wife who probably divorced him for that very reason,” Queenie said cynically.
“Ladies, how are you doing?” Dr. Wang, a Communications professor pulled a chair out. Short and balding, Paul loved working lunches. “Queenie, I brought the schedule you asked for.”
As the two of them started discussing a project timeline, Valerie settled in to enjoy her meal. And to muse about spankings and sex.
The professor at the Shadowlands who’d spanked her said she was a masochist. He’d acted as if being aroused by pain was normal. And said some people were simply wired that way.
If he was right, did it explain why she’d found sex so boring?
The self-knowledge wasn’t useful, however. She sure couldn’t tell some date she’d like sex with a side helping of pain.
Besides, she was still recovering from the damage Barry and his women had inflicted, and from feeling betrayed. It was best for her to avoid the dating scene entirely.
Celibacy was good for a girl, right?
Overhead, a gull flew past, its screech sounding like the word sex.
Valerie rolled her eyes. I’m being mocked by the gods.
Deservedly so since she was lying to herself. It’d be awesome to have good sex.
But nothing more. No relationships. Nope. Never again would a bastard decide she wasn’t enough for him and wring her heart like a dirty washrag. Never, never, never.
Not even if there were spankings involved.
A shiver ran through her as she remembered the previous weekend at the Shadowlands. The skilled hands caressing her bottom, the stinging smack of a hard palm, the pain flowing through her like honey, and rousing every nerve in her body.
She’d never been so excited—not even when Barry had spanked her.
She could go back to the BDSM club. Along with the free guest pass, the application for membership to the Shadowlands was sitting on her table. Staring at her as if it had eyes. She could be a member.
No. Be practical. A membership wasn’t in her budget.
Let alone having to walk into the place all by herself. The BDSM Sampler night was over, which meant she’d have to get a…what was it called…a Top interested in doing a scene with her.
Face it, what were the chances any of them would be interested in her?
Zip. Nada. None.
It wouldn’t be worth putting out all that money to be ignored. Although the professor Dom had been nice.
More than nice.
But tempting potential members into joining was part of his job. He wouldn’t be nearly as interested in her on a regular night.
No, she couldn’t afford the Shadowlands membership—or the potential blows to her already fragile ego.
She bit into her ham and cheese sandwich. It would be best to stay away from the sexy professor, too, whatever his name was.
With a choked-off laugh, she shook her head. She’d let a man whose name she didn’t even know spank and rub her ass.
He’d invaded her sleep for the last few nights, his deep, rough voice fueling hot dreams that left her teetering on the pinnacle of coming.
Yes, she’d had dream sex with the professor.
And if she ever saw him, she’d undoubtedly turn so red her blood vessels would explode in her head.
As the discussion between Queenie and Wang turned to an argument, someone slid into the empty place beside Valerie.
“Excuse me.” That voice. Exactly as she remembered…and so much more.
She turned—it really was him—and choked on her coffee.
“Careful, woman.” He thumped her shoulders a couple of times. “One pipe is for air, the other for liquid. Don’t mix them up.”
She sucked in air and laughed.
He grinned back at her, his teeth white in a lean, tanned face, and so devastatingly masculine, he could stop a female’s heart. He held out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. Dr. Blackwood—Finn. History.”
“Right. Um, hi.” She took his hand, feeling the calluses, remembering how he’d touched her, fondled her ass. Spanked her ass. As she feared, her face burned with embarrassment. “Dr. Winborne—Valerie. World religions and philosophy.”
“Fun combination. As it happens, I read your book last year and enjoyed it very much.”
Seriously? “Uh, thank you.”
“Will you be writing another?”
She shook her head. “Not anytime soon. That one happened because I had things to say.”
“An excellent reason to write a book.” He eyed her necklaces with the various religious symbols and grinned. “Why the mixture?”
Today she was wearing a cross, a pentagram, a dharma wheel, and a yin-yang symbol.
“To make a point. Like most mothers, I didn’t care if my children called me mom or mommy or mother. I worried more about them being compassionate