Page 92 of Masters of Control

“Hello, I’m so sorry. Do I know you?” The urge to keep babbling about how he knew everyone at the club was strong, but he held it back.

Her lips curved in a stunning smile, and Freddy’s knees trembled.

“I’m Mistress Camille, Mistress Julie’s friend.”

That’s right. She’d been on the guest list, but Julie hadn’t been sure she’d actually come. Freddy assumed she must have just arrived because he would have definitely noticed her walking around earlier.

“I’m Freddy. I help run the front desk and well, all sorts of other things.” Do not babble. Do not babble. Do not babble. He couldn’t remember the last time a Dominant had had this kind of effect on him.

Mistress Camille’s smile widened.

“So, I was told. I was hoping you could help me out with something.”

“Yes, of course.” Anything.

She leaned in, and he bent his head forward to make sure he’d be able to hear her, his heart thumping faster in his chest as she shifted closer, so they were almost touching.

“I don’t have anyone to kiss for New Year’s. Can you help me with that?”

Chapter Two

Camille

Determined not to show her nerves, Camille waited for Freddy’s answer. He was a handsome man, tall and fair, with blond hair and blue eyes. His shoulders filled out the bright blue button-down shirt he was wearing, which matched his eyes exactly, making them appear almost electric.

Had she chosen him just because Julie had insisted she wouldn’t pick Olivia’s recommendation?

Maybe a little.

She’d also been intrigued by the way he’d lit up when he’d realized the man he was standing next to at midnight was going to be claimed by a Dom. Olivia had mentioned that Freddy was bisexual but tended to date women, and it had seemed like maybe he was couple-y with the other man, right until the Dom had come along and swept the other man away, leaving Freddy looking both happy and envious.

It was the happy that had drawn her in from a few feet away, where she’d been seriously contemplating going to bed on her own, without approaching any of the men who had been pointed out to her.

The happy now showed through as a slow smile spread over his lips, his eyes glowing from within.

“I would be happy to help you, Mistress Camille.” Despite his words, he didn’t move forward, waiting for her to make the next move.

Relief, anxiety, and arousal rose up inside her. Damn, but it had been a long time since she’d had a man who was willing to wait for her, one who didn’t try to push his own agenda or desires. At the same time, it was a reminder that it had been a really long time since she’d taken control of a man.

Hell, it had been a really long time since she’d had the opportunity.

Stepping forward to bring them closer, she reached up to grip the top of his shirt, right at the front where the collar met, and gently tugged him down. He wasn’t much taller than her, just enough that she had to tip her head back a bit, despite her heels. He came willingly, eagerly, and it felt as though something was blossoming inside her.

Some part of her had been dormant, hibernating during a long winter, and was finally seeing the sun… the need, the yearning, burst forth. Pressing one hand against his chest, she moved it up to his shoulder, using her other hand to pull him even deeper into the kiss. His hands came to rest on her hips, present but undemanding. Her inner muscles clenched so hard, it almost felt like a cramp. It wasn’t just that he was a good kisser—he was—it was the way he let her take the lead.

She moved, he followed.

Yes, every inch of her body screamed. This. This is what I’ve been missing. This is what I’ve been aching for.

When she pulled her lips away, he followed for a moment, then straightened again, his hands dropping away from her hips. There was something about the way he stood that gave the impression of active waiting, not passively standing. No, he was too focused on her. Too ready to leap into action to be called passive.

But he was waiting.

She studied his expression, wondering if she was about to make a really good or a really bad decision. It had been a long time since she’d scened. Scening didn’t necessarily mean sex, and sex didn’t necessarily mean emotions. This didn’t have to be complicated.

They could start off the new year with a bang, then see what happened from there.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Mistress?” he asked, his voice husky, his gaze fixed on her lips.