his cock.
Because he could remember that dress much too distinctly. Erika had worn it for the precise purpose of rendering her brother apoplectic, that much was clear. Dorian remembered murmuring something soothing to his friend, likely about the established brattiness of younger sisters—not that he had any personal experience in that area. Then he’d glanced over and found his eyes drawn to the mouthwatering line of a beautiful woman’s graceful back, bared entirely by a dress that flirted with the curve of her ass.
He could remember it in stark, unwavering detail. Even now, years later.
Maybe he’d seen Erika all along.
That night it had taken one second, maybe less, before he realized he was looking at precisely the dress that had his friend in fits. One second before he’d understood he was looking at Erika. He’d sternly reminded himself that Erika was ever and only a brat. Ungrateful, immature. Forever embroiled in her juvenile attempts to poke at Conrad. Pigtails. Freckles. Stuck in amber at ten years old.
That was how he knew her. It was the only way he knew her.
But now his cock was heavy, she was in his club, and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t eyed her then exactly the same way he did now. Like a dessert he couldn’t wait to get his teeth in.
A sweet little bite he wanted to taste. Over and over again.
Some men saw a pretty thing and wanted to lock it away in a tower somewhere. Dorian, on the other hand, wanted to mess it up. But only if she begged.
He almost had to adjust himself.
“This is so funny,” she was saying, brazening her way through this in a way he almost had to admire. She squared her shoulders and held his gaze boldly, as if she was up to any challenge he might put to her. Which he doubted very much. “What a surprise to run into you, of all people. I’m in town for the weekend. One of my friends was talking about his favorite clubs a month or so ago and I couldn’t resist checking them all out. There’s one in Singapore that—”
“Do not lie to me, please.” His voice sliced across hers and stopped her dead. “You’re well aware I live in Berlin.”
She dared to roll her eyes at him, and Dorian’s brows rose in sheer astonishment. He couldn’t recall the last time a submissive in this club—or anywhere else, for that matter—had presumed to treat him with such blatant disrespect. They were usually far too intimidated. He should have been furious. He was. But even so, that spark in him bloomed into a hotter, darker fire.
“It’s a big city, Dorian,” she declared, lifting the stubborn chin that anchored her heart-shaped face—and he really should not have been noticing things like that about her. “I had no idea that if I wanted to find you, which I didn’t, all I had to do was poke my head into the nearest den of iniquity.”
“No one pokes their head into Walfreiheit. You had to wait in line. You had to be dressed appropriately, yet evocatively. And then you have to make it past Mistress Olga, who has an unerring eye for posers and too-casual visitors. Would you like to try telling the truth?” Her lips parted, and he enjoyed watching her cast around for an answer. And enjoyed it even more when she didn’t. “My mistake, Erika. I assumed this must be some kind of social call. That you’d come here to seek me out specifically.”
“Of course not.” But the pulse in her neck told him otherwise. Interesting. “Why would I? I already know that you’re Team Conrad. I prefer to avoid his minions whenever possible.” Again, that reckless smile. “You know how it is.”
He understood she was trying to provoke him. And she was—only not in the way she likely imagined.
“How fortunate, then, that you should run into a familiar face,” he said quietly. “In the midst of your heretofore unknown exploration of power exchanges in all their glory. I had no idea you were hiding a thirst for submission beneath your fluffy, spoiled exterior.”
Her eyes widened further. She started to say something, but it came out as a breath instead. He liked it. Poor little submissive girl. So afraid of what she wanted.
Dorian needed to remind himself that she wasn’t just another new submissive. She was Conrad’s baby sister. And this couldn’t happen.
But he didn’t walk away.
“Well,” she said nervously. “I mean, I can’t say that I wanted to see a familiar face here. Nobody wants to see a familiar face when they’re watching a grown man whip a naked woman until she…”
Her voice petered out. Dorian only watched her, keeping his expression just this side of a scowl until she flushed again.
“Until she came,” he supplied. “And so did you.” He smiled faintly when her throat worked, but no sound came forth. “If this is not a specific social call, that means you are here to play like anyone else. And I regret to inform you that you have already shown me entirely too much disrespect.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who followed me down a dark hallway to loom over me and frown dramatically. Maybe you should be concerned about respecting me.”
Dorian studied her, unsmiling. “This is primarily a BDSM club and you present as a sexual submissive. Do you know what that means?”
“Of course I know what it means.”
“Is that an incorrect label for you? The girls at the door are usually much better at teasing out our visitors’ secret wants and needs. Surely they told you that the pink wristband you’re wearing announces your preferences to all and sundry.”
She scowled down at the wristband in question and tugged at it. It sat next to the yellow wristband that announced she was here only for the night, which was why she had no bright blue wristbands, one for each alcoholic beverage patrons were allowed if they wanted to participate in any play.
“I can’t hear you,” he prompted her. “Is that the wrong wristband?”
“This club is obsessed with labels. You know that, don’t you?”
“Indeed it is. Let’s be clear that you as a person can be as complicated and contradictory as you please outside these doors. In here, however, everything is boiled down to its essence. What you want. What you need. And what you are prepared to negotiate to get it.”
Her rebellious chin lifted. “Plus neon wristbands.”
“If you are certain a label cannot contain you, perhaps you had better ask yourself if that’s the truth. Are you so terribly complex? Or are you terrified that if you took the trouble to look inside yourself you would find that at heart, where it matters, you are remarkably simple after all?”
She jerked at that as if he’d slapped her. And he wondered if she knew how dark her eyes got, telling him secrets he doubted she wanted to share.
“The only thing you know about me is who I’m related to,” she threw at him, as if he’d mounted a vicious personal attack. He filed that away. “So maybe you should take the opportunity to ask yourself why you’re such an egregious asshole to a person you hardly know.”
Dorian smiled. “Is it clear to you that I am a dominant, Erika? And was that clear from the moment you saw me here tonight?”
“Yes,”
