She leaned over, moving her fingers gently over his bicep. Her cherry red nails flashed. "This?" she asked softly.
The dragon's eye stared back at her with fierce command inked in dark blue. "Protection. A reminder to watch over others." She drifted downward, tracing the elaborate edges of the anchor. "Symbol of the Navy. Represents strength and hope." Her fingers paused above his wrist. "A clock. To remind me time is short and shouldn't be wasted."
She moved to the other arm which held thick black lines in the tribal symbol. "For friendship?" she asked.
"Yes, this is my reminder of friendship and the strength of brotherhood." Rising above the simple sketch, an elaborate angel with wings outspread over his bicep floated in vivid color. He watched her face as she studied the ink. The look of wonder twisted his gut with need.
"An angel? For God?"
She swiveled her gaze and met his. He trailed a finger down her soft cheek, pressing his thumb against her swollen lower lip. "To remind me there's something bigger than me. And as much as I love control, I'm not really the one in charge in the end."
Her breath skipped. Those dark eyes widened, and suddenly, he was kissing her, but it was different from the other times. This time, his tongue stroked and seduced, drank in her honeyed sweetness with patience, savoring every slick movement of her mouth under his. Tenderness stirred. Warmth uncurled in his belly and heated his blood, and then he was hard and ready for her again.
He broke the kiss slowly, with reverence.
"Thank you, Leo."
His name fell from her lips in a symphony of sound. "For what, little one?"
Her sigh was pure pleasure and joy. "For helping me realize I was right about myself, and he was wrong."
He stiffened at the mention of her ex. He'd tried to make her feel ugly about who she was. If Leo had been able to show her she was beautiful inside and out, it was one of the most satisfying moments of his life.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting more from your sex life," he said, stroking her cheek. "You should never apologize for being who you are. There are men who will worship at your feet and fuck you senseless the way you deserve. Don't ever settle."
"I won't. But you managed to do something that will make all the difference."
"What's that?"
She tilted her chin up and smiled at him. His breath caught in his throat at that stunning, open smile meant just for him. "You made me feel beautiful again," she said softly.
Raw emotion slashed through him. This had never happened before. He was well known in the BDSM industry to love playing with a variety of subs and form no attachment. Leo always figured he'd been wired to be non-monogamous, or maybe never meant for a long term, exclusive relationship. He'd never experienced anything other than attraction, respect, and friendship. People told him they were building blocks to something greater, but for him, the spark never took flame.
Until right now.
An odd wash of fear froze him in place. He stared at her smiling face, at her wide Gypsy eyes and tumbled hair, her pale skin and red lips, and fell hard for a stranger he'd just met a few hours ago.
Refusing to hold back, he took the leap.
"I want to see you again," he said simply. "I know tonight is supposed to be anonymous, but I'm willing to change the rules. I want to remove my mask. Learn more about you. Take you to dinner. Bind you in my chains. Show you the world of BDSM--the world I find so beautiful and freeing and truthful. That's my new proposition, Scarlett."
Leo held his breath. He'd never been so off-balance. The need for her to agree; to want more like him; twisted inside. Ridiculous. He was a grown ass man and he finally understood how a boy feels asking a woman to prom. Worried the wrong answer will tear something permanently and he'll never be the same.
Her smile faded. Regret flashed briefly in her eyes, but then she pressed her cheek against his chest, as if trying to remind herself he was real. Her voice came out in a husky whisper. "I don't know if I'm ready for more. But I know something changed in me tonight. I know I'm not ready to leave you yet. I'd like to stay tonight, if you'll let me."
It wasn't the answer he wanted, but damned if he didn't respect her truth. He decided not to tell her about moving to Vegas at this point. She agreed to stay. He had till dawn to change her mind, and damned if he wasn't about to take on the challenge of a lifetime.
"Then you're mine until morning. And we are officially in a scene."
With one swift movement, he flipped her over and pushed her to her knees. She gasped, but didn't fight him. With her delectable ass high in the air, he quickly cuffed both wrists to the bed, then dragged her legs far apart. Her ass was still a rosy pink from her previous spanking, and her pussy was already wet with anticipation.
"Say it, Scarlett."
She trembled. "I'm yours till morning, Sir."
"That's right. I'm going to fuck you from behind now. Hard. You are not to make a sound. Not a whimper, or I'll make sure you don't come for the next hour."
Her breath hitched. He watched with satisfaction as her arousal dripped down her thigh. Oh, she was so delicious to play with. "Y-y-yes, Sir."
"If you do make a sound, I'll introduce you to a ball gag and we'll do this all over again, without the orgasms. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
He donned the condom. Sunk his dick deep into her sopping pussy, sputtering a curse as her tight channel squeezed him mercilessly. Then pounded into her giving flesh like a caged animal desperate for freedom, giving her everything he had, and damned if when she came, not a sound emitted from her lips, not a groan or a whisper, and Leo knew he'd do anything in his power for this night to never end.
But it did.
And in the morning, when he woke, she was gone.
Her black mask was the only thing left behind.
Chapter Six
LEO STARED AT HIS COUSINS and wondered if he'd heard wrong.
"You want to hook me up with an escort service? When I can walk into any club and get laid on my own terms and not pay?"
Rem gave a groan and rubbed his head. "I said the same thing when Rafe approached me, but I'm telling you, dude, it works. I found the love of my life again through the Fanta-C agency. It's not what you think."
"Wanna know what I think?" He leaned over and nailed each of his four cousins with a stare. He'd been in a piss poor mood lately and their ridiculous claims of fairy-tale, happy-ever-afters only made it worse. "I think you're all fucking crazy."
They sat in the Study--a quieter lounge to grab a drink, tucked in the back of the supper club in the Cosmopolitan Hotel. With comfortable leather chairs, dark wood, and bookshelves lining the walls, the lounge gave patrons the chance to take a breath, enjoy a well-crafted cocktail, and share a deeper conversation. The low strains of classic vinyl played on the speakers rather than the usual DJ or club music.
Rome laughed, hooking his ankle comfortably over his knee and tilted back his beer bottle. "We know how it sounds. But I called the number and now I'm with Sloane. It's worked for each of us." His premature grey pegged him as a George Clooney look-a-like and the oldest of the crew. But it was Rick who was the true leader of the Steele clan. His wife, Tara, affectionately called him Thor because of his long blonde hair and blue eyes. Of course, she was the only one he allowed to get away with it. Leo remembered when they were kids, he and Rafe were teasing Rick, calling his dick a limp hammer with no magical power.
Leo got a black eye, Rafe ran away, and Rick never got called Thor again.
Rick regarded him across the table with his narrowed gaze that saw too much. He was the quietest out of all of them, but had a laser like intensity and the ability to spot a lie, making him a perfect Dom. Of course, he was officially off the market and had never seemed happier.
Had Rick become one of these dudes who needed everyone else to be married because he was now content? Fuck. Now that he thought about it, all of his cousins were blissfully hooked up. Did they really believe an escort agency
was responsible?
"You've been here three months and you haven't moved on from that masquerade party," Rick said. "You need to let it go."
Leo stiffened. "Maybe Jonathan and Cruz will get Hartley to tell me where she is."
Rafe, the last in the bunch, rolled his eyes. "She doesn't want to be found," he threw out with his usual starkness. Rafe's military background was evident in his cropped hair, deadly stillness, and the occasional shadows in his eyes. He'd had a rough time in Afghanistan, but he seemed softer now that he'd found his fiancee, Summer. He tipped back his shot glass of Jack Daniels. "You have to respect her wishes."
Familiar pain lurched in his gut. What was wrong with him? How had a woman he'd known for only a few hours gotten so deep under his skin? Sometimes, he'd catch the scent of citrus, and stop in his tracks. Last week, he could've sworn he saw a woman with long dark curls spilling down her back and launched through the casino to surprise a stranger. He was acting like a lovesick, schoolboy desperate for any contact. But Scarlett was long gone. When he'd asked his friends to track her down, they'd been sympathetic but firm. They weren't about to share her identity without her consent. Discarding her mask on the nightstand and disappearing before morning told Leo she didn't want to be found. Just like Rafe said.
Leo drained his whiskey. God, he was pathetic. Vegas suited him. From the moment he arrived, he embraced every gaudy, over-the-top detail that the strip offered. His security work at the casino challenged him, and he liked his team. Already, he'd made a bust and filled in some gaps that had previously urged card counters and cheaters to swarm in on the weekends. He loved the dry, strangling heat; the merge of day into night as time paused; and the pumping nightlife of the clubs and bars after hours. The city was alive, buzzing with potential and life. He realized being back with his cousins filled an empty place inside of him. They'd always been close growing up, and eventually all of them moved to Vegas to be card dealers. Since his mother had passed, he hadn't seen his father, and as an only child he craved being part of something bigger--the simple bond of blood and family. Was he going to spend the rest of his days grieving over something he'd never even had? There may have been the possibility of something there, but Scarlett made her own choice to leave him. For her, he'd only been a one-night stand. It was time to move on.
With resignation, he lifted his palm. Rem grinned and pressed a black and gold card into his hand. The word FANTA-C was scrawled across in embossed gold. On the back, a phone number was listed. "What do I do?"
"Call the number and use my name as your referral. Fill out your paperwork and if they find you a match, they'll set everything up," Rem said.
Rome cut in. "It's not guaranteed you'll get a match, and it's not always about sex. Just tell them what you really want. You have nothing to lose, dude."
They were right. He tucked the card in his pocket. His cousins shared a pointed glance, and Rem cleared his throat. "Umm, after you make the call you need to burn the card."
Leo lifted a brow. "You kidding me?"
Even Rick looked uncomfortable. "Just do it. Part of the rules."
"Then how'd you get your card?" he asked Rem.
"If they find you a match, they give you one card as your referral. You're mine."
This time, he couldn't help it. He burst into laughter, shaking his head. "I can't fucking believe it. You've all been bamboozled. You really think if you don't do these things something bad will happen?"
Rafe glared. "Don't give us any shit. It worked for all of us. We're trying to help your sorry ass. You've been moping around Vegas way too long about the girl who got away."
"She was a hell of a girl," he said quietly.
Rafe's face softened. "Not if she didn't think you were special."
All gazes swiveled to stare at Rafe. "That was poetic, bro," Rome said.
Rafe stuck up his middle finger and they all laughed.
Leo sipped his drink, falling into easy conversation about work and wondering why the card seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.
Whatever. He had nothing more to lose. He'd make the call and put Scarlett Rose behind him as a beautiful memory.
***
Scarlett shook her sweaty palms in the air to dry them. Gross. Her heels clicked on the gleaming floor as she paced, staring at the door every few seconds. The hotel suite was luxurious and held a sensual vibe, but she didn't spot any special equipment or chains hanging from the ceiling. What if her date didn't show? What if this whole thing was just some lame joke? She hadn't been this nervous in a while, not since the night of the masquerade ball.
The memory stirred, along with her body. How many times had she woken up with his name on her lips? How often had she replayed their precious hours together while she brought herself to orgasm? When Hartley called and said Leo was desperate to track her down, she'd been overjoyed. Scarlett opened her mouth to tell her friend to give him her number, but when she pondered the consequences, she remained silent. It was better to keep her anonymity.
Her divorce chased her like a shadowed ghost, always a few steps behind. Her decision to leave Baltimore and move to Vegas was key in rebuilding her new life. For the first time, she stood on her own, and the power was a heady pill she greedily swallowed. When she thought of seeing Leo again, aching need mixed with a sinking fear she couldn't battle.
After only one night, she already felt attached. Connected. Her entire purpose was to free herself completely for the new adventure before her--not fall hard for another man. When he asked to see her again, she'd been desperate to say yes. But Leonardo Sinclair was a powerful man. His natural dominance and aching tenderness stirred something to life deep inside again, something she'd been missing for way too long. He'd shattered her completely and put her back together in a few short hours. How could she risk being involved in a new relationship so soon?
She just wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
So, she'd left her mask and Leo behind.
These past four months had shown her how much she'd grown. Her job as a statistician for the casino was challenging work, and she loved her new co-workers. Sure, she was spending most of her time at the job, but working with numbers and sorting through scenarios of how each fit into the real world defined an important part of who she was. Still, there was an emptiness inside that hadn't been filled since Leo. It was time to take another leap in her personal life and try to move forward. Calling the number on the business card her new friend had handed her seemed the perfect way to begin.
A soft knock vibrated on the door.
She dragged in a breath and smoothed down her form fitting skirt. Her date's requirements were exact. Black lycra tank top with a pencil skirt. Hair loose. Bare feet.
Red lipstick. No bra. No panties. Bare pussy.
She was ready.
Scarlett opened the door.
And came face to face with the man she couldn't forget.
Chapter Seven
IT WAS HER.
Scarlett Rose.
He stared at her framed in the doorway and for the second time in his life, felt the ground shift beneath his feet. His silly heart leapt at the same time his mind snapped to attention and strangled the burst of hope. This couldn't be real. Was she playing a joke?
She may have been wearing a mask the last time he saw her, but she'd imprinted herself on his memory. The pale, smooth skin. The way her inky hair tumbled over her shoulder in riotous waves. The heavy dark brows arched over those cat eyes, framed by thick lashes. The sharp, clean scent of citrus. exposing the elegant lines of her face, finally exposed to his full view. Her patrician nose emphasized her high cheekbones and full lips, stained the same dark red as that night.
His gaze swept over her lush figure. She was dressed to his specifications and so fucking sexy, his dick stiffened and pushed against his jeans.
The skimpy tank emphasized her stiff nipples pressing against the cotton, and squeezed her breasts together in a gift offered only to him. The pencil sk
irt showed off her hour glass hips and curvy ass, just like he'd hoped. Her toes were painted cherry red and gave her the touch of vulnerability he relished in a submissive.
He realized in that moment he'd dressed his date imagining her being Scarlett.
He'd gotten his true fantasy.
Her gravelly voice matched the one in his dreams. "What are you doing here?"
It took a moment for him to gather his composure and realize she looked as shocked as he did. "I signed up with Fanta-C. I'm supposed to meet my date here."
She blinked and grabbed the doorway as if she was faint. "So, did I. Which means--"
"We're each other's dates," he finished.
He'd gotten his true fantasy.
He shook his head and tried to clear it. "What are you doing here?"
"I signed up with Fanta-C. I'm supposed to meet my date here."
Leo studied her closely, but she looked just as shell shocked as he did. "Me too. Which means--"
"We're each other's dates," she finished.
She stared back at him with open hunger, and he realized this was the first time she saw his face without a mask. Anger stirred in his gut, the reminder of her total rejection burning through his veins like acid. He beat back the hesitancy and walked through the door, forcing her to move aside. The click of the knob as he shut it echoed in the silence.
"Did you know it was going to be me?" he asked quietly.
"No! I-I had no idea. Though I did ask for specific details." Her cheeks burned. Had she done the same thing? Requested the agency set her up with someone exactly like him to re-enact their night together? "What are you doing in Vegas?"
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and regarded her. "I live here. Why aren't you in Baltimore?"
"I live here, too!"
The bigger meaning of her answer broke through him, and once again, hope spurted up. All this time she'd been right under his damn nose. Wild coincidence? Dumb luck? Or Fate?
His body didn't give a fuck. Already, his fingers itched to touch her, rip off those clothes, and shove deep inside her hot, wet pussy. But he needed to know the truth before he decided how the evening was going to be structured. "Then I guess neither of us could have planned tonight. I reached out to Jonathan and Cruz, you know. To see if I could contact you."