Chapter 15

It wasn’t long before Derrin, as promised, sent me details for the next scenario. While reading them at the kitchen counter, I chuckled under my breath.

“What’s so funny?” Dave asked before taking another sip of morning coffee.

A smile slid across my lips. “Naughty mean teacher and basketball team.”

Our eyes locked. At first, he was silent for a while, his mug trembling. Then a sigh slipped from him as his head wagged from side to side. But the grin never left my face. Nope, not a football team. But damn close enough. Somehow, Derrin was tapping into the deepest, darkest, kinkiest corners of my mind. As heat sizzled through my body, tingles erupted deep—very deep—within me.

“ ... don’t need the money anymore,” he said in a low, monotone voice.

My grin widened. “I know.”

Those delicious tingles spread. With a slow swallow, I shook the loose collar of my thin blouse as warmth flared across my skin.

I can do this just fine.

Rio is wrong.

This is my choice. I’ll be alright. Plus, Dave will enjoy it.

I think?

Where’d that come from?

The smile faded from my lips. For a second I hesitated, but the flames roared, and that fucking ember was alight. Despite his questioning look, I was already searching for flights on my phone as I flew upstairs to find clothes appropriate for a “naughty, mean teacher.” Derrin had said my partners were available only for a short time, and frustration gripped me until I found a last-minute flight.

One or two seats?

As I smiled at the outfit I’d worn to his boss’s office, Dave came in and sat on the bed. Although his face was drawn as I packed, with a sigh, he lurched to his feet and added his clothes.

I purchased two tickets.

Once we arrived, my jaw dropped at the plushly-furnished upscale hotel room. Rich wainscotting, elegant inset molding, and expensive paintings adorned its textured crimson walls. As I spun in a slow circle admiring—everything, thick, dark red carpeting sank beneath my heels while intricate chandeliers glinted overhead.

Oh, Derrin was spoiling me. Also, perhaps making a point. Even with what I’d earned so far, we could never have afforded the hotel, let alone this magnificent suite.

Yet, a strange tension swirled around us. After only a single flash of his glinting eyes, Dave hauled our luggage inside before going into the bathroom. But there was nothing I could do about that, and my mind whipped to the future. While opening the suitcase and hanging up my “hot teacher” costume, the smile on my face broadened even as my heart raced.

The evening dragged. As I prepared for the next day, my husband read. Or pretended to read. Hand or the book muffling subtle sighs, he kept shooting me sideways glances. Forced nonchalance? Nervousness for me? Should I ask? No, what if he changed his mind? What if he put his foot down and said no more? What if...?

No, he enjoys watching.

Will he still enjoy it after I finally take control, though? Only one way to find out.

When I peeked at him, he was “reading” again. That time it appeared genuine, and I stepped into the bathroom to shower.

All night long, my heart raced, both excitement and a swirling anxiety rising within me. My hands were clammy one minute, the next, heat flashed through me.

Will I really be able to control myself?

Sure.

Rio is wrong.

The power of positive thinking. Tomorrow, after walking in, I’d look around and own the set. Just like other women. Well, some of the other women, on Derrin’s site. No, for a change, I’d make the men serve me.

I’ll control them.

I will. Really.

Rio is wrong. Dead wrong.

The next morning, after a muted breakfast in the suite, Dave weaved a rental car along increasingly dilapidated streets until he pulled us into a fractured asphalt parking lot. As we lurched to a halt, I made out faint lettering on a worn sign between two rusted, bent posts: “Central High School.”

Overgrown weeds and stunted shrubbery surrounded the building’s stained, cracked red-brick walls. Many of its windows were broken, and all were filthy. He’d parked next to several expensive-looking cars behind the main building. A hand-painted sign, “Rochelle–This Way” with an arrow, pointed to the scuffed gray metal entrance closest to the lot.

With a quick glance at Dave, I stepped past him as he held the door to enter a dim, dusty corridor beyond. Along both sides, faded crimson wall-locker doors creaked in the sudden breeze. Once inside, shadows concealed another handmade sign at the distant end of the corridor. With me hugging tight to him, we walked further side-by-side, the clicks from my heels echoing on the worn tile of the long hallway.

After halting beneath it, we both stared up at the handwritten placard. Orange arrows directed me along a shadow-shrouded hall and sent him in the opposite direction. He flicked his gaze one way and then the other. A loud swallow resounded from him, and he paled before looking at me. With a tight grin, I leaned to place my waxy—again beneath deep red lipstick—lips on his. At first, he was still, but with the faintest moan, he slipped his tongue forward to play with mine as we kissed. He held me close for much longer than he usually did. But at last, he broke away, flashed me a half smile and followed his sign into the gloom.

He hadn’t said a word. Not one. Not even his usual, “I love you.”

Neither had I.

As my chest tightened with each step, I clacked towards a pair of rust-streaked gray metal doors adorned with a faded crimson design. As I walked closer, it resolved into a stylized, cartoonish snarling tiger. The school’s mascot. Both sweaty palms slid along my leather-clad hips as a long nervous exhale sent dust swirling from the handles.

This is fine.

It was a high school scenario. The others would be young men, almost boys. Simplicity: I’d enter what my sons called “mommy mode” and have them eating from the palm of my hand.

“Easy,” I whispered. “This time, I’ll control them.”

After one more exhale, I pressed on a cool metal handle and pushed the creaking door open. Two echoing sharp clacks and I stood inside.

As the heavy steel clanked shut behind me, I strode across a perfectly normal, if old and disused, gym. From the retracted baskets swayed feathery cobwebs. Wood flooring shone despite a thin coat of dust. Tall bleachers folded and chained against the wall. Below the ceiling, grimy slim horizontal windows, most still intact, let in hazy sunlight. My gaze locked onto the center court. Tripod-mounted lights and cameras surrounded a stack of blue rubber mats. The dusty floor around the space was marred by footprints.

Okay, perhaps not so normal.

Stomach fluttering and panties dampening, I walked further. Already on, the cameras’ red lights blinked.

On the far side, a small doorstop held another entrance ajar. Dave’s spot?

My heart leaped into my throat at the creak of the door opening behind me. Even as I turned, catcalls and whistles began, along with the rattling of chains. At the sight of the approaching men, my jaw trembled.

Oh my fucking God!

Goddamit Derrin! You bastard!

Four beyond-handsome, towering slabs of dark rippling muscle strode toward me. All wore huge grins.

Nope, they were not high school age. Not even close.

Why’d I think they would be?

Goddamit Derrin.

Fuck!

As deep laughter escaped him, a fifth, even bulkier and possessing such intense—masculinity that my heart stammered, chained the exit closed.

Wait? Chained!

The room spun, and my trembling heel caught on thicker grime as I took a faltering step backwards. The not-boys marched closer.

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