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Hopefully, Eric’s offer to borrow a van to help her retrieve her stuff was still good. He’d checked in with her every day since her escape. Their text exchanges had been entirely platonic, and Rowan told herself this was all to the good. While Eric was a really good guy, the last thing she needed right now was to get involved with another Dom.
But that hadn’t stopped her from replaying every moment she’d had with the trainer, especially as the nightmare of her last weeks with John slowly faded into something manageable. The truth was, Eric hadn’t been far from her mind since he’d so gently cradled her in his arms that first morning.
He wasn’t GQ model gorgeous like John, but so what? His eyes were a lovely shade of green, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, sparkling like polished sea glass. She especially liked his arms, which were muscular and roped with veins, his hands rough and calloused. She’d always been with clean-shaven guys. What would it feel like to kiss a bearded man? What would it be like to slowly unbutton that denim work shirt and see what lay beneath?
Each night as she pleasured herself before sleep, it was Eric who filled her fantasies, standing before her with that heavenly flogger, or pulling her over his lap for a hard spanking before making slow, delicious love to her.
The fantasy was just that, of course. She barely knew the guy, after all. They’d spent less than twenty-four hours in each other’s company, when you added it all up. She wasn’t sure if her attraction was because of what he’d brought out in her during the brief training, or because he’d been there like a knight in shining armor at her time of need.
When she’d first met the trainer, she hadn’t felt that bolt of lightning she’d experienced the first time she saw the gorgeous John Garfield. Though maybe that was a good thing. Like lightning, John had turned out to be dangerous and she’d definitely gotten burned.
Her cell dinged and Rowan smiled, her heart lifting. Eric was checking in on her once again.
But it wasn’t the trainer’s name on the screen. It was her new roommate, Sheri.
Hi, girlfriend. Mike is taking me on a surprise trip to Atlantic City this weekend! You’ll be okay on your own, right?
Rowan responded instantly.
Of course! Have fun and win the jackpot! ?
Ever since she had known her, Sheri had loved to gamble—be it on a lottery ticket from the corner bodega, slot machines in a mall arcade that gave you only tickets for cheap stuffed animals, all the way up to serious games of chance in fancy casinos. Rowan was glad her friend was heading off to enjoy her favorite pastime.
And Rowan wouldn’t mind having the whole apartment to herself for a few days. Tucking her tip money into her bag, she headed out to do some shopping.
She passed a BDSM boutique during her travels to various thrift stores in the area. Unable to resist, she stepped inside the small space. She moved past the sex toys and restraint devices toward the back of the store, drawn as she always was to the sales rack.
She riffled through the corsets and minidresses replete with zippers and cutouts, none of which she could afford, even on sale. She was about to turn around and leave when she spied a satin corset mixed in among the leather and latex.
It was dyed a lovely shade of pale blue and included a matching pair of thong panties. It would look perfect against her skin tone, and she could already feel the stays pressing against her curves and lifting her breasts like offerings. It looked to be exactly her size, and she instantly coveted it, even while her rational mind informed her she had no business wasting her hard-earned cash on such a frivolity.
Then she saw the price tag and did a double take. Though it was still more than she should spend, the price was less than half what she’d been expecting. How could it possibly be that cheap?
She pulled it from the rack to examine it more carefully, and then she saw the issue. It was missing the lace-up satin ties at the back that would cinch it into place.
She could totally fix that! All she had to do was buy a few yards of satin ribbon. It didn’t have to match. In fact, a pale cream color would look pretty against the blue. Before she’d consciously made the decision to do it, she was marching to the front of the store, the corset in hand.
“I’ll take this,” she informed the pimply faced guy behind the counter, once she got him to look up from his cell phone.
Thrift stores and groceries forgotten, she went straight from the boutique back to the fabric store she’d seen not far from Sheri’s place. She found the perfect cream satin ribbon and bought several yards. Excited, she hurried back to the apartment to lace the corset and try it on.
