Page 50 of Wicked S.O.B.

My fingers trail over the polish wood as I climb the stairs. The heels necessitate caution but it also makes me painfully aware of the swing of my hips, the delicious throbbing between my legs.

“Hurry the fuck up, Lucky.” There’s an edge to the electronic voice that heats up my blood. But I’m enjoying the return of glorious sensation so I keep the same pace. When he lets out a growl, I allow myself a small smile.

The smile disappears when I reach the set of double doors. My hands shake as I grasp the handles and push the doors open.

Two lamps burn from bedside tables. Enough for me to see that the room is decorated in the same tones as the color of my lingerie. And like all the rooms I’ve visited so far, it’s dominated by an emperor-size bed and sumptuous furniture that serve other purposes. The long leather seat, for example, that could serve as a perfect spanking bench. The high stool with a sturdy back and feet from which a pair of cuffs hang.

I swallow at the unapologetic masculinity and decadence of the room, and as I walk toward the foot of the bed, I smell my own arousal in the air.

But all of that falls away the moment I sense him behind me. I want to turn around, devour him with my eyes, my hands, but my instincts warn me to stay put.

I eagerly absorb the sound of him moving toward me. When his gorgeous scent hits me, I almost groan.

“Hello, Lucky.”

“Hi…Q.”

“You look exceptionally beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Am I also right in thinking you’re a little excited, too, my little firecracker?”

This time I groan at the name he coined for me in a similar room not far from here. “Yes, I am.”

“Hmm…” I hear him move away. A moment later, the screen of the TV hanging on the wall flickers to life.

My mouth drops open as I watch myself on-screen. The footage is from a year ago. I’m sitting on a scroll-lipped bench with a blindfold over my eyes, my hand resting on the seat. My breathing is erratic, and my skin is flushed.

“Do you remember her?” Q whispers from behind me.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

“Do you remember him?” he asks when Q walks into the frame.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how you felt in that moment.”

“Owned. Controlled. Free.”

“We need a reset button. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me help us with that?”

“Yes. Please.”

“How shall we start, hmm? Shall I make it so you can’t walk for a week?”

A thick shiver rolls through me. “God. Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Q. Take me. Make me yours.”

“I will, in a moment. First let’s talk about what happened last week. Just for a minute.”

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