Lena, she stumbled over her own shoe but caught herself in the nick of time. Straightening up with an amused giggled, Shelly and Lena faced Rachel, looking at her like she held the answers to the universe.
“What’d ya mean?” Shelly questioned conspiratorially.
Just then, Riley came over with three shots, three lemons, and a salt shaker.
Rachel opened her mouth about to answer when her eyes lifted above their shoulders and zoomed in on the person now standing behind them.
Shelly and Lena turned to see a tall man, at least six-foot-two maybe three, with short dirty-blonde hair, and Shelly knew that all three of them were staring.
It wasn’t that he was dressed in anything ridiculous, like a studded collar or leather shorts. He was dressed in a pristine white dress shirt buttoned and tucked perfectly into charcoal pin-striped pants that narrowed at his waist. Draped around the open collar of his shirt was a crimson tie. However, the outfit didn’t end there. Resting over his arm was a jacket that was being held in place as he stood with both hands in his pants pockets.
Wearing what appeared to be his work suit, he looked so out of place in this club that it was almost more comical than seeing the men and women in the leather and studs.
“Ladies,” he greeted them with the same tone the man at the end of the bar had used.
Shelly muddled through that with her inebriated mind. Ahh, same man.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to dance with your friend.”
Shelly turned to peer at Rachel, and wouldn’t you know it, cool-as-a-cucumber Rachel looked Mr. Incredible over, shaking her head.
“No, thank you. You aren’t my type,” Rachel dismissed.
Lena squeaked and looked to Shelly, mouthing, Seriously? This guy was every woman’s type. Well, every woman but Rachel apparently.
“Is that right?” he asked calmly.
His voice was so smooth and cultured that Shelly knew this guy was educated in some way. Or, maybe, he had just a few less drinks than they had.
Rachel dipped her head slightly and very elegantly for someone who had to be feeling more than a little tipsy. “That’s right. Nice suit,” she told him, almost sounding like some sort of challenge.
Shelly and Lena were now looking back and forth between the two like a tennis match—only this was better. This was Super Domme, and...well, heck, what does that make him? Shelly was almost afraid to know.
“Nice hair,” he threw back. “Are you sure you won’t take me up on my offer?”
Rachel sharply shook her head once. “I told you. You are not my type.”
Shelly watched as the man moved in closer to Rachel. She was ready to tackle him if need be, and by the looks of it, it seemed as though Lena was also ready to jump up on his back and start hitting and kicking if back-up was required.
However, it wasn’t needed as he merely leaned past Rachel, freeing his hand from his pocket to take the salt shaker. Bending his head, he licked the skin of his hand between his thumb and index finger, and tapped some salt onto it. He then moved the lemon, placing it close by, and picked up the shot glass filled with tequila, gesturing to her.
“Oh fine! If you insist. Hold your hand up where I can lick it.” Rachel instructed, eyes blazing, chin determined.
Fascinated, Shelly watched as he lifted his salt-covered hand to Rachel, daring her.
“Lick.” his deep voice instructed, it seemed he was now giving the orders. He lifted his other hand, and raised the shot to her. “Sip. Suck,” he ended, nodding to the lemon.
Apparently, not one to back down from anything, Rachel leaned forward, eyes locked on the stranger’s. She licked his hand, took the shot he offered, and then picked up the lemon on the bar and sucked.
Shelly heard Lena gasp, and she wondered if her friend was also feeling the crazy sexual tension that was hissing and crackling around them like a roaring inferno.
Then, he spoke. “See? I, too, can follow orders. Sometimes.”
Rachel glared at him and narrowed her eyes.
Shelly was shocked at this whole other side of Rachel. In fact, she was starting to think that maybe she was hallucinating her very own superhero and Super Domme was what she had come up with.
Rachel stepped forward and tilted up her chin to the man, further investigating their battle of wills. “Once again. No, thank you,” she said strongly.
Suddenly, it felt like the man realized the underlying message in Rachel’s response.
Lena