Sweet Surrender (Sweet #1)(7)
Author: Maya Banks

One of her eyebrows went higher. Thought highly of themselves, apparently.

Intrigued, she clicked on the ad and was transferred to a surprisingly sophisticated website. Not your average trashy  p**n  site high on shock value.

It was discreet, a website that could host a variety of different businesses. Subdued colors. Easy on the eyes. No pop-ups or flashing little boxes screaming that you just won an iPod.

Her pulse fluttered as she read on. Membership was exclusive and only open to a limited number each year. Security was a high priority, and the “club” wasn’t a flashy, neon-sign-bearing business in the heart of Houston’s downtown. Instead, it was a stately home in the northern outskirts of the city. Big wrought-iron gates. High security fences. No sign advertising what went on behind closed doors. Basically a meeting place for like-minded individuals.

She shivered. Could it be that easy? Somehow she doubted it. But where else was she going to start her search? Her cursor hovered over the telephone number listed on the site. She reached for the cordless phone she kept by the computer and punched the On button.

For several long seconds, she listened to the dial tone. When it started its obnoxious loud beeping to let her know it was still on and she wasn’t dialing, she turned it off and stared at the computer monitor.

Then she turned the phone back on. And off. And on. Cripes. What could possibly be so bad about calling the place? It wasn’t like they could reach through the phone, snatch her bald and leave her tied up and naked on the floor. Though, if the guy were hot enough, she might be up for it.

She touched the phone to her forehead and closed her eyes. Just do it, Faith. You just want information. They don’t even have to know your name.

Taking a deep breath, she punched the On button and quickly dialed the series of numbers. She put the phone to her ear and squeezed her eyes shut in dread. Maybe they wouldn’t answer.

Her stomach gave a painful lurch when a smooth male voice offered a greeting.

“Hello?” he said again when she didn’t respond right away.

“Uh, hello,” she offered, barely able to squeeze the words from her lips. “I was calling for some information. I mean, I saw your club, er uh, your establishment on the internet.”

“What’s your name?” the man asked cheerfully.

Damn. She guessed they would know her name after all.

“It’s Faith,” she said, not volunteering her last.

“Hi, Faith. My name is Damon, and I’ll be happy to answer whatever questions you may have.”

She relaxed a teeny bit. “Well, the thing is, you see, I’m not sure what questions to ask.”

“Ah. Okay then let me ask you a question.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.”

“What is it you hope to find at our establishment?”

“Not much of a loaded question,” she muttered.

Damon chuckled. “Don’t be shy, Faith. There isn’t anything you could possibly say that would shock me. Or make me judge you. I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”

Her mouth went dry. Moment of truth. How to tell a complete stranger what it was she was looking for when she wasn’t completely sure herself?

“I want…” She sucked in another deep breath and started over. “I want a man to take control. Take. Not ask. In all aspects. Not just sexually.” She broke off, but still Damon waited, as if sensing she wasn’t yet done. “I want to be taken care of,” she finished softly.

“You want to be dominated.”

The word still made her uncomfortable, but in essence, that was precisely what she wanted. So she muttered a low agreement.

“There’s no reason to feel shame for your desires,” Damon said gently. “A woman who knows who she is and what she wants is the most beautiful of creatures.”

The compliment brought a delighted smile to her face until she realized she was giddy over a phone call with a stranger who, for all she knew, could be getting his rocks off while listening to her fantasies.

She cringed at that mental image.

“Membership is very exclusive here and offered sparingly. If you like, you can set up an appointment time to come and tour our facility. Once you’ve seen what we have to offer, then you can make a decision as to whether you’d like to pursue membership within our confines.”

She swallowed the knot growing in her throat. “I’d like that.”

“Fair warning. If you come, you should know what you’re getting into. This won’t be a trip through the halls of the manor where you’ll look at empty rooms and unused furniture. You’ll come at our busiest time. And you’ll see all.”

Her eyes widened, and she wondered just what all she would see. Her heart did a strange pitter-patter, and she realized she was excited. Looking forward to the tour.

“When can we set it up?” she asked.

“I can show you around Friday starting at 11 P.M. Things tend to get started late around here. If you give me your e-mail address, I’ll send you detailed directions and the address.”

Faith supplied him her e-mail, and they confirmed her appointment time. She thanked him for the information, and they rang off. She dropped the phone on the desk and leaned back, puffing her cheeks out and blowing a long, hard breath.

Friday. Eleven o’clock. She let out a small groan. She had all week to do nothing but wonder about what she’d see.

She licked her lips nervously then smoothed a hand over her bubbling stomach. What the hell had she gotten herself into? And worse, she couldn’t wait to find out.

CHAPTER 4

“Hey, baby doll,” Micah Hudson said as he rounded the corner into Faith’s office.

She smiled as she put down the phone. “Hey, yourself.”

He flopped into the chair across from her desk, his long legs sprawling in front of him. Arching his hips up, he fished in his pocket before pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Seconds later, he shoved one end of the cigarette in his mouth and flicked his lighter.

She emitted a sigh just as he inhaled like a man drawing his last breath.

“Micah, what have I told you about smoking in my office?”

He flashed her a sexy grin and exhaled a long plume of smoke. “Come on, Faith. You know I’m trying to quit. Down to just a couple a day. Pop gives me hell, so I can’t smoke around him anymore. You’re my only safe haven.”

She rolled her eyes. “So because I’m a softy, I get to die from secondhand smoke inhalation.” She rummaged in her drawer for one of the old plastic ashtrays she kept on hand and shoved it across the desk at him. “At least use this so you don’t get ashes everywhere.”