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“I don’t usually use anyone.”

“So you are expecting trouble, then.”

“Look, left to his own devices he can get a bit carried away. Knowing you’re here, he’ll behave himself. And you got the gig because I know what you’re capable of.”

“You’re really into this shit.”

“Yes.” She loosened her coat, shrugged it off her shoulders. “Yes, I am.”

This Sophie Harding was fuck all like the woman I’d first met. A red mini dress to match her red lipstick, and stockings, with the suspender bits showing. She looked hot. Really fucking hot. She checked her make-up in the dresser mirror.

“What’s in this stuff for you?”

“Adrenaline, endorphins... the release... it feels good, to be out of control. Free, you know?”

“Where I’m from everyone’s tryingnotto get beat up.”

“This is very different.”

“If you say so.”

“It is,” she said. “BDSM is about discipline and obedience, and heightened states. And sex. It’s about sex. Violence through anger is something else altogether.”

“I usually try and keep fucking and fighting separate.” I smiled at her reflection, just a little bit. “Don’t always work out that way, though.”

She smiled back. “Fear and lust are a heady combination. It works for me.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll just sit here and keep me mouth shut.”

I watched her reflection. For someone that looked as good as she did she seemed awful self-conscious, putting lipstick over lipstick, and messing with her hair. I had questions, shit loads of them, but none of them were any of my bastard business. Didn’t even know her. I wondered what the man would be like, some posh arsehole probably, probably didn’t even know how to hit. Just a bit of slap and tickle, that’s all.

I changed my mind on that when she opened her suitcase. This shit didn’t look like play-acting. Handcuffs, and weird gag things like you see in porn films, and a shitload of whips and straps and even a fucking school cane. I looked away as she started pulling out the dildos. Shit, man. You can’t unsee that kind of private.

“I’ll take these through,” she said. “He’ll be here any minute.”

“What do I do if you call? Rough the arsehole up? Take him to the park and give him a kicking?”

“Christ, no,” she smiled. “Make him leave, that’s enough.”

I doubted it would be. Not for me.

Sophie Harding went through to the bedroom with her bag of tricks, and I sat in that fancy chair.

My stomach felt more fucked up than ever. Maybe it was the fucking steak after all.

***

Sophie

I was more nervous around Callum Jackson than I would ever be around Roger. If Roger was even his real name, of course. I would have doubted so, but who’d ever make up a name like Roger? Whoever the hell Roger was he had money, enough to pay for this suite and its fancy four-poster bed.

My security guard was like a caged animal: dark eyes examining everything, examiningme. I’d told him about the BDSM a hundred times in my imagination, and each time it became a little more sensational. He’d hardly reacted at all in real life. Maybe the slightest surprise, if you can call it that, a bit of shock that the prissy estate manager he’d faced off in East Veil was a kinky little bitch under her suit. He hadn’t even reacted to the toys, nor the dildos. Nothing. Maybe he didn’t give two shits about any of it.

What had I even expected? That the savage would pin me again the moment we were through the door? Growl that he was a secret dominant, skilled with a cane and Japanese rope bondage? And then what? Slam me and hit me and fuck me until I begged him to stop?

Of course not.

He’d come for the money. I’d do well to remember that. Ishouldremember that.Shouldbe relieved.

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