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The girl pries herself off the wall, her palms pressing against it as she teeters toward the couch, propelling herself forward.
She hasn’t said much, but I can tell how brave she is just by her behavior. It’s not that she has no fear; but she pushes through despite her fear.
I’ve been watching her all night. She’s been through a lot in one night. Forces herself way out of her comfort zone.
“What’s your name?” I take a seat next to her.
“Ashley,” she says after a short pause, not even meeting my gaze. Is she afraid? Of me?
Sure, I’ve just clocked a guy right in front of her. But I’d never hurt her—unless it’s to bring her pleasure. God, the thought of turning her skin bright red as she whimpers in submission, her wetness dripping from between her long legs . . .
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Ashley.” My tongue tries on her name for size. I don’t know why but it doesn’t seem like a good fit. “I’m Matt.”
“Thank you for saving me, Matt. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,” she says, her voice unsteady. Below her golden mask, her full lips quiver.
I know exactly what would’ve happened. That coward would’ve taken advantage of her inexperience in the most heinous way possible.
“I’ve been watching you all night,” I admit. “I couldn’t just stand by while he dragged you away like that. You clearly didn’t want to go with him.”
Ashley’s honey-brown hair sweeps over her delicate shoulders as she finally turns to face me. She studies my face and frowns. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you watch me?” she asks.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Even in the ghostly blue light, I can see bright patches flushing Ashley’s cheeks. She’s embarrassed. How adorable.
“I know I shouldn’t have worn this,” she says, looking down at her sexy little body. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”
I frown. Is she seeing what I’m seeing? “You don’t. You stand out. Like a jewel.”
Ashley giggles. “Come on. You don’t mean that. Compared to all the other girls, I’m dressed like a grandma.”
Her babydoll lingerie is conservative for this club. But she must be insane because only a crazy person would mistake her for an elderly woman.
The black lingerie hugs her figure, showing the shape of her curves while hiding the actual form. Black lace gives glimpses of her smooth, porcelain skin while opaque satin covers her tits. A dark-blue horizontal line cuts across her narrow waist. Below that line, the babydoll skims the flare of her hips and ends around halfway down her thighs.
“You look classy,” I say.
A blush colors her skin, and silence descends upon us. A couple laughs as they stumble past, obviously drunk and impatient. The girl is practically leading the guy forward by pulling on his dick as they disappear beyond the doors.
“How do you like it here?” I ask. “Aside from that fuckface, of course.”
Ashley laughs, a melodic sound that tinkles across my ears. “It’s . . . interesting.”
“In a good way?” I raise an eyebrow.
I saw the way she stared at the performance outside. She was so transfixed she didn’t even notice me staring—or the coward from before approaching.
But more than that, I saw the way her breathing grew heavier. She pulled her thighs together and rubbed them against each other to relieve the pressure building in her core.
Ashley nods.
She’s shy, but she’s honest. She’s anxious, but she persists. Despite her apprehension, she wants to be here. She wouldn’t have come on her own otherwise.
“How did you hear about this place?” I ask.
“A friend.”
That’s weird. “Why didn’t you ask her to come with you?”
“Well, she’s more like an acquaintance, really. And she, uh, she doesn’t want to come.”
Interesting. “She’s not like you.”
“Huh?” Ashley tilts her head to the side and frowns like she can’t decide whether she should be offended.
“You like this, don’t you? That’s why you came.” I trap her gaze. “The idea that a man could have complete control of a woman. The idea that a woman would willingly give it up. It intrigues you. Calls out to something deeply primal within you.”
“How do you—” Ashley smiles wryly. “It doesn’t matter. This was a mistake. Obviously, I don’t belong here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I freaked out the moment something happened,” she says.
I stare at her. “You mean when that freak forced himself on you?”
Ashley nods.
“That wasn’t BDSM,” I say. “That was harassment.”
“But you said it yourself. ‘Complete control.’”
“You’re forgetting the other side of the equation.”
She gives me a questioning look.
“You’re supposed to willingly give up control,” I say.
“Yeah. And when it came down to it, I didn’t want to.”
I fix my gaze on her and she looks down at her black shoes.
Is she kidding me?
First, she told me she looked like a grandma. Now, she thinks she’s not cut out for this?
