This will be my last excerpt from this book, as it's finished and I really don't want to give too much away. If you enjoy it, please be on the look out for the boxed set sometime in late December. It's truly a great deal, with myself and four AMAZINGLY talented, best-selling authors all taking part. :D
"What's your poison?" Trev moved aside once they had reached the bar, allowing her to speak directly to the bartender.
"Wait," the girl said, "hold your arm under this."
"What's that?" Silver asked, as a scanner was run over her wrist.
"She's checking to make sure you haven't had any drinks yet today. Can't have you taking leave of your senses." Reaching out, he took a lock of her hair and twirled it casually. "Very pretty."
"Thank you. Um. Can I have a glass of red, please? Merlot? Or maybe a Pinot if you have it?" Silver stammered to the girl behind the bar, trying to ignore the little jolts of electricity his touch was shooting directly to her scalp.
"Which do you prefer? We have both."
The glass, when it arrived, was disappointingly small. "That's it?"
"You shoulda ordered something stronger," he said with a grin.
"A Long Island iced tea. Lots of bang for your buck there, in every sense of the word."
"This is fine, thank you." Silver let the girl stamp her arm and took a deep, grateful swallow, wondering how the hell she was meant to get through the evening sober.
"Well they wouldn't want you barfing up on stage," Trev said, as though he could read her mind.
She chuckled. "Barfing. So American."
"Why? What do you call it?"
"We have lots of words for it, but barfing isn't one of them. Puking is probably one of the most common expressions." Well isn't this a sexy conversation, she thought ruefully. It was a moment before she realised that he was staring at her. "What?"
"You have such an adorable accent," he said slowly, "I was just wondering what you sound like when you're begging to be allowed to come."
Silver nearly dropped her precious wine. Breathe. Fucking breathe!
"Do you have a name?"
"Pretty. Like your hair," he mused, once again reaching out to gently tug one of the strands closest to her breast.
"And you?" she croaked, desperately trying to regain some self-control. "I never caught your name."
"You can call me whatever you like, baby. Trevor, Sir, Master, Daddy," he shrugged. "Shoot, you could probably call me Dickwad and it would sound hot in that accent."
"Shall we try it?"
"Feel free." His eyes narrowed suddenly and her heart dropped into her stomach. "But there would be consequences if you did."
He's like a predator, she decided, and I'm the prey. This is how a zebra feels when it realises a lion has just spotted it. Only I very much doubt that the zebra would be creaming itself at the same time. "Consequences?" She was careful to keep her voice as casual as possible, desperate not to bely her arousal.
He gestured around him. "We're in a BDSM club, sweetheart. You're a little subbie girl, I'm a sadist and a Dominant. What do you think the consequences would be if you insulted me?"
She forced herself to focus on the drink in her hand rather than the pulse beating directly between her thighs. "A spanking, I suppose," she muttered.
"Wrong." He chuckled before leaning in to whisper, his breath warming her ear. "Only good girls get spanked."