together, but this time felt decidedly different. Maybe because instead of wearing his leathers and nothing else, Mitch had on an actual shirt with buttons, and he’d insisted she wear a dress instead of her regular fetwear.
Granted, it was a helluva sexy dress, but it was still something she could have worn to a regular club. It did make her feel more date-like, though.
A little smile played on her lips as Mitch escorted her through the restaurant and to the stairs at the back. Third date. The sex date. At least, it better be the sex date. She was pretty much assuming it was, and she was so, so ready.
The hostess, a submissive named Tracy, escorted them to their booth, which was the same one where they’d agreed to become bondage buddies. Domi ground to a halt, her eyes widening in surprise. Though all the booths were gorgeous on their own, the tables were usually left mostly bare to make it easy for the servers to clear them before the show started. They didn’t normally have flowers as a centerpiece, much less a large array of red roses in a crystal vase.
Beaming at them, Tracy winked at Domi before walking away, leaving her feeling somewhat bemused.
“For me?” Domi asked, giving Mitch’s hand a squeeze. “But how are you going to throw me on the table to have your wicked way with me?”
His dark chuckle stirred her insides.
“Who says I’m going to have you on the table? Patience, Domi Darling.” He patted her ass, far too gently, directing her into the booth.
Grr. Patience was the last thing she was feeling. More like wet, hot, and ready for action. Other than at the movie theater, she hadn’t had an orgasm since they started dating—cruel and unusual punishment. Still, she was a good girl and scooted into her seat without protesting because she knew damn well being a bad girl was only going to delay her reward.
Dinner was delicious and completely unerotic, with Mitch acting like a proper gentleman, much to her annoyance. She was pretty sure he was just doing it to get under her skin, so she did her best to hide it… and also tease him back.
Putting her hand on his leg while they were ordering dinner, fingers massaging his thigh and moving closer to his groin until he covered her hand with his own and asked how Ana’s arm was doing.
Made sure to lean into him, giving him a good view down the front of her dress.
Licking the bearnaise sauce from her steak off her fork enticingly, drawing his attention to her mouth. His wicked grin demonstrated his appreciation for her efforts, but that was all. Dammit.
The server came by to clear the table, leaving them with the roses on the table. Domi eyed them a little anxiously.
“Aren’t those going to get in the way?”
“Nope. I told you, you need to be patient. We’re not having sex on the table.”
Domi narrowed her eyes. “But this is the sex date.”
“Is it?” he asked innocently, then laughed when she glared at him. “We’re going to one of the private rooms, Domi. I booked us a stay for the night.”
She blinked, her lips dropping open in surprise. The rooms were incredibly expensive, and a stay in them was not part of the general membership.
“You did?” Her voice squeaked, then she glanced down at her dress in dismay. “But… You didn’t tell me! I didn’t bring clothes for tomorrow! What about—”
Mitch put his finger to her lips, hushing her. She pressed them together, stifling the urge to bite him.
“Rae packed a bag for you, and I dropped it off earlier today, along with mine. They’re waiting for us in our room. You’re all set. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
As if he’d timed it, the lights dimmed with his last sentence. Squirming in her seat, Domi thought fuck it, and bit his finger. Hard.
Chuckling and seemingly impervious to her teeth, Mitch tugged his finger away from her and pulled her against him.
“Naughty girl,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers stroking oh so gently down her arm, sending goosebumps crawling along her skin. “I was going to play with you, but now we’re just going to watch the show.”
Dammit.
Mitch
Naughty Domi. Mitch could hardly wait to get her back to their playroom. The anticipation was killing him, but it was also hot as hell. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist… or so sadistic, he even enjoyed torturing himself? Either seemed possible.
In