Page 1 of Enthrall Secrets
Chapter 1
Chrysalis
A Year Ago
A FORCE OF nature knelt before me.
This was the best way, the only way, to describe this gorgeous thirty-something man kneeling obediently at my feet in the pose of a submissive.
Before entering the dungeon, he’d run his fingers through his perfectly combed short black hair as though reconsidering his appointment.
With some gentle coaxing, he’d removed his tailored pinstripe suit, taking his time in the luxury changing room as though trying to hold onto these last remnants of his control, working his gold cufflinks loose before easing them out and placing them carefully in a locker.
His gaze rose occasionally to meet mine as he stripped out of formality.
As a consummate professional I’d show not even a flicker of desire, no hint I was aroused by the way he’d tugged off his shirt and then removed his black pants, revealing a sun-kissed physique, a ripped torso. Perhaps he could be considered a little underweight from some unspoken trauma, but all six-foot-two of him moved with the elegance of a man who ran every day; I could see that from those lean legs and toned arms.
Just under an hour ago he’d quietly followed me into the dungeon, naked except for those boxer briefs which he’d refused to remove, providing a first glimpse of his fierce confidence, though there was no sign of conceit.
Yet.
And Jesus…
When Ethan Jones spoke with that Georgia drawl I had to remind myself I was the mistress here. The deep tone of his voice, that seductive cadence that hinted of a privileged upbringing - class, that’s what he exuded. I could tell he was a man not easily swayed.
During those first few minutes when I’d worked on honing our rapport, he’d told me that his drink was bourbon “with plenty of ice” - and he’d offered me an endearing grin. I’d let him know that my drink was a nice Cabernet, sinfully chilled with a cube of ice, a scandal to any wine aficionado that I’d dilute their delicately crafted masterpiece.
That made him smile and it softened the hard lines of his face.
He’d placed his life on hold and given himself over to me for one full hour. We’d only met each other today, and it seemed out of character for this particular alpha to relent to anyone.
Yet he was here.
Reminding me of him…a little.
I gave my head a shake to bring myself back to the present. There was no room for melancholy.
Before the session I’d changed into my short Italian leather black dress from Barney’s and pulled on my custom-made spiked thigh-high leather boots. My sleek raven hair was styled elegantly to frame my face. I wanted him to notice my sharp cheekbones and pale blue eyes, notice more than just the vixen holding the whip. I needed him to fall for me a little.
I needed to connect.
His rich cologne was being absorbed into my very blood cells, a centrifuge drawing me in with a visceral effect that put my senses into overdrive, throwing me off.
To focus, I wrapped my fingers around the chain above him as though he were still connected to it, my palm cold from tightly gripping these metal links to still them. This fantasy of us gloriously fucking would remain just that - a wild, fantastic daydream that would not be allowed to suspend the play.
He was my client, after all, and deserved an elite mistress, the very kind he’d sought out. I’d be a strict, sharp-tongued dominatrix providing moment-to-moment evidence of my world-renowned status.
He didn’t need to see the real Scarlet, the sassy woman who loved burying her face in a good book - something by Deepak Chopra, Maya Angelou, or Toni Morrison - or even the poetry of Sylvia Plath. He didn’t need to know I loved picnics on the beach, or people-watching in coffee shops, or that when the newbie subs arrived at Enthrall or Chrysalis, I was always the one who took them under my wing because deep down I cared too much.
No, he didn’t need to know anything about me.
He just wanted to feel.
Or forget.
This innate sensitivity I’d honed over the years was essential for reaching my clients on more than just an emotional level. He needed a psychologist who dared to delve deeper and provide a visceral experience that counted.
His kind blue eyes processed every detail with intensity, and those faint laughter lines gave away his thirty years. He had this endearing way of swallowing his pride with each order I wielded as he obeyed, his head remaining bowed in reverence…most of the time.
