“Gorgeous morning, sweetheart,” Sean texted Harper the day after their tryst in the park. As always, she replied immediately. Harper hinted about seeing him that day, but he sidestepped her suggestions.

“Tell me what you’re wearing,” he texted the following day. Her reply was unbelievable, complete with details of strappy black garters and a cup-less bra. “Show me,” he’d replied, and immediately a photo followed. Either she changed unbelievably fast, or she’d been honest. He hoped with everything he had that it was the latter.

Joon-Ki interrupted their text conversation. “Am I going to see you at noon?” he asked.

Shit. It had been awhile since he’d been to a meeting. “I’ll be there,” he said. Joon-Ki replied with a smiley face.

The meeting was insufferable. How many times can I listen to the same old stories? When it was his turn, he chose not to share—and tried to avoid the look of disappointment on Joon-Ki’s face.

“So, how’s it going with the girl?” Joon-Ki asked as they broke for coffee and doughnuts. “You still seeing her?”

“Something like that,” Sean said.

“Well. Just remember what I said.”

Take it slow. I should get a medal for how goddamned slow I’ve been taking it. After the meeting, he rushed away and brushed off Joon-Ki’s offer of dinner. “I’ve got, uh, some stuff to take care of.”

“The girl?” Joon-Ki asked, with a raised brow.

“No, no. Work,” he said.

“Oh, okay.”

Joon-Ki didn’t need to know it was his day off. Sean raced home and took the black plastic bag out of the closet. He knew he’d use it, but at the same time he couldn’t stop thinking about taking Harper on a proper date. What the fuck is wrong with me?

But he knew what it was. Breaking into the goodie bag would require genuine trust. A delve into the underbelly of who and what he was. Maybe if it was softened with a real date, he wouldn’t be so ashamed.

Sean opened his laptop and searched for the nicest hotels in Los Angeles. Something small, something with a pool. Something where he’d see her in a bikini. Like a normal fucking guy would want.

He booked the Gable and Lombard penthouse at the Hollywood Roosevelt. The “eat, stay, play” motto of the hotel drew him in. If the 3,200 square foot penthouse was good enough for Clark and Carole, surely it would make do for what he had in mind. Three levels with a rooftop patio, panoramic views of Hollywood and vintage charm was exactly what he needed.

You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, he thought as he entered the card information. That was true. But he did know he had to have Harper, and soon.

“Busy tonight?” he texted her.

“Nope, just finishing up a go-see now.”

“Meet me at the Hollywood Roosevelt. Penthouse suite at 6,” he said.

If she was impressed, her reply didn’t show it. “I’ll be there.”

“Bring something for the pool.”

He arrived early to get the lay of the suite. Sean unpacked his bag and hid the toys in the bedside table, right beside the bible.

This penthouse has seen some shit, he thought as he took it in. It was stunning and classic, but there were small, tell-tale signs of raucous partying. But it hasn’t seen anything like what I’m going to do in it.

A knock came at the door right at six o’clock. Harper was dressed in an almost-transparent black swimsuit coverup with black beading at the neckline. Massive sunglasses rested on her nose and complicated black strappy heeled sandals criss-crossed up her ankles.

“Ready to get wet?” he asked her.

She smiled. “Always.”

Miraculously, they had the pool to themselves. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she pulled off the cover-up to reveal a skimpy black string bikini beneath. As she lowered herself into the water, he saw the bottoms were a European cut that her ass nearly swallowed.

He was already hard beneath his trunks by the time the water reached his chest. Sean splashed at her playfully. “Hey!” she said. “I just got this blown out.”

“You just blew what?”

“My hair,” she said with a laugh.

“That’s right. It’s your job to always look so goddamned hot.”

She blushed and looked away. “It’s kind of your job, too,” she said. “I’m sure there are more people lining up for a hot tattoo artist to ink them rather than the stereotypical fat biker dude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What does your family think?” she asked. He faltered at the sudden shift in conversation.

“Of what?”

“Of you being a tattoo artist. Do they support it? Or …”

“I don’t know, and don’t really care,” he said.

“Oh.” She sounded hurt.

“My family … they’re back in D.C. My dad got rich back when it was relatively easy to do so. My older brother kind of followed suit, though I have to admit he made his own way. I guess I’m the black sheep, so to speak.”

“I know how that can be,” she said.

“You do?”

“Kind of,” she said with a sigh. “My mom … she really pushed me into modeling. You know? She always wanted to model, but didn’t have the build for it. She was a pageant queen instead. Then she was an alcoholic. That chased my dad away for good. Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay, I know I’m an alcoholic,” he said. “I’m trying to manage it, though. My mom, though, no such luck. And my dad is just fucking insane.”

She laughed. “Maybe everyone’s families are insane.”

“You ready to go back in?” he asked. A family with two little kids, complete with waders strapped to their arms, appeared poolside.

“Yes,” she said in that low voice she adopted when they were alone.

That little word, in just that way …

As soon as they stepped into the suite, both still wet with the scent of chlorine in the air, he couldn’t help but grab her. Her flesh was riddled with goose bumps, her nipples incredibly hard under the wet material. “Get on the bed,” he said.

She obeyed, breathless.

“You have to trust me,” he said. Her eyes got big, but she didn’t move.

“I trust you,” she said. She looked nervous.

“Gomorrah, Eden, inferno,” he said. “Repeat.”

She did so, and didn’t even falter as he removed the rope from the bedside table. With expert ease, he made prusik cuffs behind her back. He removed a slip of black cloth and folded it over her eyes. “You only exist for one reason,” he said as he tightened the knot. “For my pleasure.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Say it,” he said.

“I exist only for your pleasure.”

“Very good,” he said. “On your knees.”

Sean removed a pair of long-handled scissors from the drawer. Harper flinched, just slightly, at the cold, sharp steel against her legs. Sean pulled down his trunks. “Who fucking told you to keep your clothes on?” he asked.

“I … I’m sorry,” she said. “Sir.”

He trailed the scissors up her thigh. A faint red mark remained behind. “Spread your legs,” he said. She did so without hesitation, even with the threatening tip of the steel at her flesh. He knew she couldn’t tell if it was scissors, a knife, or something else.

Quickly, he snipped off the bikini bottoms and pulled them away. Harper let out a small gasp of surprise.

“There’s my pussy,” he said. “That’s how I like to see it.” Carefully, he pressed the cold steel of the scissors against her clit. Her breathing increased, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even try to lean away. Her trust was irrefutable.

Sean put the scissors away. He untied her top to release her breasts. With a sharp pinch at each nipple, she moaned.

“Your tits are great,” he said. “But they could do with a little training.” He removed the steep nipple trainers, cold in his hand, and tightened them into place. She looked amazing, knees parted with hands cinched behind her back. Blindfolded with the steel clamps on her nipples, lengthening and hardening them, he could barely contain himself.

Slow. Take it slow. “Bend down,” he instructed.

“I … how …”

“Put your face on the bed,” he said.

She bent over, her hands bound at the small of her back. Sean took out the paddle and tested the leather side against his palm with a smack.

He teased her ass with the furry side and gave it small slaps. But the sound was muted. Sean switched sides and slapped her pert cheeks with the leather. She cried out. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she purred.

He cut off another section of rope and secured her ankles in a wrap and cinch knot. Sean slid the paddle over her ass again and spanked her twice in succession, smart and fast. Harper groaned with each hit.

Her wetness had started to spread down her open thighs. Fuck, this really does turn her on, he thought. She wasn’t just appeasing him.

“Do you want me to spank you more?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, please,” she said.

“Why?” he asked as he slid the paddle across her flesh. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“I … I think so. Sir,” she added.

He spanked her sharply. “Perhaps you do,” he said. “But you only get it if you’ll come for me. Are you going to come?” He wriggled the paddle of the handle against her opening and she let out a groan.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m so close.”

He spanked her again. Before she could fully react he slid an inch of the handle into her. “Come now,” he said. On cue, he saw her familiar tremor of orgasm. He pushed the handle father into her and she called out his name.

Sean slid the handle out of her and spanked her twice, lighter than before, to bring on another orgasm. She responded, and he slid the handle against her clit. Harper squirted her third orgasm onto the rich Egyptian cotton sheet. The sight of it made him come in tandem with her. He sprayed across her spread cheeks and he choked back his own groan.

“Gomorrah,” she moaned into the bed. But he dropped the paddle and spread his come across her skin.

“Later,” he promised.

He untied her ankles and released her wrists. Gently, he pulled her into a seated position on the bed and loosened the nipple clamps. Finally, Sean untied the blindfold and kissed her from behind. He worked his way from her neck to her eager lips.

“Wait here,” he said. He pulled up the trunks as he stood. On the chaise lounge, he dug through the leather duffel bag for a cloth soft as chamois. Inch by inch, he dried her skin before he wrapped her in a bathrobe.

It didn’t work. Not unless there was every bit of indulgence as there was punishment. The bathrobe was his own, though he’d never worn it. Imported from Belgium, he’d never thought he’d been worthy of its softness. But Harper was.

She fell asleep in his arms as he spooned her from behind. When her breathing steadied, he leaned up to gaze at her. Sean brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. She was perfect.

It was strange to feel close to someone after all these years. The self-doubt, the recriminations, the distress over Ashton, it was all gone in that moment.