Tomorrow I’ll be the dominatrix I’ve always wanted to test out—with a new submissive who says he’s never let anyone touch him that way before. His application said he’s freshly nineteen and wants to learn how to give up control without feeling small.
I close my eyes and dream in velvet.
Chapter Two
TALON
Velvet House doesn’t looklike a club. It looks like the kind of place one of my mom’s former husbands would host charity events at—quiet, expensive, and pretending not to have secrets. Gray walls, gold trim, one door. I only make it a few feet inside before a man steps in front of me, stopping me. He’s tall, dressed in black-on-black—tailored suit, gloved hands, no name tag.
“Name and approval number.”
“Talon Grant.” I pull up the email and show him my screen. My voice stays steady even though my heart’s racing. I’ve read every review about this place. My friends said it’s the best night of your life if you want to have a play night. Discreet. No phones. NDAs. What happens inside stays inside. That’s what I need tonight.
He scans the code, nods once, and pulls out a collar with a white token attached. I stare at it. He explains what the colors mean, but I’m barely listening. Because that’s when she walks past me. A cloud of vanilla and toasted marshmallow fills my lungs.
She’s the kind of beautiful that makes your mouth go dry. Blonde hair piled up in a soft bun, a black mask covering half her face, red lips that rival Snow White’s. Her body’s slim but curved in all the right ways, and her heels click across the marble floor like she owns the place.
The guard pauses mid-sentence. “P, you don’t usually come this way. Everything okay?”
She glances over, lips curling. “Forgot my card in the room last night. I called ahead. There should be a note.”
He checks his tablet and nods. “Go ahead, P. Selma has your card and your lavender token for the night. She’ll get you squared away.”
She blows him a kiss before sashaying deeper into the building. “Thanks, Kitten.”
“What’s lavender mean?” I ask, eyes still on her ass.
“Dominant already paired for the night,” he says.
Shit. Figures. She’d be perfect.
I take the collar, clip it around my neck, and push through the doors when he waves me in.
The inside’s all dark wood and velvet. Music hums low, like it’s part of your heartbeat. The bar glows gold, and the air smells like whiskey and something floral.
I slide onto a stool, order a gin and tonic I probably won’t finish, and look around. It feels unreal being here. For years I’ve been trying to be the version of myself my mom could brag about—the one who didn’t screw up, didn’t get expelled, didn’t embarrass her.
She sent me off to boarding school halfway through freshman year, saying it was for structure, for opportunity, but really it was so I wouldn’t mess up her gold-digging life. I graduated high school last year and thought she’d finally let me come home, but she didn’t. Said I needed to “find myself success.”
If it weren’t for my little sister, Minxy, I wouldn’t even bother. She’s all I’ve got left of our dad, and Mom’s too busy dressing her up like a show poodle and shipping her off to Jr. Boarding School to actually mother her. Minxy will be fourteen this year; the same age I was when she sent me across the country. But I’m back now after saving enough money to pay my first year of tuition on my own. And I’m going to make sure Minxy gets to have something that looks like a normal life.
A hostess finds me a few minutes later. She’s smiling like she knows everything. “Talon?”
“That’s me,” I grin.
“Ready?”
“So soon?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
She tilts her head. “You were very specific in your request. We have the perfect match. She’s waiting. Do you need a moment?”
I shake my head and finish the last of my drink. “No. I’m ready.”
She leads me across the room and into an elevator. My palms are sweating, but I shove them in my pockets like I don’t care. We stop on the next floor.
The hallway is quiet and dim, the kind of place that feels more like a hotel than a club. Soft golden light spills from wall sconces, bouncing off the dark wood trim. The carpet is thick enough to swallow every sound, even the click of the hostess’s heels as she walks ahead of me. The air smells faintly like vanilla and money; clean, expensive, and a little intimidating. Every door looks the same, numbered in gold, probably hiding something I’m not supposed to see.
I follow her, trying not to look like the new guy even though I definitely am. My pulse is steady, but my hands won’t stop flexing at my sides. There’s a pull in my chest I can’t shake; halfnerves, half excitement. Like I’m walking toward something I’ve been needing for a long time.
