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As he’d promised, Hayden had given some thought—plenty of it, actually—to the idea of inviting Dahlia to the Masters Club holiday party. Typically, when non-members were invited, they were already quite active in the BDSM scene, their own sexual orientation as Dom or sub clearly established.
He’d basically had no business dangling the possibility of an invitation to a complete novice. It had just…happened.
It wasn’t only her good looks that attracted him, though they were considerable. Of medium height, she had small, high breasts and a long, slender waist that flared into curvaceous hips. Always in scrubs, often covered by a lab coat, he had yet to properly assess her ass, but he could see by the way it filled out her scrub bottoms that it was ample and well-shaped—perfect for spanking.
At work, she wore her hair scraped back in a no-nonsense ponytail, no discernible makeup on her face. Not that she needed any, with that creamy complexion and those large hazel eyes fringed with thick, dark blond lashes.
At the happy hour the week before, she’d let her hair down in a shiny tumble of honey-blond waves, and had added a touch of red lipstick to her full, sensual mouth. The effect had been breathtaking, and he definitely wasn’t the only guy to notice. But, to his delight, she’d appeared only to have eyes for him.
Their interaction had crackled with possibility, the casual work flirtation edging into new territory that had intrigued him. He’d been turned on by the sexy way she’d ducked her head, color rising in her cheeks when he’d gently teased her. He’d taken note of the submissive way her pupils had dilated. Her sharp intake of breath when he’d run his finger along her silky-soft skin had awoken the Dom in him.
He’d purposely made the comment about bondage and spanking to check her reaction. Her scathing retort had brought things to a screeching halt, at least for him. As much as he was attracted to her, Hayden had long ago learned it was pointless to get involved with a vanilla woman. It never ended well, in spite of everyone’s best intentions. He’d resigned himself to return to their more superficial work friend relationship and leave it at that.
Happily, her overhearing him on his cell had been a gift from the BDSM gods. She’d both surprised and delighted him with her avid interest in what she’d heard of his side of the conversation, none of the snarkiness of her previous reaction in her tone. She hadn’t realized it, but that chance occurrence had given their potential relationship a crucial jumpstart.
The elevator door opened, pulling Hayden’s attention back to the moment. Dahlia emerged, looking radiant. Her eyes, which had always tended toward blue when in her ubiquitous blue scrubs, were now a lovely olive green, her fringe of thick blond lashes darkened with a touch of mascara. She wore a loose-knit, long-sleeved, pale pink sweater over a pair of black slacks that hugged shapely legs, black ankle boots on her feet. A black quilted jacket was slung over one arm. Her hair fell prettily to her shoulders, her lips a glossy pink, her eyes bright.
Resisting the impulse to pull her into his arms and thrust his tongue into her mouth, he instead kissed her chastely on the cheek. “You look beautiful,” he said, smiling down at her.
She smiled back, perhaps a little shyly, though her eyes were sparkling. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He grinned. “Thanks.” The place they were going was casual, and he’d worn his usual non-work, non-scene outfit of faded jeans, a black, three-quarter-sleeve knit shirt and, because it was chilly outside, his favorite black leather jacket.
“I’m starving,” she announced. “How about you? Hungry?”
“Ravenous,” he replied, hooding his eyes as he let them trail from her face to her body. Moving closer, he drew his fingertip lightly over her throat as they locked eyes. She responded as he’d hoped, her eyes widening, a slight tremor moving through her frame.
Yes, there was definite potential here, and it was for far more than the “academic” interest she’d professed. Something deeper was driving her, something he very much wanted to explore. Tonight would be the test, assuming things went as planned.
He let his hand fall away and took a step back, breaking the sensual mood that had enveloped them. “Ready?”
Dahlia shook her head, as if emerging from a trance. “Let’s do it.”
They didn’t say much as they navigated their way along the brightly lit, still-crowded New York sidewalks. The air was invigoratingly brisk, the moon visible in the dark sky above the buildings.
She seemed slightly startled when he moved to open the bistro’s door for her, as if not used to the polite gesture. “Oh,” she said, smiling as she stepped through. “A gentleman. Thank you, sir.”
His cock nudged in response to her use of the word “sir,” though he understood she was using it in the generic sense, rather than the Sir a submissive used when addressing her Dom. His cock stiffened at the sudden vision of her naked and on her knees before him, sweetly replying, “Yes, Sir,” to his command.
