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He smiled devilishly. “Instead of telling you, why don’t I show you?”
* * *
That devilish smileon Julian’s face was sohim, a man who had the power to lure women to the dark side—toward eroticism, fantasy fulfillment, and exploration of the forbidden—with a mere crook of his finger. “How would you show me?”
He shrugged. “Have you ever been to a sex club?”
Skylar’s mind was immediately filled with images of a dark warehouse set up with wood stockades, cages, a huge saltire cross with restraining points, and padded spanking benches, not because she’d ever seen them in real life but because she’d read about then in racy romances. “Do youthinkI’ve ever been to a sex club?”
He studied her and then said, “Quite frankly,no. But I think you’ve been tempted to go to one, if only out of pure curiosity.”
“Maybe I should follow your lead and get a journalism degree; then I could go to one and claim it’s all for research.”
He grinned. “Andthat’show I know you’ve never actually been to one. Because jokes aside, your first thought is you’d need a socially acceptable reason for going to a sex club when going there just for fun is perfectly fine.
“Fun?” Skylar shook her head. “You and I have different ideas of fun.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He walked up to her and curled the fingers of one hand around the side of her neck. Slowly, he shifted his hand until he was cupping the front of her neck, squeezing just enough to emphasize what he was doing.
Skylar’s pulse immediately skyrocketed out of control.
“Let’s revisit our discussion about handcuffs. Do you think about it a lot?”
Was he kidding? It ran through her mind all the time. Though she wouldn’t call what had happened between them a discussion so much as Julian filling her head with a multitude of possibilities.
What toys have you experimented with in the past? Vibrators? Dildos? That sweet butterfly that makes you feel like your pussy’s being licked? Have you been spanked? Whips? Blindfolds? Handcuffs?
When he’d mentioned handcuffs, her pussy had clenched and flooded her panties with moisture. It had always been a fantasy of hers, being restrained, but not only that, restrained with steel rather than silk or rope or chains. Even chains had weak links, but steel handcuffs? Without the key, they were inescapable, and even trying to escape from them caused them to tighten further. If she was handcuffed, hands behind her back or to a bed, she’d be helpless, utterly helpless to stop a man from doing anything he wanted to do to her.
Julian could do anything he wanted to her.
Spank her.
Cover her in his cum.
Fuck her ass.
Make her beg.
The only thing that might make her more turned on was if he wore a cop’s uniform while he did those things to her. She’d always had a thing for men in uniform, and she still did, even after . . .
Her mind veered off course, barreling toward memories of a night she tried so hard to forget. She’d already been in so much pain, but when the patrol cop had come to tell her what had happened . . .
As if to escape the memory, she stumbled backward several steps causing Julian’s hand to drop from her throat.
She was breathing harshly, gasping as if she’d just sprinted around the block.
Julian stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“You sure?”
She nodded again.
He swiped his hand over his mouth, then grasped the back of his neck and squeezed. “Okay. Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned. I thought . . . Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
