Bas wants to spank me.

I put it out there and he picked it up like a king. A gorgeous, kinky, thoughtful king.

We’ve had a week of kisses. A week of bodies pressed close and long, gorgeous hugs, but nothing more.

His plan to wait until after the party was a good one. The last month has been hectic at work, and now I’m looking at a lighter load for the next two weeks.

Lighter is relative for an obstetrician, but I’ll have nights and weekends off.

And Bas will be able to focus on me. Us. This week has made me look at him differently. He’s still the man I hunger for, but since admitting just how much I’ve wanted him, I’ve had to take a hard look at the reasons I’d talked myself into for not doing anything sooner—all my doubts about whether he would be able to commit, or if he was too flighty.

But the last week has shown me that he’s restless, not reckless. For all his outwardly social behaviour, he’s really an introvert and deep-down, quite cautious. I think it’s possible that Bas has always held himself back—from relationships, from opportunities—to protect himself.

So I’m skipping as I leave the hospital on the morning of Halloween. Literally hopping with excitement, and I bounce right into Max Donovan in the parking lot.

In my defence, he steps out from behind a pillar just as I begin a twirl. He catches me and spins me away from him in one fluid motion. “You could be a figure skater for Halloween,” he says with a chuckle.

“So could you.” I catch my breath and wave my hand in apology. “Sorry about that.”

“You are way too peppy for this early in the morning. Did you show up and realize you didn’t need to stay?”

“Oh, I wish. No, I just got off a twenty-four-hour shift. But I’ve got party plans tonight.” I wiggle my shoulders. “Bas’s street party.”

“Oh!” Max’s eyebrows hit the roof. “That’s great. I didn’t realize you’d kept in touch with him.”

Right. Because I’d told him it didn’t work out, and then I definitely didn’t tell him that I’d moved into the apartment over Bas’s bar.

Max, like everyone else at the hospital, still thinks I live in my condo five blocks from here.

I mean, technically I do. I stay there once in a while when I don’t want to drive all the way to Metcalfe.

Ugh. Happy vibe busted. I paste on a smile. “It’s a long, weird story. We’ve become friends over time.”

“That’s fantastic. And have a good time tonight. I know a few people who are going, it sounds like it’s quite the hot ticket event.”

Max wasn’t wrong. By the time I wake up from the world’s longest post-call sleep, dusk is setting on Duke Street and there’s a decent amount of noise coming from street-level. I wrap myself in my blanket and crawl over to the window to check it out.

I immediately smile, because Bas is in the middle of it all, a giant among men. Extra giant right now, because he’s wearing some kind of fur vest that makes his already significant shoulders look positively massive as he points people in various directions.

When he turns around, I realize he’s got a sword hanging off a thick leather belt, and are his pants leather, too?

I scramble higher on my knees, pressing my nose against the glass. No, they’re black cargo pants, maybe. More practical, but still perfect for his sexy Viking costume.

I need to see his outfit up close. Which means I need to get dressed myself. Leotard first, then the garter belt and fishnet stockings, the ballet-styled boots, following by the tutu and finally the corset. A dirty, gritty ballerina. I twist my hair into a sophisticated twist with curls falling out of it, add a couple of sparkly spiders I found in the hospital gift shop, and swipe on a bit of lipgloss and mascara.

The last thing I want at the end of the night is to worry about taking off makeup before I bury my face in Bas’s pillows. Or something.

Any answer to that hypothetical something is contraindicated for a full painted face. Sweat, happy tears, other bodily fluids…

I blush at myself in the mirror, add another dash of gloss, then make the spiders in my hair dance with a little wiggle.

I’m fully prepared to freeze my nipples off, because the corset just barely covers them—and without the leotard, that would be super dirty. But when I get downstairs and step outside, the super cool end-of-October air only nips at my nose for a second before I get a waft of something warmer.

“Bas thought of everything, didn’t he?” Tessa asks, appearing from nowhere with a latte, which she hands over before waving at the portable heaters that are taking the chill off the air. “Including this coffee for you, by the way. He said I should keep an eye out for you while he’s fixing something down at the other end.”

“Thanks.” I don’t miss her twinkling smile, but I’m not ready to answer any questions about Bas just yet, so I ignore that bit of her nosy neighour routine and admire her costume instead. “This is an awesome thing,” I say, gesturing at her Wild West steampunk get-up. “Is your stall all set up?”

She curtsies. “Good to go, ready for people to arrive soon.”

I crane my head to the side, but I can’t see the big clock on Main Street.

Tessa reads my mind. “Half an hour to go until doors open. But all the stalls are set up, if you want to roam now before it gets busy.”

“It’s already busy,” I murmur, taking a grateful sip of hot coffee.

“Go on,” she urges.

I nod. I will. And then I realize—I’m nervous. “I will,” I say out loud, more definitive now than it had sounded in my head. “I’ll just take a minute to let it all soak in first.”

She accepts that and turns away, bustling back across the road to the outdoor version of her shop.

At the far end of the street, I see Bas moving confidently. Solving problems. My breath catches in my throat as I take a first step, then a second, in his direction.

A vendor halfway down the street catches my eye. “Wicked boots,” she says as I slow down to admire her chainmail work. Dragon scale gloves and heavy chain jewellery are unexpected additions to the table, and I slide my fingers over a dark blue metal choker. She grins. “That’s a favourite with the kinky crowd.”

My head jerks up. Does she mean me? How does she know? But she points behind me, and I turn around.

Bas wasn’t kidding when he said it was going to dirty. There’s a woman bent over a wooden structure. And since there’s a guy lazily paddling her bottom, there’s no other way to describe—that’s a spanking bench.

So. Cool.

I turn back, grateful that it’s gotten dark enough to hide my hot cheeks. “Pretty fun,” I murmur.

“Oh yeah.” She says it knowingly.

Bas is getting a grilling as soon as we’re alone tonight. A thorough, filthy grilling, maybe with me over his lap and him giving me permission to quiz him point by point.

“How much for the choker?”

“Thirty.”

I pull two twenties from the curve of my corset and hand them over. She makes change, then picks up the choker. “Do you want this packaged up, or are you adding it to your costume?”

“I’ll wear it now, yeah.” I take it from with thanks, but I don’t put it on right away. I step into the street, looking for Bas. When I don’t find him immediately, I make my way across the way to the booth for the Filthy Ottawa Social Club, as their sign proclaims.

The Spanking Bench Club, I call them in my head.

Or, the Tell Me More Club. Provided they have the same privacy rules as Fight Club.

Which reminds me that the prime minister’s wife is going to arrive at some point, so until that happens, I can’t distract my Viking.

Too much.

So I’ll keep myself occupied.

“Are you interested in social nudity?” The man who’d previously been spanking his partner asked.

My mouth falls open.

He winks. “That’s the official justification for our club. That and the creative artistic value inherent in roleplay.”

“Oh. And the…unofficial justification?”

The soft bristle of fur slides against my skin as big, strong, arms wrap around me from behind, and Bas’s voice growls in my ear. “Spanking, bondage, whipping. All manner of terrible things.”

“Hi,” I whisper, twisting around to see him.

He kisses me gently on the mouth. Then not-so-gently. “You found this booth.”

“I did.”

“Do you like it?”

“I don’t know,” I say at first, but that’s not true. “Yes. It’s…overwhelming but cool.”

“Don’t let Oliver scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” I turn back. “Hi Oliver. I’m Meadow.”

Oliver holds out his hand. “A pleasure.” Then he turns to greet someone new, and Bas guides me over to the spanking bench.

“Do you have one of these?” I ask, breathlessly.

He laughs. “No. I don’t have any kinky furniture, but if you like it, I’ll build you one by morning.”

“I was…” I get as close to him as I can get and tip my head back to look at him. “I was thinking I’d like to be over your lap.”

He growls and flexes his hands against my back. “Yes.”

“How kinky are you?”

“As kinky as you want me to be? I want you to get off, I want to enjoy getting you off, I want to make you squirm, and control you a bit—if you’d like that.”

“I’d love that.”

“Have you ever played like this?”

“Not really. But I’m curious.” I turn around to take it all in again, and the choker clatters in my hand. “Oh!” I hold it up. “I bought this. Just now.”

One of his eyebrows curves high on his brow. “That’s pretty kinky. And hot.”

“Would you put it on me?”

He exhales and nods. “Absolutely.”

After turning me around, he brushes a kiss on the top of my spine, then reaches around me and settles the chain against the fluttering pulse-point at the base of my neck. His fingers rub against my skin as he does up the latch, then settle on my shoulders.

“You look phenomenal,” he murmurs in my ear, curving over my body. I can feel his gaze on the chain, on my chest and the curve of skin at the top of the leotard, even though I can’t see his face. “I will be watching you all night, my sexy little ballerina. My gorgeous little one.”

My heart swells as he turns me around.

“How does that sound?” he asks as he touches his fingertips to my chin.

I nod, wordlessly.

He shakes his head. “Tell me, Meadow.”

“I like that,” I whisper.

But before we can get into it further, there’s a flurry of activity at the gates, and the Halloween street party is officially open.

I push up higher on my toes and kiss his jaw. “Find me later,” I say, grinning broadly. I want this to be a roaring success for him. “I’m going to talk up the special brew at Duke & Main to everyone who looks thirsty.”

“Meadow—” He grabs for me, but I’m out of reach now. Just for a few more hours. Then I’ll be his little one until dawn.

“Go,” I say, wiggling my fingers at him. “I bet Ellie Strong is going to be here any minute. Rumour has it she’s hell on wheels. Better go and make sure she’s well taken care of.”