Aline Hunter - Make Me Shiver

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Is this a test?” She stared across the bedroom, feeling the distance was far greater than the few feet that separated them.

“You can call it that.” He shrugged. “I like to think of it as a possible beginning for both of us.

After tonight, there will be no question if you do or don’t trust me, or if you’re ready to enter into a committed relationship.”

She wanted to ask more questions but he didn’t allow her to. Instead he walked out her bedroom door, presenting her with his departing back. She listened in silence as his footsteps traveled down her hallway and creaked across her living room.

Then she heard her front door open and close.

Don’t turn back. You did what you had to do. The ball’s in her court now.

Michael made it to the car he’d borrowed, opened the door and climbed inside. Once his back hit the cushioned seat, he allowed himself to relax for the first time since he’d walked out of Lacey’s door. He’d known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation. He just hadn’t anticipated how angry he’d become, or how close he’d come to losing his temper.

He grabbed his cell from the passenger seat before he cranked the engine and turned the vehicle around. It was sheer torture not to take a glimpse in the rearview and see if Lacey was watching him. One part of him wanted to see if she’d make the effort. Another part of him worried she’d already decided to wipe her hands clean.

Shaking off his doubts, he called Fantasia’s back line. If Vaughn wasn’t overseeing the daily clean-up by now, he’d be in his office. The phone rang twice before he heard his friend’s voice.

“Who am I speaking to and what do you want?”

“I need a favor.”

“First Brady, then Brian and Trevor, and now you. This seems to be a recurring theme.”

“Do you remember the morning I got up at three a.m. to haul Shiloh out of a ditch? If I recall correctly, you said you owed me. I’m collecting.”

“That was over a year ago. Isn’t there a statute of limitation for favors?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Since we’re cleaning the slate I can finally tell Shiloh who wanted to pick her up that night. And when I say pick her up, I don’t mean give her a lift.”

“What’s the favor?”

“I want the exhibitionist’s room tonight.”

“Really?” Vaughn chuckled. “That’s not your usual cuppa.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I asked for the room.”

“I’ll reserve it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He’d started to hang up when Vaughn stopped him. “Was Shiloh at Trevor’s when you left?”

“Yes, she said she was staying until Aly was set. Why do you ask?”

“Someone called here looking for her. When I tried her cell she didn’t answer.”

“Did you call the house?”

“No.” Vaughn sounded annoyed. “I figured they had enough problems without me adding to them.”

“I left a few hours ago. If she’s not there, she probably went home. She didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“She didn’t say anything about seeing someone, did she?”

The reason behind the owner of Fantasia’s bad mood was now glaringly apparent. It appeared everyone was having issues with women—including Vaughn.

“Not to me.”

Vaughn grumbled something before he said, “I’ll try her later. The room is reserved. I’ve booked it for the entire night. Anything else you need while your wish is my command?”

“Just luck,” he said, ended the call, and started the long, lonely drive home.

Michael arrived at her doorstep at eight sharp. Lacey had done exactly as he asked. She was in the red corset and garter set she’d purchased when she made the trip into town. The black stockings she’d donned contrasted nicely with the blood-red satin and lace, although Michael hadn’t stipulated she could wear those. She’d finally decided stockings were underwear, especially when they were paired with four-inch red high heels.

Deciding how to do her hair and makeup took hours. In the end she went for simple and refined. She left her hair long and straight, allowing the strands to flow down her back. She decided against fake lashes, obnoxious blush or darkly kohled lids, choosing instead to bring attention to her green eyes with brown shadow, liquid liner and good old-fashioned mascara.

The cold wind caused her nipples to pebble through the lace as she opened the door. She quickly stepped aside and Michael walked in.

Sweet Mother of God.

He had on leather pants, a pressed white dress shirt, a black trench coat and a pair of boots that showed no signs of wear. With his shoulder-length hair and slightly battered face, he looked like a damn pirate straight out of a romance novel, only better.

He didn’t say a word as he wrapped his arm under her elbow and escorted her to the bathroom.

It was almost surreal, remaining silent when there was so much she wanted to say. He guided her inside, flicked on the light and looked at her through the mirror.

“Tonight you’ll address me as Master. You won’t speak unless spoken to or asked a question, and you’ll be wearing this.” He pulled a blindfold from his pocket. “At any time, if you realize this isn’t what you want, you can remove this,” he shook the black object in his hand, “or say red. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” She was as aroused as she was terrified. Tonight she’d literally be going in blind.

“Before we can go any further, you’ll need to sign this.” He produced a folded document from his coat along with a pen. “You can’t enter the club without knowing and consenting to the rules.”

As she accepted the papers with trembling hands, she read over the legalities of entering Fantasia. There were so many things she had considered, but some of the items gave her a small amount of comfort. Everything was safe, sane and consensual. No one was allowed to do anything without the express consent of the person in their care. Rules were laid out in black and white. The penalties for breaking them were harsh.

Michael stood just behind her the entire time, remaining silent, allowing her to make the decision on her own. After reading over everything, she held out her hand for the pen. The signature she’d normally create with a flourish was uneven and sloppy when she finally mustered up the courage to sign and date the last page.

“Put your hands on the counter and close your eyes.”

She did as he asked and he put the blindfold on, taking his time as he adjusted the fit. There was a shuffling sound behind her and she felt his hand on her lower back, urging her upper body toward the sink.

“I’m going to pull your panties down and insert a plug in your ass.” A tremor shot through her and he ran his fingers down her spine. “I won’t hurt you, angel. Just lean forward and relax.”

The sink was cold as she rested her abdomen against it. She felt him unbuckle the clasps attached to her stockings just before he pulled her panties down. He stopped when the material was beneath her knees.

“Spread your legs as far as you can.”

She broadened her stance until the underwear prevented any further movement. He pressed against her back until she went flush against the counter, her breasts flat against the surface. A click echoed in the room and she waited as he did something she could only visualize. She imagined him gliding his lubricated fingers up and down the toy, making sure it would slide easily into her ass. In a way, she was grateful she couldn’t see. If she saw whatever it was he planned to place in her rectum, she was sure she’d balk—or at least say yellow.