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Prologue
? Estrella ?
“Can I get you another?”
I glance up at the pretty bartender with long blonde hair that’s just begging to be used as a leash while I ride her. Her seductive smile clenches that wayward fantasy.
I offer a saucy smirk of my own. “I’m only drinking tonic water, but sure, I’ll have another.”
“Put it on my tab, darling.”
I pull my gaze away from the pretty little sub to look at the asshole stupid enough to interrupt me.
His big ole grin, and his cheeky little wink prove he’s either stupid or brazen as fuck. Everyone knows me at this club aptly named Whips and Chains. They have nothing to hide in a town like Austin. After all, they want to keep it weird. I’ve brought in enough clientele, put in enough money, and contributed enough blood, sweat, and tears that I should be listed on the title. Suffice it to say, I’m no stranger to these here parts.
More than I can say for this cowboy.
“I don’t need anyone to buy me a drink,” I murmur nonchalantly.
“You mean, you don’t need a man to buy you a drink.” He offers another godforsaken wink making my fingers tighten around my chilled glass in irritation.
“I meant what I said.”
He nods knowingly, that little shitty smirk never leaving his handsome face.
The more I study him, the more I have to admit, at least to myself, that he’s a pretty one.
“Take off your hat, cowboy.”
“The names -”
I turn abruptly and slap my hand over his plump lips.
“I didn’t ask for your name, I told you to take your hat off.” My voice is soft, my cadence even, belying nothing but the inconvenience I feel at being ignored.
He nods succinctly, but I only remove my hand when he does as he’s told.
Just as I thought, a pretty boy hidden under the brim of his worn cowboy hat. Overly long chestnut locks are swept back, the ends grazing his now pink-tinged ears. The club is dim but the lack of light can’t hide the sparkle in his eyes, a blue as clear as the Caribbean.
The lust is there, sure, but more than anything I want to toy with him; bring him to heel. I want to make him beg to be destroyed in only the ways that I can offer. In pain and degradation.
Impact play isn’t my first choice, but for a man like this, I won’t mind making the exception.
I smooth a long, tan finger tipped with a blood-red lacquered nail.
“Did you come here to fight or play?”
That damn smirk remains, but not for long.
“For you?” He considers it, those mesmerizing eyes so focused on mine, it’s all I can do not to look away. “Can’t I do a bit of both?”
That makes the corners of my mouth kick up in the evilest grin, because I will make him rue every word.
“Sure, sugar. Follow me.”
I know I paint a certain kind of picture in my red, skin tight, long-sleeved, band-aid dress. Other than how tight it is, it couldn’t be less revealing with the high neckline that doesn’t even show my collarbone or the hem that grazes the middle of my calves. But it screams sex and dominance. The black leather harness helps, of course, along with the six-inch Louboutin pumps that give me some semblance of height to feel more in charge.
The damn cowboy still towers over me. He’s a giant of a man, head and shoulders above all the rest. I’m not intimidated, not in the least. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
