Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 89142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“What if I don’t know where I want to go?”
“Then it will be my pleasure to guide you.”
God, that voice. I feel it in my very bones. It vibrates through my body, culminating between my legs.
I squirm on my stool.
If he grabbed me, took me up against the wall of the bar, I’m wet enough that he could slide right in.
I grip the stem of my glass, gather my courage. “What if I asked you to take me to bed?”
“That would be very hard to turn down.”
“Are you saying you would turn me down?”
“For tonight? Yes.”
I suppress a shudder. “Why?”
“For the reason you just said. You don’t know where you want to go.”
“Wow.” I take a sip of my drink, really tasting the elderflower.
“What?”
“Most men would take any chance they had to get a woman into bed.”
“My beautiful angel, I am not most men.”
Boy, is that true. Most men don’t go around masquerading as the Phantom of the Opera. Normally I would think this man is a little out there, but for him it seems to work.
Everyone accepts him as Phantom.
Even though that’s not who he is.
He is someone else. Someone I want to know.
But I’m going to have to get to know him as Phantom first.
“Why do you hide who you are?” I ask.
“There are a few reasons,” he says. “Mostly because I prefer to keep this part of my life to myself.”
“But why?”
“I think you can probably figure out the reasons why.”
“Your job?”
“Partially.”
“Your family?”
“Partially.”
“Your…wife?”
He smiles. “I don’t have a wife, angel.”
I keep the sigh of relief from whooshing out of me.
I mean, come on. I had to wonder about that sooner or later. A guy who hides his identity and picks up women in bars?
That screams married.
“You must be into some kinky stuff, then,” I say.
“Some would consider it kinky. To me, it’s just what I like.”
I turn toward him, his nearness making me woozy. Or maybe it’s the drink. “Tell me. Tell me what you like.”
He moves toward me, and his warm breath on my cheek makes me tremble.
He nips at my earlobe, and then he whispers, “I’d like you on your knees, in front of me, my cock between those beautiful lips of yours.”
I gasp. I’m speechless for a few seconds, until—
“That doesn’t sound kinky.”
“Did I forget to mention your wrists are bound behind your back, and your mouth is held open with a spider gag?”
I gasp again.
Every fragment of energy in my body arrows straight to my pussy.
I squirm again on my stool.
“Does that excite you?” he whispers.
All I can do is nod.
“Good, my angel. Because that’s just the beginning.”
He pulls back then, and I’m sure all the color is drained from my face.
“Your cheeks are red,” Phantom says.
Okay, so the color hasn’t drained from my face after all. Of course it hasn’t. I’m on freaking fire.
“I can’t believe how beautiful you are, angel.” He cups one of my flaming cheeks.
“Thank you,” I manage.
“You’ll be even more beautiful with your mouth held open.”
I squirm once more.
“Tell me. Does the idea intrigue you as much as it intrigues me?”
Again, all I can do is nod.
He doesn’t actually want me to repeat these things back to him, does he?
“Where?” I finally ask.
“Somewhere private. A place where the darkest of desires can be satisfied. Somewhere…underground.”
I clear my throat, take another sip of martini.
“When?”
“Next Saturday, angel. We will meet here again.”
He moves toward me, as if in slow motion. I quake beneath his searing gaze as he comes closer, closer, closer…
And he presses his firm, full lips to mine.
Chapter Eight
Phantom
I’ve learned to be patient. Especially when I want a woman who’s new to my lifestyle.
I can’t introduce her too quickly.
When I crave a scene, I usually simply go to the club, find a willing playmate there, and indulge.
Every once in a while, I meet a woman who wants to get to know me better.
And this woman… This angel…
I have the strangest urge to let her see me as I truly am.
It makes no sense, as I barely know her.
I know she’s a junior editor. She said that much before she decided to play along.
I know she has hair the color of gingerbread and eyes like a silvery lake in the moonlight. Eyes I could get lost in.
Eyes I’ve gotten lost in.
She didn’t let me take her home last night.
Just as well. The urge to unmask myself is so great…
But I can’t.
Not until I show her my darker side.
And this kiss…
This light brushing of our lips…
She affects me so profoundly. Just being near her makes sparks fly through me. Not sparks so much as firebombs. Or a fucking grenade inside my belly.
And it was just a kiss.
Mouth closed, soft lips.
Just a kiss.
And if I feel that way from a kiss…
I can’t wait until next Saturday night.
We’re meeting here again at the bar. Nine p.m.