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"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?"
