Lightning split the sky, illuminating the pool in stark white before it plunged into shadow. The flash broke the spell.
Alec’s hand tightened on her thigh. “Storm’s coming,” he murmured. “Let’s get inside before everyone else crowds in.”
She nodded, grateful for the excuse to move, to shift the pent-up energy.
They reentered the house just as the first raindrops fell and the patio crowd began to stir. Alec guided her down the hall she’d eyed earlier and paused at the threshold to the playroom.
As usual, it was crowded and humming with energy. Lit by amber sconces and spotlights from above, there were no shadows to hide in. Velvet drapes muffled the storm outside, letting the sounds of pleasure and erotic pain rise above the earthy, rhythmic music. Scantily clad and naked bodies were everywhere—tied, bent, lifted, claimed. Only a single bench in the center remained open, red leather thickly padded right out of her fantasies, almost as if it were waiting for her.
Alec turned to her, calm and unhurried, his eyes searching hers. “Still no rush,” he reminded her. “But if you’re ready, we should claim that last station.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—ropes, commands, or something quieter, more intimate, like last time. But that wasn’t possible in the crowded playroom.
She licked her lips. “I’m ready,” she declared, but her hand trembled in his.
Smiling gently, he brought her fingers to his lips. “I promise this will be far more pleasant than a root canal.”
As he led her to the station, the storm outside faded, so did the music, moans, and crack of leather, all whisper-quiet compared to the pulse pounding in her ears.
Standing under the bright light, her breath faltered. She tried to see beyond the ring into the shadows but couldn’t.
Alec’s hands slid up her arms and he said with quiet authority, “The dress needs to go.”
She tensed. The last time she’d ended that way—bare, breathless, lost in their passion—it had felt inevitable. Starting that way was different. Exposed. Intimidating.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She felt eyes, imagined or real, and vulnerability crept up her spine. Alec read her hesitancy for what it was—building panic.
“Every part of you is gorgeous, baby,” Alec murmured, his hands still stroking and soothing. “It pleases me to show off your beautiful body and flawless skin.”
Her instinct was to resist, to retreat into herself, or to run and hide. But the way he steadied her, how he saw her, how he made her feel safe even in a room full of strangers, cut through the nerves. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as he gave her, she nodded once.
“That’s my brave girl,” he murmured against her lips.
In one smooth motion, he whisked the sheath dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but a skimpy lace thong. Cool air kissed her skin, and her nipples peaked instantly.
She tried to focus on him, but her gaze kept drifting—to the crowd, the watchers, the ones who might be judging.
He noticed.
She felt the shift before he spoke, the subtle tightening of his grip, the way he angled his body between her and the room.
“Eyes on me,” he directed, firmly.
She responded to his command and saw him pull a length of black silk from his pocket. It was a blindfold—real this time. He stepped behind her, and she felt the brush of fabric against her cheek.
“Your focus should be on me,” he murmured. “My voice. My touch. My control. Since you’re distracted, the blindfold will help you do that.”
As he tied it securely—no gaps or light getting in—the world narrowed. The crowd faded. No more eyes or judgments. Just Alec.
She moved forward, trusting the pressure of his palm, the cadence of his murmured instructions. Her knees met the padded leather first, then he eased her down until her bare breasts, belly, and her cheek rested against the cool surface.
The blindfold heightened everything—the texture of the bench, the hum of the room, the combination of scents around her, from leather to an array of perfumes, even a faint trace of disinfectant.
Alec fastened cuffs one by one—wrists first then her ankles. Each buckle clicking in place, sounding both ominous and thrilling. His fingers brushed her inner thighs as he secured them with wide straps. Then his hands ran over her bottom, up her spine, and down again, giving her time to settle.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. “And you’re mine.”
When he moved away, she shivered, not from cold or fear but from anticipation.
