Ann Mayburn - Sodom and the Phoenix

“No, that”—he pointed to the redhead who was in a full-tilt fit now as a pale man with an enormous padlocked collar around his neck and wearing a conservative suit joined her and attempted to mediate—“is rude.”

Tanwen darted another glance at the woman, then back to the man standing close enough that she swore she could feel the heat of his body. A faded leather belt clung to his narrow hips, and the elaborate buckle of a bucking steer with a cowboy caught her interest. “You’re a bull rider?” She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Please forgive my lack of manners, sir. My name is Tanwen Sku—” Her tongue tripped over itself as she almost gave the handsome man her married name. “Tanwen Evans.”

The man with the devastating eyes took her offered hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. His hands were so much bigger than hers, and the way his thumb stroked her skin sent shivers through her body. Her reaction shocked her. She could actually feel her nipples drawing into hard and aching points beneath her shirt. She desperately hoped he didn’t notice or attributed it to the air-conditioning. “My name is Bryan Hamilton, but you can call me Sir.” He studied her, and her heart raced as he looked her over from the top of her blonde head to her pink toenails.

“Um, nice to meet you, Sir.” She tried to tug her hand back, but he held her fast in his grip. Heat rushed through her, and her mouth went dry. She was drawn in by his gaze, and her breath came out in a small puff as he stepped closer, invading her personal space.

His low laughter made her knees go weak as the rich scent of his cologne invaded her senses. “You’re not here for the convention, are you, Tanwen?”

She swallowed and darted a glance at the fetish circus going on around them. “No.”

His gaze held hers, and his fair eyebrows scrunched as he examined her. “Why are you here?”

The words spilled out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. “I lost my passion.”

Instead of laughing, his ice blue eyes darkened to a warm Caribbean blue. He let go of her hand to cup her cheek, and she trembled. “Now that is a shame. A woman as beautiful as you should never feel anything but cherished, desired.” His thumb stroked across her lips. It was as if every nerve in her body now centered on her mouth. She watched him, helpless to look away as the dimple in his cheek deepened again.

Someone behind them cleared their throat loudly, and Tanwen practically leaped away from Bryan. “Your turn,” she said in a high voice she refused to call a squeak.

Now he did smile, and his teeth were a startling white against his tanned skin. “Ladies first, in all things.”

“Thank you.” She stumbled to the counter and tried to tell her raging libido he couldn’t possibly mean anything dirty by that. Her frazzled mind barely heard a word the clerk said as she dug through her oversize purse for her wallet. It had been a few years since her kids’ toys, snacks, and Band-Aids had taken up every available inch of space in her purse, but it still surprised her at how empty it seemed without all their stuff.

It didn’t help that her entire being focused on the man behind her. She could feel him, like the warmth of the sun, at her back. Between her legs, her pussy was wet with need, and her clit throbbed in time with her heart.

“All set,” the blonde clerk said and handed her the key card. “Go to the south elevators, and you’re on the nineteenth floor with a view of the river. Your convention pass is in your room along with the schedule of events.”

Tanwen paused in putting some old receipts back into her purse. “My what?”

The blonde gave her a puzzled look. “Your Leather Kiss convention information. You signed up for it while registering.”

“I what?”

Someone muttered something unflattering from the long line behind her, and her back stiffened. She stuffed the key into her purse and crammed the brochures in there as well. Good Lord, the cover of one of the pamphlets had what appeared to be a man in chaps with his fine butt displayed for all the world to see. She dug the brochures back out and lay them on the counter. All she needed was to forget it was in there and have it fall out in front of her mother. “I didn’t sign up for the”—she lowered her voice—“BDSM convention.”

The clerk glanced at the line behind Tanwen, then back at her. “Ma’am, you did. I have it right on the screen in front of me along with your paid-in-full bill.”

“But I didn’t—”

A firm hand gripped her elbow, and Tanwen knew even without turning that it was Bryan. His cologne teased her nose as he said, “Thanks for your help.” He gently escorted her away from the counter and held firm to her arm despite her attempts to jerk out of his grasp.

“Wait,” she said and yanked her arm out of his hand. “There was a mistake. I’m not—”

“Tanwen, that is a lovely name.” His voice rubbed against her, softer than her suede skirt.

She gritted her teeth and willed her body to calm down. Really all he’d done was speak to her and touch her cheek, and her panties were soaked with desire. “It’s Welsh for white flame. When I was born, my hair was so pale it almost looked white. Now let me go.”

He ignored her order. “White flame, interesting. It suits you.”

She tilted her chin and gave him the glower that had kept her boys in line when they were rowdy teenagers. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the clerk about the mix-up.”

He moved subtly to block her way back to the desk and smiled at her. The way he looked at her, like she was something good to eat, did funny things to her insides. It made her anger melt like a bar of chocolate on a sunny day. He traced his fingertips down her arm, and she hoped he didn’t notice how she trembled. “I think you should leave things as they are.”

“What?” She glared at him as he placed a firm hand on her lower back and moved toward the wall. That fierce look turned into a gasp as she noticed he’d moved her so some men in distractingly tight leather pants could wheel a big metal X through the foyer. She wondered how Bryan would look in a pair of pants like that.

She pushed at his chest and narrowed her eyes at him when he didn’t move. “Listen, Sir, I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, but I assure you I’m not into that…stuff. Your macho he-man attitude doesn’t impress me.”

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Really? Is that why your nipples are hard right now, little flame?” He leaned closer as she gasped and crossed her arms. “Are you afraid you might like it? That you might find what’s been missing is something your mother wouldn’t approve of?”

“I-I’m not into such deviant behavior,” she said in a low voice and glanced around to make sure none of the BDSM crowd had heard her. In reality she admired them for their ability to follow their hearts, but there was no way she was letting this man know that. He’d probably toss her over his shoulder and take her to his room and do things with her—wonderful, forbidden things.

“Deviant?” He leaned closer, and his breath was hot against her ear as he said, “If you consider making a submissive overcome her fear of pleasure, making her orgasm until she can’t remember her name, making her feel like she is the only thing in the world that matters deviant, well, I suppose I am.”

Her throat worked as she tried to remember how to breathe. Up close he was overwhelming. She had an insane desire to run her fingers through his silver hair and feel if it was as soft as it looked. It didn’t help that her body had suddenly decided it did indeed want to try all that deviant stuff with someone like him.

No. She’d promised herself she would experiment in the safety and anonymity of VR. This was too much, too soon, and Bryan was definitely dangerous to her newfound independence. She had learned how to stand on her own feet these last two years, and it was a hard and painful lesson she didn’t want to repeat. Having a relationship was strictly off limits.