Page 12 of Reveal Me
I inch forward, shuffling one knee in front of the other until I reach his immaculately polished shoes. I keep my eyes on his the entire time, which if his expression is anything to go by, he appears to find confronting.
‘Eyes to the floor,’ he demands. I obey as a thrilling jolt of electricity fires between my legs. No man has ever dared to boss me around in the bedroom—which has made for verypassive, boring lovers. But there’s nothing passive about Sean Beckett. I bet he’d fuck me into next year.
‘What am I supposed to do with this one?’ His raised voice tells me he’s asking the audience, who reply with an outburst of indecipherable suggestions.
Another pair of polished feet approaches. The guy with the microphone, intimidating presence, and expensive suit. ‘I think you should take her straight to the Saint Andrews Cross.’
My eyes widen. Saint Andrews Cross? I’ve never actually seen one, but the prospect of being tied spread legged to one while this gorgeous creature does unspeakable things to my body sends a fresh burst of arousal between my legs.
‘No, let’s draw this out a bit.’ Sean Beckett shoots the idea down in flames. ‘How about we start with some clamps?’ His tone oozes devilment. ‘Clamps or chokehold chains?’
Fuck.
The man with the microphone addresses the crowd. ‘Press one for clamps, two for chokehold chains. You have two minutes to decide.’ My stomach churns; a ball of nerves, anticipation, and excitement as I watch his feet disappear out of view. The bass thrums through the stage flooring and up over my spine.
Sean Beckett sits back into his leather throne, a king surveying his kingdom. If he had any idea he was entertaining actual royalty tonight, he’d probably combust. Hysteria threatens my throat. ‘Come closer,’ he barks, and I shuffle forward on my knees without looking up. The scent of raw masculinity combined with his expensive cologne floods my lungs.
‘What’s your safeword?’ A hint of devilment taints his tone. ‘I suspect you may need it.’
‘I…’ I wet my lips and blurt the first word that comes to mind, ‘Freedom.’ Because despite being ordered to crawl to him, and the possibility of being cuffed and bound, that’s exactly what this feels like—freedom.
‘Interesting choice,’ he muses. The thwack of the paddle slapping the blonde again momentarily steals his attention away.
‘That’s enough.’ I sneak a peek from beneath my eyelashes to see him raise a palm. ‘Now, kiss her better.’
I suck in a breath.
I’ve never been curious about other women, but the urge to watch the scene behind me burns like an itch I can’t scratch. Is she kissing herthere? I’m vibrating with the need to steal a look, but I’m already on my last warning. From the approving grunts and hums from the crowd, I gather the redhead is doing an impressive job.
‘Good girls,’ Sean’s slick deep voice slides over my spine, along with a sharp stab of something else in my sternum—jealousy.
What the fuck? It takes me a good thirty seconds to process thatIwant his approval.Iwantto please him enough that he’ll callmea good girl.
This is utterly insane. I’ve been here barely twenty minutes and I’m discovering kinks I never discovered in my entire twenties.
The stern woman’s words whirl back through my mind like a cyclone.‘If you please him, he will please you—more than you can ever imagine.’
I want to please him, andneedhim to please me—even just once. I wrack my brains for any hint of BDSM etiquette. I heard the other women calling him sir. Might be a safe place to start.
I don’t dare look up, yet I feel his eyes on me. Feel the burn of them on my bare back. ‘Rise.’ His low voice is gruff. ‘Let me get a proper look at you.’
I raise my face first, grateful for the chance to drink himin again, desperate to commit every moment of this night to memory. ‘Yes, sir.’
He quirks one thick, dark eyebrow at me as I stand. In this position, with him sprawled languidly in his red leather throne, his face is in direct line with the little lingerie that I’m wearing. That proximity alone has me squirming. His eyes meet mine, and that same sense of chemistry I felt when I walked into the room swirls thickly between us.
Does he feel it?
Or is it all in my head?
His gaze drifts to my lips, lingering for a minute before dropping to my breasts, then shifts lower over my stomach to the black translucent lace between my legs.
‘Are you wet?’ he asks in a low conversational tone.
‘Excuse me?’ No one has ever spoken to me like this in my entire life. Hearing those words from a man’s lips is almost as shocking as the scene behind me.
‘I said, are you wet?’ He brushes a thoughtful thumb over his chin. ‘Does this turn you on?’ He motions to the crowd surrounding us.
‘Yes.’ The word rushes from my lips.
