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“You 're the most exciting woman I've come across in a long time.” The way he looked at her when he said it, the way his gaze was locked on hers, almost made her believe him. Then he reached over and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Tell me.” A quiet order, but one she wasn't about to ignore. “I'm a graphic designer. I design Web sites, logos, whatever the client wants.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I'm my own boss, in control of my pace. The business is doing well, so I don't have to stress about money. And I get to do something I love. I get to create. I love it.” “That's a rare thing, to love what you do.”
“And what do you do, aside from abusing young girls in the Ring?” He grinned crookedly. “I do that for fun. I make my living in the Financial District. Corporate gig. I actually like it. Numbers turn me on.”
“You
are
kinky.”
He laughed. “You don't even know the half of it. But you will.” God, how could he make her blood run hot, her sex clench, with a simple comment? She had to pull herself together in this public place, before she did something stupid, like slide to her knees at his feet and beg him to touch her, to make her come again.
God.
She took a sip of her coffee, letting the heat of it clear her throat. “Tell me something else, Shaye. Tell me about your family, about growing up. Tell me about your parents.” He shook his head, was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, “My mother's gone, died when I was six.”
“God, I'm sorry. And your father?”
“I don't talk to him much. He's kind of an asshole.” He went quiet again, and a range of emotions flashed quickly across his features before he got them under control. His face relaxed. “I'd rather hear about you. What was growing up like for you?”
“It sucked, to tell you the truth. My dad left us a long time ago, when I was almost ten. And Mom just... never recovered. She's always been a mess, really. We moved a lot. Always in California, but we must have lived in twelve different cities by the time I got out of high school. I was always the adult in the relationship, had to make sure the bills got paid, that there was food in the house. There wasn't always money in the checking account for rent, which is why we moved so much, I guess. Mom found another husband to take care of her when I was nineteen, so I got away, put myself through college.” “Shit, Devin.”
She shook her head. “No, don't feel sorry for me. It made me who I am, made me strong.”
He said quietly, “That explains a lot about why you're so controlled.
About why yielding to me is so necessary for you.” She hated that he could read her so easily, but she loved that about him at the same time. Frightening and comforting simultaneously. Yes, she did need to yield to him. Whether she liked the idea or not. She could feel her body melting even now, just thinking about that need. She dropped her gaze to the table.
“No, Devin. Look at me. It's okay.”
He raised her chin in his hand, that slow burn running over her skin at his touch. His gaze was dark, penetrating, as though he could see right inside her.
“I want to go, Shaye,” she whispered, knowing he understood exactly what she meant. He slid his hand down, took her hand in his, and that current of
hot electricity ran through her veins. He felt it, too. She could tell
by the way his eyes glittered, by the way he held her gaze. Finally,
he smiled, that dazzling flash of strong white teeth. Her pulse was absolutely racing. “Then we'll go. We'll go to Sanctuary. Next Saturday night. Be ready, Devin, for the night of your life.”
It had been the longest week of his life. He'd gone
to work, done his job, come home and talked to Devin on the phone. But he hadn't seen her. He knew—hell, was afraid—that if he saw her he'd tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless, and still wouldn't be able to get the need for her out of his system. He could not allow himself to lose control that way. Not with her. Not with anyone. They'd talked a lot about what would be expected of her at Sanctuary.
That she had to be naked, which didn't seem to worry her at all. No reason why it should. She had an amazing body, lithe and lean, like a dancer. Gorgeous. He'd told her that she'd be on her knees much of the time, had described to her the submissive position she must assume when kneeling at his feet. Told her to expect that others might touch her, examine her. She would be a slave at Sanctuary; he'd been clear with her about that. And her response had been a long pause in which all he heard through the phone was her quick, panting breath. That told him all he needed to know about whether or not she was ready to go there, to Sanctuary, to this most extreme BDSM environment.
But was
he?
He had never taken another woman there. Had never wanted to. His membership at Sanctuary had so far been as an observer, other than the few times he'd been invited by a fellow Dom or Domme to join a scene, to play their submissives.
Taking a sub to Sanctuary was not like going to any other BDSM club. It was more than the scene, more than the heavily charged atmosphere. If Devin accepted Sanctuary, if the members there accepted her, then their next visit would mean a collaring, that ritual which, in this lifestyle, signified as much of a commitment as marriage did in normal society.
He hardly knew her.
He felt as though he'd known her forever the first moment he'd seen her. This was fucking insane.
But he was taking her there. And the idea made his whole body surge with lust and an intense sense of needing to protect her, to own her, that he'd never felt before. Oh yes, he was a control freak, no doubt about it, but owning her? What the hell was that about? He was a chip off the old block, he kept reminding himself. Just like his father, he never committed to a woman. He was his own man. He didn't need anyone. Need equaled weakness. He'd witnessed what that kind of need could do to a person, seen it when his mother had died, in the way his father had totally fallen apart for a few years. He'd also seen how his dad had regained control of his life, had hung on to that control by never loving another woman. And Shaye had learned his lesson well. His need for Devin was frankly scaring the shit out of him. If he was smart he'd never talk to her again, never see her. But he couldn't do that. And tonight, he would take her to Sanctuary. He kept telling himself it was nothing more than indulging his desire to play there, in that amazing place. That Devin was merely a girl who could handle it. But that was pure bullshit, and he knew it. Taking her there was a test. But whether he was testing Devin or himself, he wasn't really sure.

SIX

Shaye had told her how to prepare herself, and she'd

found a deep sense of ritual in bathing, smoothing lotion onto her skin, dabbing perfume behind her ears, in the hollow of her throat, behind her knees.
How did one dress for an evening in which she knew she would be naked? She found a short, soft-knit black skirt that wrapped around and tied at her waist, paired it with a stretchy black top and left off her bra and panties. What was the point? And she felt gloriously naked beneath her clothing. Her high black pumps completed the outfit, which left her with a few minutes in which she had nothing to do but wait. To imagine. To focus on the tremors running through her body like a series of small earthquakes. She stood by the window in her living room, looking out as the fog
drifted across the night sky. There was no moon tonight to illuminate
the streets below. But she knew the city was still there, as endlessly
busy as always. Yet she felt entirely insulated from the bustle and the life there. The anticipation of the night ahead made her feel separate from everyday life, from other people, from everyone but Shaye. Her heart gave a good, hard thud when he rang the bell. It was time.
She opened the door. God, he looked too good in his leather trench coat. She took a deep breath, took in the earthy scent of the leather along with the warm, woodsy scent of Shaye himself. “Are you ready, Devin?”
He held out a hand to her and she took it. His fingers curled around hers possessively and immediately her sex went warm and liquid. She couldn't speak. She nodded her head. How was it possible that she felt as though her mind was sinking into that dark, warm place already? Into subspace, Shaye had told her it was called. But she gave herself over to it. To him, as he pulled her through the door, took care to lock it behind them before they rode the old elevator down. The moldy scent of the Paris catacombs smelled like sex to her tonight. Or maybe it was Shaye standing next to her, a protective arm around her waist.
He put her carefully into his car, that shining little BMW that felt like pure luxury inside. But even sexier than his sleek car was his profile as he drove. His dark goatee made him look like the devil himself tonight.
They were silent as the car glided over the rough San Francisco streets, up onto Nob Hill, one of the most exclusive sections in the city. The quaint Victorians gave way there to mansions done in every architectural style, each one more grand than the next. Shaye downshifted and turned onto a narrow side street. She watched the way his hand caressed the gear shift, remembered with a shiver of desire how that hand had felt on her skin, between her legs . . . “We're here, Devin. Are you ready? Do you remember everything I told you?”
She looked up to see high, wrought-iron gates sliding back soundlessly in front of the car. So enormous. So stately. Her throat went dry. But when Shaye reached over and smoothed his fingers over the back of her hand she calmed.
“Okay?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yes. I'm okay. I'm ready.”
He took his hand back, gunned the engine and drove through the gates. The house, if one could even call it that, was beautiful. Four stories of brick, with graceful white columns. A wide staircase that led to an imposing pair of doors flanked by uniformed attendants. Magnificent. The place reminded her of the antebellum mansions in the South. But there was something more Gothic about it, more New Orleans Garden District.
Shaye stopped the car in front and a valet opened Devin's door for her, helped her out and handed her to Shaye. She was shaking all over. With fear of what lay ahead, but just as much with excited anticipation. He laid a hand on the back of her neck, leaned in and said quietly, “Here we go, Devin.”
He led her up the stairs, her heels clicking on the steps. Marble, she thought, glancing down.
One of the doormen greeted Shaye. “Good evening, Mr. Vincent.” He swung open the heavy front door and they stepped into a foyer. Two naked and collared women stood in front of them. They approached Devin and immediately began to undress her. Panic flooded her.
“Shaye?”
“Shh. It's okay. You're to be naked tonight, remember? And you must be silent.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, tilted her chin and brushed a quick, hot kiss over her lips. “Be good, Devin. There is no room for error here, in this place. You must follow the rules. Do as I say. Tell me you understand, and do it right.”
Yes, don't speak.
She nodded her head, somehow comforted by knowing she'd done it correctly. By having rules to follow in this strange place. Rules to fall into. It made it easier somehow. The two girls had stripped her bare, removed her shoes, and Shaye's hand was on the back of her neck again, squeezing. “Head down, yes, that's good. And clasp your hands behind your back. Come.”
She followed him, feeling more naked than she ever had in her life, with her clasped hands making her back arch, her breasts thrusting forward. The idea of what she was doing in this place was overwhelming, yet again she was comforted by knowing what was expected of her, by being able to let go of control and simply do as she was told. And her sex was as hot and damp as it had ever been, her nipples two stiff and aching peaks.
He led her through another pair of doors and she was hit by a wall of sensation: music, voices, the scent of expensive perfume and even more expensive scotch. All she could see was the marble floor beneath her feet as Shaye led her into what must have been the center of the room, to a spot where a large circle of gleaming black broke the expanse of white marble. He took her to the very center and had her stand on a pattern of gold stars set into the floor. “Down, Devin.”
His voice was commanding, his hand on the back of her neck exerting a gentle pressure. She went right down. Gave herself over to the sinking sensation as her knees hit the hard, cool floor. Her mind emptied out as though a stopper had been pulled. All she could do was breathe in, breathe out, and wait to do whatever he wanted her to. Automatically, she assumed the position he had told her would be required of her tonight: knees spread, back arched, palms face up on the top of her thighs. She kept her head down.
She was dimly aware of a hush settling over the room, of a crowd of people pressing in. The music faded, went silent. Then, Shayes voice, deep and formal. “I present Devin to Sanctuary.”
A pause, and then the jarring sound of applause made her tremble as he lifted her chin and said quietly, “Head up now, Devin, so everyone can see how beautiful you are.” God, to look at the faces of the people around her! It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. To be so objectified! And yet a sharp thrill of excitement ran through her, charging her system with energy, with a deep, stabbing need.
It was a few moments before she could catch her breath. And then she was able to focus a bit, to take in the scene around her. Other submissives—slaves, she supposed— naked and on their knees, as she was. Beautiful, all of them. An expanse of naked flesh, gleaming eyes, parted lips. Yes, to be one of them! She envied their collars, made of leather, chrome, heavy chain. She couldn't take her eyes off them. The others, their masters and mistresses, were clothed, but she couldn't really pay them any attention. She was too intrigued by these mirrors of her own yielding need.
Slowly, she came to realize the crowd had closed in, that people were talking about her. “She's a lovely girl, Shaye. Spectacular breasts.”
“Beautiful. Love her red hair.”
“Wherever did you find one so innocent? Yet look at the way she goes down on her knees as though it's the most natural thing in the world. She's meant for this.” “You'll have to let me get my hands on her some day eh, Shaye?”
Her head was spinning. And then they began to touch her. Shocking,
even though he'd told her to expect it. Hands on her thighs, her
shoulders, touching her hair. When a woman pried her lips open with