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“It’s our playground. The house can become too boring. I don’t want that.”
“Playground?” God, what is this man going to have me doing? I have no idea what to expect here, and what I’ve seen so far has thrown me for a loop.
“We’ll be coming here sometimes to do things,” Vincent says, running a finger over the flat of my stomach. His fingers brush over the material, but I feel the heat seeping into my skin.
Dare I ask what kind of things he means?
“Have you ever been to a sex club before, Bellezza?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have a good time. I’ll make it enjoyable for you, especially as it’s your first visit.”
I don’t answer. What am I supposed to say? What he means is sex, sex, and more sex, except I get the feeling that we’re about to go over to the dark side. I see it in his eyes.
He walks around me, circling me in that predatory manner. “This is your color,” he states. “It makes you look sexier, if only you didn’t have thatmiserabileexpression on your pretty face.”
He takes his time to enunciatemiserabile,and he actually says it with an accent. It sounds sexy when he says it.
“Maybe I look miserabile because you are amaniaco del controllo,” I answer, giving away that I not only understand Italian but speak it too. I knew what I was doing though when I said it. There’s little point holding on to something I don’t have to.
It’s much to his fascination.
He chuckles. “You think I’m a control freak?” He raises his brows.
“Yes.”
“And you speak Italian?”
“Yes.”
“Never told me that.” He looms closer and makes an obvious show of searching my eyes through the mask.
“You did not ask.”
“Fiery… I like it.” He dips his head, and a lock of his hair falls over his eye. “Take off your mask. It’s customary here to do so when you’re with the person you’re spending the night with.”
“I thought I was going to be here for an hour.”
“I want you later when I get home.” He holds my gaze, and the crackle of energy that passes between us stirs hunger inside me.
That’s how it starts. Always with a spark of something I can’t control. He says something or does something that throws me, so I never quite see it coming until it hits.
He gives me an expectant look that nudges me to take off the mask. I slip it over my head and notice the way he studies my face.
I’m wearing makeup. The last time I had on makeup was Monday night when it was smudged all over my face from crying. It wasn’t a good look. Tonight is different. It was odd getting ready with Marguerite doing my hair and Lydia my makeup, like I was getting ready for a date. Because I’ve taken to them, I humored them with excitement despite my anxiety.
“You look beautiful,” he states, and that sensuous baritone of his voice slips over my skin.
“Thank you...”
“Come, let’s get lost in a wild fantasy.” He stretches out his hand for me to take, and I do.
His large hand swallows mine as he holds my hand and leads me to a room just behind the bar area.
He opens glass doors which slide open for us. As we step inside, my breath is swept away again by the beauty of the décor. Again, it hands down has that European feel to it but with a modern edge. Everything about it looks like a bedroom, except for the floor. It’s mostly made of glass then tapers off to marble like the flooring downstairs.
There’s a bed there set against the marble with burgundy silk sheets.
