Elemental Desire. Denise Tompkins

her hold on him at the same time she sucked in a breath. The little minx might think she was a bedroom badass, but if a tiny public nip set her heart stuttering, actual play was likely going to make her stroke out. If he were a better man, he’d swat her ass and send her on her way. Too bad he wasn’t and he wouldn’t. She’d come out to play on his jungle gym, so play they would. It would teach her a valuable lesson about knowing a lover’s bents before tossing down the proverbial gauntlet.

      Letting go of her hand, he curled a finger under her chin. “Nearest closed door is through there,” he murmured, jerking his chin toward the employee-only rooms at the back. “Meet me at the end of the bar.”

      “I thought we’d go—”

      “End of the bar, Red, or we end this now.” He drew in the scent of her arousal. “You need to learn a few lessons about how to serve as a proper submissive before we take this any further.”

      “Submissive? I never said I was a submissive.”

      “No? You clearly know who I am, and I’d be willing to bet you came out tonight looking for me. You readily offered a safe word when I asked for one. Doms don’t need safe words, sweetheart. We collect them.” Her silence said he’d landed square in the middle of the truth. If he were going to bet on which scenario was accurate? His money would be on a third possibility he hadn’t named—that she wanted to know if there were more to sex than the vanilla variety to which she’d been exclusively exposed. “How old are you?”

      She withdrew her hand but didn’t move back. “Care to wager a guess?”

      Slowly opening his eyes, he was glad to find his vision recovering. Even better, the woman in front of him—“Red” based on her aura—was stunning. “You’ll learn to answer me before the night’s out. That or you won’t be able to sit down come morning.”

      Grey eyes stared up at him. Her mouth, a touch on the narrow side yet perfect in her pixie face, thinned until it was little more than a slash. “Stop trying to scare me.”

      “Oh, I’m not trying to scare you, Red.” He let his gaze rove over her with lazy insolence. “I’m warning you what to expect when you meet me at the end of the bar as directed. Push me into making it an order?” Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her halfway over the bar and claimed her mouth in a breath-stealing kiss. She opened to him, her tongue thrusting against his with considerable skill. A deep growl rumbled from his chest. His fingers tightened at the thought of someone else experiencing her uninhibited passion. The thought, and his reaction to it, pissed him off. Breaking the kiss, he stared into eyes that were just the color she’d called them. Stormy. “Push me into making it an order, and every minute you make me wait will translate to ten in which I torment you and refuse you release. Understand?”

      A single dip of the chin was her answer.

      Letting her go, Seth stepped back and spun on his heel, intent on meeting her at the end of the bar. He plowed into Dominic first.

      The giant fallen angel grinned down at him and arched a brow. “First time I’ve seen you take on a noob, Flash.”

      Only a couple of inches separated them in height, but Dom had a solid fifty pounds of muscle making him the one guy in the club Seth wouldn’t screw with. Still, he couldn’t help but give the guy’s shoulder a hard shot. “Move before I rearrange your junk and turn it into the start of a Copacabana headdress. I’m sure Rhyan would be willing to finish off the look with the lemons, limes and cherries from the bar setup.”

      Dominic’s hands covered his groin. “Never threaten a man’s kiwis or his banana, motherfucker. Never.” Looking back at the now-laughing Rhyan, he grinned. “Think that’s funny, woman?”

      She tried to stifle her laughter but failed. “I was imagining you in a slutty white dress and platform stilettos with fruit in your hair. You’d make the ugliest drag queen ever.”

      Dominic lunged for her and she whooped, sprinting away from him.

      That left Griff and Bailey. With a single touch from her man, Bailey moved down the bar, casually taking orders and shooting the breeze with customers.

      Griff watched her go, his eyes never leaving her when he addressed Seth. “You really think it’s wise to just up and disappear with a woman you don’t know after your element went weird? Because I think it’s pretty damned irresponsible to hightail it out of here with a stranger. What if she’s the witch?”

      Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seth fought the urge to lash out. He counted in on five and out on seven before looking at Griff. “It’s not her.”

      “You’re sure.”

      “I asked. She denied.”

      “And magic practitioners, the mercenary lot of them, are all about the honesty,” Griff drawled.

      “The witch had a distinct smell that Red’s lacking, both that and the power behind the punch. No one can subdue that much power.”

      The subjectively smaller man crossed his arms over his chest and looked Seth over through narrowed eyes. “Are you staying here or leaving?”

      “Don’t know for sure.”

      “Keep your cell handy.”

      “Fuck off.” Seth took a couple of steps before pausing and, without looking back, added, “And Griff?”

      “Yeah?”

      “Thanks.”

      “Don’t mention it.”

      With a sharp nod, Seth moved down the bar to meet Red where she waited—at the pass-thru, just as directed. He slid his hand under her long auburn hair and steered her toward the dark door marked Private without a word.

      She went, her steps admirably steady, her gait fluid and self-assured.

      Didn’t change the fact he knew she was a novice at this. She hadn’t been through a scene, though. As a Dom, it was his job to know. As a sub, it was her job to help set the boundaries of safe, sane and consensual play. He doubted she’d know enough to help set those parameters. It was one of the reasons—the many, many reasons—he never played with an untried sub. They had the highest expectations. They were typically the most emotional. They also tended to safe-word out more often than not, thus preventing him from achieving his own end. What had prompted him to take her on? He wasn’t sure. But it was done. He’d do his best to take her proverbial virginity gently.

      Probably.

      At the moment? All he could think of was how beautifully that ass would pink up when corrected.

      And correct it he would.

      * * *

      Eden risked a glance at the lithe, predatory man directing her through the crowd. A dark smile played at the corners of his full mouth. Goddess preserve her. The things she wanted to do to him were painted through her mind in vibrant colors.

      His assertion she was a submissive, would be his submissive, still had her rattled. Oh, she hadn’t let on. Not really. She’d expected something like this when she’d swallowed her fear and sought him out. But she hadn’t ever been a sub before. Hell, she didn’t even know how to serve as a sub. The whole alternative-lifestyle thing fascinated her, but short of reading a handful of erotic novels and a little internet research, she had no idea what to do with herself. More than anything, she wanted to know what it felt like to have someone drive her to new heights, make her experience the fascinating convergence of pleasure and pain.

      They pushed through an unobtrusive door. Beyond that lay a long hallway. Industrial beige tiles made up the floor. Walls were the color of bland oatmeal. At the end of the hall stood an elevator. She’d barely taken in everything when he keyed in a code to a heavy wooden door and steered her inside.

      The room was dark, lit only by the muted red glow of the exit sign. When the door shut with a muffled whump, Eden’s heart lodged at the top of her throat. Her tongue