Meg’s eyes glittered. “Really?”
“Yup. Here, see for yourself.” He turned and stuck his bum out a bit. Pointing at the fleshiest part of his ass, just inside the edge of the chaps, he said, “Go on. Give it a tap.”
“Are you sure?” Meg’s voice was high-pitched and excited.
“Just remember to keep away from the tailbone.”
“Okay.” She brought her hand back and gave the man a light pat on his rear.
“Good job. Now do it harder.”
Meg studied her target as an archer would a bull’s-eye. Then she pulled her hand back and efficiently brought the paddle down on the man’s ass. The leather hit his jeans with a loud whapping sound, as promised.
“Good job,” the man said. “Now really put some oomph into it.”
She did, swinging her arm in a precise arc that ended with a very loud thud.
Smiling, the man straightened. “You’re a natural.”
Meg beamed. “Really?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll take it.”
The man turned to Ruby. “And you, sweetheart? What can I help you find this fine afternoon?”
“Oh. Um. I’m j-just looking.” But her heart was racing and her skin was on fire. Just being surrounded by all this leather put her on edge, had her libido all fired up.
“Let me show you something.” Why don’t you just see how this feels.” Reaching up, he plucked a small black flogger off the wall. “Yeah, this one is real nice.” He winked. “Also, you can put it in your purse. It’s quite portable.”
About eight inches long in total, the handle was wrapped with a leather ribbon, and the flogger had six raw-leather strands and six feather-covered ones.
He took her hand and held it palm up. She watched as he drew the straps slowly, lightly, across her open hand. It felt even more sensual than she had imagined, and as the man continued to wisp the tails across her skin, shivers raced up and down her spine.
“You like this one.”
She nodded; her mouth was too dry to speak.
He released her and held out his arm, forearm up. “But it has a nice little sting, too.” Slap. With an expert flick of his wrist he snapped the flogger against his own skin. He did this three more times in quick succession and then stopped. They all watched as a pink welt appeared on his arm.
Ruby smiled. “Wrap it up. I’ll take it.”
Chapter
Nine
Mark had been calling and texting her every day, and then on Saturday, nothing. Now it was Sunday, and Ruby went about her morning as she always did. Woke up early. Took a long jog through Golden Gate Park. Stopped at the grocery store for her weekly provisions.
Her sudden craving for Ben & Jerry’s had absolutely nothing to do with Mark. Definitely not. She had no idea why she’d thrown the carton into her basket as she’d zipped down the frozen-foods aisle. At least she’d been able to resist the chocolate ice cream and had gone straight for the vanilla. If she bought the chocolate, she’d eate the entire pint. Best to stay away all together.
She wasn’t disappointed he hadn’t called her. The marks on her ass had faded now, and she was thinking it would be best to avoid any more of the BDSM stuff. It was like chocolate: She needed of all it or nothing. And yeah, so far, the all thing hadn’t worked out so well. There was just something too intense, too vulnerable about it. Falling for a guy like Mark would be so much more powerful than falling for a vanilla guy. Therefore, when Mark left—and his type always did—it would be extra painful.
She was home now, staring out the bay window. But she suddenly needed something, and the ice cream was calling her name. In the kitchen, she yanked the freezer door open and pulled out the carton. Leaning back against her kitchen counter, she spooned in a heaping mouthful.
With a start, she looked at the spoon. She never ate ice cream out of the carton. What had gotten into her?
Her kitchen phone rang, making her jump. Along with the cherry-print wallpaper and green Formica countertops, the phone was vintage, and when it rang it was louder than a fire truck’s siren.
“Hello?” she said, for some reason uneasy.
“Ruby, it’s Mark.”
The spoon clattered to the floor. “Mark?”
“Yeah. Remember me?”
“Barely,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “How did you get my home number?”
“I have my ways.”
“Hmm.”
“Right. So, listen. I was thinking we could take a drive this afternoon.”
“When did you get back to San Francisco?”
“Today.”
“I see.” He hadn’t mentioned exactly when he was returning in any of their conversations.