Destined for the Dom(13)

Deep in thought, she raced up the stairs. Not watching where she was going, she ran headlong into him. The sexy smell of leather, and freshly washed skin, filled her nostrils. Hunter wore a pair of tight leather jeans, complemented by an open leather waistcoat.

She could clearly see the muscle definition, sculpting his naked chest, giving him the appearance of a Greek God. Her pussy moistened with intense sexual arousal when she noticed his nipples were pierced. Tribal tattoos flowed down his arms, tapering out at his wrists. They made him appear even more dangerous. What would it feel like to submit to his will?

“Careful, Peaches.” His deep, sexy voice rumbled as he set her carefully to one side, and continued on his way. God, his tight butt looked delicious with the black leather stretched erotically across it. Every fluid movement he made as he took the stairs two at a time sent her hormones screaming.

“Have fun,” she called after him, trying to sound lighthearted.

“I always do.” He flashed her a sexy grin as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and headed for the door.

Phew, he’s so Goddamn hot.

Even after a long cool shower, she couldn’t shake the image of Hunter from her mind. He reminded her of the hero in the erotic novel she was reading. Only, Hunter was far more Alpha male than the guy in her book. He was a real flesh-and-blood man, and she was in no doubt he would be pleasuring the women at Club Submission tonight. A sinking feeling centered low in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about Hunter with other women. She reluctantly recognized her emotions as jealousy and envy.

Feeling sexually frustrated, Zoë slipped on her sheer black negligee. It was made of finest Italian silk, and she always felt sexy as hell when she wore it. Needing something to distract her from what Hunter was doing, she took her Kindle from the bedside table, and switched it on. Maybe the hero and heroine in her book could finally get it together?

After twenty minutes of reading and rereading the same sex scene, Zoë tossed the e-reader to one side. Her efforts to distract herself were failing miserably. All she could think about was Hunter, and how he was dominating some sub at his club. Knowing his playroom was just down the hallway, she wondered if he’d bring a girl back home to play. The very idea of hearing another woman in the throes of ecstasy unsettled her. It should be me.

The more she thought about his playroom, the more curious she became. This was the first time she’d been left alone in his house. Perhaps it was the ideal opportunity to check it out.

Zoë giggled to herself as she suddenly jumped from the bed. The playroom turned her on, but it also frightened her, too. Maybe if she took a closer look, it would give her a better understanding of his exciting lifestyle.

Barefoot, she padded along the hall to the playroom. Hunter had expressly ordered her never to enter without his permission. She smiled to herself—while the cat was away, the mouse would play. She turned the handle and slowly pushed open the door. The light switch was just inside, and she flicked it on. Just like the first time she’d seen it, the room appeared atmospheric and forbidding.

After closing the door behind her, Zoë moved further into the playroom, tentatively trailing her fingertips over the pieces of bondage furniture. The feel of leather, wood, and cool steel heightened her awareness of what the room had been created for—sexual pleasure and domination.

She skimmed her hands across his impressive collection of canes, floggers, and whips. Each sported the same black leather handle, with his initials HB embossed on the crown. She figured they’d been made especially for him, at some considerable cost.

One particular tool of correction caught her attention. Spirals of leather circled a peg. When she lifted it from its mounting, it unraveled, like the coils of a huge angry snake. Surely it must be over eight feet in length. It felt heavy in her hand as she raised it several times trying to crack the whip. It reminded her of the one that Indiana Jones was so fond of.

Scary.

The breath hitched in her throat when she thought she heard the front door open, and then close again. She stood motionless for what seemed an eternity, trying to decide whether the noise was for real, or just a figment of her overactive imagination. Hunter had only been gone an hour. Surely he wouldn’t return home so soon? It couldn’t be him. Could it?

When she heard the stairs creak, Zoë backed instinctively into the corner of the playroom. Shit. It is Hunter. Did he know she was in here? Holding her breath, she heard his footsteps in the hallway. The sound lessened as he moved further away, and she slowly released the air from her lungs. Fuck, that was close.

Her relief was short-lived when she heard his footsteps return. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What will he do to me? His shadow drifted under the door, blocking the light from the hall, and she knew he stood motionless on the other side, listening for the slightest sound from her. When she saw the handle slowly begin to turn, her heart spurted adrenaline around her body, initiating a fight-or-flight response.