Big Girls Don't Spy

Chapter One

Vivian McKay’s rules for dating in the modern world:

1.  If he shows up to his date with his mom in tow—run.

2.  If he watches his phone more than he watches you—run.

3.  If he tells you he’s a spy and he might die soon so he’s trying to have one last night—he’s not a spy. They don’t tell you.

4.  If he leaves his wallet at home, send his ass back home.

5.  If he cries after meeting your uncle, he’s probably not going to survive your family.

6.  If he has a girl best friend who he can’t live without—run.

7.  If your dog/cat/pet of any kind doesn’t like him, choose the pet.

8.  If he talks about all his exes and explains that they’re all crazy—run. He’s the one who needs help.

9.  If he’s jealous on the first or second date…yup—run.

10.  But the cardinal rule, the most important one is this—believe what he says. He will tell you who he is.

Vivian McKay looked around the space with a huge grin on her face. She had not expected this. When Sophy had mentioned they would be attending Club Dominion, she’d expected something like the plush, luxurious clubs her parents went to and she attended on occasion. When her parents were on another continent. Now she was thousands of miles away and eager to make friends in what was going to be her home club. Which was neither plush nor luxurious. She was pretty sure she’d caught sight of a bucket under one of the sinks. “It truly is a dump. I like it.”

The club was on the outskirts of the city and it needed work, but there was something about it that she enjoyed. Like the club her cousins had built back in Dallas. This place reminded her of The Hideout.

She’d been in clubs owned by billionaires, but there was something about a group of twenty- and thirty-year olds building their own club, their own community, that really got to her.

Her best friend, Sophy Weston, laughed. She was in a rose gold corset that made her skin glow, a tiny skirt around her hips, and ridiculous heels making her far taller than she actually was. Her gold and brown hair was up in a neat bun this evening, and that was surprising. She mostly wore it down and kept it long. Because it hid some scars she would prefer not to talk about. It told Vivian that Sophy felt comfortable here.

“It is, but don’t tell Oliver,” Sophy replied. “He does not see its flaws. This club is his baby. He went to his dad for a loan, but his father told him he wouldn’t pay for his sex club.”

“That seems a bit hypocritical,” Vivian remarked since Oliver Knight’s father owned his own sex club and had for decades.

Sophy shrugged. “He told his son he’d had to build his own club and that he wouldn’t take the experience from him. Oliver took it as a challenge. He’s got big plans for this place. He claims one day it will be more famous than The Garden. And I’m pretty sure he knows it’s a dump, but I think he would call it a work in progress. Look at you. Here for three days and already causing trouble. Did I mention how happy I am you’re here?”

She and Sophy had grown up together in Dallas, Texas. Sophy had moved to London a year before and Vivian followed her after she finished her master’s degree in psychology. She’d been in London for three days and she’d started her new job at McKay-Taggart and Knight. She’d met the team the day she got in, but the real work started Monday.

Now that she was over the initial jet lag, she was ready to have some fun.

And maybe some sex. It had been forever since she’d played. Her life had become a never-ending ritual of classes and symposiums and sessions. There hadn’t been time to visit local clubs or even date.

“Well, I’m here for a couple of years, at least. I want to learn everything Dr. Ariel Adisa can teach me.” Vivian also wanted to learn from Damon Knight, former MI6 operative. Most of the people on Knight’s team were former military or worked for intelligence. It was precisely why she was here. It was the place where she could learn about the intelligence field far from her parents’ eyes. Her mom and dad thought she was here to simply learn Dr. Adisa’s protocols. They would likely freak out if they knew she wanted to try something a little wilder. “Also, did I thank you for saving me from a studio in a crappy part of town?”

When she’d started talking about working in London, Sophy had immediately declared Vivian would be her roommate. Vivian thought it was one of the reasons her parents were calm about the change.

Sophy smiled. “Well, Dad decided if I was breaking free, I should do it in style.”

And for Simon Weston, that meant buying his daughter a penthouse flat in Mayfair. It was stunning and absolutely nothing Vivian could ever afford. Her parents were well off, but they didn’t have the kind of money the Westons had. Sophy’s father was the second son of the Duke of Norsely. Sophy had recently been named her uncle’s heir, and she’d come to London to work with Clive Weston on royal things. Vivi still wasn’t sure what Sophy’s real job was. It seemed to be managing her extremely grumpy uncle for the most part.

“Where is Oliver?” She glanced around. There was a small bar space. Oliver’s sister, Sami, sat on one of the couches sipping on what looked like a Cosmo. She was talking to Jenna Hart, the office manager at MTK. A few of the men who worked with the company were sitting in the lounge, too, having a pint and watching soccer highlights.

Football. She was in a new country and wanted to learn the language.

And learn how to spy. From what she could tell the absolute best way to do that was to fit in. She was good at that. She wasn’t a stunning beauty like her mother. She was curvy, always wanting to lose twenty pounds and never quite able to manage it. She sometimes thought she was a bit like wallpaper. Pretty, but in the background for the most part.

However, she felt sexy in a club. She felt powerful, like she was in control by deciding to submit.

“He had to fly out to Rome. Said he’s meeting a girl, but I’m pretty certain it’s a mission,” Sophy replied. “He pretends to be this huge playboy, but he’s actually kind of a nerd from what I can tell. For a man who claims to be able to get any woman he wants, he spends an enormous amount of time playing video games. This seems to be a last-minute thing because he has a guest coming in tonight. A Special Air Service guy he’s worked with before. But does he ask his sister to deal with him? No. He texts me.”

“Well, good luck with him. I’m going to have some fun.” She turned to her bestie. “Tell me I look okay.”

Sophy’s brows rose. “You look gorgeous and you know it. That corset makes your boobs look huge.”

Vivian took a long breath. Well, a short one since the corset was tied tight. The club had always been her safe place, but it had been a hot minute since she donned ye olde fet wear. She’d been glad it still fit.“I’m a bit nervous. It’s been a year and a half since I played.”

She’d concentrated on intellectual pursuits. She’d neglected her body’s needs.

Sophy took her hand. “I know. You’ve been working constantly. You deserve to have fun tonight. There are a couple of tops I think you would get along with nicely.”

“Ones who don’t work at MTK?” She didn’t want to play where she was employed. Oh, she knew it could work, but it hadn’t for her. Playing where she worked—or in this case studied—had gotten her paper stolen by the guy who “cared” so much about her.

But that was behind her now, and she’d learned her lesson. She was here for fun, for stress relief. The last thing she wanted was to start some tortured love story.

“Galen Perry is a lovely West End actor. He’s not looking for anything serious. He’s become a friend, and he’s nice and down to earth,” Sophy explained. “I thought you could play with him tonight and see how it goes. I have the highest hopes that you’ll get along. He’s a good top. Ariel approved, though I suppose you’ll take that over now. Ariel’s been kind enough to vet new members for us, but now you can be our resident shrink.”

Well, she hadn’t gone to school for six years for nothing. That master’s degree would come in handy. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

“Ariel is too soft,” a new voice said. “The last Dom she let in doesn’t believe climate change is real. I think we should only have sane people in the club.”

Even if she hadn’t known the voice, the words would have given her away. Vivi turned and Lucy Brooke Flanders stood there with a bag in hand. She would bet that bag contained a bunch of earth-friendly fet wear. “Lucy, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”

She hugged the other woman. They’d known each other since childhood, too, though Lucy had been more of a vacation friend. Lucy grew up in a small town in Colorado that her parents visited often.

Lucy hugged her back. “You, too, though it’s going to be a short visit. I’m about to head to Wales. I’m watching the farm for a while.”

“Is that a spy thing?” Vivi asked.

Lucy grinned at her. “Sort of. It’s a cover my mom found for me. When Dad and I need to work in Europe, we sometimes hang out at this farm in Wales with all these rescued animals. I’ve perfected my English accent. Working on my Welsh, but Dad already sounds like he’s straight out of Cardiff. You should come sometime. It’s lovely and peaceful out there.”

Lucy was a tree-hugging environmentalist. She was also a spy. She was with the CIA but often worked with MI6. “That sounds wonderful.”

“I hear you start on Monday,” Lucy said. “I’m so glad to have you here with us. We need smart people to offset Ollie.”

Oliver Knight was highly intelligent but liked to play the rich playboy. Sometimes it annoyed people. It absolutely annoyed Lucy. “Well, I’m excited to start.”

“And I heard what Sophy was saying,” Lucy remarked as she moved past them, walking toward the sadly decorated locker room. Though they called it a “lounge.” She was going to work on that. She knew Sophy had offered to put cash into the club, but Oliver was being stubborn. She rather thought they could figure out a way to sneak in nice things and Oliver would never know. Like chairs. It wasn’t like Oliver spent a ton of time in the women’s lounge. “Galen is lovely. You should have fun with him. I hear his play is moving to Broadway next year, so you should know he’s not going to be a clinging vine.”

“I didn’t think he would be,” Vivi said.

Lucy looked her up and down. “Girl, the way you look tonight you should be worried. You look hot and sweet and perfect. Welcome to Dominion.”

A little thrill went through her. She had a good life. Her parents had built a wonderful family around her, but this felt like adventure. Her parents were always there. Not in an overbearing way, but she knew they were always close. She’d done her master’s work in Boston, and they came to see her at least twice a month, and her brothers had shown up regularly. Her sweet, loving, completely overprotective brothers.

She was sort of on her own here. Oh, she had Sophy to rely on, but for the first time in her life her parents weren’t a couple of hours away by company jet.

“Lucy’s right. You look dangerous tonight,” Sophy said.

“Not dangerous. Just ready. This feels like the start of something. Something all mine.”

Sophy took her hand and squeezed it. “I know the feeling. I love my mom and dad, but London has been freeing. Now go get a drink and relax. I’m setting up your privacy room. There are three, and at least one of them is completely vermin free. Fun. I already sent Galen your hard and soft limit list. Do you want the file on him?”

She didn’t need it. “No, I trust you. I’m excited for a session. It’s been a long time, and honestly, it’s hard to let go when your brothers are around. The look on Hunter’s face the first time I walked by him at the monitor station with a Dom…”

Sophy chuckled. “I have seen that look at The Hideout. I know they try to keep strict schedules so the siblings don’t play on the same nights, but that doesn’t always work. I’ve seen poor Seth Taggart go positively green when his sister walked in with one of his friends. It was okay. She used and abused him and moved right on. Though I hear Kenz is totally into this Canadian guy now. That has to be fun. Uncle Ian will lose his mind.” She started to walk toward the back of the building but turned. “Your playtime starts at eleven in room three. The Master will expect you to be there on time. You have the room for the rest of the night. Let a hot actor spank you or…something more. I’ll expect a full report over breakfast. Have fun.”

It was nice that her bestie had planned a whole night of debauchery. It took all the pressure off her. Sophy wouldn’t pair her with a Dom who would hurt her. If he was Sophy approved, he was safe.

Vivian glanced at the clock over the bar. Thirty minutes and she would meet the Dom of her dreams. For the night.

“Vivi, come over,” Sami called out. “I hear you’re playing with Galen tonight.”

Vivian strode over and stopped at the bar, getting a glass of Cab before joining Sami and Jenna. Both women looked stunning. “That’s what Sophy says, and you know I do what she tells me to. She’s quite bossy. Always has been.”

Jenna was in her mid-twenties, with long dark hair and a ready smile. When they’d met yesterday, she’d explained she’d only been at MTK for a few months and her family was from Manchester, which had made Oliver groan because he was an Arsenal fan. “It’s good to see you, Vivian. I’m jealous. Galen is gorgeous. Dark hair and broody eyes. And tall. Most men that tall don’t have a lot of muscle, but Galen is hoping to move into the superhero business after he gets to New York. See, this is why I moved to London. You meet all the most interesting people.”

“Well, I’m excited to meet the mysterious Malcolm Mays,” Sami admitted. “He’s supposed to be here tonight.”

“I thought you worked with him.” According to what Sophy had said, the Special Forces soldier routinely went on missions with MI6. They often gave intelligence teams military backup. Oliver and Sami’s jobs at MTK were cover for their real jobs with British intelligence. If he worked with Oliver, it would be surprising he didn’t know Oliver’s sister.

“Oh, no. Captain Mays is a man of mystery. It’s why I’m surprised he agreed to come to the club. The way Ollie talks about him he’s a bit rigid,” Sami said. “I was surprised he’s had training, but Ollie tells me he’s been in the lifestyle for a long time. Apparently he’s divorced, but I don’t have any real information about that. My brother respects the man and listens to him, so I want to see what this paragon of virtue looks like. My brother listens to no one. Certainly not our father.”

“He listens,” a deep voice said. “Ollie listens to Dad and then does the opposite of what Dad tells him to do.” The man was lovely, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked an awful lot like Oliver.

“Hello, Archie. It’s been a long time.” She gave the Knight’s middle child a smile and held out her hand.

Archie Knight smiled right back and took her hand between his. “It has, indeed. It’s good to know there’s another intellectual around. Didn’t you recently finish up your master’s?”

“I did,” she replied. “I heard you’re working on your doctorate.”

Sami sighed. “Oh, the eggheads are going to start talking about dissertations.”

Archie held a hand up. “No, tonight’s about play. But I did want to congratulate you, and if you do ever choose to go the doctoral route, I know a lot of people in Oxford’s psychology department.”

Archie was working on his PhD in criminology and had already started collaborating with Scotland Yard on certain cases. He was a fascinating man and one with connections. “I appreciate that, and I would love to talk dissertations with you.”

And then they were off as Sami groaned and Jenna leaned in as though fascinated.

At some point while Archie was describing his research into the psychology of the narcissistic criminal, Vivi looked up and saw the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

He was a bit older. Perhaps in his late thirties, with golden brown hair and a jawline that belonged on a movie poster. His shoulders were broad, and he had to be at least six four, maybe five. He was exactly her type. She’d always preferred her men older.

Could that be Galen? He certainly matched a lot of Sophy’s description, but she would know soon enough.

There was a thrill humming in her veins. One night with a hot Dom. It was like London was welcoming her with a gift.

If the roof didn’t fall in first.

* * * *

Malcolm Mays nodded at the pretty brunette sub who wasn’t acting particularly submissive. She was actually rather bossy. At one point in time he would have called her a little brat and tried to get into her thong.

But he’d had enough of women who played at being submissive and then betrayed their top to their core.

“Oliver already let me know he’s had a change of plans,” he said. “I thought about not coming, but I’m in town for the weekend, and sitting in my hotel room held no appeal. I was hoping there would be a sub I could work with.”

Sophy Weston was the heir to the Norsely fortune. Oliver had serious connections to what Mal liked to call the useless elite. Though he wouldn’t use that term to describe Oliver’s father, who was a celebrated soldier and intelligence agent. And Oliver trusted this American girl, so he was going to trust the man. Oliver loved this club, and he left it in Sophy’s hands.

Her clear green eyes took him in. “I’ve read your file, and I can certainly find a sub to pair you with. You prefer women?”

He nodded shortly. This was one of the things he enjoyed about the lifestyle—the lack of judgment. No one assumed anything about his sexuality. “I can work with a male sub, but I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t mind having a shot at sex. I’m heterosexual, but you should understand that I don’t want to be paired with any sub who’s looking for a permanent Dom.”

“Aren’t most subs looking for a Dom?” Sophy asked.

“Not any that I’m willing to sleep with,” he shot back. “I’m not in the market for a sub for anything beyond one night. I join my squad in two days, and the last thing I want is a clinging sub.”

She frowned at him, obviously not impressed. “Then perhaps what you should find, Captain Mays, is a professional.”

Well, his friends all told him he was practically feral now. Too many years in the field, or perhaps what happened with Andrea had ripped all his civility away. He was going to get his arse kicked out of the only club he felt comfortable going to. And what he’d said was cold and not entirely true. “I’m sorry. I didn’t put that in a way I want to represent myself. I am not in a position where I can handle a permanent sub. Even for more than a night. I don’t particularly want to hurt anyone. I would prefer to be upfront about my needs and what I’m willing to give.”

She stared at him, and for a moment he worried she was going to call him a liar and toss him out anyway.

It was odd. He wanted this night. He hadn’t wanted anything in years, and it should worry him. Wanting things meant people could control you through your desires. He’d learned to stop wanting anything more than an excellent whiskey or a nice roast a long time ago. Things he could buy. Things that couldn’t betray him.

She sighed. “I think I can find someone who will enjoy you on a physical level and nothing more. I’ll send her into room two in ten minutes. She’s fairly new to the club, but I think she’ll be a good fit. What should I tell her to call you?”

“Sir is fine, and I would prefer we don’t exchange names.” Names made things real, and this was pure fantasy.

“Sounds like fun,” Sophy said, not attempting to hide her sarcasm. “Ten minutes. No blood play and no breath play. Make sure you set your safe words. If Ollie didn’t vouch for you, I wouldn’t send you into a privacy room. You don’t seem like you like women very much. Please understand that if you hurt a sub, I’ll handle you. I know I’m petite but I’m mean, and I’ll deal with you from a distance. My father taught me the fine art of revenge and how to protect those in weaker positions. You don’t want to find out how well I learned that lesson.”

She strode away, those heels of hers clicking on the tiled floor.

He was making friends and influencing people. Wouldn’t his mum be proud?

His mother likely barely remembered his name now that she had her perfect daughter-in-law and perfect grandchildren.

You’re a brute. Just like your father. I don’t know why you’re surprised Andrea prefers Bryce.

He shut that shite down. He wasn’t going over that again tonight. His divorce wasn’t going to play through his head like a horror movie he couldn’t get out of.

He wasn’t going to think about Andrea or his baby brother, who’d once told him he was the greatest man he’d ever known. Bryce had admired him when he was young. Then he’d turned into a rotten piece of shite. Or perhaps it had always been an act and he’d never known his brother at all.

His cell buzzed, and he slipped it out of his pocket. Normally cells weren’t allowed on club floors, but there were several MI6 agents here and they couldn’t simply not respond because they were playing. His work was vital and didn’t conform to normal business hours. In the past he would have been thrilled at that buzz. It meant there was a chance he could concentrate on work for a while. His commanding officer was a stickler for rules, and leave was required from time to time.

But now he hoped it wasn’t work. He didn’t want to drag himself out of here. Turned out some leave was good for a man.

He relaxed when he saw it was a text from Oliver.

Hey, Mal. So sorry to miss you. I sent a text to Sophy. She’s pairing you up with a sub I’ve known for a while. Fun girl. She’s in college and has zero desire for anything but a good time.

Mal stared down. Oliver knew his past well, knew what he needed from an experience. It should make him feel better, but it rather made his gut tighten. Was that all he wanted out of life now? A good time every few months with some meaningless woman? He shoved the thought aside. Even if he was looking to try again—which he was not—he wouldn’t do it here. He rarely got into London. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. He wasn’t built for long-term relationships.

She knows I’m not staying? I would love to come to the club every now and then, but I can’t have anything permanent.

He waited while the screen showed the bubbles that meant Oliver was replying. 

You could if you wanted to, but I understand. I picked her for you but also for her. She’s gorgeous and sweet. She needs this. Have fun and know you’re doing the world a service. She can be on the bitchy side when she hasn’t indulged.

Oliver Knight was one of the few people in the world he called a friend, despite the fact that the man was younger than him and came from a completely different world. Oliver liked to act the playboy, but Mal had seen him do heroic things. There was a core of goodness to the man, and he seemed to think he owed Mal something. Take one bullet for a man…

All right. I’ll have fun. You do the same in Rome.

It will be a blast. Literally. I’m going to blow the shit out of a boat carrying weapons to Northern Africa. Wish me luck. I have to blow the boat and be back in time for the paparazzi to catch me with an Italian actress. I love this job.

And he was reckless. He was supposed to speak in code or not speak at all, but that wasn’t how Oliver operated.

Not a secure line. Be careful. See you soon.

He slid his cell in his pocket and felt oddly nervous. Which didn’t make any sense at all because he was walking into a room where his partner already consented and knew the score. It was as safe a scene as he could make it.

When had he started trading excitement for safety? He took a sip of his beer. It was his first, his only, and he likely wouldn’t finish it given the time constraints. He needed to be in the privacy room soon.

A sub who didn’t want more than a good time. It made him nervous. It made him wary, but then what didn’t these days?

He needed to think about the scene, but his eye caught on a woman sitting at a table talking to what had to be Oliver’s sister. There was no mistaking her. He hadn’t had the pleasure, but Samantha Knight looked like a female version of her brother. She had the same bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair, though hers was significantly longer than Oliver’s.

But the woman she was talking to looked like a goddess.

Golden hair that brushed her breasts. He stared at those breasts. They were fucking gorgeous. She was seated, but he would bet she was petite. No more than five five. She would barely come to the top of his shoulders. If he wrapped her up, she would be completely surrounded by him. She laughed, the sound carrying over the space between them and filling his ears. A sweet laugh and a smile that told him she smiled often. She waved off something Sami said, and even her hands were delicate.

She was the kind of woman he was always attracted to. Delicate. Entirely feminine. Someone who needed protection. She wasn’t a tiny thing, but there was an air about her that made him want to shield her from the world. She was exactly his type. Solidly built, with curves for days and an arse he could grip while he fucked into her, and the sweet face that would kick him in the gut every time she looked at him.

He could devour her whole and still want more.

But he was being fanciful. He didn’t know this woman. What he did know was that a gorgeous face and soft body could hide a ruthless soul. Andrea had been the same, or at least presented in the same fashion. Under all that performative sweetness had been a jackal.

He turned, dismissing that odd feeling he got from the blonde. It was nothing more than a lingering wish.

Mal had been in the lifestyle since he was twenty-two. An Army mate of his had taken him to a club in Liverpool, and he’d gone regularly until he married Andrea. Then he’d accepted that part of his life was over. His wife was pregnant, and he had to settle in. It wasn’t hard those first few years since he’d been deployed.

The first child could have been his, but the second…

Of course neither of them turned out to be his. His son, the one he’d prayed he got to see on lonely nights when the world was exploding around him, was his nephew.

The children are innocent, Malcolm. You owe them support. I know you’re hurt, but Bryce is handsome and he doesn’t scare women the way you do. He’s gentle. You can’t blame him.

But he could. He could blame a lot of people. And while Bryce might not scare women, he certainly didn’t have any trouble dumping them. He went through woman after woman, and they still lined up for him.

It had been six months since he’d seen his mother. If he had his way he wouldn’t see her again.

Bryce, for all his “gentleness,” went through women like they were tissues. He was sure he was already cheating on Andrea.

Mal wished them hell.

He picked up his kit and made his way to the hall leading to the privacy rooms. The building that housed Dominion looked like a small estate that had seen much better days. They were on the outskirts of London in what could be seen as a suburban space and this property had land attached. It was private. Oliver was proud of this place. Picked it up for a song, he would always say, but even in its dilapidated state, the structure and land still likely cost more than Mal would ever earn in a lifetime. He moved up the stairs to the second floor. And stopped.

The rooms weren’t numbered, and there wasn’t a monitor up here. That was surprising, but he supposed it was still a bit early in the evening. There were two rooms to his left and one door to his right. And that was when he noticed a second set of steps on the opposite end of the hall. He had no idea how they would be numbered. Did they start at the other end of the hall? Or the one he was closest to?

At that moment a big man in leathers stepped out of the first door to his right. He looked slightly panicked and had a large wrench in his hand. His brow was covered in sweat, and his eyes went wide when he noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Sorry, mate. We’ve got a problem in this one. The plumbing seems to have… Well, let’s just say you don’t want to be there. I’m pretty sure the leak is now officially a lake, and it’s probably raining in the red room downstairs,” the man said. He gestured to the door on the opposite side of the hall. “Use that one if you need to. Have to go. Pretty sure that room was reserved for an orgy that’s about to turn into a drowning if I don’t fix it. I’ve called for backup, so give him a few minutes and then if you need anything, the monitor is at the end of the front steps.”

He ran down the stairs.

Mal still didn’t know which side was the front steps or the back steps.

Well, he’d been told where to go. The dungeon monitor was usually up to date on where to put who and what rooms were being used. He entered the room and quietly set up his kit.

He waited. Patience was the name of his game. He stood unmoving, going over the scene in his head. He would start with a presentation and see where to go from there. He would usually meet with the sub and ask for her preferences, but this was a quick session, and they would have to figure it out.

There was a knock on the door, and he felt his anticipation rise.

For a few hours he could forget who he was, what he’d been through. He could silence all the voices in his head and simply be.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and the woman from the bar walked in. The gorgeous blonde who made his dick ache and his soul suspicious.

“Good evening, Sir. You may call me Viv.” She looked stunning in a red corset and thong that showed off her luscious arse. Her breasts were pressed up, an offering for the man that could tame her.

He suddenly wanted to be that man.

If only for a night.

He had expressly said he didn’t want to exchange names, but he liked hers. And honestly, what did it matter if he called her Viv or sub? He wasn’t going to argue, though it did rankle a bit. “Welcome, Viv. Present yourself to me.”

She sank to the floor, and he realized this was going to be far more intense than he counted on, but he wasn’t about to leave.

He stepped forward, letting all his cares go and prepared to be her Dom.

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