The door read: Tessa Saint.
The truth was: she was nothing of the sort.
Even the name was a lie.
The woman most men fantasized about, a domme, a walking wet dream, and a master with a whip, Tessa Saint took charge and delivered on that fantasy. But Emmy–the woman Tessa became once she walked out the door of the club–was getting tired of the game. It was time to try the vanilla life.
The door read: Nathaniel Walsh
The truth was: the man was an open book
Emmy was interested in reading.
Nathaniel was instantly attracted to the enigma of Emmy, and against her better judgement she lead him into her world of whips and blindfolds, kink and domination. Having a man unencumbered with perceptions of her lifestyle, Emmy could not resist Nathaniel at the tip of her lash, his willing bedroom submission.
The door read: Club Imperial
The truth was: Emmy hid there in the dark for a reason.
She should never have left the comfortable shadows.
Her secrets would find a way to the light- and it was only time until Emmy’s lies were torn away and the truth revealed. Nathaniel wasn’t ready for that.
Neither was she.
**Content Warning: Contains explicit content that may not be suitable for all audiences. Contains BDSM themes, Erotic content and language. 18+ Audience**
He followed Emmy down the hall to the kitchen, where he found her with her face pressed into the flowers, inhaling deeply. His blood pressure rose as he openly stared at her backside, shapely and firm in the gorgeous blue dress. It was all he could do to keep from walking up to her and cupping that incredible heart-shaped ass in his hands. She had put the two desserts on the breakfast bar, and her coat was tossed over the chair.
With a sigh, she stepped back from the flowers, but didn’t turn around. “I never got flowers, ever, and now three times in the past three months.”
“I’ll buy you flowers everyday if you want them,” Nathaniel said, walking up behind her and putting his hands on her arms, trailing up and down.
“They make me feel like…” Her voice drifted off. She turned and smiled at him. “Dessert?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. God, no. No. I want to strip you out of this dress, lay you on the couch and have you for dessert.
She walked around him, going to the fridge. “Wine?”
He turned and looked at her. “Actually, do you have a beer?”
She pursed her lips and sighed. “I do, but…”
“I don’t have normal beer,” she said. “I don’t drink macro-brewed piss water. It’s Troeg’s Flying Mouflan.”
His jaw dropped. “You know beers?” She nodded. “And you keep Troeg’s in the house?”
“It’s in rotation,” she said.
“Oh, dear God, marry me.” He laughed.
“I thought you liked wine?” Emmy asked.
“I like good wine just fine, but I’d rather have a beer when I’m not eating at exclusive restaurants,” he said. “I didn’t peg you as the kind of woman who would enjoy beer.”
“A good beer can be just as complicated as a good wine,” she said, pulling out two bottles and putting them on the counter. “And you have to know how to pair the flavors and styles with the food. Troeg’s is a great after-dinner beer.” She handed him the bottle opener and Nathaniel opened the two bottles as she turned to get the plates for the dessert.
He watched her lean up to grab the plates and her leg popped up off the ground. The shoes looked so incredible on her feet. She had lovely long legs and he found himself dreaming about licking them from her ankles to her pussy. He took a deep breath and stilled himself. Down. Down. Not yet.
She plated the fruit and chocolate desserts and joined him at the table. Looking around, she laughed. “I almost never eat here. I prefer the den.”
He stood from the stool. “Then let’s eat there, if that’s where you’re more comfortable.”
“So agreeable. I like that.” She smiled and hopped back down, leading the way from the kitchen to the den where there was a coffee table for them to put their plates on. Emmy took the over-stuffed chair and with a private note of disappointment, Nathaniel sat on the love seat. She picked up a remote and turned on the sound system. An achingly gorgeous aria wafted out of the speakers, and it took Nathaniel a moment to place it.
“Ach, ich fühl’s?” he asked.
“Very good,” she said. “I sang this at one of my recitals. This and Gretchen am Spinnrade are two of my favorite pieces.” She ate a piece of the confection with an unnerving grace.
“You sing too?” he asked. She nodded with her mouthful. “Dear God, Emmy. The cello and a voice?”
“It’s not a good voice,” she said. “It’s merely adequate.”
“If you can sing Papagena, I don’t think you’re merely adequate.”
“Well, no one seemed to agree with you.”
Again he could hear the bitterness in her voice, the sound of someone who had been always left behind and ignored by those around her. She had run a business where she had only been an admin for three days. That was not a woman who was incapable, or merely adequate. He cut off a piece of the dessert and chewed it thoughtfully for a minute, letting the voice from the aria fill the room.
“Oh, damn!” Emmy exclaimed. He looked over and found the latest forkful had cascaded down the front of her dress, leaving a huge chocolate and raspberry stain. “Oh, damn.” She put the plate on the table, and stood. “I have to change, I’m sorry.”
“No, no,” he said. “Go get it off before the raspberry sets.”
She walked out of the room to the bathroom just on the other side of the den. “I’m sorry,” she called.
“It’s fine, Emmy,” he said, sitting back and taking a sip of the beer.
“I was…going to ask you about Imperial,” she called a moment later.
He shrugged, confused. “What about it?”
“Did you like it?”
“I think I was too pissed at Jillian to really care,” he said. “I saw some things that were intriguing, but…well, I have to consider my place in the community. Mostly, though, I was pissed at Jillian.” He paused. “It was a beautiful building on the inside. If I remember anything from that night, it was that woman…”
“You liked her?”
He shook his head. “What’s not to like about leather and lace? But it was more than that. It was the way she walked across that floor, consumed with such fiery anger. She knew who she was and someone had crossed her. She took steps.” He took a sip of the beer. “The outfit was just the icing on the cake.” He took a quick bite of his dessert, and didn’t want to think about that woman. She was an untouchable in a place he didn’t want to make a habit. And was tainted by Jillian. He turned down his lip.
“Would you go back?” Emmy asked, the question floating down the hall.
“I don’t think I will,” he said. “It was kind of a bad ending to a bad week.”
He paused, and looked at Emmy’s dessert. “I can’t say never,” he replied. “I don’t want to think about it right now. It’s probably a very nice place for an interesting distraction.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?” Emmy called.
What is going on here? “Emmy, don’t tell me you want to go there.” She didn’t answer right away and he could feel himself cringing. He heard a heel click on the wood flooring and then another, then two more. She stopped just out of view. “Please, don’t tell me you want to go there,” he said.
“Well, no,” she said. “I was just thinking I could bring a bit of that here.”
She stepped out from behind the wall and Nathaniel dropped his fork loudly on to the plate.
“Fuck.” He gasped.
Emmy was wearing the same black silver-button-up boots, black lace and satin outfit, opera gloves and choker. Her hair was now up, and the only things missing were the whip and the crop.
He stared for a long minute, then rose and walked over to her, where she stood, arms folded, waiting for some sort of response from him. He looked straight into her eyes. “It was you. You were there.”
She nodded once. “It was me.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Armed with her Bachelors of English, Literature from Montclair State University and a pen name, Katherine Rhodes has set her mind to writing erotic romances which are kinky, dirty, and fun. A lackadaisical laundry goddess, expert in the profundities of bad movies and awful literature, she resides in Philadelphia with her husband, three cats and a betta named Fishtian Grey.