Chapter Sixteen

Tori and Diana removed their coats and put on their masks. Now that Tori stood in the entryway of Club Exotica, her anxiety level shot to the heavens—her stomach cramping and palms sweating. The reality of having sex with a stranger, even if he didn’t seem like one anymore, stared her down, but she shook her head against her fears.

“You look fabulous, Tori. But are you sure you are ready for this? A few days ago, you didn’t even want to step foot inside the club.”

“I feel fabulous!” She said it loudly, as if that would make it more true.

She strutted a small circle in her new stilettos to show off her scarlet dress, purchased on a whim during her lunch break. The tight, glittering number barely covered her bum and showed off her voluptuous figure like a shimmery second skin. Underneath she had on the sluttiest lace bra and knickers she’d ever worn.

“I’m like a new woman. Alluring, exciting, desirable.” Squaring her shoulders, she told herself that this new woman would also be brave.

Diana nodded approvingly. “You’re all that.”

Tori hoped she could actually muster the bravery, otherwise her new look—everything she’d done, all of it—would be a big waste of time.

After the doorman took their coats, they entered the club’s inner sanctum and headed toward the Watering Hole.

“I’ll admit there’s a part of me screaming that I’m crazy, but I want a new start after Rupert,” she said. Was she reassuring her friend or herself? “Which reminds me, I’ve decided that to go with the new me, I want a new name. From now on”—she dropped her voice to a low whisper—“I’m going to be Tori Whittingstall everywhere. Over time, I’ll change it at court, as well.”

Maybe she’d even tell her mystery man someday.

“Excellent idea. But remember, here you’re officially Candi.”

“Thanks so much for that. I can start my new career as a stripper now. It’s the real reason I spent so many years studying law.” She stuck her tongue out at her friend. “And what’s with you…Madame Sandy Bovary?”

Diana laughed, the cultured bell sound Tori loved. “I’m Bovary most of the time, but here I can be anyone or anything I want…and can change it up on a whim. That’s the beauty of this place.”

When Tori didn’t see her date in the room, they wandered up to the bar.

“Welcome, beautiful ladies. What can I get you?” asked Chase, the white-uniformed bartender.

The second he set their orders on the bar, Tori grabbed the lowball and took a big gulp. “By the way, Sandy, I want to repay you for all my expenses charged to your account.”

“You know that’s not necessary…Candi.”

“But I do insist.”

Sandy nodded. Reluctantly.

The win-at-all-costs barrister in Tori made her smile over her small victory.

Turning serious, she put her glass down and leaned closer. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever seen anyone here you recognized, or been recognized yourself? Even with fake names, masks, and lights so low it’s practically pitch-black, I’m still a little worried about that.”

“Dahling, that’s the interesting thing. It’s as if we’re at a seventeenth-century masquerade. People might recognize each other, but the masks provide the pretense of anonymity, allowing for liaisons dangereuses that would never happen out there”—Diana gestured, as if pointing outside the building—“in the real world.”

“Have you had a dangerous liaison?”

Diana’s eyes danced, and her mouth formed a naughty grin. “I’ll never tell, but that’s rather the whole point, isn’t it?”

Tori took another sip of her drink. Am I heading toward danger?

Her friend patted her shoulder. “With your thick hair down around your shoulders and your vastly altered clothes and makeup, you look like a completely different person. And gorgeous, too, I might add. But please, don’t do anything unless you want to, unless you feel it’s totally right for you.” Diana gave her a sly look. “And anyway, you haven’t had your new-member submissive training downstairs yet.”

Tori’s eyes widened. “What? In the dungeon?”

Diana chuckled. “I’m just teasing.”

Tori picked up her drink, gulped the rest down, and set the empty glass on the bar. Thank god. That would be a little too much liberation.

Within seconds, awareness skittered through her. He’d arrived.

She felt his approach, felt his presence behind her. Their instant connection had grown stronger over the week, as if he were a part of her already.

His hand slid around her waist, drawing her against the hard plane of his body. He placed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You look stunning.” His tone was hot and husky.

Chase came by with their charges tallied on a tablet. Before Diana could react, Tori’s mystery man stretched out his right hand and gracefully swiped his membership ring across the scanner. “My treat,” he called over the loud music.

Surprised, they thanked him.

Diana turned away from the bar to study him. After giving the masked man wrapped around Tori a hard stare, she said, “I expect you to take good care of my dear friend Candi. You’ll answer to me if you don’t.”

Tori stiffened. She was a successful, grown woman and could take care of herself. Prepared to defend him to Diana, she twisted around to see him frowning at her friend.

“Of course.” He looked irritated that his integrity had been questioned.

“Well, then, I’ll leave you to it.” Diana blew her a kiss and headed off to join her friends.

“Finally. I get to hold you in my arms,” Randy murmured in her ear, his low timbre hoarse with desire. He turned her to face him in the circle of his arms and kissed her.

The moment his lips touched hers, she forgot everything. Where she was. That he was still a stranger. She existed only as sensation. Timeless and weightless, she luxuriated in the feel of his strong arms cocooning her to him, his warmth suffusing her, and the taste of his tongue as it entered her mouth. She pressed her body closer, needing to feel more of him. Needing more of his heat. More of his taste. More…

Too soon, he pulled back, yelling over the loud music, “Dance with me.”

She nodded, incapable of speech. She wanted so much more…as if wanting were a tangible thing, the shape and size of it overwhelming her with its immensity.

She let him lead her by the hand to the disco, his grip her tether to fulfilling all her desires. He pulled her into the center of the throng of bodies gyrating to the roaring, animalistic beat.

He grabbed her hips and turned her back to him and began to dance, grinding his pelvis against her arse. Tentatively at first, she began to move, joining him in this modern-day erotic tango, loving that it drove him to press harder against her. He nuzzled her neck, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there. Tingles shivered down her spine.

He increased the tempo, and she followed, dancing faster. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

His hands traveled slowly around her body while they rocked in place. Even through her clothes, his caresses left trails of electricity everywhere he touched. She moaned when his hands gently fondled her breasts. Desperate to have his lips on hers again, she turned toward him. She raised her face to his, a silent invitation, and he claimed his prize. Their mouths merged in a hot, wet kiss even as he continued grinding his pelvis against her thigh, the firm bulge in his pants pressing into her and showing her how much he desired her.

He pulled back to gaze at her through his mask. He seemed to be searching her face for an answer, but she wasn’t sure what he was asking. The moment stretched.

Finally, yelling to be heard, he said, “I booked a private room. Would you like to go there?”

She stilled. This was it. The point of no return.

Her pulse raced faster than the music’s beat, and her chest pounded more frantically than the wild rave around her. Anxiety made her clammy.

Could she really go through with this? Have sex with a man she hardly knew?

Diana had cautioned her to take it slow, but in that moment, she didn’t want slow. She didn’t want to be judicious. Didn’t want to weigh her decisions. For once, she wanted to be the carefree spirit who let life take her along for the ride, eager to go faster around each new curve.

Still, she hesitated.

Would she be safe alone in a room with him? White-clad bouncers roamed everywhere and the members were all vetted, but she didn’t know his real name or anything about him. An entire lifetime of playing it safe, putting career and respectability ahead of personal desires, wasn’t easy to push aside. A spotlight caught her mystery man in its beam, and she stared at him as if she could glean the answers from his eyes.

Don’t do anything unless you feel it’s totally right.

“I wonder if maybe we’re rushing things,” she called out.

He looked confused. She watched for the anger that was sure to come next.

Her eyes flicked down. He was ready, clearly, but she wasn’t sure that she was.

Her eyes rose again to meet his, worried what she’d see there.

She saw acceptance. Disappointment, too. He tilted his head and shrugged.

Suddenly, he pulled her up against his body, locking her to him. Placing his mouth at her ear, he whispered, “You’re worth waiting for. I want you to be absolutely sure before I make love to you.” He dipped to place a quick kiss on her neck, and she trembled. “Tonight, we’ll just get to know each other.”

Relief flooded her. He wasn’t angry, and he still wanted her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he lowered his head to kiss her again.

For a long time, they stood locked together and motionless, kissing in the center of the dance floor surrounded by masked revelers, until finally he pulled back and released her.

“Thank you,” she repeated. This special man, so young and vibrant, was willing to wait for her, willing to put her needs ahead of his own. It made her feel closer to him than anything else he could have done, even were he to remove his mask or reveal his true name.

Wonder flooded her, and her chest felt tight. His real name, where he lived, even the tiniest detail about his background remained a mystery, but she now knew something far more important. He was a man of good character and generous spirit.

He smiled down at her. Then gestured, asking with his hands if she wanted to dance or go out. She pointed to the hallway, and he led her out, her hand firmly in his. They walked back toward the barroom, and when she spied the ladies’ loo, she pointed to it.

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and whispered, “I’ll wait for you in the Serengeti.” Elation filled her. He’d picked the quietest spot in the entire club, and they could talk there.

Within minutes, she emerged from the loo. Spotting, Diana, she exclaimed excitedly, “I have to talk to you!”

She pulled her friend aside, away from the milling couples and single members, to rapidly explain everything that had happened and make plans to meet later. She felt a creeping sensation down her spine, as if someone was watching her, and looked about for Randy. There were a few men eyeing both her and Diana, inviting smiles on their faces. Tori smiled back but waved them off. She had someone waiting for her.

“I’m happy for you,” Diana said. She gave her a good-luck hug and headed off.

“Me, too!” she yelled over her shoulder before starting down the hall.

Then it happened.

“Victoria!”

The outraged shout from behind hit her like a kick to the ass, and she tripped over her stilettos. Her hand hitting the wall kept her from falling to the marble floor as she skidded to a stop.

Bloody fucking hell!

Rising up, she stood there ramrod straight, locked in a steel vise of disbelief.

It…can’t…be!

Foreboding descended, a thick black cloud that choked her. The inconceivable had, indeed, happened. Victoria Whittingstall, high court judge and member of the Queen’s Council, had been caught in a sex club.

And she knew exactly the identity of her unmasker, however improbable.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her former friend and companion and short-term fiancé. He was absolutely the very last man on earth she’d ever expect to run into at Club Exotica.

Outwardly, she remained motionless, seemingly composed, but inside, emotions ricocheted through her, making her dizzy. Nausea threatened to return her dinner.

“Victoria, is that really you?” Rupert bellowed, anger turning his face red. “What in the world are you doing here?”

Defiantly, chin raised, she met his incredulous stare thrown at her from behind his brown leather mask. While she didn’t know how to explain her presence here, she also wondered the same thing about him.

Then, she spied the commedia dell’arte ring on his finger—the one he’d dropped in the restaurant. The one she’d thought so oddly similar to Diana’s.

Suddenly, a double sucker punch nearly knocked her to her knees, the air whooshing out of her lungs.

Rupert wasn’t here by chance.

Rupert was a full-fledged member of the club. Had already been one on the night he’d proposed to her.

She swiped at her eyes, fighting the burning tears as everything became horrifyingly clear. He’d been here fucking at Club Exotica all those nights he hadn’t been making love to her.

“Victoria! I demand to know what you are doing here!”

She rushed up to him, urgency in her whispered hiss. “Will you please stop using my real name!”

Her gaze darted around to see if anyone was listening, and she was grateful to see no one close by. A small relief, but it soothed her pounding heart.

“Oh!” He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I apologize for the slip but, criminy, what in the blue blazes are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “How did you recognize me?”

“I would know you anywhere, but it is your beautiful hair that caught my eye. I am probably the only person who has seen you with it down.” His voice took on a hard edge. “Until now.” His gaze swept her dress and stopped on her bare thighs. “However, I cannot condone you going out in public in that…slag attire!”

So accustomed to his appraisals, she automatically glanced down to check her clothing. Granted, she looked a little more risqué than normal. She laughed. Her look was smutty, no doubt about it. But her mystery admirer liked it. What was more, she liked it.

She whipped her gaze up to look him over. He wore a brown smoking jacket and dress slacks, utterly proper as always.

Eyes narrowed, she silently observed him. What exactly did he do when he came here? What manner of fetish or sex play was too immoral to do with her?

She went on the attack. “I should ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? How often do you come here? How long have you been coming?”

He didn’t answer.

Coward.

“And may I remind you, we’re not a couple anymore. What I wear and what I do is not your concern.”

His head jerked back, and he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes repeatedly swept her body, and, perversely, she saw a flicker of admiring heat in them. But only for a second. Then his gaze returned to hers, flashing daggers of disdain and arrogance.

She tilted her head, her thoughts swirling, trying to wrap her mind around the preposterous fact that Rupert held a club membership. Their sexual relations had been so proper, so very vanilla. It didn’t make any sense.

He looked down his nose at her. “To think that I offered to make you my lady and stepmum to my sons. I was prepared to bestow a real title on you, not just an honorary one as you have now. Thank god I saw the truth in time.” He huffed it out starchily, appearing for all the world like he was the aggrieved party.

She sucked in an angry breath, seeing red on a titanic scale. Had her eyes been lasers, she would have vaporized him instantaneously. Her fury reached a level that was entirely new to her. She wanted to scream at him. Swear at him. Do all manner of unladylike things at him and to him.

At the same time, a strange, unexpected exhilaration filled her. There was power in anger—something she had not understood before.

She marched right up to his haughty aristocratic nose. “How dare you insult me. You are here, too. Why is it okay for you, a member of the peerage, to be in this club and not me?”

He seemed taken aback by the question, thinking for a moment, before saying, “It is obvious, Vic—” Clearing his throat, he started over. “Surely, you are not that obtuse, dearest. Gentlemen have always been allowed greater freedom of movement and behavior. It is a necessary fact of life that men must have outlets for their baser needs, which a real lady cannot, should not, be expected to accommodate.”

“That’s a whopping double standard and a load of cack. In today’s—”

“It may be the twenty-first century, but I assure you, standards have not changed so very much. You will spare yourself future grief by remembering that.”

“You’re an insufferable jerk, and I’m leaving.” She turned, anxious to get out of the place before running into anyone else she knew.

He placed a staying hand on her forearm. “A good idea. It is not too late to salvage your reputation. Rinaldo is waiting outside. Please allow him to drive you home.”

Her head swiveled back to him, a fresh punch of disbelief hitting her. “Let me get this straight. You want to send me scuttling back to my flat, tail between my legs, while you stay here to play? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I would not have put it like that, but yes. I am only thinking of what is best for you. Truly, this is not the place for a woman of your recently improved standing and legal responsibilities.”

“Ha,” she snorted, not caring one bit how unladylike it sounded. “It’s mind-bogglingly arrogant of you to suggest I have no right to be here, when you are a full-fledged member of this club.”

Suddenly, she changed her mind. She had absolutely no intention of leaving. Rupert would not scare her into running away while he stayed here getting his joystick played.

“Unbelievable!” she muttered. Flaming fury heated her blood and filled her with adrenaline. It consumed her and had her teetering on a knife edge of passion. Her feelings were just this side of raw, primal lust, creating an almost clawing need to fuck. No entanglements, no complications, not even romance. Tonight, what she needed was earthy, satisfying, grinding sex.

Her lips curled up at the edges. Her mysterious masked friend would give her what she needed.

“What? Why are you looking so odd?” Rupert demanded.

The smile on her face grew until she beamed with pleasure. A brand-new sexual power blossomed within her, a sense of her worth as a woman and of the exquisite ecstasy her body was capable of. She trembled with hunger for her masked mystery man. The thought of him taking her, pounding her until she climaxed, filled her with supreme confidence.

Was this what men felt? This overwhelming pull to mate with a particular person? She’d never felt it before, but it thrilled her. Aroused her. Liberated her.

Rupert no longer mattered. She tilted her head, observing him as if he were some alien creature. He’d become nothing more to her than a bug stuck on a pin in a dusty old museum.

She turned and strode away without another word.

Before rounding the corner, she threw him a last wicked grin over her shoulder. “Have fun. I certainly intend to.”

He followed behind, not seeming to want her to have the last word.

And then her mystery man appeared before her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she grabbed him first. Yanking him to her, she kissed him aggressively, encircling him in her arms and molding herself to his frame. She moaned loudly and gyrated against his crotch.

She did it all for show—for Rupert. But her mystery lover gave his all to the performance he didn’t know he had a starring role in. She loved it best when he reached around to squeeze her ass with both hands and jerked her against him. Rupert’s furious exclamation made her grin, and she vigorously, sluttily, rubbed her sex against her new lover.

While she might have meant to send Rupert a message, her body heard it, too. Wherever she touched Randy, sensation blazed like electricity along her nerves, tingling out to every part of her body. Sparks of pleasure tightened her nipples and made her clit ache. Waves of dizzying need made her oblivious to anything but this warm man in her arms. Her knees started to give out from the body-melting strength of her lust.

Her masked savior swept her up into his arms in one grand motion and started walking toward the back.

Rupert was forgotten.

“I take it you changed your mind?” he said, sounding desperately hoarse.

“No talking,” she murmured back. “I just—” She sucked in a breath and forced herself to say what she really desired. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. No talking. No romance. I want it dirty, filthy. Rough.” She barely recognized her own rasping, lust-filled voice.

Through the holes in his mask, Randy’s eyes flared with answering lust, and his head jerked in a single nod of agreement.

“Make me feel glorious,” she whispered.

His eyes became wild. Nodding again, he grasped her even tighter to his chest and walked rapidly down the stairs to the basement.