Page 41 of Capitol Matters

“Hey, baby,” she cooed.

I’d dressed for the occasion in a cropped jacket that bared my entire chest, and when Isha’s hand roamed across my exposed stomach, my skin prickled. My body remembered her and tempted me until I pulled away and wiped her lipstick off my mouth.

“Ish, I’m working,” I said.

The madam’s features pinched. She looked halfway to a pout, as though Friday night and Saturday morning hadn’t happened or that this meager offering was enough to garner my forgiveness.

“Is the guy already here?” I asked through a sigh.

Isha motioned to BDSM Liv standing by, prompting the other woman to hold up a skeleton key tied with a black ribbon.

“He’s in my room,” Liv said.

A space I was intimately acquainted with, which answered my next question. Ropes, cuffs, collars, gags… I could find everything I needed in Liv’s bedside table drawers.

“Then I’ll take it from here.”

I snatched the offered key and gave a scarce thanks before sliding between the two women. Padding down the runnered hall, I tried to remember what I knew of the poor schmuck about to get the surprise of his life in Liv’s bedroom. He was a news anchor, which put us immediately at odds. I may have kept local media fat with content, but they caused nothing but trouble for me.

He was also guaranteed to recognize me, so this job necessitated discretion. I didn’t want to end up on tonight’s broadcast for a kidnapping attempt gone awry when the paparazzi pretty boy started screaming forhelp.

From my pocket, I produced a black leather mask that snugged over my mouth and nose. It would fit right in with Liv’s bedroom aesthetic and meshed with my outfit, too. Besides the jacket showcasing my rib tattoos, I wore leather pants and combat boots, all in black. Guyliner and a choker collar provided finishing touches.

Hopefully, I was Lover Boy’s type, or this would get real awkward, real quick.

I slid the key into the door lock and turned it, then pushed into the dark room.

Black and red soaked the walls and linens, winning a war against dim candelabra bulbs. Liv’s bed was pushed against the left wall, all four posters outfitted with heavy duty D-rings for attaching straps, ropes, or chains.

Lover Boy sat, stripped to silk boxers on the edge of the mattress. As I pushed the door softly shut, he stood.

“Hey, blondie. Didn’t see you on the menu.” He circled me like a shark that smelled blood in the water. Pale eyes skimmed over me, and his hands followed, grazing past my hips to cup my ass.

I stepped into him, mingling our body heat and letting my chest brush against his. “Secret menu item,” I replied. “Special order only.”

His gaze traveled to the mask, and he reached for it.

“What’s under here?” he mused. “I wanna get a good look at you.”

I caught his hand and redirected it to curve around my waist.

“Ah, ah.” I clucked my tongue. “Don’t spoil the surprise.”

The feeling of flesh on flesh seemed to excite him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His erection tented the crotch of his boxers as he looked me over again. He licked his lips.

I didn’t mind him, either. Besides the toothpaste-ad teeth and moderately-sized cock—if the bulge in his underwear was any indicator—he wasn’t bad looking. Defined chest muscles hinted at a gym schedule, and his strong jaw and swoop of black hair certainly weren’t turn offs.

He smelled nice, too. Like coffee grounds with a hint of vanilla.

“Okay, I’m into it.” He beamed a smile that could only belong to someone who worked in front of a camera. “What areyouinto?”

“Whatever you want.” I wasted a rakish smile under the cover of the mask.

He slipped a finger around my choker collar and pulled me harder against him. “That’s the right answer,” he said, his voice low.

My pants were so tight they might as well have been painted on, and they did a shit job of hiding my sudden hard-on. If he used that grip to put me on my knees, I would have ripped off the mask and blown him right there.

Instead, he grabbed my ass and gave it a cracking slap. A muffled grunt escaped me, and I shook myself. This wasn’t the time for getting my rocks off, though it was the place. We were in a whorehouse, after all.

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