Page 593 of Hell Hath No Fury
We watch the remainder of the play in silence, but it’s a comfortable one. A silence fraught with pulses of elation as his fingers secretly map the overly sensitized flesh on the inside of my arm. Our legs brush once, twice, and stay pressed together, hip to hip, when they meet the third time.
When it ends and people start filing out, he holds me in the protective, possessive, curve of his arm and I let him.
Anticipation rises as he leads me to his car. I’d been kidding about giving him a performance evaluation, but the closer we get to my mom’s house the more I imagine the good night kiss.It’s ridiculous how my fingers tremble and I have to hold them steady in my lap. Ridiculous that after what I did last night, the thoughts I still have, that something as simple as a kiss can make my knees loose and watery.
He pulls to a stop in front of my mom’s house and my breath freezes in my chest. We share a heated glance before he smiles and hops out to open my door again. I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach, try to catch my breath, but the effort is wasted as soon as he reaches my side.
This time, he doesn’t give me room to move by him, instead he pulls me out into his arms and my breath comes out in a whoosh. His gaze meets mine with bold assurance. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes now. He’s a man sure of what he wants and what he wants…is me.
Then he says in a voice like the low purr of a well-satisfied feline, “Just to give you something to think about,” right before he lowers his head to press his soft, warm lips against mine.
Desire, banked by uncertainty and nerves, roars to life between us. The kiss itself doesn’t catch me off guard. Based on the looks and touches he’s been giving me all night, he’s been waiting to do just this. What surprises me is the barely restrained lust I feel thrumming underneath his own skin. I can feel it in the way he keeps the kiss the barest press of lips, how he keeps a slight distance between our bodies, even as his chest and thighs brush against my own.
In that restraint, my body roars to life. My previously hesitant hands release their hold on my purse, letting it drop to the floorboard with a muffled thump. They wrap around the supple leather of his collar to hold him to me. I’m tall for a woman, but he is so much taller. Even in heels, I have to lift on the balls of my feet to fit close to him.
Beneath my questing hands, his body is as hard and unyielding as granite. His own hands grip my waist with thesame possessive, persistent grip he used to guide me all night. It’s the perfect contrast to the man from The Sanctum. Where he’d made me feel dangerous and sexy, Misha makes me feel delicate and feminine. I sigh into his mouth, leaning into his chest and tipping my head back.
And it’s as if that is the signal he’s been waiting for because the kiss turns hungry and carnal. It deepens, appetite whetted by the barest brush of lips and teeth and tongue. He explores my mouth, drugging me with his scent and taste, as if testing to see how long and how far I’ll let him take the kiss.
Need, temporarily slaked by my risqué adventures from the night before, burns hot and bright behind my closed lids. It coats my sensible lingerie between my legs and perfumes the air around us.
Pressed against him, a thought streaks though my head as electrifying as lighting itself.
I’m so screwed.
CHAPTER SIX
Him: I want to see you again.
I shouldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want the things he does to me.
But I do.
I should turn around, go back to the safety and security of a man like Mikhail, but I can’t stop thinking about the man from The Sanctum, how he made me feel. I want it again, have to have it again.
Just one more time.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull into the secluded parking lot located underneath The Sanctum’s nondescript structure. After my last visit, I was accepted for membership, having been approved by the owners. Today, I’ll be put into the system, a full fledged member rather than a guest.
In the days since I was here last, I’d done a lot of research. Learned most clubs like this meant what they touted about the privacy of their clients. For which I am grateful. My mom may be a free bird, but I sure as hell don’t want to hear what she’ll have to say if she finds out I returned home from New York to join a BDSM club.
Despite that, I’ve never felt as at home anywhere else, except on stage. Walking into the club, aside from the initial nervousness, was like finding a piece of myself I hadn’t known I lost. I don’t know if it’s going to be as easy to let this newfound freedom go when the time comes.
And it will. I’ve already made another date with Mikhail. Maybe the two sides of my life, the two sides of me, will never even have to meet.
My knees are wobbling, tense with anticipation as I trek across the garage to the member’s only entrance. Then I hear it. Somehow I know it’s him. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and my skin starts tingling. The low purr of his engine comes to a stop behind me in the parking spot nearest to the entrance.
Knowing his penchant for privacy and secrecy, I don’t give in to the temptation to turn around and catch a glimpse of his face, even though I want nothing more. I feel his weighted gaze on me, already enticing my submission, my confession, my pleas. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m wet for him.
Suddenly, feeling him watch me has my chest growing too tight for my short inhalations. My exposed skin prickles, coming to attention, knowing he’s near and aching for the commanding touch of his hands. A breeze caresses the dips behind my knees, the hollow of my throat, and my temples where perspiration has collected.
His boots echo in the empty parking garage, then come to a stop just behind me. I imagine I can very nearly feel his heat, even as the night air whisks it away.
“Head to the third floor. Group Room number 4 is reserved for our scene tonight. Whenever you join me here you’ll put your things in the lockers, go to the room and undress. Then put on the blindfold on the table and kneel by the door and wait for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
I do as he asks, rushing up the three flights of stairs in a flash. The dark hallways are deserted and even though I’m sure the rooms are sound-proofed I imagine all sorts of erotic scenes taking place behind the closed doors. There are a few women inthe women’s locker rooms, but I keep my head down as I take one of the empty lockers to store my things.
