Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“I feel… Excited, a little scared. I want to…to run away. To change my mind about all of this.” She closed her eyes, licked her lips. She was being far too honest.
And she was starting to feel submissive.
On one hand that was a relief, because it meant she wouldn’t haul off and punch Alexander as if he were some stranger groping her in a club.
But there was danger in this feeling, too.
She’d prepared for half a dozen different situations and scenarios. Walked into the club tonight determined to attract his attention. Ready and willing to play the part of a submissive and kneel before him.
But she hadn’t expected his touch to make her feel like this.
“If you want to run, run now.” He took his hand from her breast, giving her the out.
She should run. Find another way.
There was no other way.
And I want him to touch me again.
“If I stay?”
“Then you’re mine for the night.”
“And what will you do to me?” She raised her head, needing to see his face.
Alexander’s expression was stern, almost cold. “Many things.”
“That’s it? That’s all you going to say?”
He raised a brow. “Stay or go?”
“Stay.” She needed him.
“Good.” He placed his hand on the top of her head and pressed down, forcing her to bow her head.
Arousal slid through her veins, warming her skin and wiping away the lingering traces of fight or flight instinct.
Alexander rose and went back to circling her, the crop once more dangling casually from his hand. The silence stretched, and her breathing seemed loud in the quiet.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he commanded for the second time.
“I was just wondering, if I screamed, would anyone come?”
“Depends on the scream.”
“Am I going to scream?”
He stopped walking and she stared at the knees of his slacks.
She was painfully aware of her bare breasts, the way they rose and fell with each breath she took.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re going to scream.”
She had only a moment to register the snake-quick movement of the crop before the folded leather tip struck the outside edge of her left breast.
The snap of sound was quickly followed by a burst of heat wrapped around a small spark of pain.
She twisted to the side and gasped, shocked more by the fact that he’d done it than by the small bite of pain.
“Shoulders back.”
Alena flexed her fingers and licked her lower lip.
“Alena.” Her name was hard and short, a command, punctuated by the sound of the crop swishing through the air.
Still curled away from him, she winced and braced herself, but no strike fell.
After a noisy exhale, Alena finally faced forward.
The crop came up under her chin, lifting it until she was looking up at him.
Their gazes met, and she was struck by how virile her quiet man was.
Chemistry. It was just sexual chemistry…albeit potent sexual chemistry.
Staring up at him, for a moment she forgot why she was here. Her thoughts focused on what he’d do next, how he’d use her, command her.
Alexander stared down at her from beneath dark brows, his eyes the green of a cider bottle rimmed in gold.
“You’re lovely,” he said quietly. “But better suited to someone softer.”
Alena blinked. “What?”
He lowered the crop and bent, bringing his face down to hers. She stared at him, heart pounding and mind whirling as she processed what he’d said.
His gaze moved over her feature by feature, and she could feel his breath as he exhaled. “Too bad,” he whispered. “But what I would do to you…” He ran a finger down her cheek, then stood.
“Thank you for the honor of your company,” he said formally.
And with that, Alexander Wagner turned and walked away.
* * *
He heard soft, rapid footfalls approaching from behind, and Alexander stepped to the side of the hall and paused. He wanted to give Alena space to pass him.
The long halls of the small, elegant hotel—which was closed due to remodeling on the lower floors and kitchen—were elegantly lit by evenly spaced antique sconces. The hotel was from one of Wien’s—Vienna’s—baroque periods, and the juxtaposition of detailed wallpapers, ornamental lighting, plush rugs, and carved molding contrasted peculiarly with the medieval-style dungeon set up in the ballroom and the various Moroccan lounges.
The changing rooms were at the far end of the hall. That was most likely where Alena was heading.
It was too bad they weren’t compatible. Something about her called to him. The devil on his shoulder—who was most decidedly a sadist—was screaming that he’d made a mistake, that he should go back and take her, claim her.
It was because of that very voice that he’d left. She hadn’t been able to accept even a small amount of physical pain. Her list had said no hard impact play. It should probably have said no impact play at all.
He wouldn’t subject her to a scene with him. Even at his most mild, his scenes involved the use of impact implements, and she made him feel anything but mild.