“That’s a pretty big question.”

“Then I’ll expect a big answer.”

He stared at her for several seconds. “At some point you’ll have it, maybe. Maybe.”

“Ah, you want to remain the enigmatic Dominant. A man of mystery.”

He shrugged, his massive shoulders a ripple of muscle beneath his T-shirt. “Maybe I don’t feel like talking about it here.”

“We can go back to your place and talk,” she said, angling her chin.

“Allesandra LeClair, you just flirted with me.”

“Maybe I did.” She blinked, bit her lip.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Am I?”

He laughed. “Your ‘coy’ isn’t very good—you might need some practice, princess.”

Princess.

He hadn’t called her that since high school. A warm shiver went through her.

“Then maybe I’ll practice on you.”

“You’ve developed a bratty side, you know that?”

She nodded, grinning. “I think you like it.”

“And I think it’s nothing throwing you over my knee and spanking the hell out of you won’t cure.”

“Yes, please,” she said quietly.

He stared at her for several moments, his gray eyes going dark. “Touché.”

They sat quietly staring each other down again, but some of the ice had melted.

Allie leaned toward him, her elbows resting on the table. “So, you’ll email me?”

“I will. And I’ll look over your list, shoot you over any questions I have, send you my list. Then, because you and Jamie are crazy and apparently so am I for agreeing to this, we’ll start the real negotiations. Check your email tonight.” He stood, towering over her. “Don’t think because we’re all old friends that I’ll go easy on you, Allie. That’s not who I am.”

“That’s good. Because asking a Dom to go easy on me is not who I am, either.”

“We’ll see about that.” He paused, his gaze raking her face, her upper body, before coming back to meet hers. “Meanwhile, learn to drop the attitude. Don’t make me show you how.”

She nodded without a word. He cracked the edge of a smile, tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the table, turned and headed for the door.

Allie watched him walk out of the café—actually, saunter was more like it—his shoulders so broad, the way his muscles in his back worked beneath the thin cotton T-shirt. His superb ass.

She realized she was trembling all over, just a small shiver beneath the surface of her skin. Mick was one fine-looking man—all sharp angles and rough exterior, with those glossy eyes, his lush mouth made even more enticing by his evil-looking goatee. And his hair—those wild, loose black curls.

She remembered the way his hair felt in her hands . . .

She let out a small groan.

She was turning into a small puddle right there in the café. If she’d been at home, she would have already dug out her toys.

“God . . .” she murmured under her breath, the heat of desire scorching her system, lighting her up with need.

She had to get home. Had to get into bed with every damn toy she owned and try to work a little of Mick out of her body. Not that it would work, of course. But she had to do something until she got the email from him that would tell her what he wanted her to do.

Hell, she simply had to do something.

She dropped another five on the table, grabbed her purse and left, walking out on shaky legs. She wasn’t sure she could wait until she got home to ease the insistent ache between her thighs.

She waved down a cab as soon as she reached the street. She couldn’t wait for the ambling streetcar today—she was in a hurry. Because if she didn’t get home, get into bed with her vibrator as soon as possible, she was going to explode.

That’s what he did to her. Always had. Probably always would. She had no idea how much more intense, how out of control her desire would be when he was touching her in the way she’d been craving for years. Mick—with his hands rough on her, tying her up, spanking her, paddling her . . . touching her.

She put a hand over her mouth to quiet the moan that escaped.

What had she just gotten herself into? This could be her fondest fantasy come to life. Or it could be that Mick Reid was the one man who was going to push her past her limits, make her—for once—truly lose control.

She was very much afraid of the outcome. She could barely stand the wait before they could begin.

*   *   *

SHE WAS EXHAUSTED by the workout she’d given herself with her toys. Four orgasms later Allie got up, wrapped herself in her pink cotton robe and made herself a cup of coffee in the cottage’s small kitchen. Her legs felt like rubber, and she knew she couldn’t take anymore. But somehow her need was still left unsatisfied.

Somehow . . . because it’s not with Mick.

She’d always known that was an issue for her, no matter her toys, her lovers, the men who dominated her at the clubs. But after seeing him that whole thing had shifted into high gear.

The sun was starting to go down, the light turning misty, touched with shades of pink and orange as it filtered through the sheer curtains above the sink.

Tonight.

Time to check her email.

She sat at the round kitchen table, her heart starting to pound as she opened her laptop. His message was the first one to pop up. She clicked it, saw the words It begins here in the subject line . . . and somehow her elbow hit her coffee mug, spilling the hot liquid onto the table.

“Shit!”

She managed to snatch her laptop and whisk it out of harm’s way before she grabbed the paper towels and wiped up the mess.

“Just breathe, Allie,” she muttered.

She slowly inhaled the soft New Orleans air, then let it out. She moved the laptop back onto the table, sat down and started to read Mick’s email.

Allie-

You and I have known each other a long time. But you’re right—we don’t really know each other anymore, and maybe what we thought we knew was all wrong. It starts here, then—us getting to know each other so we can play safely together, and in a way that satisfies our needs.

I’ve seen your list of kinks and desires, your limits, your maybes. Here is mine. I am of the mind that I don’t need to have every one of my kinks met with any one given playmate. This list is a fairly complete itemization of what interests me. If there is something on it you haven’t considered before but that is a limit for you, let me know. I’ve already told you what I absolutely require—that you always use your safe words if you feel you need to. That you’re honest with me about what’s working for you and what isn’t. That you are completely transparent about any health issues or anything that might act as a negative emotional trigger. Standard stuff for those of us who operate in the Safe, Sane and Consensual community, which it seems you know.

My kinks:

Flogging, paddling, spanking, abrasion play, hot wax, clips/clamps/clothespins, handcuffs, seeing a woman in high heels and lingerie, tearing the lingerie to shreds as I take it off you—probably with my teeth. Did I mention I love biting? Then there’s mind-fuck, pinching, posture collars, corsets, canes, vampire gloves, tickling, vibrators, hair pulling, ice cubes, single-tail whips, and maybe most of all, rope bondage/kinbaku/shibari.

There are some variations, of course, and new kinks that develop along the way, but this is my basic list.

Allie took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse, the heat spreading like wildfire through her system. Her sex was a hot pool of desire. She crossed her legs, found that only made it worse, and uncrossed them.

“Jesus,” she murmured.

It was everything she loved or wanted to try. With Mick attached.

“Tearing the lingerie to shreds as I take it off you . . .”