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“Get into the bedroom.” That was what came out instead.
Her eyes widened, her lips a perfect little O.
“Did you still want me to call the shots or not?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Then get your pretty ass into the bedroom. Now.” She took one step forward and he realized she didn’t know where she was going. “Walk in front of me,” he said. “I’ll tell you where to go.” She nodded slowly and pushed her dress back down over her hips, taking slow, unsteady steps down the hall, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. Her hair was completely destroyed in the back, from her head being against the wall. He liked the reminder. As if the buzz in his blood wasn’t enough.
“End of the hall,” he said.
She walked on, his own private show. And he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about checking her out. But there was one thing he needed to know.
She was asking for a very specific game. And he was fine with that. He’d been honest when he’d told her there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. He was a rich guy with good looks and no particular ambition beyond having fun. That meant he’d had a lot of alcohol, at times in his life a lot of drugs, and he’d had a lot of sex.
But this was pushing into domination games he hadn’t played. The newness, the novelty, was intoxicating as hell, but it also meant they had to get some shit straight real quick. Simply because there was a trust element involved. And he didn’t stay with one woman long enough to develop that.
He didn’t know her; she didn’t know him. And this was the kind of game that needed minimal guessing in order to be okay.
“You want to take orders?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am.”
“Be damn sure, Evie James. You’re playing a pretty heavy game with a stranger.”
She lifted a bare shoulder, the slim strap of her dress shifting with the motion. “Will you make me regret it?”
“No,” he said. “I’m going to make you scream.”
“Then I’m not worried.”
“That’s good. Worried isn’t how I want you.”
“How do you want me?” she asked, pausing at the bedroom door, turning partially, her fiery hair sliding over her shoulder and shimmering like a flame.
“I haven’t decided yet. I might want you on top. Or, I might bend you over the bed so I can look at that pretty ass of yours. Watch my cock thrusting inside you. That’s an option.”
Her eyes went wide again and he felt, in that moment, a little guilty. Because she seemed innocent in a strange way, and he almost felt like he was corrupting her.
Still, better him than some idiot from a bar who would take advantage of what she offered without giving anything in return. Or worse, some animal who would hurt her the moment they were alone.
That thought didn’t erase the guilt. But it was okay. He sort of liked the guilt. A novelty in many ways since shame was something he’d become numb to a long time ago. Deep emotion in general had been ripped from him on a sunny day ten years ago.
That it had been sunny made it particularly shocking. Because it was always sunny in Southern California. Because it was a day that looked like every other day, but it had changed everything.
He shook off those thoughts. Those memories didn’t belong here. They didn’t belong anywhere.
This was a fantasy. And in his fantasies, that day didn’t exist.
She opened his bedroom door and went inside and he followed her, closing the door behind them. He didn’t have to close it. He didn’t have a family member who might show up. No roommate. There wasn’t even a cat. But he liked the idea of closing them in. Of drawing a hard line between themselves and the world.
He looked at the bed, the black headboard the perfect height for a lot of different purposes. A reason he’d chosen it. No self-respecting playboy bought a bed that didn’t serve multiple purposes.
But there was one thing he’d never used it for before.
