HOTNESS FINALE

NINE: ISABELLA
Cam’s call fills me with excitement. And it’s not just the distraction from real life problems.
It’s him. When I get back to the apartment, the doorman is packing the foyer with a huge
assortment of shopping bags and boxes.
“Is this all for me?” I blink.
“Yes, miss. Mr. McCullough said to let him know if you need anything else..”
He exits, leaving me alone with what looks like a department store’s worth of shopping.
Eagerly, I dive in. Boxes, bags, and more. One by one, I unpack the goodies. Cashmere sweaters,
silk dresses, leather purses and the latest shoes and fashions from Stella McCartney, Prada and
Dior. Tucked in layers of tissue paper, I find a mini fur satchel from Fendi and a super-soft
crocodile slouch bag from Gucci.
There are bags full of make-up from the best designer labels. Everything a girl could need:
velvety eye shadows, lip glosses, foundation and powders. Skincare products, haircare and even
perfumes. Cam’s thought of everything, and more than that, it’s just my taste, too. It’s like he can
tell what I want just by looking at me.
Looking around, I wonder for the first time how he can afford all of this. Not just the
shopping, but the apartment, the car, the designer suits in his closet. It doesn’t seem like he grew
up wealthy. I don’t know much about his background in Scotland, but I know how to tell when
someone’s born filthy rich. He isn’t one of them.
No, Cam is a self-made man. My father must have paid him generously, and running the
company now must command a hefty price tag. It’s obvious he earned this lifestyle with hard
work.
“Unlike you,” sneers a cruel voice in my head. “You didn’t earn a single thing.”
I push the voice aside and start carrying things through to the guest room walk-in closet. I
wonder if Cam chose everything himself or just gave my sizes to a personal shopper. Either way,
their taste is impeccable.
Turning my attention to tonight, I try to decide what to wear. There are several gowns I could
choose from; the problem is, I can’t decide which. There’s a pink gown with a high neckline, a
flirty cocktail dress in bright colors, and an eye-catching black number with a tight bustier and
thigh-high slit.
I lay them out, wondering which Cam would like. What kind of woman does he want? If I
knew, I could mold myself into her, play pretend the way I’ve done for years. Make him want me
—the me I was faking at being.
There’s one more garment bag, so light it feels empty. Unzipping it, I find a simple, classic,
white gown. No fussy details, just a column of clean silk.
I slide it over my head. It fits perfectly, the fabric caressing my body like a lover’s touch.
Like I wish Cam would touch me, if only he’d stop pushing me away.
I sigh. Maybe it’s pathetic to wish he’d want me, but I can’t forget the way he makes me feel,
so alive. It’s tormenting to feel that way and know he doesn’t feel the same.
My phone buzzes. Brent again. The voicemails are piling up in my inbox, but I delete them
without even listening. I’m not going to think about him.
It’s nearly time for the car to pick me up, so I quickly settle at the makeup table and set to
work painting my face. Red lipstick, smoky eyes and long, sweeping lashes: makeup has always
been my armor, a way to hide how I really feel.
The buzzer rings. I’m going to be late. Dashing to the door, I grab a jeweled evening bag and
check myself in the mirror one last time.
My heart sinks. I love the simple elegance of the dress, but I don’t recognize the woman
staring back at me.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind. It’s how I spend every day of my life: dressing up like the
woman I’m supposed to be.
But not tonight.
A strange part of me wants Cam to see who I really am. To be honest with him, the way I
never have before. I wonder if he’d even like it, but there’s only one way to find out.
I grab a tissue from the bathroom and quickly wipe off my face. No eyeshadow, no blusher.
The waterproof mascara stays, and I add a soft red lip stain to keep from looking totally washed
out.
There.
I stare at myself again, but this time, it’s not a lie reflected back at me.
It’s just me.
The door buzzes again, and there’s no time left to decide. I grab my purse and go.
I head to the fundraiser straight from work. I keep a collection of suits and tuxedos in my
office for just this kind of event. It’s part of the job. The invitation says ‘a benefit for women in
the arts,’ but nobody is there for the charity: they’re all networking and making connections with
politicians, executives, and other powerful people.
I was out of my depth when I first started attending these things. But as I rose through the
ranks of the company, Ashcroft made a point of inviting me to more and more of them. “You
never know when you’ll need a favor or a friendly face,” he told me, and he was right. I’ve
closed several multi-million dollar deals over hors d’oeuvres at charity galas, or negotiated an
important clause in a trade negotiation on the racquetball court.
Still, as I cut through the crowd towards the bar, I can’t help wishing I was at home tonight.
Having dinner with Isabelle—alone.
“Cameron, good to see you.” A business acquaintance greets me, and suddenly I’m pulled
into a conversation about the company’s latest deal. I’m glad. I need the distraction to keep my
mind off Isabelle. I’ve already wasted too much time thinking about her. I need to remember, she
doesn’t belong in my dark, twisted world.
“Now, now, enough business talk.” The man’s wife joins him. She slips a hand through his
arm and smiles at me. “Going stag again, Cameron? We need to fix that.”
I shrug it off with a chuckle. “You know this is work for me.”
“All work and no play,” she scolds me, and I remember what Dax said at the club about
needing a companion for these things. I have to admit, he’s got a point. Every man here has a
date: wives and girlfriends all clustered together gossiping. I stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s
not enough to change my mind.
I keep my life totally separated. At least I did, until Isabelle. She’s the first person to trespass
between my worlds at the club and out here. The only woman to come close to uncovering my
secret.
I’m playing with fire, insisting that she stay with me, but I have no choice. As long as she
follows my rules and keeps what happened at the club off-limits, I should be fine. Just a few
more days for her to get back on her feet, and our paths never have to cross again.
The thought should be a comfort, but instead, it makes me angry.
Suddenly, the men I’m talking to fall silent. A couple of jaws drop open. “What’s the big
event?” I ask, turning.
My words die in my throat.
It’s Isabelle.
She’s decked out in a simple white gown, cut low in front and back. Her sparkling Louboutin
stiletto heels flash with each step, and showcase her long toned legs and swaying hips. Her hair
falls in soft blond waves, framing her beautiful face. She looks stunning: natural and elegant, like
she’s not wearing a lick of makeup. Every man and woman in the room follows her with lust or
envy in their gaze as she crosses the floor towards me.
I want her. She reaches my side and slips her hand through my arm. “Hi,” she breathes, with
a shy smile. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“That’s fine,” I murmur. “This is Isabelle Ashcroft,” I introduce her to the group. She greets
them with a smile and familiar words, but I can’t take my eyes off her. The fabric of her dress
clings to her firm breasts and slides around her narrow waist.
Damn, she’s perfect.
Suddenly, I crave her so much it hurts. The feel of her bare ass cupped in my hands as I kiss
her pale throat. Her moans of agonized pleasure as I tease her to the edge of orgasm, her
delicious cunt dripping its sweet juices down her thighs.
It’s a good thing we’re in public right now. If we were alone, I’d rip apart the thin straps
holding up her gown. Bend her over, push her thighs apart with my knees. Nudge my cock
against her swollen cunt until she begged for me to—
“Cam?” Isabelle squeezes my arm, pulling me back to reality. I blink.
“Excuse us,” I say quickly, flashing a grin. “I think my friend here needs a drink.”
I steer her away from them, trying to smother my rampaging lust. “Did my assistant order
everything you need?” I ask crisply.
“Yes,” Isabelle replies. “But the clothes, the shoes, it’s too much. You shouldn’t have,” she
adds.
“I wanted to.” I told my shoppers that no expense should be spared. A woman like Isabelle is
used to luxury.
“Thank you,” she replies quietly.
“What about Brent?” I demand. “Has he tried to contact you?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Isabelle avoids the question. That must mean yes.
I feel a surge of anger, but there’s a shadow on her face, and I don’t want to press the issue when
we’re in a crowd, so I just turn to the bartender and order us champagne.
Another power couple approaches us, all glitter and fake smiles. “Isabelle, darling!” the
woman screeches. She’s dripping with diamonds, her chest so tight and perky that it has to be
fake. “Where have you been? You missed Bitsy’s luncheon last week and Mimi’s handbag trunk
show on the weekend.”
I tense, ready to step in and cover for her, but Isabelle places a hand on my arm. “Sweetie,”
she laughs, adopting a syrupy tone I’ve never heard. “I just needed some me-time. You know it
gets so hectic, keeping up the schedule.”
The woman laughs, and just like that, Isabelle is transformed. Suddenly, she’s the ultimate
socialite, air kissing them both and making small talk as if she actually cares about Preston’s golf
handicap or Bunny’s interior design re-do. And that’s just the beginning. People flock around her
like moths to a flame. I don’t have to do anything except smile and nod, but with Isabelle at my
side, I’m suddenly the most envied man in the room.
This is a side to her I’ve never seen: vivacious and funny, full of bubbly energy. If I hadn’t
seen her, pale and shocked last night, I would think she didn’t have a care in the world.
I wonder, just how long has she been pretending?
“See you in the Hamptons!” Isabelle coos, waving off another filthy-rich couple. I sigh in
relief. They may have been boring as hell, but they’re paying twenty thousand dollars to charity
for the chance to mingle here tonight.
She turns back to me and gives a rueful smile. “I need another drink.”
I’m beginning to see, it’s all just an act to her. The effortless socializing. The glossy socialite
routine. She’s not the person everyone thinks she is. She’s so much more.
“Who are you, really?” I ask, handing her a glass of Dom Perignon.
“Whoever you want me to be,” she shoots back, smiling.
I want to keep that smile on her beautiful face.
“Hmm...” I can’t resist teasing. “A stewardess? A naughty nurse?”
Isabelle shrugs. “Anything or anyone. I’m a chameleon. I have many talents.” She sips her
drink.
Her gaze has clouded over now, and that’s when it hits me: she’s tired of this. Tired of
pretending to be what everyone else wants her to be, pretending to be someone she’s not.
Instinctively, my hand drops to the small of her back, bare above the draped fabric of her dress. I
lean in and speak softly to her.
“And what if I just want you? The real Isabelle?” I see a flush rising in her cheeks, but I can’t
stop myself from continuing. “What about her talents?”
Isabelle smiles again but it’s different this time—there’s a new sparkle in her eye. “You
haven’t even begun to discover them.”
I like this side of her. Flirty, daring. Real.
“In that case, what would I need to do to see these talents in action?” I press.
“Hmm,” she says, batting her long eyelashes. “I can think of a few things…”
Jesus, so can I.
A waiter bustles past, and Isabelle steps closer to let him by. Her body presses against my
side. Hot. Irresistible. Her skin soft and supple under my grip.
I slide my hand lower down her back, until my fingertips slip just beneath her dress. They
rest there, inches above the swell of her pert ass. I dream about grabbing it tight, clutching those
hips as I piston into her from behind.
Spanking her. Teasing her. Showing her the exquisite line between pleasure and pain.
Isabelle doesn’t move away. She turns her face to me, those wide blue eyes gazing up at me,
questioning. Awaiting my next move.
What will it be?
I clench my jaw. Dammit. I’m hard as a rock now, from just one touch of her body.
Surrounded by people, desperate to bury myself between those velvet thighs. I’ve never
responded to a woman this way.
I love and loathe it in equal measure. But I know it’s all wrong. I won’t do this.
“I’ll be right back,” I snap, pulling my hand away. I register hurt in her eyes before I stride
across the room. I find the bathroom and duck inside, running ice-cold water over my hands until
the bulge in my pants subsides.
Pull yourself together.
I stare grimly at my reflection. This isn’t who I am. My life is neat, organized. Regimented.
There’s the man I am when I’m at work, in the public eye. Cool, calm and collected. And there’s
the man I am when I’m at the club or in the privacy of my own home.
Home. I think of the secret room at the top of the stairs. I made sure to double-check that the
door was locked before I went to bed last night. The last thing I want is for Isabelle to discover
what I’m hiding in there.
She looked so terrified at the Underground when Brent and that other jerk were working her
over. There’s no way she would ever want to try that again. I can just imagine the look on her
face if she knew the truth. Exactly which activities I enjoyed behind closed doors. But I know a
classy, normal girl like Isabelle…she would be disgusted.
The thought of her disgust keeps my desire in check. I head back out to the party. I find
Isabelle laughing gaily at some stuffed-shirt’s stupid joke. She puts her hand on his arm and he
puffs up with pride.
I arrive at them and take her arm. “It’s time to go.”
The man with her takes one look at me and quickly excuses himself. Smart guy.
Isabelle gives me a stubborn look. “Maybe I’m not ready to leave.”
Does she really want to go flirt with that guy some more? I’m jealous as hell, but I know I
have no right to be. Still, I’m not going to stick around and watch it.
“I’m leaving,” I say sharply. “You can do whatever you want.”
Isabelle blinks, startled at my response, and right away, I feel shitty for snapping at her.
“I’ll come with you,” she says quickly. Then she pauses. “Is everything OK?”
“I’m fine!” I insist, turning away. What is it about her that gets me so worked up?
I walk briskly to the exit. I wonder if I should have left her here to her own devices, but no,
just the thought of her turning that million-dollar smile on another man makes me tense with
rage.
The ride home is strained and silent. Isabelle sits on the opposite side of the backseat, pressed
against the door. Even with the space between us, her presence is overwhelming. Her spicy,
floral perfume, the glow of the streetlights on her soft skin. It’s torture being inches away from
her sexy body, naked under that clinging dress, and knowing I can never do anything about it.
She’s off-limits. Completely.
I’m angry at myself for the way I behaved toward her earlier, but the anger does nothing to
curb my desire—and my internal struggle only succeeds in making me even more tense.
By the time we reach the house, I’m at the limits of my self-control. I tell Isabelle I’ve got
work to do, and head for my office to get some escape, but she steps in front of me, blocking my
path.
“You still haven’t told me what you were doing at the Underground.”
I flinch at the question. “I told you, it’s none of your business.”
But she seems determined to wring an answer out of me.
“It’s members only,” she presses. “So that means you were someone’s guest, like me, or that
you’re a member. Which is it?” Isabelle demands.
She’s breathing fast now, her chest heaving against the draped silk fabric with every breath.
Dammit. Can’t she see she’s playing with fire? I clench my fists at my sides to keep from
reaching for her. “What I do in my private life is not your business,” I scowl. “We are not going
to discuss it. End of conversation.”
“It’s not the end of a conversation until I agree,” she says stubbornly.
“Dammit, Isabelle!” I explode. “If you don’t stop pushing me…” I stop, dangerously close to
losing control.
“Then what?” she asks. “What are you going to do? Bend me over your knee and spank me?”
A sexy little smile plays across her lips. Or am I imagining it? Either way, it’s too late.
The image she’s painted slams through my mind. Her round ass, mottled red with my
handprint. Her whimpers of pleasure as I take her over the edge.
It’s too much.
The animal in me takes over. Growling, I push her up against the wall and claim her mouth
with mine. I expect her to push me away or hold back, but instead, she meets me hungrily, her
lips searching and bold. She melts against me, moaning. Ready to be taken.
Dominated.
The kiss in the bathtub was steamy and sensuous, but this is wild and hot. I devour her,
crazed by a hunger I can’t hold back any longer. I yank her dress down to her waist, squeezing
and palming her ripe breasts.
“Cam,” she moans, her head falling back, her back arching, thrusting her body closer.
I tear my lips from hers and lower my head, sucking one tight nipple into my mouth and
grazing my teeth against the tender nub. Her body flinches, but another moan slips from her lips
and I’m certain now: she wants this, wants me. I feel a sharp rush of lust. I need her.
Isabelle writhes against me. She reaches for my cock, but I grab her hand before she can
touch me. I’ll explode, and I refuse to show such a pathetic lack of self-control.
“Put your hands over your head,” I snarl. She obeys immediately. Her body trembles, eager
and ready for my touch. Craving release.
I keep my gaze fixed on hers as I slide a hand between her thighs and cup her pussy. She
gasps, her eyes flooding with desire as I press my finger against her clit. I stroke it teasingly,
lightly then harder, faster before pulling away.
She keens beneath me, panting and moaning with pleasure. Every whimper from those juicy
lips makes me harder. God, she’s so responsive. So willing to surrender to me. It’s like she wants
me to take control of her, command her to do my bidding.
With a jolt, I realize: Isabelle would make the perfect sub.
No.
I tear away from her with a growl. It’s impossible. Every moment I spend with her will only
make it worse when she turns away. I can never give her what she needs, and she’ll only hate me
when she discovers the truth.
“This was a mistake.” I force myself not to look at her. “I’m sorry. Forget it ever happened.”
I walk away before she can say anything to change my mind.
What just happened?
I sink back against the wall. Every part of me throbs with a deep longing I’ve never known
before. I stumble down the hallway to my guest bedroom, feeling dazed. I don’t understand it.
One minute we’re in each other’s arms, locked in a hot, passionate kiss and the next…he’s
heading up the stairs and slamming the door shut behind him.
I’m sure he wants me. I can see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. We’re so hot for each
other, we’re practically combustible. So why does he keep pushing me away?
I can’t figure it out. Reading men was a skill I figured out early, to keep me out of trouble.
Usually, they’re an open book. But Cam is hiding something—something that makes him pull
away. And the more his secret eats at him, the more determined I am to uncover it.
When Cam touches me, it’s electric. I’ve never felt so turned on in my life. I was more
aroused in that single moment in the hallway than I’ve ever been before with anyone else.
Especially Brent. Cam’s mastery of my body just makes Brent look like a clumsy fool.
I want more.
God, I can feel myself ache for him. I’m wet, desperate to feel Cam’s mouth on my clit, his
warm tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.
My heart is racing. I can’t take this anymore. I need to know what he’s hiding.
I head back down the hallway and up the stairs. The door is shut, but when I turn the door
handle, it opens. Unlocked.
I catch my breath. What is he keeping up here?
I step through the door.
What I find makes me stop in my tracks. It’s a huge glass atrium, set like a glittering jewel in
the middle of the city lights. Neon shines through the windows like stars but that’s not what
makes my pulse kick.
I don’t know what I’m looking at.
The carpet is plush, black beneath my feet. There are shelves and racks set up around the
edge of the room, and in the center stands a tall, black-framed bed made up with crimson silk
sheets and plump cushions.
It looks luxurious. Decadent. Sinful.
I move deeper into the room and take a closer look. I realize that I’ve seen racks like this
before, at the Underground club: rows of paddles like the kind Brent spanked me with. Some are
leather, some studded with shiny silver prongs. Multi-colored leather whips and floggers hang
from another rack.
On the far side of the room, there’s an open shelving unit filled with elegant wooden and
embroidered Japanese boxes. I slide a couple out and peek inside. They’re filled with a variety of
cuffs, restraints, ropes, blindfolds, gags, and even sex toys and lube.
My pulse races faster. What is this place? I should be shocked, I know, but I’m weirdly,
wildly excited by it all. Picking up a shiny metal dildo, I flick the small switch. It buzzes to life
in my hand, sending a dirty thrill racing through me. I have a sudden image of myself on the bed,
my legs spread wide, bringing myself to a delicious orgasm while Cam watches everything—
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
Cam’s voice comes, furious. I spin around. Shit. He’s standing in the doorway to another
room, his face as cold as steel.
“I was just… looking for you.” I quickly put the dildo back. “What is this place?”
“Get out.” He glares, stalking toward me. In the dim light, he looks like he matches the
surroundings: a dark figure in this mysterious, sexy place. Suddenly, I realize that this isn’t just
for fantasy and show. This hidden room matters to him: enough to keep it a closely guarded
secret, and stock it with all these toys.
He belongs here.
I feel a flicker of nerves, but I force myself to stand firm. I need to know the truth. “Is this
what you’ve been hiding from me?” I demand. “The reason you’ve been pushing me away?”
Cam scowls at me, eyes blazing. His whole body is rigid with tension, like he’s struggling to
restrain himself. From what, I wonder? Another passionate kiss?
“Tell me,” I demand again, sick of being in the dark. “I want to know.”
For a moment, I think I’ve pushed him too far. Then he exhales with a groan. “I tried to keep
it from you. I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Cam turns away, his face dark. “You can go now.
I’ll book a hotel suite for you,” he continues, his voice sounding ragged. “You can stay there as
long as you need to.”
I fold my arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Challenging Cam with a stare, I move toward the shelf and open another box.
I recognize a few of the items from the Underground, but Cam has a much more extensive
collection. At the club, tucked in those dark rooms with music blaring and dangerous strangers
all around me, I’d been afraid. But here, in this beautiful room where I can tell each item has
been chosen with precision and care, my anxiety melts away and becomes something else
entirely.
Excitement. Desire. I stroke a slender, black leather collar with a silver ring fixed to the front.
I hold it up to my neck, wondering what it would be used for.
Cam makes a choking sound. A muscle throbs in his jaw. Tense and raw. I catch the look of
pure lust in his eyes, and suddenly, it all makes sense.
He wants me. This. The strange tools and exotic accessories—and everything they represent.
My heart pounds as I look at him. “You’re into this, aren’t you? That’s why you were at the
club that night.” I look around, trying to understand. Cam seems a million miles away from the
cruel actions of Brent and the way he treated me, but they’re the same thing, aren’t they?
“Is it…? Is it like what Brent did to me?” I ask, my heart sinking.
Cam shakes his head angrily. “We’re nothing alike.”
“So explain,” I ask softly. “Show me what you mean.”
Cam steps up to me and gently takes the collar from my hand. I expect him to put it away and
tell me to leave again, but instead he unbuckles the metal clasp. He weighs it a moment in his
hand, like he’s deciding something. Then, slowly, he brings it up to my neck.
He slips the leather around my throat, softly caressing my skin. I shiver.
“What Brent did to you…it has no place here.” His voice is low, and full of emotion. “He’s a
brute, an animal. I promise you, I’m nothing like that.”
“I know,” I whisper. Something flares in his eyes. But then he pulls the collar away, steps
back.
“This room, though.” He gestures around anguished. “I know you must think—”
“You don’t know.” I grab his arm, frustrated now. “You don’t know anything about me. Why
are you so determined to push me away without giving me a chance to understand?”
Cam stares back at me. I let go of his arm, wondering if I’ve gone too far.
But then, slowly, he brings the collar back up. I stand, ready and waiting, as he fastens it
around my neck. He tests the tightness with a final tug and it sends a shock of lust straight
through me. When he turns my body around I see a mirror hanging on a post—with our
reflection in it.
“I’ve dreamed about you wearing my collar since the day we met,” he murmurs, his voice
growling low in my ear.
Another bolt of liquid heat shoots through my body and pools between my thighs. He’s so
close to me, I can smell the faint scent of his cologne. Feel the powerful, masculine heat of his
skin.
I gaze at our reflection now: at his strong hands resting so gently on my skin. Power
restrained. I realize, he could do anything right now. I would be entirely at his mercy.
The thought thrills me. A strange new desire pounding deep in my veins.
“My relationships are completely consensual,” Cam says, watching me in the mirror.
“Always. There may be force, there may be pain, but only if they agree. I only dominate my
women with their total consent.”
I hang onto every word as he explains, amazed at how turned on I’m getting. He strokes my
hair back from my face, teasing his fingertips down my jaw, and lower, to my throat. He hooks
one finger through the ring on the collar. Toying with me. Teasing me.
I tremble at his touch.
Cam continues, “The relationship between a sub and her dom is about trust. I will find your
limits and push past them to a place of total surrender. A master teaches his sub to relinquish all
control, to forget the rules she’s learned and the expectations to fake and please someone else.”
His voice deepens, grows raw with lust. Still, his eyes are fixed on my reflection in the
mirror. I can’t look away.
“The women who are invited to visit this room are ready to abandon any pretense of power
and give themselves up to total physical pleasure,” Cam murmurs, pressing his body against my
back. I can feel him, the hard muscle of his body, and the thick ridge of his cock pressing against
my ass. “In giving up control, they find something far sweeter. Total freedom. Complete
surrender.”
I sink back against him, dizzy with desire. Cam is right. This is nothing like my experiences
with Brent. He was always way more concerned with his own orgasm than mine. And instead of
feeling safe, I felt exposed. Intimidated.
But Cam…I can already tell, he means every word he says. My pleasure would be the only
thing that matters. My surrender, his goal.
I would be safe with him.
“If I was your sub, what would you do to me?” I glance around the room, overwhelmed by
the possibilities. “Tie me up? Blindfold me? Whip me with one of those floggers?”
My nipples harden at the strange thought. I’ve never done anything like this before, never felt
the burn of curiosity and craving like this. But I love it.
Cam leans close, and his lips brush my ear. “So much more, my sweetheart. You can’t
imagine the heights of desire I’d take you to.”
His hands skim lightly over my front, grazing my pebbled nipples, sweeping over my
sensitive skin.
“Together we’d strip away all of your defenses, one by one, until you trust me completely. I’d
teach you what it means to want someone so much it hurts. To need them so much you can’t
think straight and all you can do is surrender,” he murmurs, tracing lower, lower.
My head sinks back against his shoulder, but he reaches up with one hand and tugs the collar,
forcing my head back up—so I have no choice but to watch us in the mirror, see every touch and
move he’s making.
God, it’s so hot, I can’t stand it. My body throbs with need. He rests his fingertips lightly
against the apex of my thighs, and I gasp, thrusting against his hand. “By the time I’m through
with you, you won’t be able to hear my voice without wanting to come,” Cam vows, stroking
harder. I whimper in his arms.
“You’ll love every minute of it,” he promises. “The exquisite suffering of knowing that you
can’t give in to the pleasure until I say you can.”
“Yes,” I gasp, thrusting against his hand. I’m getting close, God, just from the gentle sweep
of his fingers on my clit and the unfamiliar pressure at my neck. “Show me,” I beg him. “I want
to experience it all. I want this…Master.”
Suddenly, with that one word, a change comes over Cam. The dark fog of sensuality and
power clears from his face. He releases me, stepping away.
“That will never happen,” he says, his voice brusque now. “You wanted to know what I do in
my private life, and in this room. Well, now I’ve told you. But you aren’t ready for this,
Isabelle.”
I love the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth. Like it has great meaning to him.
But I hate what he’s saying. Why won’t he give me a chance?
He deftly unbuckles the collar from my neck, tosses it in the box.
He looks at me and I know I see regret in his eyes, but it doesn’t change a thing: he still
leaves me standing there alone, stunned and shaking with desire and wanting him.

TEN: CAM
I storm out of the apartment, knowing I can’t spend another minute under the same roof as
her. Not when she’s standing in the middle of my playroom with that intrigued look on her face.
Fuck.
I take the elevator to the parking garage and pick one of my cars, a custom Aston Martin. I
drive out to the street so fast the tires screech, wrenching the wheel with pent-up anger and
frustration.
Isabelle doesn’t know what she’s saying. She can’t. She thinks this is all just fun and games,
but she’s an innocent in my dark world and she has no idea what she’s dealing with.
Who I am when the lights are off, and the doors are shut, and there’s nothing holding me
back from the desires I have…if she saw that, if she knew that man…
She wouldn’t call me Master so lightly.
I’m wound too tight to focus, so I drive to the only place that can offer me some relief
tonight. The Underground. The valet takes my car and I storm inside, brushing off the
concierge’s offer to help me find my partner for the night. I already know exactly what I want. A
beautiful blonde woman, with long legs, a sultry face and juicy red lips. Maybe if I can get this
hunger for Isabelle out of my system, I can stop it destroying me from the inside out.
I find Dax in the VIP lounge, a drink in his hand and a curvaceous redhead on his arm. “This
is Suzie,” he smiles. “She’s new to the club, and she brought a friend.” He nods to the woman
beside them on the couch.
“Hi,” the woman smiles, eyeing me up and down with obvious approval. “We’ve just been
saying, I need someone to show me around. I’m ready to learn the ropes.”
She’s blonde, gorgeous, and a first-timer: everything I was looking for tonight. But staring at
her, I can’t help but think of Isabelle. The way my collar looked around her delicate throat. The
way her body responded to my every touch. That irresistible combination of innocence and
desire.
“Perhaps another time,” I say smoothly. “Enjoy your night.”
Dax sends me a questioning look, but I ignore it and head out to the club’s main floor.
There’s a restless hunger in my blood, a pent-up lust from the past day with Isabelle. I need
release. Soon.
I make a slow tour of the club, not even sure what I’m looking for. There are plenty of dropdead
sexy women here, but no one appeals to me. Maybe I just need some inspiration. I get
another drink and select one of the private viewing rooms to watch the couple inside.
I draw the curtains back on the two-way mirror and survey the scene. A pretty brunette
woman is laying on her belly on the bed as her dom wraps red, silken ropes around her ankles
and hands, pulling them tight. They’re practicing Shibari, an exquisite form of rope bondage that
originated in Japan. She’s silent as her master ties intricate knots in the ropes and tightens her
bonds.
It’s beautiful and very sexy. But even though they’re putting on a good show, I can’t help but
envision Isabelle there on that bed. Ropes striping her delicate flesh. A gag in her mouth,
obedient and totally compliant. Eager to heed my every command.
My cocks stirs but the heat dies quickly. It will never happen.
Despite what Isabelle said, despite what she thinks she wants, her lust will turn to revulsion
once she realizes what she was really asking for. She isn’t like the women I meet here at the club
—she’s pure. And I know I’ll see the disgust in her eyes the next time she looks at me.
God, I never should have shown her that room. But a part of me wondered what would
happen, if she could see it all and understand. The darkness and need that have always existed in
me, the cravings that are my only release. What was I thinking?
I wish things were different. That she hadn’t been damaged by her experience here with
Brent. If I had been the one to introduce her to the club, it would all be so different. I could show
her a new side of herself. Strip away all of her fake charm and bullshit, the defenses she’s clearly
had to learn just to get by in life.
I would show her how beautiful she really is. How she doesn’t need the games and makeup
and fancy clothes, that she’s perfect just the way she is.
The scene continues in front of me, but I know it’s no use. I leave the room and keep
walking, but moving through the Underground’s dim corridors, I realize that Isabelle’s the only
woman I want kneeling and supplicant beneath my hand, my whip.
Nobody else will do now. Not even close.
I don’t expect her to be waiting for me when I get home tonight.
A part of me knows it’s for the best. I need her to be as far away from me as possible, to
remove every last wicked temptation from my life. Still, knowing she won’t be there to greet me
leaves me hollow inside from the loss of something I never even had.
And now I never will.

ELEVEN: ISABELLE
Cam told me to leave. I should pack my things and go check into a hotel, but I refuse to just
walk away. I don’t understand why he’s still shutting me out. I was right there with him upstairs
in his secret playroom; I didn’t flinch or run from his confessions, so why is he acting like I can’t
handle the truth?
I decide to stay, and see what he says in the morning. I change into my nightclothes, and try
to get some rest in the guest room. The luxurious bed is super soft and comfortable, but I toss
and turn, unable to sink into sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Cam and everything he’s been
hiding upstairs. Those shiny, elaborate toys and all the accessories of pain and punishment.
But it’s not punishment, is it? I ask myself. It’s something more: sensual, liberating,
respectful. I’ve never known much about sub/dom relationships, but what he described doesn’t
sound scary at all. The trust, the surrender…it sounds exciting.
Beautiful.
I imagine myself up there with him. Kneeling on those crimson silk sheets, awaiting his
command. I imagine the sound of Cam’s voice as he instructs me to give myself to him in total
submission, all the things he would ask me to do.
I saw that look in his eyes when he put the dog collar on me, that electric flash of raw desire.
I want him to look at me like that again. To give him every part of me, and see the real man he’s
been hiding in exchange.
I twist in the sheets, breathless at the thought of it. I’ve never felt this way before. My whole
life, I knew I could never trust anyone to take care of me but myself. Even with Brent, it wasn’t
about me: I was infatuated with him for sure, but even then, I was the one tending to his needs,
running myself ragged to keep him happy, keep his temper in check.
But Cam…he’s different. Just days with him, and he’s already shown me more compassion
and attention than any man before. Rescuing me from the club, offering me a place to stay,
tending to my bruised wrists and washing my hair like I was the most important person in the
world. He even cooked me breakfast. Cam is thoughtful and kind—with a dark edge that drives
me crazy with desire. At his side at the fundraiser, I felt special. Cared for.
Cherished.
Maybe other women would feel weaker, having someone take care of them like this, but I
feel stronger for it. It’s like he can see past all my pretense, all my elaborate charades, to the real
person underneath. The Isabelle I keep hidden from everyone: the broken, imperfect girl who’s
been running from her past so long she’s sick of trying. With Cam, all that fades away. He strips
me bare, until I’m nothing but pure, raw desire.
I know that if I gave myself to him, he would be true to his word. He would never push me
further than I was ready to go.
But the world he could show me…
It’s dizzyingly erotic.
My phone rings, loud in the dark, silent room. I snatch it up eagerly, hoping it’s Cam, but
instead, I hear Brent’s voice blaring, drunk and angry on the line.
“I’ve had enough of your fucking games!” he yells, slurring his words. “Get your ass back
home right now. What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? Are you trying to make me
mad?”
My body clenches with fear. Why won’t he just leave me alone? There was a time I would’ve
done anything to please him. I needed him. His approval and attention meant everything to me.
But that was before he broke my trust forever. And then I met Cam, and discovered what it
felt like to really want someone. To not feel used for my money or affection, but to be cared for
and protected.
I know what it’s like to be valued now. And I’m not going to let Brent push me around
anymore.
I brace myself. “Stop it!” I bark. Brent falls silent in shock. “I’m not coming back. At least
not as long as you’re there, in my apartment,” I add. “I’m the one paying rent, remember? So you
might not want to sit there yelling and screaming at me, since I’m the one who’s keeping you
afloat.”
“Bullshit,” he slurs. “You owe me.”
“For what?”
His laugh turns cruel. “For keeping your dirty little secret.”
I freeze.
“How would you like me to call up Dad’s right hand douchebag, Cam, and tell him
everything? Yeah, I know where you’ve been hiding,” he adds. “You little slut, spreading your
legs for the first guy to look your way. Does he like what I’ve taught you?” he demands.
Bile rises in my throat. I fight back the tears. “You can tell him anything you want,” I vow.
“He already knows about our relationship.”
.
“You think this is about us?” Brent’s voice is low and menacing. “That’s not what I’m talking
about, little sister. Remember, I know all of your secrets. Every last, dirty lie.”
Oh, God!
I sit up in bed, my heart pounding. “You don’t mean…” I whisper, fear suddenly like ice in
my veins.
“What? That dear, sweet little Isabelle Ashcroft isn’t as innocent as she looks?” I can hear the
satisfaction in Brent’s voice. It chills me to the core, but I fight to stay strong. He thinks he’s got
me cornered, and the thought gives me the strength to call his bluff.
“So what happens next?” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fact that I’m
shaking with fear. “I’m the only thing keeping you from being totally broke, remember? Your
trust fund was stripped away—you have nothing, but I still do.”
There’s a long pause. I’m betting everything on Brent’s greed right now, and I can only pray
it’s enough to keep him from doing something stupid.
“What do I get for keeping quiet?” his voice finally comes.
I exhale in relief. “I won’t kick you out of the apartment—for now,” I tell him. “But you have
to leave me alone. It’s over, Brent, I’m not putting up with your bullshit anymore.”
“You’ll stick around until I say otherwise.” Brent gives me a final threat, and then hangs up.
I catch my breath, hugging my covers tight around myself.
Stupid, stupid girl. I can’t believe I ever trusted him—but I’m paying for it now. All my
awful secrets come flooding back. The shame and guilt that’s haunted me for years. I thought I’d
left that life behind forever, but it’s shadowed me every day since then.
Will I ever be free from the past?
My phone beeps with a text.
I want 10k in my account—or I’ll tell him everything.
I throw my phone down in anger.
Brent thinks he can control me with threats, as if I were still the same naïve, trusting girl he
manipulated all those years ago. But that’s not who I am anymore, and I won’t bend to him
again.
I’m my own woman now, and this time, I’m finally going after what I want.

TWELVE: CAM
It’s almost 2 am by the time I pick a woman at the bar to try and block out thoughts of
Isabelle for good. She’s a lithe, short-haired brunette wearing a cropped, latex body suit: a club
regular I’ve seen around the floor before, but never invited to scene with me.
She’s completely different from Isabelle, but maybe something different is just what I need to
wash this taste of desperate longing from my mouth.
I lead her to a private room. We don’t exchange names or niceties. Who I am outside these
doors, and who she is in the world beyond the club walls is meaningless tonight. As long as she
is ready to play, that’s all that matters.
“Hard limits?” I ask, surveying the tools on display. Tonight isn’t about sensuality or slow
pleasure. I’ll bring her to ecstasy, of course, but it will be sharp and hard—enough to sate the
craving in my blood.
“I have none,” the woman says with a flirty smirk. “I’m yours completely, Master.”
I nod brusquely. “Are you ready?”
“In a moment, Sir.” She nods deferentially, then exits the room, probably to freshen up.
I pace the room restlessly. This is all wrong. The club has always been a place to feel like
myself again, but for the first time, it feels like I’m playing a role, acting the part of dom instead
of inhabiting the moment.
I need to snap out of it. It’s not fair for the woman here tonight; she deserves my undivided
attention.
The door opens behind me. I hear her step into the room, but I don’t turn around yet. I want
my first glimpse of tonight’s conquest to be the sight of her round mouth, open and waiting for
my cock.
“Take off all your clothes and get into position,” I order her softly. “On your knees, hands
behind your back.”
There’s silence, just the sound of clothing falling to the floor. I give her a moment, then turn.
I stop dead, my cock springing to life with a surge of sheer lust.
Isabelle kneels before me, her hands clasped behind her back. She’s completely naked: her
round breasts thrust toward me, her rose-colored nipples peaked and stiff. The dim candlelight
flickers, illuminating her pale skin and the strip of blonde hair nestled at the juncture of her
thighs.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. Dear God, I need her. This is every fantasy brought to
life, every tortured daydream made flesh and blood.
She tilts her chin up, a defiant look in her eyes. “What does it look like, Master?” she replies.
“I’m waiting for your command.”
The room spins around me for a split second. I’ve heard these words countless times, but it’s
never felt like this before. This moment with her is everything I’ve ever wanted.
It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep from reaching for her. I ache to unzip my fly,
free my insistent cock and plunge it deep into her sweet mouth.
This is too much. I can’t give in to her. I won’t allow myself to be so weak.
Mustering every ounce of self-control, I slap the paddle against the edge of a chair. A loud
crack fills the air and Isabelle jolts in surprise. But she doesn’t break the pose, not for a second.
On her knees, she waits for me. The perfect woman. The perfect sub. But she isn’t part of a
scene, she can’t be.
This is real life. Here within the walls of the Underground, my two worlds collide.
“Isabelle,” I say, deliberately making my voice cold and cruel. “You don’t belong here. You
need to leave. Now.”
She doesn’t move. Instead of getting up and running out the door, she shakes her head.
Defying me. Or daring me to challenge her.
Isabelle’s stare locks onto me. Her blue eyes glitter in the dark.
“No. You’ve been telling me what to do, what to feel, since the moment we met here,” she
says firmly, but I can hear the tremble in her voice. “Now it’s your turn to listen to me. Please.”
I pause. A war rages inside of me, but I can’t help replying. “I’ll listen.”
She takes a deep breath, sounding more confident.
“My whole life, I’ve tried to please everyone else. To keep them happy, make it so they
wouldn’t…wouldn’t be angry, or upset, or leave me.” Her voice twists with emotion. “I played
pretend with them all. My family, Ashcroft, Brent. They never really knew me, or wanted to. So I
practiced being perfect for them.”
Isabelle trembles, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Cam, I know it sounds crazy but you’re the only person who’s ever seen through my
disguise. Seen who I am inside. And I think I see you, too. The real you, not the guy you think
you should be.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I stare at her in disbelief.
Isabelle’s expression becomes determined. “Now I need to make my own decisions. Put
myself first, go after what I want. And what I want is you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand everything.” Isabelle gazes back at me, her expression so certain that it takes
my breath away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want you to show me
everything. What you do here. What you are. Teach me, Cam. How to please you, how to feel
pleasure for myself. I’m ready.”
The world fades away. Nothing else exists but the two of us, alone in this room, as Isabelle
Ashcroft waits on her knees, offering me my wildest fantasies.
“This is what I want, Cam,” Isabelle demands. “I want to be yours. I want to be your sub.”
 
THE END.
What happens next? Cam and Isabelle’s
story continues in WILD SUBMISSION
Drop your email address for the rest of the series if you are interested.