Page 1 of Wicked Player

One

Elizabeth

I took the blindfold Tristan held in his hand. Grasping it lightly, adrenaline and desire already pulsed lightly beneath my pale skin.

It was the first time in six months I entered the halls of The Velvet Club. It had taken me awhile to get over the last night I’d spent here when I’d wanted it to become more.

“You ready for this?” Tristan asked. His light brown eyes swept over my face, down to my hands, most likely to see if I was trembling.

I was definitely trembling, but not from nerves. Anticipation sank its delicate claws into my flesh, pulling me toward the door.

Room number four. There would be a harness where I could be restrained on one wall. A bed with silken gray linens so shimmery they could have been real silver next to it. The far wall would have a blacked-out window. We’d be able to see out. If the blinds were raised, voyeurs could watch the show. That wouldn’t happen though because I insisted they stay closed. As a public television figure, I had too much to lose if my identity here was ever leaked.

This was the only one I ever chose. It was also the only room where I allowed a stranger’s hands, lips, and body to pleasure me. The familiarity of this room made it easier for me to give my body to a man I sometimes couldn’t see.

“Anything I need to know?”

“This man needs anonymity.” He dipped his head toward my hand. “That’s the reason for the blindfold. Everything else, exactly what you want. Nothing extreme.”

I came here, paid a huge chunk of my small salary because I knew what I liked and I learned early on that college boys were more concerned with what they got out of a girl than what they were with giving. I wasn’t a selfish receiver.

I just liked a man who ensured he gave before he took for himself. Coaching frat boys who’d chugged more keg beer than their weight never interested me.

“Is he in there?”

“He wanted to give you a few minutes to get comfortable.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

Tristan’s face changed, softened in the way I knew he would keep his word. My anxiety calmed and I blew a soft breath out through my lips.

“He’s a good man. Know all there is to know about him and I can tell you right now this guy won’t hurt you.” His grin turned sassy. “At least not more than you like or request. And so you know, we made changes to the room since you’ve been here.”

“What?”

“No more cross.”

I glanced at the black door, knowing exactly what was in the room, the setup down to the square inch and back to Tristan. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s your room. Your safe space. Wouldn’t be safe if you had the memory of last time. Had the boys remove it today.”

Perfect. I hadn’t had the nerve to ask for it, but knowing it wouldn’t be there helped. “Thanks, Tristan.”

He stepped around me, pressed in the code for the door and opened it. “Anything for you,ma chérie. Alarm button is in the same place.”

I didn’t need the reminder. Panic buttons were always to the sides of the headboard, and one of the rules was that it had to be accessible at all times. Which meant even if restrained, my fingers would be able to brush it.

I trusted I would never need to use it again.

“Enjoy yourself,” Tristan said.

I inhaled deeply. My big breath chilled my throat and expanded my lungs.

I was ready and with a smile that would bring Tristan ease, I pressed my hand to his shoulder as I passed him. “Oh, I will. Don’t you worry.”

He stepped away with a chuckle so sexy I almost wished he were straight. And dominant.

The door clicked closed behind him and I was there. Alone. For the first time in six months, I was back in the very room that ran me out of the club.

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