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Colette had crept along the edges of the ballroom all evening, taking in the scenes one by one—spanking, flogging, rope bondage. It wasn’t until she and her friend Charlotte stopped to watch a fire scene that she first noticed him.
“He’s most definitely interested,” Charlotte whispered in her ear. “Care for an introduction?”
The man’s eyes—dark and glittering in the low light behind a black mask—were so familiar Colette’s chest ached with a memory trying to surface. Yet when would she have met anyone from that world?
She swallowed and fiddled with the lace edge of her corset. She enjoyed his interest, but what could she say to the mysterious stranger? She could barely believe she stood in a BDSM play party at all.
Colette had often passed the place, a large mansion, half-hidden by overgrown ivy and boxwoods behind the large, scrolled gates, and wondered who lived there. Now, she knew—the silver-haired Alexander Rockingham, whom she’d met as soon as she’d stepped into the front entrance, an oval portico filled with fresh flowers.
He’d taken her hand and smiled warmly at her before sharing the rules of his home-sometimes-club.
No one would engage her unless she indicated interest.
Ask as many questions as she liked.
And whenever she wanted to leave, she could. In fact, they had a car waiting for her should she choose to go.
Leavingwas out of the question. For a decade, she’d woken in the middle of the night with wisps of dreams floating just out of her grasp—leaving behind a strange desire. A hand on the back of her neck. An overload of sensation. Fear mixed with something wickedly delicious. She’d always woken from those dreams like she had a secret life waiting to live—one that was forbidden and dangerous.
Or just plain crazy. She could be that, too.
A long sizzle followed by a blue flame arching to the domed ceiling had her shuddering, and she took two steps to the left to distance herself from the heat. The man mirrored her movements. No mistaking it. He was tracking her as if he were a hunter—and she was the prey. A tendril of heat crawled up her inner thighs at the mere thought.
She’d walked into a room worthy of an erotic Pinterest board, where women’s skin glowed like the surface of a pearl, and men’s abs were so toned they cast shadows. Yet this man standing across the ballroom hadn’t ripped his eyes from her.Her.
Charlotte placed a hand on her wrist. “He won’t approach you, but if he’s making you uncomfortable—”
“No, not at all.” On the contrary, the idea of being chased—and then caught—was thrilling.
Perhaps he’d yank at her corset strings, desperate to get her out of them. Or he’d rip her fishnet stockings with his bare hands.
Maybe he’d do both.
Colette startled once more when the sizzle of flames cut through her trance. The woman, clad in a black lace bodysuit, ran her hand over her submissive’s back and left a trail of blue flame dancing across his skin.
Colette’s admirer on the other side of the scene hadn’t flinched. Rather, he stood tall and comfortable, his eyes drilling into her.
She turned to her friend. “Um, if I was interested, how does that work?”
Charlotte gave her a knowing smile. “You would simply walk up to him. Or I could send a message.”
“Oh, no. I’d feel like I’m in high school all over again.” Or worse, college, where she’d nursed a significant crush on a particular Medieval History professor. How odd she thought of him then.
As an English major, she didn’t need to know the ins and outs of the Norman Conquest and the War of the Roses. Yet, there she was, three days a week, surrounded by equally besotted female students, ridiculously attracted to a man with dark, swoony eyes—similar to her secret follower.
She was a sucker for dark and swoony.
Charlotte took her arm and guided her to the next scene. Across the ballroom, the man moved with them. His gaze continued to bear down on Colette, his interest obvious. She could scarcely look away herself.
How bad would it be to just talk to him? But ask him … what?Come here often? Live around here? Want to give me my first adult spanking?
His gaze lazily drifted from her face, down her neck, to the exposed skin above her corset, and continued down her torso to her legs. Her knees quivered. His gaze then snapped back to her face. Was that a smile on his lips?
“Actually,” Colette turned to Charlotte, “it’s okay if he does. I mean, approaches me.”
Charlotte gave her a small smile “Good choice. He’s quite … something. He’s a good teacher.” She turned her face to him and cocked her head.
He nodded once at her and began to move their way.Holy shit. That fast? She could use a little time—like maybe a week at a spa, a month or two to tone up her butt and thighs.
