"Someone who doesn't bore me." I let my gaze travel over what I could see of her face, committing it to memory. "Someone who can hold a conversation and look good enough to devour while doing it."
"How diplomatic." She took a sip of champagne, and I watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. "Most men would have just said 'someone hot.'"
"I'm not most men."
"No?" She smiled, and it transformed her entire face. "What makes you so special?"
"I pay attention." I gestured to her with my glass. "You're not just here to watch. You're participating."
Her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. "What makes you think that?"
"The way you're standing. The way you keep glancing at that doorway that leads backstage. And the fact that you're alone." I moved closer, lowering my voice. "Everyone else came in groups. Couples. People who are here to watch and bid. But you came solo. Which means you're either very brave or very desperate."
"Maybe I'm both."
"Are you?"
She studied me for a long moment, her eyes assessing me. "Maybe I just like the idea of letting someone else be in control for a night. Maybe I work very hard at a very demanding job, and the thought of surrendering that control to someone competent is..."
"Intoxicating?"
"I was going to say necessary." She finished her champagne and set the flute on a passing server's tray. "But intoxicating works too."
My dick was already hardening. This woman—whoever she was behind that mask—was exactly what I'd been looking for without knowing it.
"What's your number?" I asked after the lights flickered, signaling the auctioneers.
"My number?"
"Your participant number. For the auction."
She laughed, the sound low and genuinely amused. "You think I'm just going to tell you that? Where's the fun in that? Besides, if you’re as observant as you say, you shouldn’t need me to tell you."
"The fun is in knowing which woman to bid on."
"Then I guess you'll have to pay very close attention so you don’t make a mistake." She stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body. "Tell me something. If you win me—if you figure out which one I am and you place the winning bid—what would you do with me?"
The question was bold. Brazen. And it made every dominant instinct I had roar to life.
"That depends," I said, my voice dropping to something rough. "On how well you follow instructions."
"I follow them very well." Her eyes never left mine. "When they come from someone who's earned the right to give them. Otherwise, I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"And how does someone earn that right?"
"By proving they know what they're doing." She reached up, adjusted my mask slightly even though it didn't need adjusting. The touch was brief but deliberate. "By showing me they can read what I need before I have to ask for it. Commanding both of our desires effortlessly. By being confident enough to take control without being cruel about it."
"Unless you want cruel."
"Unless I want cruel," she agreed. "Which I sometimes do from the right person. Again, be who you say you are."
I was going to lose my mind before this night was over. She had my hands itching to grab her and show her what all this sassy behavior was going to get her. I wasn’t talking about just a sore ass and full pussy. That was child’s play. Instead, my darkness wanted to tame hers. Put us both in a headspace that would allow us to cater to one another’s needs even if neither of us touched the other.
"Give me something," I said. "A hint. Something that will help me find you when you're up there."
She considered this, her head tilted in thought. "I'll be wearing black lace."
"Half the women here will probably wear black lace."
