The ocean air is so salty it stings. I suck in as much as I can as I lean on the railing along the seawall. There’s not much I miss about Galveston—too many dark memories on this island.

But the long boulevard along the ocean? Yeah. That’s got a sweet spot in my memories. The brief period that I lived here, I spent a lot time in this exact spot. Thinking and drinking, trying my best to stay out of trouble.

Which hadn’t lasted long. But that was in the past.

It’s pretty quiet, this time of night. This is fine by me—I’m craving some solitude. Being alone is definitely something I miss—it’s a sorely lacking commodity in New York. Too many people, always something going on. That’s part of the reason I bought my penthouse, a ridiculously huge home for one man.

But a guy learns to guard his solitude like a dragon guards his gold after being shoulder to shoulder in prison for a full year.

The reminder pulls me out of my memories, reminds me of why I’m here. Savoring one deep breath, I head back to the car.

I have an appointment and I don’t want to be late for it. No—I can’t be late for it.

I have very specific needs, ones that help me deal with the demons of the past by regaining control, however momentarily. And being back in Galveston makes me feel about as out of control as I’ve felt since the day I was released from prison and realized that I had nowhere to go.

The Mercedes is a smooth ride, and gives me a twinge of satisfaction as it maneuvers seamlessly through streets that are the same but different. That twinge comes from knowing that I bought it. That I could buy a thousand more.

The scarred, terrified boy no longer exists. He died that night, rather than Theo.

And in his place is someone who made something of himself, against all odds.

My GPS directs me to a warehouse-style building that once housed a large grocery store. Knowing what’s inside now, the image makes me smirk.

It’s Galveston, not New York, so there are no valets to hand my car off to. Not surprised, I drive the Mercedes around back of the building and park. I’m not worried about theft or vandalism. While I’m proud to have been able to buy a Mercedes, I’m also not overly attached to it. It’s a thing. I can always buy another.

The VIP entrance in discreetly marked, accessed by the key card I’ve carried in my wallet since I decided I was coming back to Galveston. There’s a solitary guard standing inside, but he waves me through after a quick once-over.

I’m not wearing a suit right now, but I know I’m a far cry from the sketchy kid I once was.

The venue isn’t anything special—just a bar that tried hard to be classy and slightly overshot the mark. But its reputation is solid, and they’re thorough in vetting their clients. More than that, they are discreet, and this is key.

No one can know that I’m here. No one.

I don’t make it two steps before a tall man dressed all in black leather falls into step beside me. “Seth.” He uses my real name because we’re still in the bar part of the facility—we haven’t yet ventured upstairs.

Well, and he also uses my name because it’s what he used to call me. Like me, the man beside me has grown up—he used to be skinny, dark, maybe even a little on the Goth side. Tristan and I had never cared if he wanted to wear nail polish, so he’d hung around us some, back then.

Seems he grew nearly a foot after high school, filled out some too. Most of his piercings are gone, save for a bar in his eyebrow, but his eyes are still ringed with dark.

I can feel him studying me sidelong, just I am him. After a moment we both crack, and I can’t hold back the smile, offering him a hand for a manly slap.

“Nice to see you, man.” He nods as he slaps my hand. “Mr. Bigshot now, huh?”

“I do okay.” I can’t keep the straight face and wind up grinning. I gesture discreetly with my arm. “Your place, huh?”

He nods enthusiastically, a bit of the kid he once was coming out. “Yeah. Well, mostly. I’m a seventy-five percent owner so far. I’ll be buying out the rest as soon as I can.”

His mouth opens to tell me more, but a woman brushes up against him then—a complete Jessica Rabbit look-alike. Curvy body, red hair. I check her out because, hey, I’m a guy, and feel the slightest bit of interest stir.

I’ve never been able to shake my penchant for redheads.

“Good evening, Sir.” The woman addresses Gavin with clear interest sparking in her eyes. I’m pretty sure that protocol isn’t enforced in this part of the building, but hey, maybe that’s the only name of his that she knows.

“Elsa.” When Gavin looks her over, I can see the change in him—the transfer from high school buddy to a Dominant. It’s fascinating, and I wonder if a similar transformation ever comes over me.

I’m more inclined to think that I’m rigid like that all the time. In fact, I’m sure that I am.

“On your way to an appointment?” It’s interesting to see my skinny old friend pull on that magnetic persona that has this woman’s cheeks flushing.

“Oh, yeah.” Her stare flicks my way, and I note the feminine appreciation in her eyes. Appreciation, but not that cloying sweetness that I’ve come to recognize as a warning sign. No, just carnal interest. “I’m about to get my world rocked.”

“Lovely for you. Shame for both of us.” I arch an eyebrow at her, sensing that she’s fun, and there’s not nearly enough fun in my world. Elsa grins, gives a little wave and turns, heading for the stairs that lead to where the most interesting activities are held. There’s a little swish to her hips, a sauciness that makes me think she’d make a fun partner for the night.

But apparently she’s already occupied. Pity.

Glancing sidelong at Gavin, I find him rolling his eyes at me.

“Now that your gratuitous flirtation is over, I might remind you that you have an appointment as well.” Gavin gestures at the stairs.

“And no one knows I’m here?” I’m confident of the answer, but want to hear it from his mouth.

“No one but me.” His tone is steady, calm. “And to keep an extra level of anonymity since we’re friends, I forwarded your limits checklist and profile, minus your name of course, to my assistant, and had her do the match. It was blind on that end too. I approved the profile and checklist that was chosen, and beyond that, I only know that you have a woman ready and waiting for you, in the scene you have set.”

“Excellent.” Inhaling deeply, I absorb the electricity in the room—energy that comes from the sexual electricity in the air, the anticipation of what is to come.

I start to climb the stairs, but Gavin calls me back. “One last thing. I know that you requested an experienced partner. This woman is new. However, everything else on your lists meshed so well that we truly thought it was the best match.”

This gives me pause; I don’t play with beginners. Ever. I like women who know what they want, know their limits, and want to pushed to the very edge.

But tonight, with the sweet girl I once knew weighing so heavily on my mind…

This could fit into my fantasies very well.

So I nod at Gavin, and begin to ascend the stairs again, this time with a rush of anticipation adding to my level of awareness.

“You’re in room two.” Gavin calls up after me. “Everything will be as you asked.”

Maybe it’s the sense of kinship with Gavin that I hadn’t expected, or maybe it’s the inevitable convergence of memories, the surf crashing into me, each ripple whispering a memory. A tendril of bright panic, something I haven’t felt in years, flickers through me like the lightest lash of a whip.

It would be so easy to lose myself here. To shed the shell of the man I’ve become, to expose the soft white underbelly of the boy I’d been.

At the end, it is that panic that gets me moving again. That’s why I arranged for a guest membership here, to this club—to help me maintain control. Hell, it’s why I looked for control in this manner in the first place.

The only reason I’m in Galveston at all is the same reason I had to leave it. And I need to be on my game, in control, or I could lose it all.

Shaking my head to clear it of these thoughts, I walk down the corridor to room two. Familiar anticipation fills me as I place my hand on the doorknob.

Who will be on the other side? I have a general idea, given my preferences, but still, every woman is different. Their coloring, their shape, the way they respond to me. Beautiful creatures giving me a precious gift, even if it’s never exactly what I want.

What I want, I can never have. So I will take my pleasure where it comes.

Opening the door, I step inside. As per my instructions, the woman is at the window, draped in darkness. Her shadow is a curvy silhouette on the wall.

Like me, she’s dressed in black, a simple dress that leaves her legs, arms, and neck bare. It’s the legs that catch my attention first. Slender, but defined with curves of muscle. This one works out hard. It’s a turn-on—I like discipline. More, I like women who look healthy, who take care of their bodies, and by taking care I don’t mean subsisting entirely on salads with cut up chicken on them.

This woman? She looks powerful enough to resist me.

We both know she won’t. At least, not in the end.

I take a step toward her. She turns her head slightly at the noise, and that’s when I notice that she’s a redhead. With only the candlelight flickering in the room, I hadn’t noticed when I first opened the door. My mind flashes to the woman I’d met downstairs—Elsa—and I feel a momentary smug pleasure, thinking that I’d gotten the woman who caught my eye after all.

But this isn’t the same woman. I can see that now. Apart from the difference in attire—Elsa had been poured into red leather—the woman I’d met downstairs had clearly not been a neophyte in this world. Her posture, silhouetted in the window, might have a hint of tension borne from anticipation, but it wouldn’t be what I see here.

This woman? She’s wearing the mask, as I instructed, so she can’t see me, but she’s jerking her head nervously over her should, trying to see me. Trying to gain control. Her entire body is rigid with tension, a tension that goes beyond anticipation.

This is why I don’t play with novices. I’m not a nice man, and I don’t have the patience to break them in with the tenderness that they need. I should leave.

I open my mouth to tell her this won’t happen, though I’m annoyed that I’ll have to go down to the bar, have to go through the motions of flirtation to try to find a different play partner when I prefer to keep it like a transaction.

Finished crossing the room, I lay a gentle touch on her shoulders. She stiffens slightly, and the small movement has her scent rising to my nose.

Sweet. Sweet like candy.

It sends blood rushing into my cock, hardening me to the point of pain in an instant. Need crashes over me like a wave.

I don’t realize that I’ve pressed myself against her, my erection nestled into the hollow at the small of her back, until she gasps and reaches out blindly for the window. I hold very still, letting her get used to the feeling of me behind her.

“You’re certain you want to be here?” Inhaling deeply, I savor that sweet scent. I know it’s not the girl that the perfume reminds me of, because Galveston isn’t quite that small, and also, the Allegra I knew was all softness and uncertainty, not strong and challenging, like I suspect this woman is.

The woman pauses, sucks in a deep breath. I like that she appears to actually be mulling the question over.

“Yes.” Finally she answers, her voice raw. I can hear the fervor behind it.

Nervous she might be. Uncertain she is not.

“Safe word?” I ask, which is standard protocol.

She licks her lips before she speaks. “Thorn.”

I jerk on instinct upon hearing my last name, then realize she meant thorn, as in, the sharp part of a rose.

I don’t know this woman at all, and even though I know she wasn’t actually saying my name, hearing it on her lips awakens a feral need inside of me, one that rarely comes out to play.

I’ve never believed in love at first sight, and I certainly am looking for nothing of the sort. But a click at first sight? A chemistry? Two people responding specifically to one another?

There’s truth in that. And never mind that this woman is a stranger, that she’s wearing a blindfold, that I don’t know her name—that slight click is there.

It doesn’t make any difference in my plans—this will only be for one night. But my usual scenes involve the exchange of power that I need, a physical release. Very clinical.

As raw as I feel from being back in Galveston, the idea of gaining comfort, pleasure from a real connection, however strange?

It appeals like water to a man who’s walked a thousand days in the desert.

“I’m going to undress you now.” Catching the small tab of her zipper in my fingers, I slide it down, revealing an absolutely flawless back. A strong back, the snow-colored skin marred by nothing at all, not even the band of a bra, because she’s not wearing one.

The woman nods, and I stop, my hands spanning the curve of her slender waist. I can feel muscle beneath the soft skin, again telling me this a woman who likes to use her body.

“You will address me as Sir, or Master. You may choose which.” I absorb the shiver of her body that my words have caused. She liked that. Yes, she definitely wants to be here.

“Yes… Master.” The words, coming in that throaty voice, make my cock pulse.

I don’t require a woman to become a doormat in order to please me. There’s more pleasure to be had in slow submission.

“Very nice.” Fisting my hands in the silky fabric of her dress, now bunched around her thighs, I pull until it gives way, pooling around her ankles.

“Step out.” Hands back at her waist to guide her, I help her move over from the pile of cloth. I turn her so that she is facing me, her back to the ocean that I can hear outside.

It’s my first full-frontal view of her, and I’m mesmerized. She’s of average height, but that’s the only way that word applies to her. As she leans back on the windowsill, I can see her naked body in its entirety, the trim legs, the soft but strong stomach, the well-defined arms. Her hair is up, and I contemplate making her take it down so that I can fist my hands in it. But that would hide the column of her neck, which is so white I find myself wanting to mark it with my teeth.

She’s wearing full panties, which would have been an alarm bell telling me her neophyte status, if I hadn’t already known.

They’re pink, edged in black lace, with a cute little keyhole cutout at the back that teases me by showing just the top portion of the divide between her absolutely fabulous ass. I slide my fingers under the edges, touching the tight silk of the bottom curves of her behind, and she moans shakily.

“A beautiful ass is my favorite part of a woman’s body.” Untucking my fingers, I smooth my hands over the satin covering the firm globes. She pushes back into my touch, making me chuckle. “I love to admire them. Love to see them grow pink under my hand. And I especially like to fuck them.”

She moans again, though I notice that her hands clench tightly where they’re sitting on the windowsill. She’s doing just fine… in fact, she wants more.

Her profile indicated that she was quite interested in spanking. And the panties have given me a starting point.

“Why would you cover up what I want so much to see?” Without warning, I lift her in my arms. She cries out, and something about the noise niggles at something in my brain, but I shake it out, wanting nothing in my head but the pleasure of this woman.

She struggles a bit as I carry her across the room, to the bed. I grin as I lay her down, then promptly roll her onto her belly.

“Go ahead, it’s more fun for me if you fight.” I hear her gasp, and then I’ve hooked my fingers in her cute panties and have pulled them down her legs, past her ankles, and very carefully over the high-heeled pumps that she wears. I stroke a finger over the shiny leather. “These are nice. We’ll leave these on. I want to feel them dig into my back when I fuck you.”

“Ohhhh.” She’s quiet other than a breathy moan. The silence tells me that she’s really trying to get into the right headspace, taking in everything that she possibly can about this experience. Knowing that she’s so open makes me want to give, a strange sensation for someone like myself.

“That’s better. You’ve been a bad girl, hiding from me what I most wanted.” Planting a palm flat on her back, I push her into the bed, and she shivers. With my free hand, I trace a line from the base of her spine and down, a gentle stroke through the crevice of her buttocks.

“Oh God. Oh… Sir!” She bucks beneath my hand, but I pass right by the tight opening buried there. No way would I go there with someone on their first time. I want her thinking about it though, and just a bit nervous.

“I’ve decided your punishment.” Before the words are finished leaving my lips, I tug her back to standing, then seat myself on the bed. Pulling her to me, I arrangr her over my lap so that her face and arms rest on the bed, I let her legs dangle, a deliberate reinforcement of her sense of helplessness.

“Punishment? You—you can’t—” She squirms in my lap, just the way that I like, and her breasts rub against my throbbing cock. Pity, I haven’t paid them any attention yet.

They’ll be time for that later.

“I suggest you think before you tell me what I can or cannot do.” I smooth my hand over the tight globes of her ass, feel my own need surge when she trembles. “I think you’ll find that the entire point of this exercise is that you want me to do exactly as I want with you. To take control. And I intend to.”

“But… what will you do?” She stills, props herself up of her arms. I can hear the tremor in her voice. She wants to know. She wants the control.

Any reservations that I’d had about her being new have fled with one of her smoky whimpers. She wants to be here. Wants what I’m about to give her.

And with that chemistry between us, sparking through the air, I believe that I’m the only one who can give her what she craves.

“You’ll get five blows for trying to hide this fuckable ass from me. And another two for trying to gain control.” I can hear her sputter, know she’s about to protest. I cut it off with the first spank.

“Oh! Oh my God!” Her body goes rigid in my lap, rubbing me in all the right places and making me curse, then relaxing, then tensing again. “Oh—oh you can’t—”

“Can’t I?” I lay a blow to her other cheek, smoothing my hand over the resulting heat. I love seeing the pink rise to her skin. Love the way she’s reacting to me, genuine emotion and sensation, not the practiced play that so many women in this lifestyle affect.

I deliver her blows, moaning myself as she writhes on my lap. There’s not a doubt in my mind, this isn’t punishment for her. This woman was born to have my hand on her ass.

And as an invisible fist tightens around the base of my spine, screaming at me to hurry, I wonder if I’m not also meant to be inside of her, fucking her hard, now.

Blows complete, I part her thighs with my elbow and slide two fingers between her legs. She whimpers as I draw them out again, then hold them to her lips.

“Smell yourself. You’re soaked, baby. Such a dirty girl, turned on by a big spanking.” I slap her ass again, lighter this time, but still it makes her moan and clench.

“I… please. Sir. Please.” She’s writhing on my lap and it takes every shred of control that I have not to shed my pants, bend her over the bed and fuck into her right this instant, before she’s even had her first orgasm.

It’s her first time. It has to be good.

“Please, what?” I slide my two fingers inside of her again, chuckling as I slowly draw them back out and she bucks on my lap.

“Please you know what! Just… please!” Her pussy is wet, and hot, and so tight it’s as if it’s never seen a cock before. I think of it pulsing around me as I drive into her, and groan, knowing I need to hurry this along before I die.

“Tell me what you want.” I continue the slow push pull inside of her, her pussy sucking at my fingers like I want her mouth around my cock. With my thumb I circle her swollen clit, but deliberately keep the touch a light tease.

“Damn it!” She bucks against me, and I bend over to sink my teeth into her shoulder. To mark her. I’ve never had the urge before… well, not since I started this kind of lifestyle… and for me it’s huge.

I don’t want just one night with the wildcat in my arms. I’m going to have to see her again. Because right now, with her?

The outside world, all my problems, my demons? They don’t exist.

“Tell me.” It kills me to keep the slide inside of her even and slow as she clenches around me. She huffs, slams her palms against my thighs, then cries out with tortured exasperation.

“You win! Please make me come! Fucking now!”

I’m too tightly enmeshed in her pleasure to laugh at the desperation in her tone. She’s asked so nicely; I’ll give her what she wants.

“Good girl.” Without warning, I press my thumb down on her clit, sliding it from side to side over the slippery nub. At the same time I use my free hand to deliver another light smattering of blows over her ass.

Her explosion is instant. The second she feels my thumb on her clit and my hands striking her skin she cries out, a long, aching moan that echoes through the room as she explodes. Her pussy clenches so tightly at my fingers I wonder if they’ll bruise, but I couldn’t fucking care.

She rides my hand through her orgasm, and I continue to rub her sweet spot through the final spasms, until she lies limply on my lamp. Her breasts scrape over my cock, lying heavily against my thigh, and I’m nearly at the end of my control.

She’s going to get fucked. As soon as she recovers from this first orgasm, I’m going to bend this sweet submissive over the bed and fill her pussy with my cock, over and over, until we’ve both been torn apart and built again.

“What a good girl.” Breath heaving in and out—much like mine is—she props herself up on her elbows. With gentle hands, I turn her, lift her to a sitting position in my lap. I note her wince as her tender bottom makes contact with my thigh, and the sadistic part of me smirks.

She won’t be forgetting about me the second she walks out of here. And that’s another kind of control.

The air in the room is thick, heavy. She just came, but whatever this is between us isn’t over yet.

The thought makes me grin. I’d never imagined that tonight would be so good.

Reaching for one of the chilled bottles of water set around the room, I uncap it with one hand, then press it to her lips.

“Thank you.” She gulps greedily, water spilling down over her chin. When she’s done, she sighs, her chest quivering, and leans back against my shoulder.

This pleases me far more than it should.

“How are you feeling?” I smooth sweaty strands of her hair away from her face. I’m feeling a bit tenderer than I normally do after a scene, but I’ve decided to just go with it.

She inhales deeply, shifting closer to me. The movement has that cotton candy scent teasing me again, bringing to mind the girl I’d once known.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind a little outside fantasy intruding in a scene. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Power games played by consenting people. But that strange spark that I have with this woman?

Suddenly it doesn’t seem right to have memories of one woman intrude overtop of the real flesh and blood that I have in my arms.

“I want to see you.” She speaks hesitantly, but beneath that is a hint of challenge, and I smile to myself. Maybe she’s a bad girl indeed, and is looking for another spanking.

I pause, considering. The blindfold is a good way to keep a novice out of their own head during a scene.

But the truth is that I want to see her, too—all of her. So slowly I reach for the elastic holding her blindfold. Tucking my finger underneath, I pull up, sliding the mask over her head and off.

My first thought is that she’s beautiful, with huge emerald eyes that spark out of the darkness. Trailing right on the heels of that is the realization that she looks an awful lot like the one girl I’ve tried so hard to forget.

And as she gasps and stiffens in my arms, those huge eyes searching my face, I understand.

“No.” Pushing at my chest with her palms, she rockets out of my lap. “Oh, fuck, no.”

For the first time in a memory I am utterly at a loss for words. I watch as the incredible creature who just melted under my hands and the very girl I came here to forget meld into one.

She faces me, escaped tendrils of hair fanning out from her face like flames and making her look like an avenging angel. All of that creamy skin has flushed with her emotion, and rather than scurrying to retrieve her clothing, she stands in front of me, a warrior’s stance, as though she’s ready to tear the skin from my flesh.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I finally find my voice.

“Jesus Christ Allie.” I stand, my hands shaking, and damn it, my cock still pressing hard and heavy against my belly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”