Page 14 of Going Deep
Ginger looked at Lola. “Okay, that was disgusting.”
While Anna laughed, Ginger looked around again. She was starting to relax—it just felt like a regular club, nothing too scary—when she noticed several people staring at them. At her.
She lowered her voice. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
Lola chuckled. “It’s newcomer night, so there are a lot of regulars here to scope out the newbies. And you look hot.”
Ginger’s cheeks heated when she caught the eye of a gentleman at the bar. His gaze was so blatantly assessing, it felt as though he were touching her. “Maybe I should’ve worn something…more.”
Anna snorted. “We could’ve dressed you in jeans and a hockey jersey and they’d still be staring.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Lola put in. “Blond hair, blue eyes, a rockin’ body. And that peaches and cream complexion? Some of these Doms are salivating over your skin, thinking about leaving their marks on you.”
Ginger was grateful she didn’t have her drink yet—she’d have choked on it. “They want to mark me?”
“Some of them, sure.” Lola shot her a knowing look. “How does that make you feel?”
Alarmed, appalled. And okay, maybe a little pleased. But it didn’t seem prudent to mention that. “I am definitely not ready for that.”
“Of course not,” Anna soothed. “And if it makes you feel any better, when we say mark, we don’t mean permanently.”
“Mostly,” Lola amended.
“Right.” Anna nodded as Simon walked up, two beers in one hand and a whiskey in the other. “Mostly.”
“Sure, mostly. Is that mine?” Ginger asked Simon.
He held it out. “One Scotch, as ordered.”
“Okay, good.” She snatched it up and sucked half of it back in one swallow.
Simon handed Lola her beer. “What’d I miss?”
“I’m not sure. Ginger? You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ginger wheezed. “Just a little liquid courage.”
“Courage like that is really meant to be sipped,” Simon advised.
“No kidding.” Her throat was on fire.
“What were you all talking about?” Simon wanted to know.
“Marks,” Lola said.
“Non-permanent ones,” Anna added. “Like bruises or small welts, maybe a handprint from a spanking.”
“So, not tattoos and scarification and brands. What?” she said when they just stared at her. “They were on the list.”
Simon looked at Ginger, amusement in his golden eyes. “Panicked, did you?”
Ginger held up a hand, her thumb and forefinger pinched together. “Little bit.”
Grant joined the group, holding a beer and Anna’s vodka tonic. “What’s going on?”
“Ginger panicked,” Simon supplied.
Grant handed Anna her drink, then slung an arm over her shoulder. “Over?”
