She glanced back to where Charlotte was starting to lead the subs toward the “dark room” as she’d called it.

She stared at the door in front of her. It was one of the main rooms in the dungeon, one that normally was reserved for suspension play. She knew the room well since nothing made her happier than being held in ropes like a work of art for all to look at.

She might be an exhibitionist.

That room was not about exhibitionism this evening.

“And I think I need this.”

Kori reached out and squeezed her hand. “I wish you would talk to me. I know something’s going on.”

Sarah had to force back tears. She wasn’t doing this. It was precisely why she hadn’t told her bestie. “I’m not ready to talk about it, but you should know I’m handling it. I’m going to be fine.”

It was blatantly obvious her bestie didn’t want to let it drop, but she sighed. “All right. I’m going to help Kai set up a hard point. You have fun. I want to hear everything about it when you’re done.”

She nodded and let go of Kori’s hand. It was time to see if she could make a connection.

Chapter Four

In which connections are made and chocolate is had…

It was dark. Super dark. She was sure one of the guys could compare this darkness to a cave they’d explored or a moonless night in the forest, but she wasn’t much of a camper. The Four Seasons always had a light she could turn on.

“I suppose if one of us breaks a leg walking around in the dark, I’m going to have to set it,” she muttered as she took another step.

“I’ve got night vision on,” Adam Miles said. He was her “escort” basically meaning it was his job to ensure she made it to the Dom without falling all over herself. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you to your station and make sure you’re comfortable. Then you should know there are a couple of us staying behind to monitor the situation and ensure your safety.”

“Or to watch to see if any of us go for it and fuck in the dark.” She knew what they were really here for.

“Or that,” Adam allowed. “All right. You’re here and this is your Sir. Sir, your submissive for the night wishes to be called Princess.”

A big hand covered her own, an immediate heat flashing through her system. That hand was callused and rough, the hand of a man who worked, and not sitting at a typewriter. “Hello, Princess.”

That voice. Deep and strong, with a hint of Western accent. He sounded almost like…that was just where her mind was going tonight. Straight to Jared, but he didn’t have a hint of an accent and he always sounded so happy. Like nothing could bring him down ever. There was gravity to this man’s voice.

“Hello, Sir.”

He held her hand in his and covered it with his other, enveloping her in his warmth. Without being able to see him, she would be forced to focus on his touch and the sound of his voice. She wasn’t thinking about whether he was handsome or plain. She was thinking about how good his hand felt holding hers, how soothing his voice was.

“I’m going to help you sit down now. There’s a chaise lounge half a foot to your right. I’ll help you sit, and then I’m going to take the space to your left. In front of the chaise is a small table and there’s another to the left side that I will feed you from.”

He was going to feed her. “All right.”

At some point Adam must have moved away because all she could sense was Sir. “Can we wait a moment? Could I touch you? I just want to get a feel for how tall you are.”

“Only if I can touch you as well.”

That sent a delicious shiver through her. “Yes.”

“Give me your other hand.” He kept one in his left palm and she placed the other on top of his free hand.

He flipped it over and seemed to take a moment, his thumbs running over her palms, studying her hands as though he could memorize them. He threaded their fingers together, sliding them along until they felt like puzzle pieces that had gently found their place.

“You’re not a regular here.” She’d been told he wouldn’t be, but somehow she didn’t think he was from The Club either.

He brought her right hand up and placed it on his chest. His skin was warm, a light dusting of chest hair tickling against her palm. “No. I’m not from Dallas. I live out on the West Coast. I have a couple of friends who live here. You’re from Texas?”

She knew there were other people around them. There were twenty subs and Doms participating, and probably another ten watching whether for safety or prurient pleasure. Big Tag and his wife were probably doing pervy things somewhere in this room, but all she could hear was the deep timbre of his voice. “Yes. I’ve lived here most of my life. I’ve moved around the metroplex, but I’ve stayed in North Texas.”