Hell, at least she wasn’t boring.
One thing was sure, Shane would fucking kill any guy who so much as looked at her cross-eyed. Anybody who failed to grasp that right off the bat had only himself to blame.
She wasn’t answering his calls. He tried over and over on the way to her office.
Cursing the elevator delay, he took the stairs, knocking them off two at a time. It was a combat exercise and this was definitely war.
“Whoa,” Kat cried as he nearly ran her over in the hallway.
Shane screeched to a halt. “Where is she?”
“Who? Victoria?”
Who the fuck else? Shane felt like shouting.
“She sounded weird on the phone. Is she still here?”
Kat frowned as if debating telling him something.
“Katherine, for god’s sake, I have to know.”
She sighed heavily. “Follow me.”
They went to Kat’s office. She closed the door behind them, her hand lingering on the knob. “I shouldn’t tell you any of this. I’m violating a secret and Vicky would kill me.”
“You know you can trust me.”
Kat walked over and leaned on the edge of her desk, folding her arms. “This may take a little time.”
“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”
“It may shock you a little too.”
“Not after everything I’ve seen in my life.”
Kat proceeded to tell him the whole thing, all about the Society and how Victoria had gotten her to join and everything that went on there. He listened to every word.
“Tell me the address,” he said when she was done.
“Promise you won’t do anything drastic?”
Shane nodded. It all depended on the definition of drastic.
Kat handed him the piece of paper. “When you get there, ask for a man called the Colonel, he’s former military like you. If anyone can help you, it’s him.”
He kissed Kat on the cheek. “I owe you big time.”
“Just don’t mess it up, Shane.”
“I won’t…I can’t.”
Because if he did, his life would be over.
Chapter Six
“Miss Victoria,” crooned the Colonel, kissing her hand. “Your presence does us honor.”
Vicky managed a smile for one of the Society’s oldest and most generous members. Why was she so tense tonight? “Is that your way of saying how rude I’ve been to stay away for so long, Colonel?”
He laughed lightly, adjusting his monocle. “Come now, we can hardly expect to keep such dazzling beauty all to ourselves, can we?”
“Thanks. As it so happens, I can use all the flattery I can get right now.”
“In that dress, you can count on more than your share,” he assured.
Vicky wore red, a daring satin dress with a plunging back. It was one of her favorites. She liked wearing it because it reminded her of earlier, wilder days, some saloon in the old West, perhaps, where handsome cowboys rode in for a song and a drink, not to mention a night in the arms of their favorite saloon girl.
She had put her hair up and donned a black velvet choker for effect. The look was designed to attract men and so far it was working.
“I do trust you, Colonel, more than you know.”
He looked at her strangely. Could he sense the deeper thoughts on her mind?
It was not without reservations that Vicky had come here tonight. There was also a fair measure of anger involved, a wholly irrational desire to get back at Shane. For exactly what, she couldn’t say.
He was just being Shane. Hadn’t he made clear from the beginning what he was about? Good times, fifty-fifty, no strings attached.
If she had developed feelings for him, that was her tough luck. What did she feel? She was too furious to be around him but she was scared to death he would go away, get hurt, never come back.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to just be with him without having to fuck.
“You’ve changed, Victoria,” the Colonel declared.
“Have I?”
Did it show, the scars of the battles, or was it just the circles under her eyes?
“You’re sadder now.”
“It’s just lack of sleep.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Are you really sure you want to be here?”
“Absolutely. I plan to hold nothing back.”
“Well then,” he brightened. “Why not add a little twist on things?”
“I can hardly wait,” she purred.
“I had this prepared specially, when I heard you were coming.”
Vicky watched as the Colonel retrieved the glassy black box from the antique coffee table in the Society’s drawing room. The box had a bright pink bow on top. He presented it to her, his eyes lit with a pride and eagerness that made him look like a man of twenty instead of sixty.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed, examining the contents. “It’s beautiful.”
The mask was carved from teak, each line delicately rendered to portray the femininity of the intended wearer. It was painted gold, with pale blue eyebrows—wisps that rose like birds’ wings.
It was not unlike many of the other masks Vicky had seen over the years at the Society. They had a rule in fact that no person was allowed back into the private areas without such a facial covering.
The purpose was anonymity and even though the members had grown to know each other’s scents and touches all too well there was something thrilling and revitalizing about looking into the face of the man or woman possessing you and seeing something utterly alien.
This mask, however, had a difference that was more than a little noteworthy.
“The eye holes,” she remarked, running her hands over the painted ovals which only symbolized the power of vision.
“The wearer is robbed of sight,” the Colonel confirmed. “The effect is to heighten her other senses.”
Vicky bit her lip. “She would be helpless.”
“Yes, she would.”
Her heart pounded. “You mean this is really for me?”
“If you dare.”
She cocked her head. “Are you making a play for my affections, sir?”
“I think that is something you will have to discern in due course, my dear.”
Vicky had been with the Colonel several times. He was not a frequent visitor to the Gold Room, preferring the one-on-one quiet of the Teal or Blue Rooms. She was always happy to see him and give him what he needed. For a man his age he was vital and handsome too.
“What room will this mask involve?” she asked, trying to get a sense of his mood.
“Why the Gold Room, of course, like the strands of your glistening hair. The mask does not change that.”
Vicky knees went weak. “You want me blindfolded in a room full of people?”
She tried to imagine it, feeling with her hands, straining to hear the sounds that might guide her.
“You’d be taken advantage of, I’m afraid.” He sighed melodramatically, entirely comic. “All that groping, poking and prodding, there would be no inhibitions on anyone’s part. You would be a living sex doll. Imagine that, no fear of having you recognize them later on. It would be quite an opportunity to release their baser instincts.”
Vicky’s pulse raced. Her voice was hot and tight, barely more than a whisper as the vision grabbed her, from her throbbing nipples to her dampening pussy. “I wouldn’t know who was doing what, which cock was there for my mouth to take, which fingers were pinching, all those bodies crowded around me, telling me to perform.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he said and chuckled. “Yes.”
Vicky laughed. She needed the release. “Why not? I said I was here to pull out stops, right?”
She removed the mask from the box, weighing it in her hand. It felt substantial but not overwhelming. The strap was delicate, but more than sufficient to affix it to her face, transforming her.
The new Victoria, some
one who could take care of her own needs just fine, thank you, without the likes of Shane.
A part of her almost wished he could be here to see. Oh, the look on his face, the frustration as he had to stand by and watch other men play with her body, using her for their pleasure.
On second thought, Shane wouldn’t stand by, not for a second. He would be all over them, scattering them like rats.
Over-possessive Neanderthal that he was.
Vicky was well rid of him.
So why did she have this other part of her, equally strong which wanted him to show up and prove himself? Was she so bad for wanting to be fought over a little bit?
If only it were possible for a man to meet her standards, which, much as she hated to admit it, were likely impossible to meet—a tiger in bed, not overbearing outside of it, committed but willing to give her space.
Shane couldn’t fit that bill, not in a million years.
Could he?
—
If this didn’t prove Shane was serious about Victoria, nothing would—standing here shirtless in black tights in the middle of a room that looked like King Midas had given it a good going over.
Gold walls—one made of glass, a viewing room on the other side so anyone could watch whatever sex scene was being played out inside—gold bed, gold chairs, gold tile, for Pete’s sake. And to top it all off, they had him wearing a mask.
A mask. Could there be anything sillier or more pretentious? If people wanted to share their bodies they should just do it, no theatrics, no secret color-coded rooms.
Hell, the place was more confusing to navigate than the Pentagon.
According to the man he had met earlier, who had introduced himself simply as the Colonel, gold was Vicky’s fetish of choice. The Gold Room meant exhibitionism, to be precise.
Hell, he had figured that one out all on his own. And he had given her an initiation to boot, enough public play to make these Society fools crap their pants.
He did like the Colonel though. The man had been straight to the point, no bullshit. Shane had pegged him as a former Royal Marine, strictly old school, none of this overreliance on high-tech gadgetry.
Shane hadn’t bothered with a song and dance. No point with a guy like that, the kind who will look you in the eye and make up his own mind, then and there.
Are you worth trusting or should you be tossed out like yesterday’s trash?
“We’re quite fond of Victoria around here,” the Colonel had explained, which Shane took to mean “fuck with her at your own risk”.
“She’s one of the good ones,” Shane had replied, which meant he’d be first in line to defend her.
“She’s been hurt before,” the Colonel had continued to probe.
“She doesn’t hide it half as well as she thinks,” Shane had replied.
The Colonel had smiled wryly, indicating the tests had been passed.
“So tell me what you’ve heard about the Society so far,” the Colonel had asked as they sat down in the drawing room with glasses of Scotch.
“No offense,” Shane had told him gravely. “But I’ve heard enough to know I don’t want Vicky coming here anymore.”
The Colonel had nodded in reply. “I suspected that might be the case. I don’t need to tell you how strong willed she is though. It will take a certain kind of man to pull it off.”
“Let’s just say I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain,” Shane had replied.
The Colonel had liked that answer. It was at that point that he had shown him the mask and the strategy they were going to employ.
To Shane it had sounded completely off the wall. But nothing else had been orthodox between him and Victoria so far so why should this be any different?
From the corner of his eye he saw the knob turn. If everything was going according to plan, this should be Vicky.
It was time to get into position.
No room for second-guessing.
Could the whole thing blow up in his face?
Sure. On the other hand, it was his one and only chance to break through that diamond-hard exterior of Vicky’s to get a peek inside.
Ironically, that was potentially even scarier because it might well lead her to demand the same from him. He only hoped he would be ready.
Shane stood where he had been instructed to wait, against the far wall. As the door opened he held his breath.
Vicky looked incredible, arm in arm with the Colonel, who was guiding her. She was beyond ravishing, actually, in that slinky red dress and high heels, her hair all swept up like royalty.
His thoughts weren’t regal though. He had something more basic on his mind.
The mask fascinated him, the way it hid her gorgeous features, making him yearn for a chance to look underneath, to kiss her ruby lips, to caress her cheeks and look into those deep, intelligent eyes.
It occurred to him now how intimate a woman’s face was, how much more expressive of her passions and desires than any other part of her body. Certainly it was working on Shane, taunting him, making the blood pound in his head and in his cock.
The other thing the mask did was to rob Vicky of the power to control her environment. Sight was everything. With it came the ability to anticipate, to plan and outthink.
She was at his mercy.
He clenched his fists, praying he would be able to carry this out, go slow enough to achieve the desired effect.
The urge to simply take her, to pull her into his arms and carry her to that ostentatious gold bed might prove too much in the end.
Such is life, as the French were fond of saying.
Shane followed the movement of Vicky’s body, each careful footstep, the slight swaying of her hips, which indicated trepidation but also excitement.
Yes, he knew his woman well.
His woman.
Where had that come from?
It had a ring to it though.
Her chest rose and fell. She kept licking her lips. What was going through that wicked, legalistic mind of hers? Did she expect a throng of men, hands pressing at her body, insistent? Wanting at her…and inside her.
She was going to be sorely disappointed if that’s what she had come for. But he knew why she had come here. He also knew she didn’t really want it.
Pain cut through his belly, invisible but quite sharp as Shane observed the Colonel saying his goodbye—a single kiss on Vicky’s smooth, alabaster cheek.
Shane had kissed her goodbye in almost the same way last night. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
Things had to be kept clean, though, one step at a time. A real kiss goodnight last night would have led him upstairs to her bedroom. He would probably still have her there now.
The door closed behind the Colonel. Vicky shivered slightly. The silence around them was deafening. If a pin dropped, it would sound like a bowling ball.
Shane let her sweat a little bit, watching her shift slightly, moving her weight from one foot to the other. Her lower lip was firmly pressed between her teeth. No doubt, if he checked, which he soon would, he would find her hot and throbbing, all too willing to part her long, luscious legs.
For a moment he imagined coming up behind her, letting her feel his cock through his pants, pushing into the soft swell of her ass. He knew exactly the sound she would make, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. She would freeze up, just for a second, and then she would collapse against him.
At what point would she guess his identity?
From there it would go downhill fast.
Vicky would know she was being duped.
Likely she would be furious and demand he leave.
Shane smiled, seeing how alert she was trying to be. That was Victoria, always trying to keep one step ahead.
Poor thing, she would never know what hit her.
There were two things Shane did well. Making love was one of them. The other was sneaking up on people.
Vicky strained to hear a single sound, a tiny clue as
to who might be in the room with her. They certainly knew how to keep quiet, whoever they were.
Did they intend to keep her guessing as to their identity, letting one among them serve as the spokesperson, compelling her to reveal herself before an unknown audience?
Or maybe they would speak at her from every direction, all manner of voices, leaving her no choice, no way to hide.
No way to stay the good girl she wanted to be.
Their demands would be obscene. That was the whole point of the Gold Room.
Turn around, girl.
Dance for us.
Lift your dress.
Take it off.
Touch yourself.
Make us hot.
The possibilities raced through her mind, making her pant. This was part of the strategy, no doubt, using her imagination against her.
Vicky cried out, ripped from her reverie as something brushed against her cheek.
“Who’s there?” Her heart raced. How the fuck did someone get that close to her without her hearing or sensing something?
She felt another brush, this time over her lips. “I can tell that’s a man’s finger, an index finger. Don’t think you can fool me because—”
Lips swooped in, devouring her mouth.
The whole fucking thing lasted less than a second.
Vicky whirled about, reaching with both hands. “You’re not fighting fair.”
A hand played over her ass and then her hips.
“This isn’t the Red Room,” she defied. “I’m not going to submit to you.”
The hand disappeared. She stood there catching her breath. “Where did you go?”
She tried not to sound disappointed.
“Do you hear me? I’m talking to you.” After a few more moments she said, “Had enough already?”
The zinging metal sound was so faint she almost missed it. Vicky arched her back. Son of a bitch. He had undone the zipper on her dress.
For whatever reason she was a lot more pissed off than aroused, hardly her usual Gold Room reaction.
Only one man had ever played her like this and she wasn’t in the mood for substitutions.
“If I get a hold of your balls,” she threatened. “You’ll be singing a different tune.”
A hand grasped her wrist, impossibly strong, twirling her about like a ballerina.
Exposing Victoria Page 11