for wanting someone more experienced.
As the fantasy of what might have been faded into blackness, she wondered why his rejection hurt so much.
With a fake smile, she gave him a polite nod and turned to go find Dreama. But before she made her first step, he grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to him so that his strong chest pressed against her back.
He licked up the length of her neck until he got to her ear. “I don’t remember dismissing you, Angel. As soon as I saw you walk into the house, I knew that you hadn’t done anything like this before. It doesn’t bother me. I fucking love the idea of being your first.”
She sucked in a breath. He’d noticed her when she’d arrived? A chill of excitement raced down her arms and across her chest.
“You want to know what I’m going to do to you if you consent to playing with me tonight?” His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear. “Anything I want.” He bit down on her lobe, causing a slight sting before soothing it with his tongue. “And what I want is to turn that creamy white skin of yours pink as your T-shirt. Then, when you’re wet and throbbing, and you’re out of your mind with the need to come, I’ll finger-fuck that pussy of yours until you see stars. How’s that to start? Does it meet with your approval?”
/> Holy hell in a handbasket.
The image sent a flash of heat to her lower belly, rocking her off her axis and causing her to wobble, her knees suddenly weak as a newborn foal’s. Between her thighs, the muscles clenched and rippled with what she swore was a mini orgasm. “Yes.” She coughed, clearing the rasp of arousal that had formed in her throat. “I can honestly say I approve wholeheartedly.”
His expression turned hungry as his eyes raked over her from head to toe. For a moment, she had the urge to flee just to see if he’d run after her. Pressing her hand to her chest, she shivered, the idea of it surprisingly arousing. What would he do to her when he caught her?
He didn’t give her the chance to find out, snatching his black duffel bag off the floor before interlacing his fingers with hers and dragging her through the throngs of people.
She couldn’t help but wonder what was in that bag of his that would turn her skin pink. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her heart hammering wildly.
“Somewhere we can talk.”
Talking was the last thing she wanted to do. Her body was hovering on the edge of the unknown, and ready to make that giant leap. “Couldn’t we skip the talking?”
Tristan placed a hand on the base of her spine, directing her past the kitchen. Although the gesture probably meant nothing, it felt almost…territorial, as if he was staking his claim to her. “Safety first. This is your first time and you deserve the full experience. Besides, negotiating is part of the fun. Think of it as cerebral foreplay.”
He was right. She knew nothing about him other than his first name. To hand over her submission without at least having a conversation about safe words and limits would be foolish. But negotiation, fun? She could think of several other things she’d rather do with her mouth at that moment. “I practiced negotiating a scene in my BDSM training class. It was nothing like foreplay.”
As they neared a staircase leading down to the basement, she caught sight of her cousin backed up against the wall, a man kissing her as if he were trying to steal the breath from her lungs, and his hand up her skirt, clearly touching her between her legs.