Choosing him was a huge step forward for Esme, even though to do so was out of necessity. Heat suffused her face at the way she had answered quickly, without hesitation—her eagerness more than apparent. When she glanced up to glean Master Finn’s reaction, his smile reached his brilliant eyes and communicated his approval sufficiently; he also verbalized it.

“I am pleased, lass, and eager to get started, which brings us back to where we were before we got sidetracked with all this seriousness.”

She tilted her head, again, unsure what he meant.

“We were discussing your clubwear and how good your ass looks in this skirt.”

With his delightfully sexy brogue, your was yer and ass came out as arse; she could listen to it all day. On edge, as she was, she managed to contain a giddy laugh, but not the smile curving her lips.

“Did I say something amusing?” His soft burr pitched lower than before sending a shiver down her spine.

“Oh, no, sir.”

“Then it must be me you’re laughing at.”

“No, sir!”

“Good, because I assure you, I am not here for your entertainment. It’s the other way around.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, but I’m nervous, and your accent, sir. It’s distracting.”

He moved in closer, his chest brushing against her breasts, as he dipped his head to hers. “You don’t like it? Most American girls do.”

“Oh, well, yes…” she breathed, shivering as his wonderful, masculine scent filled her senses. “You can consider me one, sir.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in amusement, the hand at her face, moving down to her collar, his fingertips tracing along the v at the front of her blouse. Her shivers intensified, and her nipples already peaked from the coolness of the room, stood up harder and almost painfully tight. “I’m glad I meet with your approval, lass. I can assure you, I like what I see, but I want to see more. Your hair is a lovely color, but the French twist doesn’t work for me. I prefer long and loose, which gives me something to sink my fingers into, or to wind around my wrist should I take the notion.” Without releasing her, his big hands dropped to her hips, and he took a half step back. “Take it down.”

She didn’t hesitate, searching for the pins in the loose bun. She’d used eight that morning, a couple falling from her nervous fingers, bouncing with a ping on the hardwood floor before she located all of them.

Master Finn brushed her hands aside, using his steady, long fingers to fluff the thick, wavy mass that tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. Next, he pulled it forward in two skeins to stream down over her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

Feeling shy at his praise, she looked down, watching as he picked up a springy curl from over her breast and rubbed it between his long, tanned fingers. The back of his hand brushed the hard peak which tightened in reaction.

“Relax, lass.” The deep cadence of his voice made it almost impossible not to. “Nothing will happen here that you don’t want to.”

At that moment, it wasn’t a comforting thought, because she wanted this man to do everything, her body needing him too, so badly. Swaying slightly, she leaned toward him, his pull on her magnetic.

“You’re called Esme, an unusual name.”

“It’s my middle name, actually. My mother lost a bet with my father.”

There was a pause. “I don’t follow.”

“He won and got to choose my name.” She shrugged. “It’s rather a long story; my parents were rather nutty.”

“A feeling most children share, but best left for another time, perhaps,” he suggested as she felt a button release on her blouse.

She breathed out, glad for the change of subject. Thoughts of her parents, always bittersweet, didn’t belong here, in a sex club of all places, where a practical stranger had less than wholesome intentions in mind for her.

“What was that?”

“Sir?” she asked, her eyes coming up to meet his.

“You had a disturbing thought.”

“Oh, no. It was nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t make you frown. I’d like to know what it was.”

“I, uh…” With the good came the bad: observant, demanding, intent on getting inside a sub’s head.

“If you’re to be mine, whether for an hour, the evening or beyond this first session, you will be mine in all ways. Mind and body, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, both responding to the firm authority in his demand.

“Then tell me what disturbed you.”

“Our conversation seems to circle back to, well, rather inappropriate things, like my folks, when very soon…”

“I’ll be using their daughter’s body,” Master Finn finished for her, having no trouble putting it into words, “in whatever depraved way I see fit, baring her, fucking her, taking a crop to her ass if she doesn’t please me? Perhaps it is inappropriate, but considering we’re in a torture chamber straight out of the middle ages, not much about our situation is what you’d call proper, is it?”

“I guess not, sir,” she replied, a rasp present from her mouth and throat having gone suddenly dry.

“Which is half the fun.”

He tugged on the curl he still held, then his hand fell away, and he walked across the room. A few moments later, she heard the creak of leather.

“Come here, Esme.”

Turning, she scanned until she found him. It took a moment in the flickering light of the wall sconces, his black-on-black t-shirt and leather pants blending with the dark high-backed chair where he reclined. He crooked a finger, summoning her like a medieval lord ready for a tankard of ale and a whole lot more from his serving wench.

She padded across the rough-planked floor. When she drew near, he shifted, spreading his black boots wide apart. She didn’t misconstrue his silent command and stepped between them. Now, the sight that greeted her was long legs and thickly muscled thighs encased in black leather. Her gaze inched higher, and she couldn’t miss the outline of his cock behind the button fly and how the impressive length angled down his inner thigh. Immediately, a flood of wetness rushed to her pussy, and she could think of nothing except him stripping her bare and filling her, wherever and however he wanted.

Finn’s heels softly scraped the floor as his legs closed, not pinning, but enfolding her. His hands, which were resting on his thighs, barely had to move for his thumbs to dip beneath her skirt hem. They did nothing more than glide over her bare skin, leisurely stroking as though he had all the time in the world.

“Brush back your hair and open your blouse, I’d like to see the nipples which have been tempting me since the moment I walked in here.”

With trembling fingers, she undid fabric covered buttons and separated the two halves revealing her white lace bra—not a ratty old one, thankfully, of which she had several. In this one area, luck had been on her side.

“Very nice,” he murmured, the rolling r in very suddenly more pronounced. “And a front hook, how convenient. Open it. I’m anxious to see if the tips match the pinkness of your lips.”

Already tight, her nipples constricted more at his command and were aching for his touch by the time she unlocked the plastic clasp and peeled the cups away. Still keeping her eyes angled downward, she felt the heat of his gaze on her rose-tipped size C breasts.

“Rosy all over, I’m pleased, Esme. Remove both the blouse and bra.”

She obeyed, letting the silky material and slightly scratchy lace slide down her arms and fall to the floor behind her.

His fingers curled behind her thighs. Then his hands slid up to her backside, where he palmed both cheeks, before moving them up to her waist taking her skirt with them.

“Turn around.” When she did, Finn released the button on her skirt and lowered the zipper with a distinctive wisp. “Now, step out.”

Easier said than done. Even with the zipper undone, the skirt was snug. It took some shimmying to lower it over her behind, something she felt was disproportionate to her frame. Not J Lo big and nothing near a Kim Kardashian bubble butt. It was full, round, and always had been, no matter how much she dieted, or how many spin classes or Pilates she attended.

Please, let him be an ass man.

Once past her hips, the skirt dropped to her ankles. When she tried to kick it aside, however, it got tangled. She bent forward to pull it free, but when she started to rise, he demanded gruffly, “Stay just like that.”

So, there she stood, her big booty in his face, while his fingers explored. They skimmed up the backs of her thighs and over both cheeks in a whisper-soft caress that made her squirm.

“Be still,” he ordered while continuing the sensual massage, his thumbs slipping between her thighs to stroke the narrow strip of fabric, which by now, had to be soaked.

The hum must be a habit, she decided, when it rumbled again from his chest.

Balancing with her eyes closed, when he stroked over her clit, she jerked, and the air left her lungs in a whoosh. She was about to tell him she couldn’t take any more without coming apart, but the words evaporated on her tongue when his fingers curled into the waistband of her thong.

“As alluring as lace is on your flawless skin, this too must go.”

Lungs frozen, body vibrating with need, and still bent forward, she willed herself not to come as he tugged the lace and satin over her hips. After so long with nothing other than a self-induced orgasm, this was cruel and inhumane torture. It intensified a moment later when his lips, open and warm, touched her skin.

She sucked in a breath to keep from passing out, which was a good possibility with her practically standing on her head, and a sexy, commanding man, licking her bottom.

“Sir, please.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m getting dizzy.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, sucking on her skin a moment. “We can’t have that.” He steadied her with his hands on her hips “Step out of the panties, then turn and face me.”

If he wasn’t holding onto her, she would have toppled over, when one at a time, she lifted her feet. With the skirt and panties in a bunch on the floor, she caught them with her pointed toes and kicked them away. When her feet were clear of the tangle of clothing, she turned in a half circle back to him.

“Take a breath.”

She closed her eyes and did as she told him.

“Again.”

After blowing out, she inhaled once more and opened her eyes. She didn’t meet his gaze, focusing on his chin instead, feeling it was safer as she tried to calm her sex-starved body.

“Better?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Having you faint would put a damper on our evening, don’t you think?”

She nodded.

“Breathing is essential then, lass.”

His voice, the accent, the way he kept constantly touching her, like now as his thumbs slowly swept over her hip bones, and the fact she was naked while he remained fully clothed, made her feel vulnerable, aroused, and submissive all at once.

Again, she nodded, afraid if she spoke she’d make all sorts of rude demands, like take me… use me… fuck me.

“Look at me, Esme.”

Her gaze rose to meet green eyes framed with silky black lashes set in a beautiful masculine face. Straight nose, high cheekbones, full sensual kissable lips. As he regarded her, his lips twitched slightly. “I’m at an advantage. I knew who I was meeting tonight. You’ve barely looked at me since I came in. I trust, since you haven’t run screaming from the room, you don’t find me completely hideous.”

She suppressed an eye roll although it wasn’t easy. “Hardly, sir. You must know how handsome you are.”

“I’m relieved you think so, but maybe you could prove it by looking me in the eye, rather than down at your hands, over my shoulder, or at my chin?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“That’s a good lass.”

With her eyes on his, she saw when they dipped to her breasts, then moved lower, and she watched as he took the backs of his fingers and lightly ruffled the triangle of red-gold curls at the top of her thighs which she kept neatly trimmed.

“I like this bit of fluff. Spread for me.”

She hesitated ever so slightly, drawing his gaze, and earning her a warning arch of one dark brow.

“Disobedience will get you a rosy red ass, my girl.”

Instantly, she parted her legs. “I’m sorry—sir.” Her voice broke, the result of his fingers sliding between her thighs and over the smooth lips of her pussy. She had shaved closely that morning, taking meticulous care in preparation for tonight.

“Soft in front, like silk in between, very nice. Bend to me.”

“Um…” If she did so, her breasts would dangle in his face.

“Now,” he drawled, his low intonation making it sound like a growl.

She complied immediately after that, and as predicted, her breasts hung before him like ripe fruit. As a penalty for her hesitancy, his lips surrounded one nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth. She felt the edge of his teeth, and let out a quavering cry, part groan, part ragged breath, and toward the end a high-pitched whimper. Her arousal wet her thighs as she arched her back, offering him more, not that he needed an invitation. By her consent, she was his for the evening.

He released the taut peak with an audible pop. Not leaving her wanting for long, thankfully, his open mouth traversed the valley between her breasts and latched onto the other tip with equal ferocity.

Before she knew it, her fingers entangled in his thick wavy hair. Esme’s eyes flew open, when he encircled her wrists and pulled her hands free. She found herself staring into his amused gaze; shocked she’d had the daring to touch him without permission, especially their first time together.

“I expected you’d be out of practice, not that you’d have forgotten your manners entirely.”

“Oh, sir… please, forgive… my, uh, forwardness.”

He framed her face with his hands. “Ah, lass, I tease. I’m not as strict a Master as that. If you’re not allowed to touch, speak, or if I want your eyes lowered, I’ll tell you. Or, I’ll bind, gag, and blindfold you to ensure that you don’t.”

A gasp escaped as the fire of her arousal reignited.

Keiran smiled and brushed a tender kiss on her lips. “While we’re getting to know one another, I like your spontaneous reactions. I want to see the fire in your eyes, hear the sounds from your lovely mouth, and to feel your hands on me. And, Esme, I’d never punish before explaining my rules. Is that clear?”

She nodded, forcing out a ragged, “Yes, sir,” when both his brows rose once again.

“How long has it been since you’ve been spanked?”

She shouldn’t have been surprised by his directness, most dominants were, but he had the uncanny ability to home in on the problem after talking to her twice, tonight included.

“Here’s a perfect time to give you a rule. I expect truthful answers to my questions.”

“Four years,” she uttered promptly in reply. “I tried the public clubs, but they didn’t… It

wasn’t…” She dropped her gaze.

“You didn’t find what you needed.”

“No.” The single word was barely a whisper, but it echoed in the stark room.

“And how long since you’ve cried, Esme? Not crocodile tears, but really let loose and had a good, hard cry to release what you’re holding deep inside you?”

“Forever, it seems.”

“Your husband wasn’t able to give you that?”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s been since my parents died. After Andrew, I was numb.”

“Darlin’,” he said softly, a world of understanding in his tone.

Before she could blink, or think, she was face down over one hard thigh. He hauled her in close to his body, then his hand curved around the back of her neck keeping her upper body down while his free leg settled over both of hers. Held securely, she didn’t teeter and doubted if she could buck or kick, and she didn’t need to reach for the floor to steady herself. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his leg, and curled her fingers into supple leather, and hung on for she knew what was coming.

His hand came down hard on her bare bottom.

“My rules are few, lovely Esme, but non-negotiable. Complete obedience while we are in the club. I dislike hesitancy so expect a bottom warming if you delay. You will come often, but only when I say. Punishments will be appropriate to the crime although never more than you can bear. And, I will not limit them to your naughty behind. We’ll use the club safewords, red and yellow, which I expect you to use when needed, but are not to be taken lightly or abused.”

While he listed his rules, he steadily smacked the full curves of her bottom. These weren’t trifling, teasing swats, but crisp, heavy-handed spanks meant to prove to her who was in charge. It had been years since she’d felt anything like it. She’d forgotten how much she craved a dominant’s control, and how the pain of correction mixed with the intense pleasure of submission, and the euphoria that she knew would follow.

“Most of all, Esme, I expect honesty and will give you the same. Truthful answers, candid responses, and honest emotion. Anything less and we’ll have a problem. No stiff upper lips and suffering in silence; that’s for the Brits. We Irish live in the moment, and that’s what I’ll help you do, lass. You’ve spent a lot of time trapped by the tragedy in your past, and sure as certain, your husband, who as you say loved you very much, wouldn’t have wanted that. It’s time to look forward and live to the fullest all the moments of your future.”

He hadn’t let up, and her bottom was on fire, but that wasn’t what broke her.

Exhausted from trying to deny what she needed for so long, a strident cry erupted from her throat and echoed off the bare floor. It didn’t deter him or slow him a fraction—what a disappointment if it had. Because finally the damn burst and the deluge of tears she’d held back for so long surged forth. She lost count, not that she’d really kept track since he’d started, and he covered every inch of both cheeks the uppermost aspect of her thighs with his extra-large paddle-like hand. When he stopped, she lay as limp as a noodle over his thigh, breathing hard between her sobs, and while the stinging tenderness in her backside captured most of her attention, the ache in her pussy could not to be ignored, especially with him gently rubbing the skin he’d just set on fire.

After several minutes of these soothing caresses, when her hitching sobs had nearly subsided, he lifted her, perched her tenderized butt on his lap, and enfolded her in his arms. Then he simply held her. Even more than the spanking which had brought forth a Vesuvius-like eruption of tears, this tapped into what her submissive nature needed more than anything and missed so desperately, strong arms surrounding her, an understanding shoulder to lean on, and intimacy—not the sexual kind.

This prompted another wave of tears.

“Hush now,” Master Finn murmured, as he cupped her chin, his thumb sweeping over her wet cheeks once more. “Or did I stop too soon?”

“No, sir! My butt is on fire.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Esme, and you know it. How do you really feel?”

“Like a weight has been lifted from my chest. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ve been a dominant for a while and have learned the healing effects of a good cry. Some submissives can’t get there without a little help.”

She shifted, hissing when her hot flesh stuck to his leather pants. “I think your help was more than a little, sir.”

He rolled her body toward him, his hand moving in soothing strokes again, which felt really nice and she sighed.

Amused, he chuckled. “It has been a while for you because I went easy. I’d consider that not much more than a warmup.”

She sniffed, but not from tears, this time. “Easy for you, maybe.”

“I’m not a sadist, but it’s a rare dominant who doesn’t enjoy smacking a sweet subbie ass, and yours, lass, is one of the sweetest ever. If it’s for play and we both take pleasure from it, even better. But when the intent is to bring about a response from a lass who’s learned to suppress her emotions and to lock away the pain from a trauma in her past, it’s a tool that serves a purpose. I see using it as part of my job as a Dom, but not one that’s ever easy.”

Esme stiffened, afraid she’d offended him, and more than that appalled she was so transparent.

He nudged up her chin and wiped the new round of tears from her cheeks.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s get you dressed and headed on home.”

“What? That’s it?”

“You were expecting I’d shackle you to the wall and beat you, perhaps?”

She glanced around the dungeon and the half-dozen pieces of equipment they hadn’t used not to mention the wall covered in implements. “Yes.”

“Sorry, lass, while I am that kind of dominant when the occasion calls for it, it doesn’t with you tonight, not the first time out of the gate. We’ll get to know each other first.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

His eyes snapped to hers, fire blazing in their mossy depths.

“There’s an Irish expression you should learn and right quickly when dealing with me. Beware the anger of a patient man. If you see it, you know things are serious!”

She swallowed, hard. “I apologize for getting snippy, but don’t you want to, um…” How did she put this tactfully? “I’m naked,” she blurted out.

“I’m well aware, lass, since I’ve been holding you, nigh on two hours what with the spanking, the crying, and the cuddling.”

“No way!”

This time when his eyes snapped to her, they gleamed with amusement. Still, he angled his head, and stared at her, patiently waiting.

“No way, sir,” she amended. “How is it possible we’ve been up here so long?”

“Five years is a long time to bottle things up and go without cuddling.” When her face flooded with color, he grinned. “I can see I’m not wrong. Unfortunately, others have the room reserved after us. I’m surprised they’re not beating on the door already.”

His arms tightened around her, then she found herself on her feet. He moved around the room as she watched in a daze, truly shocked about how this evening had turned out. Returning, he handed over her discarded clothes just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Hurry and dress.”

Not needing to, because he hadn’t so much as popped a button, he went to the door while Esme did as she was told. She managed her bra and panties while listening to his deep voice intertwine with another, while conversing at the door. Thankful for the thong as she pulled it over her still warm ass cheeks, her snug linen skirt wasn’t nearly as pleasant. She was buttoning her blouse when he came back to her.

“There she is, a little flushed, a tad mussed,” he finger combed her hair, tucking several wayward strands behind her ear, “but none the worse for wear. I’m not free again until Tuesday. Meet me in the lounge at seven and we’ll further our acquaintance.”

Finn dipped his head as though he would kiss her but paused a short distance away. She blinked up at him dazedly.

“You’re free on Tuesday, I assume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.” He bent the rest of the way and claimed her lips in a kiss that involved lots of tongue while his hands slid down to her backside, molding over her still warm cheeks.

When he let her up for air, she blinked up at him and whispered dazedly, “I’ve never met a Master like you, sir, who completely bypasses the libidos and genitalia.”

He laughed. “Have you missed the erection digging into your hip, lass?” Fortunately, he didn’t make her answer that. “You didn’t need sex tonight; you needed the good Dom who knew when to push, when to stop, and had your best interest at heart. I pride myself on being my own man. I enjoy the trappings of BDSM as much as anyone else in the lifestyle, but my rules are my own, and I’ll handle a submissive how I choose, not how protocol dictates. And while I’ve had my fair share of scenes and one-night stands with subs who have been looking for that, you, sweet Esme, are not that kind of submissive.”

“You barely know me. How can you know what kind of sub I am?”

“I mentioned I’ve been at this a while. I’ve developed good instincts in that time. I also watched you and read your file, which didn’t contain much other than a limit list, though that filled in a few of the blanks. You’ll tell me the rest over drinks in the lounge on Tuesday.”

Vaguely, she nodded. Other than snuggle time with Phinny, her evenings were always free.

His eyes glinted suddenly. “I can read faces fairly well, and yours is telling me you’re stubborn. Didn’t you say you haven’t cried since college? Yet after meeting me twice, you poured out five years of suppressed grief with a few swats of my hand. Something else we’ll explore as we move forward. I learned you like moderate pain—despite your protests over a few mild swats—as well as being physically controlled by a man, whether being subdued by his strength, which I did here tonight, or with restraints. You marked strict bondage with cuffs, rope, and leather binders as something you enjoy, and blindfolds, but not gags, because you can’t catch your breath. I will help you overcome that issue. Paddles, leather straps, and a good cropping were all in the yes, sir, please may I have another column, but you ruled out intense implements such as a knotted cat, canes, and whips as hard limits. Which is a pity since I have an affinity for a well-crafted black snake, shot loaded, tightly braided, and perfectly balanced in my hand.”

Esme shivered at the thought of a whip wielded by this powerful man.

He saw, and added, “You shudder, lass. Is it from experience? A scene gone bad, perhaps?” His eyes trailed down her body. “I saw no scars.”

“No, sir, I’ve never— It’s just too intense and scary.”

“A little fear is good, Esme, a whip’s power should be respected. But in the right Master’s hand, one who possesses both skill and finesse, who knows how to make the leather dance across your body, whether in a soft caress from the tips, or with the snake’s fiery bite, you’ll realize your reluctance is more from anxiety, the fear of the unknown. Once you get a taste, sweet lass, trust me, you’ll crave it.”

A skilled Master, Finn had spanked her to tears, bringing about the cathartic release she desperately needed, and at the same time roused her body to a quivering aching ball of desire. Then there were his kisses that made her melt in his arms, ready to forget she had any limits. Her mouth opened on a softly indrawn breath as a hunger to experience the sensations he spoke of consumed her.

Was she insane for considering it?

Heaven above, after what he’d done to her so far, things she wouldn’t have thought possible a week ago, she believed he could do just about anything.

He smiled, while stroking her cheek lightly. “Fear not, a stór. We’ll work up to it.”

Seeing the resolve to make his prediction come true gleaming in his eyes, her tongue came out to lick lips gone suddenly dry.

“We enjoy many of the same things, which is why Master Eric arranged this little introductory session.” Nudging her chin up, he kissed her, no more than a whisper soft brush of lips, then he took her hand and pulled her along to the door. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to continue this, next time. Tristan has the room next and I expect he’ll try to eject us bodily if we don’t give it up soon.”

The couple waiting had made good use of their time. He had her pressed against the wall, hands clamped in one fist above her head, while he devoured her mouth.

Master Finn’s, it’s all yours, didn’t get a glimmer of a response.

He led her down the rear steps and navigated the always-packed Friday night dungeon, then through the gothic doors to the lounge. “You drove tonight, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, breathless from trying to keep up with his long legs and much longer stride.

“We’ll skip a nightcap, then.”

Once outside the dungeon, he retrieved her shoes from the attendant. The no shoes for subs rule in play areas seemed bizarre at first, but as she slipped on her work pumps, she didn’t mind so much now. Hours spent in club-appropriate four and five-inch fuck-me shoes was its own brand of torture. At the short hall to the women’s locker room he arched a brow in silent question, but she shook her head, pulling her keys from her jacket pocket.

Before she knew it, they were outside, the coolness of the pleasant late summer evening welcomed after the heat of the crowded club.

“I’ll walk you to your car. And before you argue, I’ll warn you, I may like to turn a naughty sub’s bottom rosy red, bind her in lewd and creative ways, and while I enjoy sticking slippery vibrating things into a variety of orifices, my mother raised a gentleman. At dinner, I stand for the ladies, I always hold doors and let them enter first, and when I’m with a woman, I see her safely to her door, even if it’s a car door, at the end of the night.”

This prompted a laugh. “That sounds counterintuitive, but I get it.”

“That’s because you’re warped like me, sweet Esme.”

“Considering we’re standing outside Club Decadence, I have to ask, aren’t we all, sir?”

“Touché.” He said with a grin and offered his arm. “Lead on.”

At her car, he took her keys from her hand and opened her door, but before she slid in, he took her in his arms, plastered his front to hers, and kissed her thoroughly. His hands roved intimately, one cupping a breast while the other curved around and grabbed an ass cheek, and she could feel the proof of his desire pressed long and hard against her lower belly.

Despite him sending her away, she knew he wanted her.

A plea for him to take what he wanted was on the tip of her tongue, at the same time a vivid image flashed in her head of him bending her over the hood and fucking her hard right there in the parking lot. But before either happened, he eased away.

“Goodnight, lass. Drive safe.”

He waited while she buckled up, taking a few tries with trembling fingers before it finally clicked. Before he closed the door, he leaned in. “Next time, no black leather. Pink would suit you, and clingy, and lace would be a nice touch. But no panties in the club, lass. Master’s orders.”

When she stared back at him, nodding dazedly at his orders, he grinned.

“Drive safe,” were his last words before he shut the door.

As she drove home, she puzzled over his uncommon approach of no sex at a sex club, as she replayed the unusual evening over and over in her head.