Page 2 of One Night Seduction

Right now, ask me if I care.

Interrupting our mutual eye fucking, the bartender sets down two glasses in front of us.

“Put it on your tab, sir?” the bartender asks the masked man.

He dips his head, not removing his eyes from my own as he reaches for our glasses, handing mine over before clinking them together. I try to say thanks but come up short on words, mainly because I’m not sure I remember how to speak. Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

I watch as he lifts the glass to his lips, his eyes hooded as he tips back the clear liquid. My eyes are laser focused on the way his throat works the tequila down. Shit. Can a man taking a drink really soak my panties just like that? You’d think it’s been years since I’ve last had sex, not days.

This is different, though. So different. This isn’t some frat boy trying to buy me cheap beer in the hopes of getting laid. This isn’t even a nice respectable guy that I meet at a coffee shop and then fuck in his car before I go to class. This place, this man, the energy. Everything is heightened. The sexual tension from this entire atmosphere is so thick you can choke on it, while simultaneously craving more.

When his eyes come back to me and he sets his drink down on the bar top, I remember that I’m still holding my drink, staring at him like an idiot. So, I lift the cool glass to my lips, allowing the sharp burn of the tequila to prick my taste buds before running down my throat. The warmth I feel is immediate, and when I tilt my head forward again, I find the mystery man in front of me staring at me with the same amount of intensity as before.

Setting the glass on the bar top beside his, he reaches outhis hand to me. It’s a large hand, though it looks smooth and strong. Like he doesn’t have to use them for physical labor, but he could do some serious damage with them if he wanted.

Or deliver a dizzying amount of pleasure.

My hand slides into his before I even fully decide that I want to go wherever he is taking me. It’s like I’m not even in control of myself as his fingers lace through mine, gently guiding me through the club.

Chapter Two

Arianna

I take careful steps, making sure not to break an ankle or trip in these fucking heels as the gorgeous stranger guides us through this labyrinth of a club. We go up the stairs, turning down a few hallways before he pulls me to a stop in front of a doorway. I look up at him and meet his gaze before he pushes the door open and pulls me inside. As soon as he closes the door behind us, the sound of a lock engaging echoes through the room. Something about the sound of that lock sends a shiver down my back and sets my pulse racing. Fuck, this is beginning to feel like some Dateline shit. This place is safe, though, right? I mean, anyone can come in here as long as they are over twenty-one and have a password, but it’s still safe. Right?

When he turns to face me, though, I realize that none of my typical internal alarms are going off. I don’t feel unsafe, I don’t feel trapped. I feel…nervous. What the fuck is the matter with me?

My eyes dance around the room, in complete awe. The room has a large bed draped in black satin sheets, the walls are adorned with every toy or tool you could imagine for thebedroom. If I didn’t have this absolutely captivating man in front of me, I’d probably be interested in taking in my surroundings more. Instead, I find myself far more interested in how he prowls towards me methodically, like he’s allowing me time to back out.

His chest presses against mine, the strong smell of his clean cologne filling the space between us. God, of course he smells amazing.

“What’s your safe word?” his low voice rumbles.

“M-my what?” I pant.

“Safe word,” he repeats, his head cocking to the side slightly as he watches me.

“Banana,” I say.

His lips slowly start to curl upward in a smile before lifting a hand to cup my jaw. A zinging feeling rushes through me at his touch, and I happily sink into it. He lifts my head to accommodate our six inch height difference before speaking again.

“Use your word whenever you feel you need to, but trust that I’ll do what’s best for both of us in here.”

I swallow at his words before nodding obediently.

“Have you ever had a Dom before?”

I shake my head. I’m not overly well-versed in the kink/sex club world, but I know enough. Jerry Andrews trying and failing to boss me around in a fast food parking lot definitely doesn’t classify as a Dom/Sub relationship, I know that much.

Shaking my head softly, his fingers continue caressing my face, a pleased look filling his gaze.

“A Dom and a Sub’s relationship is complex. It requires balance and trust, even if it’s just for a night. You have to be willing to put your trust in me, give yourself over completely, and know that I’ll take care of you the way you need, but maybe not the way you expect.”

His words excite me and relieve me all at once. It’s like he’staking all of the pressure out of this, the uncertainty. He’s taking control, and all he’s asking from me is to go along with it. There is also this comforting familiarity sound to his voice. Like I can trust him, like he will have my best interests in mind.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks.

That’s a hell of a lot to expect out of a stranger, but his strong and steady demeanor has me agreeing easier than taking my next breath.

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