My head is buzzing from the wine by the time we get below the deck of the ship, but I don’t think the way my head is spinning has much to do with the booze. Four months ago, I let my guard down for a night and Tristan gave me an experience I’ll never forget. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake or that I only had such a huge lapse in judgment because of the circumstances surrounding that night.

All of that might be true, but I know something else is true as well. Life has felt gray and bleak ever since I walked out of his house that night after the auction. I let him give me something beautiful and strange and scary, but that wasn’t my mistake. Maybe my mistake was trying so hard to convince myself it was something to be ashamed of. But whether I’m ashamed about sleeping with him or not, I can’t ignore the way he treated me when the night was over. He was ready to discard me without so much as a second thought. How do I know he won’t do exactly the same thing again when he’s had his fill of me?

The only answer is that I can’t know. I just have to decide if I’m willing to risk the shame of walking into heartbreak again. Though if tonight has been any indication, I’m not the only one who has been thinking about our night together, and maybe he’s even regretting the way things ended. The sensible thing to do would be to take things slow. If Tristan really thinks there’s a chance of us being more than just a business arrangement or a one-time fling, why shouldn’t we take it slow and get to know each other?

Why not? Because every step we take deeper into the bowels of the ship feels like a descent into some private, primitive space, like a space where inhibitions and the outside world don’t matter. Even the thumping beat of some distant music starts to pound through the walls of the boat and vibrate inside my chest, pulling me farther into his world. There is no taking it slow with a man like Tristan, I realize. He’s like an icy lake or a scorching hot tub. Dipping your toe in will only terrify you and convince you to run.

The only way is to jump in. To close my eyes, let go, and dive in.

So I squeeze his hand tighter and let him lead me ever-downwards. I don’t think about my past or my father or even my little brother. For a rare moment in my life, I submerge myself in the here and now, drinking deep.

We pass through a series of rooms, where the dress of guests starts to shift from the formal wear I saw upstairs to leather bikinis, skin-tight spandex, and some garments that are hardly concealing enough to qualify as clothes at all. I give Tristan a questioning look, but he only puts his hand to the small of my back and leads me into a room and closes the door behind us.

We’re alone in a room with a large closet that takes up the majority of the wall, a leather table with straps and restraints, a rack on the wall holding whips, chains, and ropes, and a few other objects I couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of. I take a half step deeper into the room and then start to inch toward the door, shaking my head. “Tristan,” I say carefully. “I don’t know what you expected, but…”

He raises a palm to stop me mid-sentence. “Relax. I just brought you here so you could pick out something to wear while we’re in the club. There’s a dress code for women, and they won’t let you through the door in this,” he says, reaching to pluck at my dress. “Not even for me.”

“This boat is some secret BDSM club?” I ask, even though I’ve already gathered as much with my eyes over the last minute.

“More or less. Yes. It’s a safe place for doms to bring their subs or for doms and subs to meet new partners. There’s even an office where official contracts can be drafted for first-timers.”

“Romantic,” I say with biting sarcasm.

He shrugs. “I’ve never used a contract with a woman before, but for some doms it’s the best way to make sure everyone gets what they expect. No nasty surprises.”

“Look, I know I let you…” I clear my throat and fidget with my hair as I search for and fail to find a delicate way to put it. I settle for lowering my voice, like that will make a difference. “I know I let you spank me with a paddle and tie me up, but that doesn’t mean I am into all this BDSM stuff.”

“No?” he asks, an amused smile playing across his lips. “You’ve tried it then? Beyond our night together, I mean?”

“I haven’t. But I mean, I’ve seen enough in movies to know it’s not for me. Men wearing leather bikinis while women in spandex stomp on their fingers? It’s just not my thing.”

He takes me carefully by the shoulders and guides me to sit on a small couch by the door, taking the spot beside me. I’m momentarily distracted by the way he lets his legs splay, which presses his thigh against my knee. Such an innocent bit of contact should be nothing after what I’ve done with this man, but it’s all I can do to rip my mind from it to the words coming from his mouth. Focus, Steph.

“I could lecture you on what BDSM is and isn’t, but I don’t think that would get the message across. How about this. You put on this dress,” he says, motioning to a nearly transparent white dress hanging in the closet. “You can leave your underwear on if you like. But put the dress on and come with me into the club. There are no expectations or obligations. Understand? All I ask is that you come with me and see for yourself. If you really feel like the lifestyle doesn’t suit you, then we can leave and never speak of it again.”

I look at the dress for a long time. “That’s the most conservative thing I can wear?” I ask.

“Trust me, if you go much more conservative than that, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb in there. If you want to blend in, this is your best bet.”

I sigh. “I’ll do it. But you have to promise not to let anything weird happen to me. Okay?”

He nods. “Go on then, put on the dress.”

I wait a second for him to leave, but he doesn’t move from the couch. “Are you at least going to cover your eyes?”

“Only if you make me,” he says with a grin.

I shake my head at myself as I walk toward the closet, not understanding how he brings this side out of me but knowing it’s there all the same. I pause a long moment with my back to him, building up the courage to do what I know I’m about to do. He’s seen me completely naked. He’s slept with me. Why should I feel like I’m doing something monumental by letting him see me in my underwear?

I slide out of the straps of my dress and wiggle free in a way I hope is at least a little sexy. I grab the transparent dress from the hanger and slide into it like it’s going to provide any real concealment and then turn to face him, face burning with embarrassment. I do my best to make my voice sound confident when I speak, though. “I’m ready if you are.”

He’s biting his lower lip when I turn around, eyes drinking in every inch of me in that same way I remember, like I’m the most amazing thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

“Keep looking at a girl like that and you might just go and boost her confidence,” I say.

“Keep looking like that and I’ll keep looking,” he says. “Come on. We don’t want to miss the party.”

“I’m still not sure about that,” I say, taking his hand.

Outside, he shows me through a crowded hallway where we pass into a large lounge area in what must be the belly of the boat. The music isn’t as loud as I would’ve expected, which allows the sounds of moaning women and the distant slap of leather on skin reach my ears from somewhere not too far away. Everywhere I look, men and women move about the room with cocktails and drinks in hand. The women are scantily clad and sometimes led on leashes while the men get to keep their suits on for some reason.

“Why is it that the men don’t have to wear see-through dresses?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I think the goal is for this place to have a sexy atmosphere. Tell me. Would it feel sexier to you if the men were wearing transparent dresses?”

I smirk. “Fair point.” Despite how much I’m trying to look like I’m taking the scene in stride, I’m truthfully just too overwhelmed to do anything but keep moving beside Tristan. It feels like I’m in an entirely different world. I would’ve expected a place like this to terrify me, but all I feel is an electric sense of excitement that has me wanting to see more.

“Want to see the auction?” he asks. He extends his arm toward a side room sectioned off by a red curtain. “For old time’s sake.”

I let him guide me into the area, where a few dozen people are seated at tables scattered around a stage like I’d expect to see in a dinner theater. A beautiful young woman in a sequined gold dress stands on stage while a man wearing a suit and a masquerade style mask speaks into a microphone.

“Two point five,” he says, pointing a gloved finger toward someone at a table in the corner who holds up a red card.

The bidding continues as Tristan leads me to a table at the back.

“Three?” asks the man with the microphone. “Going once. Going twice. Sold for two point five million to Mr. Fowler.”

I nearly choke on air at the number. “Is he serious?” I ask. “Is that just for a night with her?”

“No,” says Tristan. “These women put themselves up for auction. Potential bidders would’ve been given the details prior to the bidding, but for that figure I imagine she offered herself as a trial submissive. That would usually give the bidder several weeks to enjoy her. At the end of the trial it would be up to her and the bidder to decide if they wanted to continue the relationship or not.”

I watch with a mixture of fascination and horror as the woman heads backstage and the man with the microphone follows after her. “How is this legal?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s probably not. But the members of this club are some of the most powerful men and women in the country. There are significant steps taken to keep the things that happen here private.”

“What if he takes advantage of her or tries to hurt her?”

“She’s not exposing herself to any more risk than if she were to go home with a stranger she met in a bar. There will be an exit interview with one of the club managers who will make sure both parties agree on the deal before it’s finalized, too.” He leans forward with a grin. “I forget how sheltered you are. You should see the look on your face.”

I consciously force my features into a more neutral expression. “Okay, I might be sheltered, but I’m going to go ahead and bet that the majority of normal people would be a little surprised to see what I just saw. Women don’t normally put themselves up for auction.”

“You bought me at an auction,” he says.

I glare at him. “A charity auction. And that was an auction for a date. Not for sex.”

“Not all of these auctions are for sex, either. BDSM doesn’t have to involve sex. For some it’s just the power dynamic that gets them off with or without touching.”

“What about it gets you off?” I ask, wincing when I realize I actually just asked him that. “Sorry,” I say, covering my eyes with my hand like it will do any good to shield me from my embarrassment. “I don’t know where my head is right now. This is all so much to take in, it’s just—”

“It’s fine. And it’s okay for you to ask.” He leans forward with both elbows on the table and a dark expression on his face. “Control gets me off. When I think about you giving me control and submitting, that’s all I really need. All the other bells and whistles of the lifestyle, those are just tools. Sometimes a paddle might help you remember to surrender your ego and let me take command. Other times you might need to be bound and gagged. A blindfold might keep you focused on exactly what I want you to focus on.”

I swallow hard, throat feeling suddenly tight. “I see.”

“You know the strange part?” he asks. “Until you, I always thought I just needed to wrestle control from a woman one time. I thought the drug for me was that single shift of power. But for some reason I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”

“Is that why you brought me here?” I ask to buy time more than anything else. He’s so forward and direct that I can’t even gather my own thoughts and decide how I feel about any of this quickly enough.

“I brought you here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About what happened the night after the auction. About how fucking good it felt to take your submission.”

“What did you think would happen tonight?” I ask breathlessly.

“I’m not sure,” he says, sliding his hand up my thigh beneath the table. “But I know I’m not going to be able to stop unless you tell me to.”

“Anybody could see,” I say, putting my hand beneath the table to try to stop him.

“They could,” he says, inching his lips toward my neck. “But I you’ll have to ask yourself if you’d rather let me do what I can to you in public, or if you want to trust me alone behind a locked door.”

“What if,” I say, sucking in a shocked breath as his hand overpowers mine and presses against my quickly dampening panties. “What if I tell you to take me home.”

“Then you’ll get what you want. But that’s not what you want, is it, treasure?”

The pet name sends chills across my body and I can’t help arching my head back, exposing my neck to more of his kisses. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” I say. It’s the truth. Everything feels so raw. I can’t make myself believe some disaster won’t keep me from getting custody of Cole or that something won’t come between this fragile but intense connection between Tristan and I. Good things in my life have always seemed to be momentary. The temptation to sink into Tristan’s touch and let this moment be what it is nearly overwhelms me, but an almost paralyzing fear is just on the other edge of that temptation.

“You don’t have to know what you want,” he whispers against my neck. “All you have to do is submit. Give me control and I’ll show you what you want. I’ll give you what you need.”

Submit. I’ve spent so long clinging to my own tentative sense of control that surrender feels terrifying. But I remember how good it felt to surrender control to him on the night of the auction. Letting go was a sweet release, like it opened up my body to every imaginable pleasure.

“I can’t,” I say. “I have to think about Cole first. You and I can’t get involved…”

“Then don’t get involved with me,” he growls. “Just submit. Give me control for tonight. Nothing more.”

“Just tonight?” I ask. I feel dirty for wanting it, but I do. I want another free night. Another chance to feel his passion without the consequences. I can’t risk getting in a relationship with him. Not now. Relationships end, and I can’t risk that happening before everything finalizes with Cole. I have to remember that.

“Just tonight,” he says.

“Okay,” I breathe. “I’m yours. But can we go back to the private room?”

He chuckles. “You don’t get to make requests, treasure. You just get a night you’ll never fucking forget.”

He presses his fingers to my pussy and I press myself back against the cushioned seat, feet digging into the ground. I brace my whole body against the sudden and overwhelming pleasure, not just of his touch but of the sense of complete surrender, of letting a man decide when and how to please me and of letting the real world slip away until it’s nothing but a memory.

“You’re so wet for me. You wanted this more than you admit,” he says, punctuating his words with hot kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck.

My eyes wander the room, searching for some kind of confirmation that no one notices us at the back table while Tristan gropes me, but I see more than a few knowing looks and grins as couples take notice. It’s all I can do not to stop him and ask him to take me somewhere private. Knowing other people can see me in such a private moment is mortifying, but it feels so good I don’t think I can stop him.

As his fingers move more quickly and his hand finds its way inside my panties, a dirty thrill starts to build in me from being watched. I see anonymous faces and the hints of arousal in their expressions from watching us. I see men reaching to feel at the women they are with and couples begin to kiss.

For a bemused moment, I try to imagine what Jamie would think if she saw me right now, but my awareness of anything except Tristan’s hands and mouth against my skin is rapidly fading. Soon I barely even notice the other people in the room or their eyes on us. I forget that I should be ashamed to do something like this in public and that getting involved with him could jeopardize my ability to adopt Cole. Just one more time. That’s what he said, at least. I’m more worried about whether I’ll be able to sleep with Tristan again and still keep myself from wanting more.

His fingers curl inside me, snapping my focus to the building pressure of what must be the world’s quickest orgasm. He knows exactly where to touch, when to move his fingers quickly or softly and how to kiss me to keep me riding the edge just before my orgasm comes bursting free. He kisses his way up my neck and finds my mouth with his, warm tongue teasing my own as his free hand spears my hair and holds me still so I couldn’t escape even if I wanted.

“You think I’m going to let you cum where everyone can see, treasure?” he asks.

“I think you’re going to do what you want,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “You’re learning. That’s good.”

He slides his fingers out of me and brings one of the two he was using to his mouth. With a casual flick of his tongue, he licks my juices from his finger and grins, offering me the other finger. I lock eyes with him as I take it in my mouth and suck my own moisture from him, savoring the dirty thrill as I can taste my own pussy on his fingers.

“But no,” he says. “They only get a tease. The rest of you is for me and me alone. Come,” he says, standing and extending a hand as nonchalantly as if we had just paid the bill for our meal and were headed home for the night.

I’m acutely aware of the eyes following us as he leads me back toward the room where I changed into the transparent dress. It’s a testament to how far out of my comfort zone he has already taken me that I’m not even thinking about the fact that I’m basically walking around in my underwear in a room full of strangers. No, I’m more focused on the fact that I just let a near-stranger finger fuck me in front of said room full of strangers.

Inside the room, I expect him to push me against the wall and continue kissing me passionately or to throw me down on the couch, but his demeanor changes once the door is closed. He looks strangely calm. As if he’s in no hurry at all, he lifts one arm and begins to adjust the cuff of his shirt beneath his suit sleeve. “Get on the table,” he says firmly. “Now,” he snaps.

I do a half-jump, moving quickly to the leather table that has harnesses and straps dangling from it. It’s a little high, but I’m able to kick my leg over and climb on without losing too much dignity in the process.

“Remove your dress,” he says.

I do as he says, watching him closely all the while. He’s methodically taking off his own clothes and setting them on the hangers in the closet.

“No,” he says quickly when I reach for my bra strap. “No,” he repeats with a slightly sinister inflection. “You disobeyed me, treasure.” He strips his tie off almost like he’s upset with me.

I scoot back on the table, suddenly afraid but the aftershocks of pleasure are still running through me so powerfully I couldn’t say the safe word if I tried right now. I’m too dialed in to this experience to want it to stop, no matter how much he stretches my limits.

“Down,” he growls, forcing me down on my back and then quickly strapping the wrist and ankle restraints around me. He gives each a firm tug until I can barely move. He reaches beneath the table and releases some kind of latch that sends the entire table tilting backwards until I’m angled where my head is closer to the ground and my feet are angled slightly up. Blood rushes to my head, making my thoughts feel sluggish after a few seconds.

“I was going to eat that perfect pussy of yours to reward you for being such a good girl out there, but you couldn’t do as you were told. You thought you would take your bra off and deprive me of the pleasure, did you?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought—”

“You are mine tonight,” he says in a low husk just inches from my ear. “You don’t think tonight. You only do as I say, when I say.” As if to take the edge off his words, he softens his voice and whispers now. “You won’t regret surrendering to me, treasure. Let go.”

I nod my head.

He rubs a hand across my cheek from where he stands over me, upside down from my perspective. His dress shirt is partially unbuttoned so I can see the crease of muscle from his chest, but he’s otherwise still almost completely dressed. He drops his hands to his zipper and undoes his fly.

“You’re going to suck my cock until I tell you to stop.”

“Upside down?”

“I said you needed to be punished, didn’t I?”

He undoes his belt and drops his pants, freeing his already-hard cock and positioning it in front of my mouth. I don’t bother telling him I’ve never given a guy head before, let alone tried to do it upside down. I open my mouth and wait, because I’m too constrained to move any closer to him.