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)
Rolf caught her looking and grabbed the glass, extending it to her once again.
She accepted the flute, murmuring “Skoal” and nodding to Rolf before taking a sip.
She only barely managed not to shotgun the two hundred dollar a glass beverage like a heathen.
To distract herself, she looked around again, searching for Alexander. How long had Alexander been gone? It felt like an hour. It had probably been no more than fifteen minutes, but going to get his kit—which was what she assumed he’d left for—wouldn’t take more than ten minutes.
No sign of Alexander.
There were more people here now—the club had started to fill up. She glanced at Rolf, who was still standing near her, though he wasn’t being threatening. He seemed almost…protective?
Rolf’s attention was on a set of two couples gathered around a cocktail table. He raised his glass and nodded to someone in the group of four. “Solomon.”
A dark-haired man whose most noticeable feature was a scar on one cheek, raised his glass. The lovely woman at his side turned too, nodding at Rolf. She wore an intricate, inlaid metal collar.
The other couple also glanced over. The woman had Latin coloring and features, and wore a multi-strand collar, while the man at her side, who had equally dark hair and looked Middle Eastern, projected an easy air of command that indicated status and wealth.
They exchanged nods with Rolf, and Alena suddenly felt awkward and out of her depth.
Looking at the other women, both clearly submissives given their collars, made her feel less-than. Less worthy, less beautiful. They wore lingerie—a classic corset and bandage skirt for Solomon-with-a-scar’s companion.
The body con little-black-dress the other woman wore was unremarkable at first glance. With the second look, the details were apparent—the dress was made entirely of leather and elastic straps carefully laid and woven together. Gold ring accents and matching leather cuffs completed the look. Alena would have bet money that dress was a Bordelle, which meant it had cost well over a thousand dollars.
Alena’s discarded silver gown, which she’d tailored herself—“bespoke” a far more elegant while also technically accurate term than “homemade”—now seemed cheap.
Alena’s stomach clenched. She hated feeling poor. Hated feeling like an imposter even more.
She was better than that. Had made herself better than that. If she wanted thousand-dollar lingerie she could purchase it. The only reason she’d opted to make her own was because she’d know there was a strong possibility that she would end up losing it, and brand names and other information on clothing tags could be tracked.
“You are new to the club, I believe?” Rolf’s words knocked her out of the downward mental spiral. “Let me introduce you to a few people.” Rolf gestured with his glass.
“No.” Alexander’s voice was cool and clipped.
The fine hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end as his warm hand settled on the small of her back. All the feelings of not-belonging, of being unworthy, faded the minute he touched her.
Stupid, Magdalena. Very stupid.
Rolf’s attention shifted from her to Alexander and back. Alexander’s hand on her naked body grounded her in the moment, the past and future both muted. She could feel the tension between them and Alena indulged in a brief fantasy of them fighting over her.
It was just fantasy, of course. She wasn’t a prize to be won. But she also wouldn’t object to seeing the men stripped down, oiled up, and wrestling.
The fact that she hadn’t yet seen Alexander naked was clearly messing with her mind.
Alena shifted ever so slightly, just enough so that her arm and shoulder brushed against Alexander.
He’d been able to read her body language last night. Would he understand this message as well?
I choose you. I want you.
Her movements, small though they had been, broke the men’s stalemate. Rolf glanced at her and smiled. “A pleasure, Alena. Until next time.”
“No,” her quiet man said again.
“No?” Rolf asked.
“No.” Alexander plucked the glass from her hand and passed it to the server, who nodded and finally walked away.
Rolf murmured, “We will see.”
Alexander watched Rolf walk away, then to her surprise, Alexander exchanged nods with Solomon.
Alena spun to face Alexander, prepared to set him straight if he accused her of soliciting the other Dom’s attention.
But when she looked at him, Alena’s mind went blank and her libido started howling with approval.
Alexander hadn’t just gotten his kit. He’d changed clothes.
Now he wore Dom leathers. He’d gone from handsome corporate shark to dangerously sexy biker Dom.
The button down shirt had been replaced by a plain gray t-shirt that hugged his biceps, shoulders, and pectorals, showing off the muscles she’d felt, but not seen, last night.
As sexy as the shirt was, his leather pants were the real star of the outfit.
“Dom leathers.” Alena reached out, but paused. “May I, Sir?”
Alexander raised one eyebrow but nodded. Alena ran a single finger from the waistband down his muscled thigh. He fidgeted, crossing his arms, and she swore she could see his cock twitch under the lace-up fly.