Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Hello, Mr. Black.”
I turn to face a woman who slides onto the stool next to mine. She’s a brunette with stunning green eyes. Her hair is cut short, and she’s dressed in silky emerald lingerie that brings out her eyes even more.
I give a slight smile. “Have we met?”
“Once or twice, though I doubt you would remember.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Emily Loring.”
Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell. But I’m always polite. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”
“Are you alone tonight?”
“For now,” I reply.
Her smile is immediate but subdued. “Looking for some fun?”
I take another sip of bourbon. “Maybe. What do you have in mind?”
She closes her eyes slowly and then opens them. “I think that’s up to you.”
I take another sip. She’s a good submissive. She knows exactly what to say to get what she’s after.
I breathe in deeply and then exhale. “Anything I want?”
“Of course.”
“What are your hard limits?”
“Fire.”
“We don’t allow fire play here.”
“Then I have no hard limits.”
“What about breath play?”
She closes her eyes, a dreamy look on her face. “I live for breath play.”
Interesting. I’m ready to tell her I’ll take her to my private suite for a scene as long as she understands there will be no sex involved when I recognize a golden opportunity.
“Emily, why do you enjoy breath play?”
Her eyes glint in the dim light, a secretive and almost feline smile gracing her lips. “The control,” she replies, her hushed voice barely audible over the husky tones of the jazz music. “The power you have over my very life. It’s raw and primal. It’s…exhilarating.”
I study her for a moment, intrigued by her response. “What’s your safe word?”
She takes a moment to answer, as though caught off guard by the question. “Freedom,” she finally says.
A peculiar choice, but then again, people choose their safe words based on personal associations. I lean back against the bar counter, considering our conversation and her responses.
A part of me wonders if she truly understands what she’s asking for with breath play. There is an element of danger and significant trust involved in such an act, especially with someone unfamiliar.
Precisely why I won’t engage in it.
“Are you willing to do a scene without breath play, Emily? Because I’m not interested in going that route.”
“Of course. It’s not a requirement.”
“What about sex? Is that a requirement for you in a scene?”
She hesitates, and I can see the uncertainty flash across her eyes.
“No,” she finally says. “While it heightens the experience, it isn’t necessary for me to find satisfaction.”
I run my fingers along the rim of my glass. I’m intrigued by Emily’s directness, her willingness to trust, to give herself over so completely. She might be what I need tonight, a momentary escape.
“Very well,” I say, meeting her gaze. “We’ll proceed without breath play and without sex. Understand that those are firm boundaries.”
Her eyes spark with anticipation as she nods eagerly. “I understand perfectly, Mr. Black.”
Something about Emily’s eagerness gives me pause again, but I push my doubts aside. As long as she respects my rules, our scene should go smoothly.
I down the remainder of my Wild Turkey and set the glass on the bar. “Then please allow me to show you to my private suite in the back.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Black,” Emily replies, her voice smooth as satin.
We leave our stools, and I guide her through the club, my hand lightly resting on the small of her back. The music continues to fill the air, accompanied by the subtle hum of conversations and rustle of bodies moving in time with the beat.
When we reach the door to my private suite, I input the code to unlock it. The door slides open silently into a room designed for intimacy yet governed by discipline. The walls are lit by dim sconces that provide us with just enough illumination to see each other clearly without being overly revealing. The king-size bed is covered in silk, and an assortment of equipment lines the walls—whips, floggers, cuffs, ropes, all within easy reach.
Emily glances around curiously but doesn’t move from the spot where she stands next to me. I appreciate her restraint and the way she waits for my command. I gauge her reactions to see any hint of fear or anxiety in her eyes, but she keeps her gaze steady.
“Undress, and get on the bed while I prepare,” I command.
She nods, walks to the bed, peels off her lingerie, and sits down on the edge. I watch her for a moment longer before turning to my collection of equipment.
I choose carefully, selecting a set of cuffs, a blindfold, and a soft flogger. With these instruments in hand, I approach Emily on the bed where she sits waiting patiently.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
She smiles up at me, green eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Yes.”
“Good,” I reply. “Then we may begin.”