Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I stalk toward the door leading to the back.
“Ronan!” Brenda’s voice.
I turn.
“You’ll be kicked out of the club, man.” This from Dalton.
What does that matter? I have to move to Vegas in a couple weeks anyway. I’ll join a new club.
I nod in acknowledgment, so he knows I heard him and I know the consequences, and then I return to business.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mary
Boone is a Dominant I’ve played with more than once, but not since the scene with Jack.
Indeed, I haven’t played at all until Ronan came around.
When I ended up at the club tonight, and he asked if I would be up for a scene, I said yes.
He’s good-looking, of course. Tall with dark hair and dark eyes. I don’t know much about him outside of the club except that he’s an attorney. He doesn’t say where he works or for whom. Only that it’s a fairly well known New York firm.
I’m bound, naked, to the bed in a private room.
I’m not blindfolded, but he’s instructed me to close my eyes.
Sounds rustle on the other side of the room. Drawers open and shut. He’s choosing toys, and all I can think about…
All I can think about is how I don’t want to be here.
Why did I come? Why did I acquiesce when he asked if I would play?
Am I trying to prove something to myself? That I’m finally back to “normal Blossom?” That I don’t need Ronan, who apparently wants to control my whole life? That I’m over the botched scene with Jack?
Truth be told, I’ve been over the botched scene with Jack for a while now.
Darius was right. I’m at the tipping point. As much as I wanted to keep my emotions at bay, I’m growing, maturing, and that’s not who I am anymore.
I want more.
I want…love.
And I’m going to have to assume the risks that come with it.
I don’t want to continue this scene. I can’t continue this scene. My head’s not in it, and that was the whole problem with Jack. I won’t do that to another person.
“Boone?”
“You have been instructed to stay quiet.” His voice is harsh.
“Then Tesla,” I say.
He comes to me quickly, unbinds my feet and hands, and pulls me into a sitting position. “Are you all right, Blossom?”
“I need to apologize,” I say. “I don’t want to do this.”
“You disappoint me.” He’s using a stony voice.
I cock my head, widen my eyes a bit.
His gaze darkens. “What if I refuse to let you out of this room?”
“Boone, I used my safe word. You need to get out of character now.”
He shakes his head. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.”
I rise from the bed quickly, grab my clothes—black club dress, lace underwear, and platform sandals—and get into them as quickly as I can.
When I reach for the doorknob to the private suite, Boone’s body covers mine from the back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear.
His cock is still hard, brushing against the small of my back.
“I’m sorry too,” I say. “I should have never agreed to this.” I open the door, and I don’t watch to see if he follows me out.
I don’t want to go right back out to the table with Dalton and Brenda. For all I know they’re already doing a scene in their own private room.
So, though I’m not a voyeur, I walk into one of the exhibition rooms.
It’s the bondage room.
The art of bondage has always fascinated me.
Shibari is what I like best. I especially like the techniques that make a woman’s nipples protrude. I walk through the room, looking at the scenes displayed for my viewing pleasure.
I’m drawn to a scene involving three women. One is clearly the Dominant, and two are submissive. Both of the subs are bound around their breasts, with nipples protruding, standing, their hands bound behind their backs, and the Dominant, dressed in a leather corset and thigh-high boots, teases them with a long feather on their nipples.
Though it’s tempting, and I like what I’m watching, I don’t get aroused.
I am intrigued, though. I would like to try something like that.
I’ve been a member of this club for five years, and for some reason, I’ve never attracted a Dominant skilled in rope bondage. I’m usually bound with leather or handcuffs. I continue to watch as the Dominant teases her two subs. She kneels in front of one of them, slides her tongue over her pussy.
The sub doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge it.
Clearly, she’s been instructed not to.
Then hot breath on my back.
“See something you like?”
I turn, my nipples hard and achy.
Ronan stands there, and he’s not dressed in club gear. He’s dressed in jeans and a button-down, much like the clothes he wore when we were in New Orleans.
He’s going to punish me. He’s going to punish me for ignoring his text, for not being at my apartment when he demanded I be.